Chapter 25 #2
I’m moved that he stands ready to help at the drop of a hat. “Send them all to Declan’s to wait. I’m headed to Campbeltown, but I expect to be back by late morning.”
“Good luck, son. Call me if you need anything else.”
When we’ve rung off, I reflect on his casual use of the word son. I know he meant it the way an older man addresses a younger one, but Diran is the closest thing to a father I’ve known. I wonder if on some level he feels the same.
My thoughts veer back to Iona, their true north. What do her kidnappers want, and when will they contact me?
The next three hours go by in a blur, full of reflections, regrets, and revenge plans.
Pulling over and parking in front of MacGilson’s Campbeltown address, I half expect to find no one home. After all, MacGilson has been singularly good at hiding from us this whole time. He seems slippery as an eel, and Pirie finally explained why: the COPFS has been protecting him.
As I emerge from the car, a dark-haired man of medium build who strongly resembles Iona steps out from the front door. It’s only 5:30 in the morning, so he must’ve been prepared. But I’m not prepared for what he holds in his hand—a pistol.
“Come any closer, and I’ll shoot,” he warns.
I put my hands up to show I’m unarmed. I certainly didn’t expect him to answer my questions willingly, but a gun seems a little extreme for a quiet academic like him.
I doubt he’d shoot, but a man with no training in firing a gun is dangerous.
“What’s your end game, Phyfe?” I address him by his first name to make things more personal. After all, he is my wife’s biological father. “You can only keep hidden and quiet for so long before the jig is up.”
This kind of gun waving is a desperado’s behavior.
Nonplussed by my response, MacGilson’s mouth slacks, and his brows pull down.
“Do you know your daughter is being held hostage by the people who are protecting you?” I can make my arguments at a distance of thirty feet, using all my powers of persuasion. “Did you know you performed an experiment on your own daughter, and she’s been traumatized ever since?”
He moves his jaw back and forth, remaining silent yet clearly listening. I take that as my cue to continue.
“You have a daughter the same age as Iona was when she was forced. How would you like it if she were treated that brutally?”
“Forced?” he says at last. “It was consensual non-consent. A form of self-fulfilling prophecy whereby the woman secretly wants to be forced and thus is forced.”
“Aye, but even you have to admit things went wrong,” I remind him. “You came in and told them to stop. The women should’ve had the ability to do that themselves—if it really had been CNC.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “The experiment proved that CNC really can be a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“Have you ever stopped to reflect that your psychological experiments themselves are self-fulfilling prophecies? You set out to prove something, and you ensure that your experiment proves it? That’s not true science, Phyfe.
True science is open-ended, not closed. Its results aren’t doctored by the scientist but depend on the variables. ”
He sets his lips in a straight line. “My work shows how beliefs shape reality through actions.”
“Well, had the women been allowed to express their true beliefs in this instance, they would have stopped the men before the assaults got so far.” I tilt my head. “Did you know she was your biological daughter?”
His shoulders sag. “Not that night. I only realized it once they put Aaron Frye on trial for the assault and she testified.”
Fury bubbles up inside, threatening to spill out. “So you let an innocent man go to prison.”
“Could you really expect me to risk my reputation by taking the witness stand?” he snaps.
“If you can’t stand by your ideas in public, what good are they, Phyfe? If you know your methods to be unethical, how can you publish your results in upstanding journals?”
He puts his other hand on the gun. “I’ve been doing this work for twenty-four years. I’m the best in my field.”
I tip my head at the gun. “Then you should know you only take out a gun when you plan to use it. You don’t plan to shoot me, Phyfe.”
I start slowly walking toward him, and he pulls the trigger.
It clicks, but nothing happens. He forgot to chamber the round. I rush him and tackle him, punching him in the jaw. His head snaps to the side, and he releases the gun.
I jump up, load the chamber, and nudge the gun’s barrel toward my car. “Face my car, hands behind your back.”
When he’s assumed the position, I reach into my glove box and pull out handcuffs I’d planned on using on Iona at some point. Snapping them on his wrists, I pop open the passenger door. “Get in.”
Grunting, he takes a seat, and I lock the door. Then I slide behind the wheel and face him.
“Who was Iona’s assaulter?”
When he remains silent, I nestle the tip of the gun into his temple.
“Unlike you, I’ve used one of these before, Phyfe. And we’re at close range, so I won’t miss.”
I see the moment he gives up and decides to spill everything. “It was Dallis Leavy.”
I’m so floored, for a second I think he must be lying. Then slowly it all begins to make sense. Leavy turned the Lowing files over to the COPFS, so the COPFS protected him—against being detected by the Syndicate as a traitor and being accused of his past assault.
Leavy is my wee Flame’s assailant.
“Was that why the COPFS hid you? So you wouldn’t have a chance to tell me where Leavy and Pirie were?”
MacGilson nods. “They promised it’d only be through July fifteenth.”
The date of the Lowing trial.
“Where did they plan to hide Leavy after that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have a way to get in touch with him?”
MacGilson shakes his head.
I ask him the next question suspecting he won’t know this answer either. “Did Leavy kidnap Iona?”
“If he did, it’ll be because of the Lowing case. The COPFS want to win that and bring down the Syndicate. That much I do know.”
Lowering the gun, I reach into the back and find a length of rope, wrapping it around MacGilson and the car seat so he can’t move.
I start the car. “We’re gaun back to Glasgow, where you’ll await punishment in Declan’s cellar. With the Syndicate, the punishment always fits the crime.” I pull out. “One thing is for certain, Phyfe. You’ll be conducting no more CNC experiments on unsuspecting women.”
* * *
We’re nearly back to Glasgow, and the sun is high in the sky, when a call comes in from an unknown number.
My belly is leaden as I tap send. “Aye.”
“Leith Cargill.” The voice is distant but resolvable into that of Dallis Leavy, now that I know to expect him. “We have your whore here.” Iona cries out my name, until a thump sounds, then there’s silence.
I clench my fist and white-knuckle the steering wheel. “If you hurt her?—”
“Wey aye, we’ll keep her more or less in one piece. Until tonight at 9.”
“What d’you want?”
“You, Leith.” He pauses. “You see, the COPFS don’t want you to win that case. The Lowing case is their ticket to bringing down the whole Syndicate. So if you want to see Iona returned in one piece, you’ll offer yourself up as a sacrifice.”
“Manton and McCormick could win it,” I point out without conviction.
He chuckles. “Aye, and a dog could teach a French class. You’re gaun to show up at the spot I send to you, without anyone else.
If you come with someone, or if you come armed, she dies immediately.
” I hear the sound of Iona struggling and her muffled scream.
“I’ve had a taste of this cunt, and it’d be a shame to kill her in her prime. ”
A deep, deranged growl surges up in my chest. “I’ll be there. Send me the address and time.”
He laughs a long-drawn-out, brutal laugh. “The things a man will do for a pussy.”
He rings off, and I kill the call, enraged that Iona is being put through another ordeal with the same man who attacked her four years ago. I fully plan to break her free in the next ten hours.
If I have to give my life for her, I’ll do so willingly. But I’ll do everything I can to spare us both. Now that I know I love her, I plan to spend another sixty plus years with her.
And even that won’t be enough.