Chapter 17: Losing someone dear

"Hello? I'd like to speak to someone with regard to information about the vigilante," Glen said.

"I can help you with that case, sir. What do you have to tell us," said the voice on the other end of the phone line.

Glen glanced at the little piece of paper in his hand again. He had noted down the officer's name from the TV.

"No, I want to speak to DI MacIntosh," he said.

"I can assure you, sir that I can help you just as well as DI MacIntosh could, now why have you called?"

"I'm only willing to speak to DI MacIntosh, I'm sorry," Glen repeated.

"Okay, sir. I'll try and find him for you. Hang on."

Glen was already having second thoughts. The internal conflict was tearing at him and he knew Christine would never forgive him. The silence on the other end of the phone as he waited for the detective made things even worse. He suddenly decided he couldn't go through with it and cut the connection, placing the handset back in its cradle.

"I'll speak to Christine about it later. This has simply got to stop and if Gavin won't hand himself in, then I will have to go to the police. I'll give him one chance," he thought.

Unfortunately for Glen, he wasn't as well up on police methods as Gavin was. He was therefore unaware that not only had his call been recorded, he had hung on the line long enough for his call to be traced. Even as he sat with his head in his hands worrying about his son, his address was being passed on to DI MacIntosh. The note advised that it was potentially a hoax caller, but that he had asked for Drew by name.

Even more unfortunately for Glen, Drew wasn't in the station to see the note and act on it, but one of the officers on the Cullen clan's payroll was and the address was passed on to Rab 'the tram' Cullen twenty minutes after Glen had made the call.

"You and you, go round to this address and lift everybody there. Take Gilchrist with you and whoever else is around," ordered Cullen.

His two chosen goons moved quickly to obey. Within minutes a silver BMW was racing through Glasgow's streets.

"Where are we going?" Fraser asked from the backseat.

"Something to do with the vigilante, the boss just told us to go and lift some people, that's all I know."

Everyone knew Fraser didn't like being involved in the more violent activities of the clan, but Cullen had ordered him to join the 'heavies'. The other three in the car laughed as they saw Fraser's face growing paler as they neared their destination.

Glen heard the doorbell and he wondered who could be calling. He walked to the door and started to open it. As soon as the latch was disengaged from the lock one of the gang members charged the door full-force, viciously knocking Glen onto the floor of the hall. The next thing he felt was a boot sinking into his midriff and he vomited all over himself.

"You! Upstairs, check all the rooms!" shouted one of the goons to another.

Fraser stood to the side of the door, watching in horror.

It took only minutes for the clan members to confirm that Glen was the only one in the house. He was hauled to his feet and dragged to the BMW. A fist thudded into his stomach before he was shoved brutally into the back seat and a thug got in on either side of him.

Glen's head was reeling. The shock of being attacked in his own home, the sheer violence, the pain, all combined to heighten his fear. He had no idea who these people were or what was going on.

The car journey took twenty minutes and in all that time no one spoke apart from one call that was made on a mobile phone.

"There was only one, we've got him and we're heading for the usual place," he heard one of the thugs say.

Glen was dimly aware of the streets they were passing and he quailed when the car turned into to an abandoned warehouse. He found himself being dragged roughly from the car and into what must have been an office for whichever business had once thrived here.

The pain had receded enough to allow him to take in his surroundings and there was no comfort to be found. The room contained a single chair and a packing case. Glen was pushed down onto the chair and then one of the clan members lashed out, clubbing his face with a fist. Another stopped both him and the chair from toppling over.

"Leave it! Wait until the boss gets here. We don't know yet what he wants this guy for," said the other thug.

Fraser's face remained a deathly shade of grey.

Christine knew something was wrong when she saw the front door of the house lying open. She entered the house cautiously, fearful as to what or who she might find. Some of Glen's vomit was visible on the hall carpet and she began to shake with fear, tiptoeing through the house until she was sure there was no one hiding anywhere. She closed and locked the door then hurried to the phone.

It didn't take Gavin long to answer her call.

"Gavin, it's mum. When I got home I found the front door lying open and there's no sign of your father. I'm scared, son and I'm worried something has happened to Glen," she managed to get out before bursting into tears.

"I'll ask Lizzie to come over to be with Fiona and come right away," Gavin replied.

Glen was completely unnerved by the waiting. He still had no idea what was happening to him and why. His attackers seemed so casual about the situation and that added to his fear; it was clear these were men used to violence. One of them looked less comfortable. Despite the fact that he had an ugly looking scar on his cheek, this man looked completely out of place beside the others. Glen heard another vehicle enter the warehouse and guessed the 'boss' had arrived. Maybe now he could explain that they had made an awful mistake.

