Head Shot

27

'Are you serious, Mcllhenney?' Dan Pringle growled.

'Oh yes, sir, I'm serious. My boss has asked me to put my successor in place by the time he gets back from the States, and Detective Sergeant McGurk is number one on the list… providing he accepts the job, of course.'

'So that's what it's going to be like at headquarters, is it? The DCC takes a fancy to my chosen exec and that's it. I don't know if I fancy this job after all. Aye, fuck it, I think I'll just stay on in the Borders Division.

Big McGuire can get back in the queue and you can stay in Skinner's office.'

Mcllhenney glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the door of the head of CID's private office was completely closed. 'Speaking privately, sir, you don't know how fucking near you were to staying on in the Borders. It was a toss-up between you and Greg Jay, in Leith, who got the head of CID job; you won partly because the Boss preferred not to have both Mario and Maggie based in the city.

'If you real y want to stay in the Borders, I reckon he'd agree to let you make that choice; but you'l have to decide it right now.'

The superintendent glared at him. 'You know, son,' he said,, 'you might look like a big amiable bastard, but you're real y good at putting the boot in. No wonder you and Bob Skinner get on.'

'I'll take that as a compliment, then,' Mcl henney murmured. 'But just so's you know, the Boss didn't take a fancy to McGurk. He asked me to find the best man for the job, and I said that he was. Would you argue with that?'

Pringle lowered his eyes and shook his head. 'No, I wouldn't, because you're right; big Jack's got command potential. Okay, okay, if the DCC wants him, or if you want him… What's the difference?… I won't stand in his way.'

'That's good, sir. Mr Skinner thought you would agree when you thought it through.'

'Good for me. It stil leaves me stuck for back-up, though.'

'Not necessarily. There's Ray Wilding, McGurk's old partner in Central; he's just been promoted to DS. You could have him.'

'Aye, but would I have to fight Maggie Rose for him?'

'No,' said the Inspector, quietly. 'He's yours if you want him. I'm off to tell McGurk he's got a new job.'

As he turned to leave, Pringle called after him. 'Was this personal wi' you, Mcllhenney?' he asked.

'No, sir. I don't let personal issues cloud my judgement.'

'But you don't like me.'

'I'm entirely ambivalent to you, Chief Superintendent.'

'Aye, that'll be right. Are you still carrying a grudge over that time I wanted to lift your wife's doctor?'

Mcllhenney looked him in the eye. 'How could I, sir? Stupidity's a condition, not a vice. We all have occasional lapses.'

He closed the door on the new head of CID, wondering how big an enemy he had made… but not caring too much… and walked the long corridor back to his old office in the command suite. He asked Ruth McConnel to find Jack McGurk for him, then cast an eye over the DCC's morning mail. Spotting nothing contentious, he took over the cal to McGurk and broke the good news.

'Is Mr Pringle okay about it?' asked the young sergeant.

'He's very happy for you. Talk to him yourself and he'll tell you that, I'm sure. Report here on Monday morning; I'l be a bit schizophrenic for a while, jumping between this office and my new one, but between us, Ruthie and I'l show you the ropes, and get you up to speed in time for the Big Man coming back.'

'When will that be?'

'Not next week, that's for sure. See you Monday, Jack.'

Having cleared his desk, he asked Ruth to re-direct his calls to the Special Branch suite and headed off to meet up as arranged with McGuire. He found him, shut away in his private office, seated, hunched, at his desk with the phone to his ear.

'Look, Mr Gwynn, let's not be fucking coy about this. You've cal ed me back through the switchboard, so you know that I real y am a detective superintendent and that this is not a hoax. I know yours is only a wee branch and you're worried about being crapped on from way up there, but I promise you that isn't going to happen. I'm trying to conduct a discreet enquiry here. Now are you going to co-operate or do I have to make some waves?'

He winked at Mcllhenney as he poured a coffee from the filter jug.

'Yes, I can promise you that. None of the information you give me wil be disclosed and nobody wil ever know that you provided it. What do you get from it?' He laughed. 'You get friends in high places and two unlisted telephone numbers that you can call whenever you're knee-deep in shit. That's a good swap, believe me.'

Mcl henney watched him, saw him nod quietly.

'Good, good. Okay the man's name is Rosewell, George Rosewell. He has a current account and a credit card, that's also operated through your bank. I need to know whether either of them has been used this week, I need to know the last time either was used, and in the case of the cash card I need to know how much money was withdrawn. Oh yes, and I'd like the current account balance.' He nodded again. 'Sure you can call me back; I'l be here for a while. Use this number, and keep a note of it for the future: emergencies only, mind.' He read out his direct line number.

'That's changed every so often, isn't it?' asked Mcl henney as he hung up.

'Aye, but he'll never use it. The boy just needed to feel important, that's all; a lot of these small branch managers are shit-scared of head office these days.'

'Why do you need that stuff anyway?'

'I'm stil trying to find Maggie's old man, so I can beat his fucking brains in… or at least run him out of Edinburgh. He hasn't been at work all week, and his house looked like the Marie Celeste.'

'You went in?'

'You're dead right I went in. I was paying a family visit, Neil.. . and even if it, hadn't been, in this job I could have justified it. The man has a history of violence and child abuse, he's living under an alias and he's in a wholly unsuitable job.'

'Child abuse?'

'Don't ask. Anyhow, there were the congealed leavings of pie, beans and chips on his kitchen table, with a half-read Sunday Mail beside them. I spoke to a neighbour. She hasn't seen him since then.'

'He's not in the nick, is he?'

'No. I've just checked that. Nor is he in any hospital in this area. Nor is he lying in a mortuary with a John Doe tag on his toe. Al this week's stiffs are accounted for. He has either gone on a very last-minute bargain break to Shagaluf, or he's been kidnapped by international criminals and is being held for a multi-million-pound ransom, or he's done something or upset someone to the extent that he's decided to do a runner.'

'He's upset you.'

'Aye, but he doesn't know that… at least I don't see how he could.'

The phone on his desk rang; his hand shot out and picked it up.

'McGuire. Ah, Mr Gwynn; that didn't take long. Aye, sometimes I wish the mil ennium bug had been for real; the bloody things are ruling our lives now. Okay, just hold on a minute.' He picked up a pen. 'Right.'

As he listened, he made notes on a pad on his desk. 'That's excellent,' he said, as he finished. 'Now here's that other contact I promised you.'

He glanced at a list on his desk, and read out a number. 'Thanks. So long.'

'What was that one?' asked Mcl henney.

'My new direct line in the Borders. You never know, the boy might be moved down there one day.'

'Indeed, you have been here for too long.'

'Just long enough.' McGuire glanced at his notepad. 'It was useful though. George drew thirty quid from his bank account on Tuesday of last week. Since then, neither his cash card nor his credit card has been used; his account balance is eleven hundred and forty-one pounds.'

'He can't have run far, then. Do you think he could be in the founds of a new building somewhere?'

'I'm beginning to wonder. If he is, I just hope it'l be heavy enough to hold the swine down.'