Part 34 (2/2)

His social worker sighed, and covered her face with her hands. 'G.o.d, Kevin, we talked about this! You can't hang out with people who break the law, or you'll end up back inside. Do you want to go back to Peterhead?'

The little hands fluttered. 'I'm sorry.' He stared at the carpet. 'I didn't mean... it wasn't... I didn't want to do anything, I didn't! I wanted to...' he trailed off and wiped at his face. 'It's hot in here, isn't it? I'll turn down the fire.'

'KEVIN!'

He flinched, wrapped his pink, s.h.i.+ny fingers into a knot and led them through into the spare bedroom. It had been turned into a small study: a cheap-looking flat-pack computer desk against the wall beneath the window, the walls covered in pink wallpaper with a silver stripe and little red roses. A laptop sat in the middle of the desk, perfectly aligned with the edges. 'I... I didn't want to touch anyone.' He shuddered. 'I want to be better. I don't want...'

The social worker pulled on a professional smile: understanding, sympathetic and brittle. 'It's OK, Kevin. You can just show us if you don't want to talk about it.'

And so Kevin did, booting up his laptop and navigating to a folder on his desktop. Clicking on a file and getting a screed of gibberish. He pulled a memory stick from the desk a s.h.i.+ny red USB thing no bigger than Logan's little finger and plugged it into the side, before calling up the decryption programme.

It was a movie file. A little blond boy, no more than eight years old, standing with his back to the camera, stripped down to his underwear. The social worker sighed again. 'Kevin...'

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't touch anyone! I didn't ... but I need...'

A hand fell on the boy's shoulder, he turned to look back at the camera, eyes full of tears. And Logan said, 'Oh f.u.c.k.' It was Sean Morrison. The hand turned the boy round till he was facing sideways, then the man stepped forwards, visible and naked from the waist down, a puckered line of scar tissue running from his thigh to his knee, between the grey hairs. Murmured, soothing noises echoed out from the laptop's tinny speakers. 'Shhh, shhh, there's a good boy...' Sean stared at the camera, terrified, and then ... Logan turned away. He'd seen enough.

It took a lot of effort not to smash his fist into Kevin Ma.s.sie's throat as he burbled on about how he'd never touched anyone, he only watched the video, and it was all his uncle's fault he'd turned out this way, and he didn't want to go back to prison.

'Good boy, such a good boy... Oh what a good boy...'

Logan told Rickards to turn it off.

'My good boy... Oh Craig...' Click. Silence.

Mid-afternoon and the rain was drumming down from a lead-grey sky. The road glistened, reflecting back the rotating blue and white lights from Alpha Two Seven as Logan climbed out of his pool car and into the downpour. Hamilton Place was quiet there was no sign of the Whytes' people carrier.

'You bring the warrant?' he asked and Rennie nodded, digging it out of his jacket pocket and handing it over. Logan checked to make sure it was all signed in the right places before marching up to the front door and pounding on it like DI Insch. No response.

'Maybe they're not in?'

Logan tried again, waited, then marched round to the back of the house, Rennie and Rickards trotting along behind him. A small radio was playing in the shed at the bottom of the garden, the Rolling Stones' (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction mingling with the rain. Someone sang along, slightly off key. Mr Whyte Senior had a hand-rolled cigarette sticking out of the side of his mouth as he worked a chisel back and forth on an oil stone, pausing every now and then to check for sharpness. He looked up and smiled as Logan stopped just outside the shed. 'Sergeant McRae, how are you? Anything I can do to help?'

'I want to see your leg.'

The old man raised an eyebrow and ground his cigarette out on a china saucer. 'On a first date? What kind of-'

'This isn't a joke.' Logan held up the warrant. 'I'm detaining you on suspicion of child abuse.'

'Surely there's been some mistake. I would never touch a child. It's repulsive-'

'You remember Sean Morrison, Mr Whyte? Remember how much he looks like Craig? Your wee boy? The one who ended up killing himself? Because of what you did?'