Cullen entered the room and looked at the man his men had lifted. He wasn't much to look at and Rab didn't think he would hold out long once they started working on him.

"You made a call to the police about an hour ago claiming to have information about the vigilante. You're going to give me that information, you're going to give it to me now or I'm going to get angry. Believe me, you won't like me when I'm angry!" Rab spat at Glen.

With those words everything became crystal clear for Glen and he got even more terrified. These were gang members and they wanted Gavin. Somehow details of his call to the police had been passed to them. He guessed now that his call had been traced - how else would they have known where to find him?

His mind tried to process all of the information that was suddenly bombarding it. They hadn't tried to hide their identities so they were undoubtedly going to kill him. His son, who he had thought of as a mere boy until now, had taken men like these on and killed them. The fact that men like these were at liberty at all and could do things like take people from their homes meant the justice system wasn't working and Glen's opinion of what Gavin was doing changed in an instant. He wished his son was here to save him now. He wouldn't lead them to Gavin. All of these thoughts flashed through his brain in an instant and somehow Glen's terror receded.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about," he managed to say.

"Oh dear, he wants to do it the hard way. Alex, give him the message!" ordered Cullen.

Rab had seen something harden in his captive's eyes and decided that that needed to be stamped on immediately. One of the goons stepped forward and began to beat Glen about the face.

Glen felt the heavy blows. He felt something give in his cheek, possibly part of the bone, blood gushed from his broken nose and the pain forced tears into his eyes. Somehow he was able to detach himself from what was happening to his body and blessedly the pain lessened.

"Try and answer my question again now," Cullen said to him.

"Fuck you," Glen managed to spit out.

"Alex, go and get the kit," ordered Cullen.

Gavin was sitting beside his mother on the sofa, his arms round her and cradling her head to his chest as she continued to cry. When the doorbell sounded, he could feel her whole body flinch.

"Shhh, don't worry mom, I'm here to protect you and nothing's going to happen."

He stood and made his way to the window, looking out first before answering the door. He could see two men waiting outside for a response and recognised one of them as the detective from the TV programme. Gavin's heart began racing. His time was up; they'd found him.

He forced a smile to reassure his mother that there was no danger and then walked slowly to the door and opened it.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Detective Inspectors MacIntosh and MacLean. Could we come in for a minute please?"

Gavin looked at the warrant cards the two men held out and simply nodded, pulling the door open wider to allow them access. He led them through into the sitting room where Christine was still sitting on the sofa. It was the one he knew as MacIntosh who spoke again now.

"Someone made a call from this house earlier this evening claiming to have information about the identity of the vigilante," he said.

Relief flooded Gavin's system only to be quickly followed by dread. They weren't here to arrest him - at least not yet - but it sounded as if his father had called them to reveal his secret. If the police didn't have his father, then where was he?

Christine's fear turned almost instantaneously to anger. Glen had called the police to report his own son, how could he! No doubt he had left the house because he couldn't face her. Christine's whole interpretation of what she had found when she returned to the house changed and she knew her duty was to protect her son. She didn't know what information, if any, Glen had already passed on but he couldn't have named Gavin or the police would already be arresting him.

"Oh dear, has he been doing that again?" she asked.

"What do you mean Mrs Anderson? Who are you talking about?" Drew asked.

"My husband, he's obsessed with crime and is always claiming he knows who's behind every murder or robbery. I'm afraid he's phoned the police claiming to have information on more than one occasion. He's not in at the moment officer and I can only apologise for him wasting your time," she replied.

Drew shook his head in disappointment, as another potential break looked like it had gone up in a puff of smoke. It appeared as if he had a crank caller on his hands.

"Does he know he could get into serious trouble for wasting police time?" he snapped.

Gavin could see that the two policemen no longer wanted to hang around and he was just as happy to see them to the door. When he returned to the sitting room his mother hugged him tightly.

"I can't believe your father would do this. What was he thinking of? Just wait 'til I get my hands on him!"

"But where is he, mom?" Gavin asked.

"Probably hiding from me!" his mother replied.

Fraser couldn't bear to look any longer. Glen's face was a mess; both eyes almost closed to slits due to the puffy bruising surrounding them, blood leaking from his nose and a mouth that showed several missing and broken teeth. The 'kit' had comprised a pair of pliers, a hammer and a cordless power drill. So far the pliers had been used to rip out four fingernails from one of Glen's hands and the hammer used to smash one of his ankles into bits.