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Back Time for the Dead
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

McNab moved forward, his eyes drawn to a closer observation of the board. As he approached, his gaze intent, the place fell silent, DI Wilson’s words dying on his lips.

McNab halted before the photograph showing the remains of the driver’s burnt hands still attached to the wheel.

‘Detective Sergeant McNab?’

McNab stabbed at the photograph as the memory his brain had been searching for suddenly presented itself.

‘The fucking ring, sir. There.’ He jabbed again at the image. ‘Wee Malky wore a ring like that. The driver of the stolen jeep is a fried version of Malcolm Stevenson . . . sir.’

Harry was still safely in his holding cell. When McNab arrived, he found the door standing open and Harry deep in a book. McNab stood for a moment, taking in this surprising image, before Harry registered his presence and looked up.

The face before him still had the gaunt look of a heroin user, but McNab was pleased to note that it had more colour and Harry looked less jittery than the last time they’d spoken.

‘I see they’re feeding you.’ McNab gestured at the nearby tray. ‘And providing ways to pass the time.’

‘You thought I couldn’t fucking read, Detective?’

‘I never doubted it,’ McNab responded. ‘What’s the book?’

Harry showed its cover. ‘The sergeant loaned me it.’

The title McNab recognized from a TV adaptation of a fantasy world where folk fought one another for a mythical crown and the undead marched down from the north.

‘Do the goodies win in the end?’ he said.

‘You tell me, Detective Sergeant.’

McNab handed Harry the photograph from upstairs, without telling him why.

Harry grued a little at the image, then checked McNab’s expression, and took a second and closer look.

Harry checked with him. ‘Is that fucking Malky?’

‘Why’d you think that?’ McNab said.

‘The fucking ring, that’s why. It was his trademark. How’d this happen?’

‘A jeep came off a road on Skye, caught on fire and took whoever this is, plus one other, to the promised land.’

A smile caught at Harry’s lips and the faint colour on his cheeks blossomed still further. ‘Sugarboy got him,’ he said with a smile.

‘The MOD confirmed that the dead climber on Skye was definitely Sugarboy, so it couldn’t have been him.’

A dark cloud passed over Harry’s eyes. ‘Then someone else in the squad did it.’

‘Seven?’ McNab tried.

Harry thought about that. ‘She must have been in on whatever plan Sugarboy had, but there were seven of them together in Afghanistan.’

‘Names?’ McNab demanded.

‘Fuck, I don’t know. Sugarboy mentioned someone called the Scorpion. By the way he said it, he hated him. But five of them got captured together.’

‘Sugarboy didn’t mention any names other than the Scorpion?’ McNab persisted.