The kindly steward’s words came back to him: you’ll find anything you’re looking for here. And, had he? Glancing back to the picture of William Lorimer staring out from his small screen, Daniel wondered if this senior officer would dismiss him for wasting his valuable time. After all, who was Daniel Kohi now? Not Inspector Kohi any longer, but a mere refugee fleeing from an uncertain past with no discernible future.

  A hollow rumble from his stomach made him decide to take a look at the prices in the restaurant the steward had told him about. A pot of tea and a sandwich then he would think more about finding the red-brick building he’d glimpsed on his phone.

  The wind was sweeping a shower of hailstones along the road beside Bellahouston Park, the white ice pebbles rattling on the tarmac as he walked, head down, collar up, feeling the blast against his dark curls. Ahead of him Daniel could see a modern building, its red brickwork and chequered sign exactly as he’d seen on the internet. As he approached, he saw cars parked to one side and, presumably, all the way around the rear of the police station. One of these might belong to William Lorimer, he thought, regarding them all with a renewed interest. There were several 4×4s and family-sized hatchbacks but one long silver vehicle made Daniel pause for a second look: a Lexus that was badly in need of a wash. Who’d spend that kind of money on a car? Daniel pursed his lips, remembering some of his former colleagues whose purchase of Mercedes cars had raised a few eyebrows. The corruption within the force had escalated to such an extent by then that nobody dared speak out. Nobody except Inspector Kohi. Which was one of the reasons he was here now, wondering if he had the courage to speak to this Lorimer or not.

  There would be CCTV trained on him right now, Daniel imagined, so he stepped around the building until he reached a set of steps leading to a front door.

  He swallowed nervously, grasping the bright blue rail on one side, a sensation of nausea gripping him suddenly. It only took a moment to push through the doors and enter the warmth of the police station.

  There was a uniformed officer behind a desk who looked up as Daniel stepped forward.

  ‘Yes, sir, how can we help you?’ the man asked, giving Daniel an appraising but not unfriendly look.

  His throat seemed to close over as Daniel opened his mouth to speak.

  The officer waited patiently, Daniel wondering just what was going through the man’s mind: is this guy an English speaker? Has he just wandered in out of the cold?

  ‘Can you let me speak to Detective Superintendent Lorimer?’ Daniel said at last, his voice coming out a little rough. ‘I believe he is here in Go-van,’ he added.

  The officer smiled. ‘You mean Govan,’ he corrected. ‘Well, you got the location right, at any rate.’

  Guvin, that was how this man pronounced the place, Daniel realised, filing away yet another scrap of linguistic knowledge.

  ‘Do you have an appointment, sir?’

  Daniel shook his head.

  ‘I’m sorry, you will have to call the Major Incident department if you need to speak to him,’ the officer explained. ‘Make an appointment with one of the admin staff.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Daniel replied, suddenly feeling rather stupid for presuming he could simply walk in and demand to speak to a senior officer of Lorimer’s standing.

  The officer had folded his hands on top of the counter and was looking at Daniel with a sympathetic expression on his face. ‘Is there anything I can do to assist you?’ he asked, speaking more quietly as though to encourage this stranger who had appeared from nowhere.

  ‘I … ’ Daniel bit his lip. ‘I really think I need to speak to him myself,’ he murmured.

  ‘May I take your name, sir?’ the officer asked. ‘Perhaps Detective Superintendent Lorimer knows you were looking for him?’

  Daniel was tempted to agree with him, tell a lie and weasel his way past this first hurdle, but his innate sense of doing what was right and proper prevented him.

  ‘I’m Daniel Kohi,’ he said instead. ‘Inspector Daniel Kohi, formerly of the Zimbabwe Republic Police.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘There’s an African fellow downstairs. Says he wants to talk to you. Name of Kohi. Used to be with Zimbabwean police,’ the voice on his internal line explained.

  ‘Have you looked him up? Checked his story? Could be anyone,’ Lorimer replied.

  ‘Aye,’ the officer replied. ‘There was a Kohi in that force, the ZRP, some time back. Could be the same fellow.’

  ‘First impressions?’

