‘Do you know him?’

‘Nope. Never met him.’

‘There’s also someone called Ectoplasm. You know him?’

The boy laughed. ‘He’s a she. I’ve never met her, like. But I remember commenting on one of her photographs and she told me. I think I said “Great picture, man” or something like that. Said thanks but she wasn’t a man.’

‘What about JohnDivney?’ A shrug. ‘Don’t know that name at all.’ They were getting towards the other end of the tunnel now, another green semicircle of quickly fading light just a hundred yards or so away. He could see Gabby ahead chatting to Finlay Miller but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their voices just mixed with everyone else’s, a hum that reverberated round the tunnel walls.

By the far wall, two of the others were talking. Tony whatever his name was and Ally Aitchison. Remy wanted to split them up and interrogate each in turn. Interrogate. Listen to him. Really, what the hell did he think he was doing?

Winter caught the young guy Feeks looking over again and couldn’t help but notice how nervous he seemed. He was jumpy, chatting to everyone in turn and moving around the group. Maybe it was just his nature, maybe it was something else.

They were an odd mix but that was the nature of it, he guessed. He’d never explored with anyone other than Euan Hepburn but knew enough about the type of person likely to do it. Youngish, mostly single, adventurous, fit, loners sometimes, sociable others.

David Haddow had told him he was in sales. Kitchens and bathrooms. He was maybe mid-thirties with something slightly flash about him that probably came with his job. He seemed friendly enough though and happy to chat.

‘So what do you do? That camera for work or just a hobby?’

‘Bit of both. This one’s just for play but yes, I’m a photographer for my day job.’

‘Yeah? What sort of stuff?’

Winter paused just long enough to sound casual. ‘Weddings mainly. Some portrait stuff.’

‘Don’t think I’d have the patience for that. Arranging whole families into position, getting them all to smile, trying to make the bride look good. Must be a load of kids to deal with too. Doesn’t sound like fun.’

‘It’s not that bad. And it pays well.’

‘You never think of doing press photography, newspapers and stuff?’

‘Not my kind of thing. I don’t need the hassle. Weddings, people are usually in a good mood. How’s the sales business?’

Haddow shrugged. ‘People always want new kitchens but they can’t always afford them. My job is to persuade the wife to persuade the husband that they can afford it. I always go after the woman.’

‘Bit sexist, no?’

‘It’s the way of the world. I don’t sell, I don’t earn. You do what you have to do.’

‘I guess so.’

The group emerged together onto the underground platform at the Botanics, the gardens themselves above their heads. For all that this was kid’s stuff compared to most of the explores in Glasgow, Remy couldn’t deny that it was still an eerie sight.

Sure, the place was defaced, overgrown, decrepit and a bit dangerous but it also took you back a hundred and twenty years to when this place bustled with people making their way from the West End to the city centre.

Now it was a ghost station. Bare and windswept, century-old brick covered in graffiti and a rustic lane where the track used to be. The lightwell above them ran almost the length of the platforms, letting moonlight slip through the gaps left by the great girders.

A lot of the scrawling on the walls was just mindless stuff but there was some pretty good art as well. One section of brown brick was daubed with the white-painted inscription Meat For The Beast and beside it was a drawing of some poor screaming soul being devoured by a ghoul. The dripping maw of another fearsome creature was further along, only the feet of a victim sticking out of the mouth. On another dark section was written When The Wolves Come Out Of The Walls. Simple but effective if you want to scare the shit out of people.

Of course it made him think of the Molendinar and the man left in there. How could it not? It also made him think of the beast that cut the man’s throat. Demons and victims.

They milled around both platforms and the line in ones and twos. Gopher, Ally and Lorna were taking photographs, lining up arty shots using the lights by the look of it. Metinides was working his camera too, taking shots of graffiti and down the platforms into the tunnel but also photographing the group. No one else seemed to notice and it looked like that was the way that Metinides wanted it.

The longer Remy watched, the more he was sure of it. The guy was snapping a piece of graffiti or the line but he was always doing it as one or more of the group crossed his path. What the hell was he up to?

Chapter 32

Narey’s incident room had changed out of all recognition. Three new faces on the wall and a host of new faces, not all exactly friendly, in front of her. In not much more than twenty-four hours, she had gone from having one murder case and the probability of losing another to holding the hottest ticket in town. The danger of that was getting her fingers burned.

She turned her back for a moment on the assorted detectives of MIT, and looked at the five faces on the wall. Euan Hepburn, looking straight at the camera in a press accreditation shot. Jennifer Cairns, smiling in a publicity picture taken for her website. Derek Wharton, young and stern in his driver’s licence photo. Then two police mug shots. Christopher Hart with a scar on his cheek and a smirk on his face. Davie McGlashan appearing soft and bashful with a thick grey beard.

As she looked at all five of them together, she began to lose the courage of her convictions. Could they really all be linked and was the connection really urbexing? Some of the bastards sitting and waiting behind her would doubtless be ready to laugh it out of court. Shit, part of her was wishing she’d never made this happen. Too late now though.

Addison was going to kick it off. It was officially under his command but they knew she was running the investigation. It was her half-baked theory and it would certainly all be hers if it went wrong.

‘Okay, listen up. DI Narey is going to bring everyone up to speed on where we are with Euan Hepburn and Jennifer Cairns. The enquiry has widened and we are looking at three other possible, I stress possible, deaths in connection with this investigation. You’ll all be going away from here with leads to follow so pay attention.’

She rose, feeling unusually nervous, and began going through the five victims one by one. Some of it was old ground for a few of them but that didn’t matter. It would be much more of a mistake to leave something out than to repeat it. She began with Hepburn and worked her way through them.

She saw a few faces wrinkle in scepticism and made a mental note not to forget who they were. DS Aaron Petrie, sore at her getting promoted rather than him. DI Bill Storey who probably thought the case should have been given over to him. DS Lewis McTeer who had just never liked her and had probably never liked any woman. Fuck them.

Not everyone had been so antagonistic though. She’d already made phone calls on the other three deaths and the lead officers had been keen to help. Actually doing so proved more difficult though.

DS Dugald Lindsay had talked to her about the body found on the ruined floor of the seminary but couldn’t provide much in the way of answers.