The Darkness and the Deep by Aline Templeton Page A

sourly. ‘Shut the bloody door. With you outby.’
    MacNee complied with only the first part of the request, then walked round the boat to the farther side, where a crew room, a galley, changing rooms and a workshop had been constructed within the soaring central space, along with shelves and a counter for the inevitable souvenir stall. ‘Now, now, that’s not very nice, is it? Come on and we can have a wee chat.’
    Duncan ignored him, making a meaningless check on the first-aid pack. If he said nothing, even MacNee would have to give up, surely.
    There was no sign of it, though. Whistling through his teeth, MacNee took the opportunity to inspect the lifeboat souvenirs, stacked in a case ready to lay out the following day to tempt any passing tourist. ‘I doubt you’ll be missing your sales target, with this rain. I wonder if maybe Bunty would fancy a tea-towel?’
    ‘We’re closed.’ Abandoning his tactics before they had a chance of success, Duncan climbed out of the boat. Keeping his voice level, he said, ‘I’m away to lock up now. Are you wanting shut out or shut in?’
    ‘I’ll come with you. Buy you a drink, even – don’t say I’m not good to you.’
    ‘Will you, hell!’ His hands were shaking and he could see that MacNee, watching him clinically, had noticed that.
    ‘Feart to be seen with the polis, Willie? Now, what way would a fine, upstanding man like yourself need to be feart?’
    ‘I’m not feart. Just like to choose my company.’ It sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
    ‘See you, Willie!’ MacNee stepped in close. The cox was a big, burly man who might in other circumstances have described MacNee as a shilpit wee fella, but that slight frame exuded a menacing physicality that made him take a step back.
    MacNee smiled his unsettling, gap-toothed grin. ‘I’m here today, son, and I was here yesterday and I’ll be here tomorrow and the day after that. I always quite like to take a wee run down the coast. Sooner or later you’re going to tell me “ the honest, open, naked truth ”, as the Great Man says, so why not make it sooner and save the aggro?’
    ‘I’ve nothing to tell you about, MacNee. And this is harassment – I could complain . . .’ He knew it was bluster and MacNee made no response, only raising a sceptical eyebrow.
    It helped, being angry. ‘Anyway, you’ve no right being in here without a warrant. I’m telling you to get out.’
    MacNee shrugged. ‘Have it your own way. But I’ve tried nice, and I’m warning you, it’s nasty from here on in. You see, in dirty stuff like this what you need to do is work out where to put the pressure, and I’ve done that. You are the weakest link, Willie. Goodbye.’
    Willie saw MacNee silhouetted in the doorway as he went out into the dark fury of the storm like, he thought with uncharacteristic fancifulness, a demon returning to hell. He hurried to lock the door behind him, then retreated, shaking, to the crew room.
    Had anyone seen MacNee coming here? Had he been spotted in his company any time over these last few nerve-racking days? He had denied being afraid, but it wasn’t true, except in so much as he was less ‘feart’ than terrified. He should have said right at the start that MacNee was sniffing round, but no one was trusted and any contact with the police could be taken as suspicious. He knew what had happened to the lad from Ayr who’d thought he could play both ends to the middle – he’d had a nasty accident falling into the harbour one night.
    The terrible thing was, Willie was beginning to feel there might be comfort in talking to MacNee. He was getting in deeper and deeper; if he told him now before it got any worse, took his punishment and got it over with . . . But it wouldn’t be over. They had people inside too, and even if he survived the jail, they’d be waiting for him when he got out.
    He felt sick. He could almost hear his nerves twanging as he went over and over it in his head, like a