  ‘Looks nervous, but then I guess if he was wanting to talk to the head of the MIT, he might feel a bit of pressure,’ the officer chuckled.

  ‘Hasn’t said what this is about?’ Lorimer frowned. He was busy, but that was a perennial state of affairs in his job. Especially when his mind was turning more anxiously each day to the threatened attack on his city.

  ‘Nothing. He wants to talk to you and to you alone.’

  Lorimer drummed his fingers on the desktop. ‘Can you get him a cup of tea and ask him to wait?’ he said at last. ‘See if someone can get him to explain why he wants to speak to me and not to another officer.’

  Inspector Kohi. Zimbabwean police. There were no bells ringing at all. A past case involving child slavery from Nigeria was the only connection Lorimer had ever had with that particular continent. Nonetheless he was curious about this random visitor.

  ‘Tell him I’ll see him,’ he decided. ‘If he can wait about an hour or so.’

  The room where they had escorted him was so warm that Daniel removed his coat and folded it carefully on an adjacent chair. The door was left ajar and he listened to every set of feet passing along the nearby corridor, straining to hear if one of them was slowing down to enter this place.

  He was grateful to accept the cartons of weak tea that were placed before him but now Daniel was beginning to wonder if this was all a huge mistake and his case worker would regard it as a bad mark against him.

  He looked up expectantly as a smiling female officer entered the room.

  ‘Not long now,’ she assured him cheerfully. ‘The detective super’s just on his way down.’

  Lorimer walked briskly along the corridor, a nod to one of the DIs from CID downstairs as he met the woman’s glance. Everyone in this building knew who he was, and the detective superintendent experienced a small rush of pleasure at this thought. He was in a place where he belonged, unlike the stranger waiting for him in a small room normally reserved for family liaison purposes. Who was this man? And why had he sought him out? Those questions buzzed around his head as he pushed the door wide and entered the room.

  The man stood up abruptly and for a moment Lorimer had the impression that he might offer a salute. His first impression was of a black face and large dark eyes regarding him with a serious expression. It was a handsome face but there was an air of weariness that seemed to lie on his shoulders and for a moment he found himself wanting to know this man’s story.

  ‘Inspector Kohi.’ Lorimer stepped forward and grasped the man’s hand, feeling a firm grip under his own, three brief shakes before he released it.

  ‘Please call me Daniel,’ the man said, his sing-song voice a strange mixture overlaid with an English accent that might be tinged with just a trace of Glaswegian. ‘I am no longer an inspector, sir,’ he explained. ‘I am a refugee now, finding escape from … ’ He hesitated and looked away from Lorimer’s gaze.

  ‘From a difficult situation?’ Lorimer supplied.

  Kohi nodded.

  ‘Please, sit down.’ Lorimer gestured to the two chairs on opposite sides of the table but, as Daniel Kohi took the seat he had been in, Lorimer picked up the other chair and carried it so that he was sitting closer to Daniel. No confrontation required, he decided, no need to put a barrier between the two of them.

  ‘So, what brings you over here to Govan?’ Lorimer asked, getting straight to the point.

  He saw the man study his face for a few moments as though trying to read his inner thoughts. As a police officer, had Kohi done this very thing with suspects, looking for clues in a man’s demeanour?

  Then, as though he had reached a decision of some kind, Kohi raised his hand and let it fall again with a sigh.

  ‘I wanted to find someone that would listen to me. And I heard about you,’ he said.

  Lorimer raised his eyebrows, his curiosity piqued even further.

  ‘The day I arrived in Glasgow I saw something,’ Kohi began. ‘It was a small moment.’ He paused and looked to one side as though he were seeing whatever it was once more. ‘A man with a bloodstained knife. In an alleyway,’ he told Lorimer, his gaze back on the detective superintendent’s blue eyes. ‘It was just one moment, but there was something that told me the person holding that knife was looking to get rid of it.’

  ‘And … ?’

  Kohi shook his head. ‘I do not think he noticed me. I was standing at the mouth of the lane and we did not make eye contact. No … ’ He tailed off thoughtfully. ‘It was as if he had decided to go back in again. As if the lane was not a safe place to be in daylight.’

