Pea Pod Murder

The figure clad in black leather merged with the shadows. The leather was not an affectation or a fashion statement but a necessity, a motorbike stood around the corner, ready for a quick escape.

Gus McLean was in for a surprise, as a Gangland patriarch, he would expect to feel safe in his own home. The leather clothed Intruder cared nothing for McLean’s reputation or expectations it was information they were seeking.

All entry routes, though well researched had changed. The weak night latch on the scullery door was no more, replaced by a high end lock. As was the lock to the coal cellar which would have given access to the rear of the property. Gus had upgraded his security since the reconnaissance.

Keen ears could have picked up a grunt of frustration, keener ears would have heard a laugh. The figure stood back from the wall, an upper window was open, it was the daughter’s room. She didn’t share her father’s paranoia.

The downspout was a highway for the Intruder who on gaining the desired window removed a device, from a generous pocket and installed it on the outside of the window. The device winked with a friendly green light.

With the alarm disabled, leather boots landed inside the house.

Gus’ preference was to offer no violence to women, this made the feral gangster a pussy in his own house. His wife, who ruled the roost, had the common sense to only challenge him when they were alone. If she disrespected him in company Gus would ignore his preference. She had learned this with only one black eye.

His face displayed an uncharacteristic grin, he could watch the soccer without interruption. His daughter had won tickets to a concert, they were for Elena and Connie McLean so that got rid of both women. A rare event.

He heard a footfall behind him, his gun appeared from nowhere. Despite his speed the Intruder was quicker they tapped his gun arm in the direction it was traveling. He could not bring the gun to bear. Then with a graceful strike hit his solar plexus with a fist bent at the middle knuckle giving an ax shape striking surface. The nerves which ran through the plexus spasmed and Gus hit the floor like a bag of moldy potatoes.

All the fight had gone out of Gus, his only concern was to breathe. The Intruder knelt at his head and compressed his Carotid sinus, Gus lapsed into unconsciousness. Freed from his panic his body induced enough oxygen despite the temporary nerve damage.

The Intruder was small, no bigger than five two and Gus was almost six and a half feet and not thin. Despite the disparity, ultra strength nylon cable ties soon constrained him in a sturdy chair. Around his wrists, above his elbows; around his ankles and above the knees. He was going nowhere.

Still wearing a crash helmet the Intruder sat and waited. It didn’t take long for Gus to recover he took in the situation. A little rat of man had easily beaten him.

“You are so fucking dead...”

The tirade which followed was impressive, a litany of threats and penalties delivered with such a variety of expletives that repeats were unnecessary. While this string of invective filled the space of the room, the Intruder found two glasses to match a bottle of wine which lay open to air.

“... I will castrate you, you little runt and shove your balls up your arse!”

The Intruder unfastened the crash helmet.

“You’ll find that difficult,” the voice though deep was mellifluous and female.

That explained his assailants size and grace, Gus thought.

“So, you want me to kill you?” she said.

Gus could no longer talk, his mouth formed a perfect circle. When he thought about this moment in his life, he still could not decide what frightened him the most. The dispassionate way she dismissed his life, the calm tone in which she used, or that it was a woman who beat him. Or maybe, he thought, it was her mischievous smile. A sign he took to mean, she would enjoy killing him.

“According your threats as soon as I let you go you will kill me. So if I am to believe you my only choice is not to let you go.”

Gus found his missing bluster, “You can’t just waltz in here and do this,” he nodded at his bonds. “Do you know who I am?”

She ignored him and poured two glasses of wine. She spotted a nest of steak knives, pulling it over next to the glasses, she pulled one of the vicious serrated blades from the block.

“How about we assume neither of us are idiots?”

She stepped into him, had there been room for him to recoil he would have. Maintaining eye contact she plunged the blade down, severing the cable tie holding his left wrist. Stepping back she returned the blade to the block and handed him a glass of wine.

“You’ve just sold a company for billions, it makes the proceeds of crime look very shabby.”

She raised her eyebrow, he took the invitation and continued.

“Suzie Hyde, that’s who you are, Suzie Hyde.”

He smiled enjoying his minor victory until she handed him a business card with all her contact details.

“I asked for an interview via one of your minders, his refusal was very eloquent. Just think, if he’d had manners this approach would have been unnecessary.”

“Very opportunistic, this is the first night I have been alone for months.”

“Connie and Elaine are at a Royal Blood concert. It’s Elaine’s favorite music duo. The boys look tasty, from a teenager’s eyes, they can sing too,” she said.

He sipped his wine and nodded, she had provided the tickets.

“OK, let’s not treat each other as idiots,” he agreed.

He had read of her in his daughter’s nerdy tech magazines, she was rarely off the front page.

“Are you over your fit?” she asked.

Again he sipped his wine, he nodded.

“I haven’t disrespected you with witnesses. So, if I let you go you will slice and dice me?”

“No.”

“If I let you go will you answer all my questions truthfully?”

This one took longer, had it not been for that quirky smile he would have considered her incapable of murder. She’d also succeeded in business, in an area where they took no prisoners. He concluded that she was a real threat, he’d answer but she wouldn’t know the truth from a donkey.