Whyte looked down at the chisel in his hand, then back up at Logan. 'I'm not listening to this any longer.' He tightened his grip on the handle. 'I want you off our property.'

'What did you do, play the surrogate granddad? You're about the same age. He's worried about his grandfather and you took advantage-'

'If you don't leave, I won't be held responsible for my actions.' He stepped forwards, the chisel weaving back and forth like the head of a snake. 'Get out of my garden. Now.'

'And you were stupid enough to video it!'

'Lies!' Whyte's face darkened. 'You've no business being here!'

'We found it this morning. You abused an eight-year-old boy and you videotaped yourself doing it, you moron. The old sporting injury.' Logan pointed at the man's leg. 'We're going to match your scar to the one in the film and then I'm going to lock you up where you can't-'

'I've done nothing wrong!' The words came out in a small shower of brown spittle. 'You get out of here, NOW!' Another step forward, weak sunlight glinting on the chisel's freshly sharpened edge.

Logan pulled out a canister of pepper spray and levelled it at Whyte's face. 'Put the weapon down and step out of the shed.'

Whyte's eyes darted over Logan's shoulder, to where Rennie and Rickards stood. No way out. He looked at the canister in Logan's hand, then dropped the chisel. It fell end over end, landing point down and burying itself in the sodden gra.s.s. 'I want a lawyer, I-'

Logan sprayed the old man in the eyes. He screamed even louder than Sean Morrison had.

54.

'f.u.c.k's sake.' DI Steel sat at her desk reading Logan's report. 'And he'd no idea Garvie was floggin' the video to other kiddie fiddlin' b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?'

'We don't even know if he was. Kevin Ma.s.sie's come over all repentant now he's looking at another stretch in Peterhead says there were five or six of them, sharing homemade videos and pictures, and stuff they got off the internet. They encrypt it, so only they can see it, and upload it to Garvie's server. Ma.s.sie claims he never knew who the other members were: no one ever used their real names, so he can't finger them.'

'That's convenient.'

'Whyte's not saying anything, but the scar on his leg matches the one in the video. So he's screwed anyway.'

Steel nodded sagely. 'See! I told you there was more to this Sean Morrison thing than met the eye.'

Logan didn't bother answering that DI Steel's selective memory strikes again instead he slouched in his chair and stared out of the nicotine-filmed window. 'The IB've tried the encryption key we found at Daniel Whyte's place on Garvie's servers.'

The inspector's face lit up, all the wrinkles looking excited. 'Aye?'

'Twenty video clips, that's it. It won't decrypt any of the other files. There's still thousands and thousands we can't get into.'

'Oh...' The excitement evaporated and Steel's face fell back into its usual leathery sag. 'Ah well, win some, lose some. Get all the other f.u.c.kwits who paid Garvie by cheque hauled in and we'll give them a hard time. Meantime,' she leant back in her chair, swivelling back and forth, 'I had to cancel the search for Macintyre's rapemobile. f.u.c.kin' thing's nowhere to be seen and the DCS's been banging his gums about the overtime bill. Apparently,' she put on a Banff and Buchan Teuchter drawl, 'DI Finnie's operation taks precedence.' She scowled. 'Glory-hogging b.a.s.t.a.r.d. And see if you can get us some tea, eh? I'm gaspin' here.'

Twenty past four and Logan was staring at the phone, debating the merits of calling Rachael Tulloch back and making up some excuse to cancel whatever he was supposed to be doing with her tonight. A large shadow loomed over him and he flinched, expecting to see DI Insch's furious purple face. But it was just Big Gary with a pile of incident reports in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, a rowie clamped between his teeth. 'Mmmwow, gowfffmmm mounnsmmmph.'

Logan just stared at him, so Gary took the cowpat-shaped roll out of his mouth and tried again. 'Don't tell Watson, but your girlfriend's outside.'

'What?' How the h.e.l.l did Gary find out about Rachael? And if Gary knew, it would be all over the station in a matter of minutes. Jackie would have his b.a.l.l.s for earrings!

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