  ‘Where exactly was this? Can you remember?’

  He saw a faint smile twitch at the corners of his mouth as Kohi nodded slowly.

  ‘I remember everything, Detective Superintendent,’ he replied sadly. ‘That is my God-given gift but also my misfortune.’

  Lorimer frowned. ‘Are you telling me that you have a photographic memory?’

  ‘That is correct,’ Kohi sighed. ‘I cannot forget details. Sometimes that makes life very hard.’ He shrugged. ‘But other times it can be useful, you know?’

  ‘Tell me about this,’ Lorimer said at last. ‘Date, time, place … ’

  And, giving another sigh that seemed to come from his very soul, Daniel began to recount the incident that had brought him to seek the man that was head of the MIT.

  ‘I’m bringing someone back for dinner, is that okay?’

  Maggie Lorimer smiled. ‘Fine. Anyone I know?’

  ‘I didn’t know him myself till an hour ago,’ her husband replied. ‘He’s from Zimbabwe. Former cop. I think you’ll like him.’

  Maggie put down the telephone and wondered what this man from southern Africa would like to eat. There was a pot of soup already on the stove, plenty for them all, and some nice Italian bread that she’d picked up from the deli in Giffnock. Luckily she’d taken out a venison casserole from the freezer last night and all she needed to do now was peel a few tatties and serve them as mash. That would do, surely? What if he was vegetarian? Maggie bit her lip. Could she whip up an omelette? Or, maybe he was vegan? A quick stir-fry in her wok, she thought, mentally going over the contents of their cupboards and fridge.

  She hesitated by the larder door, glancing towards their wine rack. Maybe uncork a nice bottle of red? Och, they could decide once they were around the table. There was beer in the fridge, would the chap like that instead? Maggie shook her head, wondering why Bill was bringing home a stranger she’d never heard of on a weeknight. Well, she’d be as hospitable as she knew how. After all, in this season of Advent her thoughts turned often to the days of feasting that lay ahead and it would be nice to share a meal with someone new from a different country.

  Daniel looked out of the car window, seeing the city lights as a blur against the deep darkness. He’d been taken aback when Lorimer had led him to the Lexus and had glanced nervously at the tall detective.

  ‘Nice car,’ he’d remarked, not meeting Lorimer’s eyes.

  ‘Too good for a cop?’ Lorimer grinned as if he had read Daniel’s thoughts. ‘I can afford it, luckily. No kids and two salaries. Didn’t buy it new, of course. I’m not made of money.’ He chuckled, slipping into the driver’s seat and buckling his safety belt.

  Daniel said nothing, digesting this snippet of information and wondering about the man beside him. He’d been surprised when he had been invited back for dinner to the detective’s home and yet there was something in Lorimer’s manner that had made him inclined to accept right away. He’d given Daniel a knowing smile as if he could see the loneliness inside and those bright blue eyes had brooked no refusal of the invitation.

  Now he sat back, feeling the warmth spread out beneath him from the heated seat, a small luxury that he’d never experienced before. Luxury cars driven by cops back home smelled of dirty money, but this man was different. He noticed the worn leather steering wheel and the dusty wooden fascia. No, this man did not see his car as some sort of status symbol. It was, rather, a car he would use to race to a scene of crime, its comfort an added bonus.

  Lorimer stared straight ahead, Daniel’s words ringing in his head. He had asked for dates and times, his face impassive though inside he was experiencing a frisson of excitement. The day Daniel Kohi had witnessed that strange incident was the day Derek Carter had been murdered and this time the detective superintendent was not going to put that down to coincidence. The solicitors’ office was on the top of that selfsame building and he thought about how Kohi had described his venture inside at a later date, hiding from sight in that basement and seeing the same figure that had held a bloodstained knife in his fist and possible traces of blood on the floor. There was a lot to do now, including taking a witness statement from Kohi, though the former cop had seemed reluctant to put his name to anything that might jeopardise the terms of his asylum. Perhaps, he thought, the man might agree to talk to him about why he’d left Zimbabwe and what it was that he still appeared to fear. For, if he had read him aright, there were things deep down that he was trying hard to suppress.