“OK.”

She grabbed a steak knife and threw it at him, it severed the cable tie holding his right hand.

“You won’t assume that I am defenseless will you?”

The corner of his eyes creased, he liked her style.

“No, I won’t!”

Suzie grabbed another steak knife she walked behind the chair and cut the remaining ties as if she had no worries in the world. She then turned her back on him and walked to her chair.

“So I pass?”

She smiled, unlike the other one it reached her eyes.

“For the moment.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“You booked into the Royal Hotel in Portree the week my father died. Did you have anything to do with his death?”

Suzie had built a program to crunch data around her father’s death. She was about to give up, having chased every stream of information irrespective how insignificant, to no avail. When Angus McLean had showed up on a recently digitized hotel register. Her program identified him as a criminal figure. This lead was a bright light of a fading star, her data had been overused, it was tired, there was nothing left after this. She realized that this was making her more gung-ho than usual.

“The Isle of Skye in 1997, yes I was there and no, I had nothing to do with your Dad’s death.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Nothing.”

She removed a knife and played with it.

“That’s not true, I’ll ask you again. What do you know about it?”

Suzie was a superb flat reader. Truth had intrigued her since her teen years at Oxford University. She had gained a PhD at the London School of Economics with a thesis on truth. Suzie had even written a best selling book ‘The Truth Bubble’.

“No, that’s the truth!”

The thunk of the knife scared him more than the proximity of the blade to his neck. He moved away from the sharp edge as the knife quivered in the chair. He stood and pulled it from the woodwork, walked to the counter and placed it in front of her.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Someone killed my dad, it’s time for retribution.

“1997?”

“I’ve been busy, now I have time.”

He retook his seat and smiled his business was his business. Then he stiffened. Suzie saw his reaction and pulled three knives from the block and lay them on the counter in front of her.

“FUCK YOU! You used my daughter.”

Suzie just raised an eyebrow.

“She’s applied for one of your tech scholarships,” he shouted, spittle spraying from his mouth.

“She’ll get it too, she’s talented.”

He deflated as quickly as he’d blown up.

“So you didn’t lure her to get to me?”

“No, but I would have thought it was an occupational hazard? Why would I need your daughter when I can walk straight in anytime despite your security? But...”

She pulled a series of photographs from her pocket and passed them to him. She picked up the knife he had returned and toyed with it, this was the dangerous part.

Despite her alertness her mind wandered, she knew she was at the end of the road she needed a better source of data. Then it hit her like a blinding light, The Metropolitan Police, access to the National crime database, even Interpol. She could convert her scrappy data program into a commercial product. Before she could ponder further Gus’ color showed he was close to apoplexy.

He had scanned the photos of himself in vulnerable positions, then those of Connie but when he got to the photos of his daughter, he was ready to kill.

“I studied the modus operandi of Morry Morrison, that’s what he would do when working on a target.”

“Morry is bloody expensive!”

“Money concerns me little, I am seeking justice.”

“Is this a threat?” he spat.

“I would be silly to leave myself vulnerable.”

“Have you let a contract?”

“Only if I die.”

He nodded, it was what he would have done in a similar situation. This little waif of a girl owned him. He couldn’t kill her, he would have to co-operate and negotiate.

“It was a real holiday, I had no criminal meetings, but I had a drink with Hammy Hamilton-”

“You mean Hamish Hamilton a little thug from Inverness,” Suzie interrupted.

She had already spoken to him. He blamed the Russian mob by a long line of twisted logic.

“The Russian mob?” she asked.

He nodded, suppressing his surprise.

“Yes, but I also saw Vlad Smith. He was taking contracts on behalf of the mob... Vlad, it could be the Russians?”

“How can I find Vlad Smith?”

He shrugged and sipped his wine. Her overworked eyebrow rose again.

“They found him diced into one inch cubes.”

“Definitely him?”

“Yes one hand and his head was intact, whoever julienned him wanted him identified.”

Her ray of hope disappeared. She turned inward. He interrupted her introspection.

“How do I negotiate the release of your contract?”

Suzie’s focus returned, she would need to penetrate the Police databases. Thinking about what her program would make possible she offered a sage piece of advice.

“If the Police had my program, the one I used to find you, gang crime would pretty much be dead.”

He didn’t dismiss her statement, “Why?” he asked.

“There are too many insecure ends. So many people on the periphery whose only concern is themselves, they are not close enough to feel important. Like a loose thread, pull them and the garment unravels.”

“Will you give your program to the police?”

“Let’s say they’ll be using it by early next year.”

He took another sip. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve researched your legitimate businesses they are being held back by their links to crime, without all the secrecy you could fund them properly. The profits would make the proceeds of crime look very shabby,” she said repeating his earlier statement.

“And if I was to go legit?”

“I would not renew the contract at the anniversary.”

“So I have to keep you safe for a year, do you do this often?”

He held up his wrists, which still showed the marks of cable ties.

Suzie shook her head and said simply, “I am seeking justice.”