Read Online In the Cold Dark Ground by Stuart MacBride - Free Book Online Page A

him. ‘Grow up.’
    Reuben lunged, grabbed Logan by the throat and shoved him back against the car, held his big scarred face close. The words came out on a wave of bitter garlic. ‘Listen up and listen good, you wee shite, I will skin you alive, do you hear me? And I’m not being metaphoric, I will take a knife and slit the skin from your pasty wee body!’
    The whisky bottle came up, ready to hammer down.
    Then Urquhart’s voice boomed out from the door. ‘STOP IT RIGHT THERE!’
    No one moved.
    ‘Mr Mowat was very clear about this, Reuben. What did he say?’
    Reuben hissed another sour breath out through gritted teeth. Then he shoved Logan and stepped back at the same time. Shot his cuffs. Glowered.
    Urquhart took out his keys and plipped the Audi’s locks. ‘OK then.’
    A huge paw came up, one finger prodding at Logan’s chest. ‘Enjoy your whisky,
Sergeant
. I’ll be in touch.’ Then he turned on his heel and lumbered back into the house.
    Logan sagged a little. Opened the car door and settled into the passenger seat. Clutched the bottle against his chest where Reuben had poked him.
    The front light went out, plunging the driveway into darkness.
    ‘So…’ Urquhart put the car in gear and drove down the drive towards the gates. ‘You and the Reubster, then.’
    ‘Who does he think he is? Threatening
police
officers?’ Logan hauled on his seatbelt. Kept his face forward. ‘Moron.’
    ‘Yeah, Rubey Doobie Doo. Hmm.’ The gates buzzed open and Urquhart took them out onto a narrow country road. ‘You know he’s moved into Mr Mowat’s other house? Set himself up like lord of the manor over there in Grandholm. You ever meet his fiancée?’
    Logan stared across the car. ‘Someone’s
marrying
that?’
    ‘Big Tam Slessor’s daughter.’
    Ah. A marriage made in the Hammer House of Horror studios.
    ‘Yeah, Mr Mowat gave them the Grandholm place for an early wedding present. I got them a dozen towels and a fondue set from John Lewis. Very classy.’ He turned right at the junction, heading for Aberdeen along the dark winding road. The Audi’s headlights reflected back at them from the rain-slicked tarmac. ‘You getting them anything?’
    How about a shallow grave?
    Trees whipped past the windows.
    Logan shifted in his seat. ‘When I asked you if Reuben was planning anything, you laughed.’
    ‘Well, you know Reuben. These days he’s all about the strategic planning.’ Urquhart cleared his throat. ‘Mr McRae?’
    The headlights caught a stiff bundle of feathers in the middle of the road – a pheasant, with its bottom half flattened and stuck to the road.
    ‘See, I was wondering… When Mr Mowat’s gone, he wants you to take over, right?’
    ‘I’m a police officer.’
    ‘Yeah, but he wants
you
, right? He doesn’t want Reuben. Doesn’t think the Reubmeister’s up to running the show. Thinks it’ll all just collapse into anarchy and war: all these guys coming up to carve Aberdeen into bite-sized chunks.’ A hand came off the steering wheel, ticking them off one finger at a time. ‘Malk the Knife from Edinburgh, the Hussain Brothers from Birmingham, the Liverpool Junkyard Massive, Ma Campbell from Glasgow, and Black Angus MacDonald with the Dornoch Mafia.’ A frown. ‘I know for a fact the Hussains are already sniffing about.’
    They weren’t the only ones. Not if Lumpy Patrick was telling the truth. Which would be a first.
    Drizzle misted the windscreen, and Urquhart put the wipers on. ‘Anyway, point is: they’re lining up to take their chunks. And soon as Mr Mowat’s gone, they’ll be here. And it’ll be war.’
    ‘And Reuben can’t stop it?’
    Urquhart bared his teeth. ‘Tell the truth? I think he’s looking forward to it.’
    Logan waited for the Audi’s tail-lights to disappear around the corner before letting himself into the Sergeant’s Hoose. Closed and locked the door. Put the snib on, just in case. Probably wouldn’t hurt to get a chain fitted. Maybe one of