  Daniel looked out into the darkness as they turned off the motorway and headed through tree-lined streets, houses flashing past, their windows bright with Christmas lights.

  ‘Here we are,’ Lorimer murmured, turning the wheel and parking outside his home.

  Daniel looked at the house, a pretty Glasgow villa with a wreath of red berries on its door.

  ‘Come on in,’ the tall man told him, striding towards the house, a bunch of keys in his gloved hand. Then that door was flung wide and Daniel hesitated, wondering for a moment what on earth Mrs Lorimer must think of a stranger being dragged into her home on this cold winter’s night.

  ‘Come on and meet Maggie,’ Lorimer told him, turning back and beckoning Daniel with a smile.

  The door closed behind him as Daniel stepped into the light. The smell of cooking wafted through the large room, making him realise how very hungry he was. A small movement by his feet made him start then he laughed softly to see a fluffy orange cat rubbing its head against his ankles.

  ‘You’re privileged,’ Lorimer remarked. ‘Old Chancer here doesn’t often make a pass at folk he doesn’t know.’

  Daniel bent down to stroke the soft fur and the animal reared up a little, purrs of appreciation throbbing through its body.

  ‘Hello, there.’

  The woman’s voice made Daniel straighten up and he saw a slim woman with dark hair that curled past her shoulders.

  ‘I’m Maggie and you must be Inspector Kohi,’ she said, putting out her hand and touching his arm. ‘I see Chancer’s met you already,’ she added with a smile as they both looked down at the cat that was winding itself around his legs. ‘Come on through. Dinner’s ready.’

  Lorimer’s wife led them through the long room, past the Christmas tree by the window to a table that was set for three. Daniel noticed some comfortable chairs on the other side of the room and a kitchen area beyond a breakfast bar, the source of these good smells. As he sat down at the table, he saw a candle lit in the middle of a nest of golden tinsel and paper napkins decorated with flying reindeer placed on each side plate, small reminders of the Advent season. This time last year Daniel had come home to things like that, the anticipation of a family Christmas filling him with a joy that was now gone for ever. He swallowed hard, sudden tears filling his eyes.

  ‘I’m glad you could come,’ Lorimer’s wife said, touching his hand, and he glanced up to meet her eyes. She was looking at him intently and for a moment it was as if this woman could see into his very soul.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘I appreciate it very much.’ He looked at Lorimer who was pouring water into three glasses. ‘I hope it’s not a bother … ’

  ‘Maggie’s a great cook,’ he told Daniel. ‘Always makes enough for an army,’ he chuckled. ‘Sorry, never asked if you had any food issues. Any intolerances?’

  Daniel’s face split into a grin. ‘I love my food,’ he assured him. ‘And no, there’s nothing I cannot eat.’

  He sat back as Maggie brought a bowl of soup and laid it before him.

  ‘Butternut squash and pumpkin. Help yourself to parsley,’ she said, indicating a plate of chopped herbs.

  Later Daniel would tell Netta all about that meal, the hearty stew and vegetables, the apple crumble and cream, then sitting with the husband and wife by a warm fire, a mug of tea cradled in his hands. But he found it hard to explain about how the shyness he had felt had fallen away as these people had welcomed him as a friend more than an unexpected guest. Perhaps it was the way that Maggie Lorimer had smiled at him, a sadness in her eyes that was all sympathy and kindness for his situation, that had made Daniel recount his story, something he had never mentioned to his elderly neighbour. Or, perhaps it was the realisation that they too were alone without children as Christmas approached that had made him begin his tale with a shuddering sigh.

  ‘Why am I here, seeking the status of a refugee?’ Daniel asked, though neither Lorimer nor his wife had voiced the question. ‘Since Mugabe has gone everyone thinks Zimbabwe is a different country and that it will be like it was in the old days.’ He shook his head. ‘I was brought up to respect the elders and to know right from wrong. I was not a wild boy, but I did love to play football with my pals as well as study for my school exams. I did well.’ He shrugged. ‘First at training school when I was a police cadet. I was going to change the world. Make it a better place.’ He gave a rueful grin and caught Lorimer’s blue gaze, seeing him nod. ‘You too?’