Skinner’s round

Twenty-three

Gullane was easing itself into a wakeful state… or as close to that condition as it could manage… when Skinner slid his car into its main street, and headed, past the Old Smiddy on the left, for Edinburgh.

He drove slowly past the first tee of Number One course where a clutch of caddies stood waiting, hopefully, for their morning hires. He nodded in their direction. 'They're probably expecting a party of your countrymen, over for the tournament. We don't usually see so many of these fellas around so early on a weekday morning.'

Beside him Doherty shifted in his seat. 'When does the thing begin?'

`The main event begins tomorrow, but this is the official practice day, with the course and the tented village open to the paying public. Darren's taking us out for a round at one-thirty. He thought it would be a good idea to get the team used to the crowds. Can't say I'm looking forward to the chance of making a chump of myself in public!'

Doherty grinned. 'Come on, Bob, surely you've done that, before!'

'Cheeky bastard! I suppose I have done a few times in the 'Mess box, but doing it on a golf course'll be a first. You know at it's like when you have a raw suspect in for questioning, and he sits there wondering what it's going to be like, so nervous that you'd swear you can hear his arsehole pucker? Well that'll be me, facing my first shot this afternoon.'

Instead of sticking to his normal route along the coast, he took the exit at Luffness corner and up the mile-long straight, then following the road westward until it led past the entrance to Witches' Hill. He eased his foot on the throttle pedal, and glanced over towards the practice ground, where a solitary figure stood in the address position. 'That's the man, Joe,' he said to Doherty as a perfect swing sent a tiny white speck soaring through the air. 'That's Darren.

Look at the time and it'll tell you why he's Number One. No one's perfect, but the more he practises, the closer he gets.'

He picked up speed again and headed towards Longniddry and, beyond, Edinburgh. They drove in silence for a while, watching the thickening traffic heading in the opposite direction, towards Witches' Hill, until Skinner spoke suddenly. I'm glad you're sticking around for a while, Joe. I know you want to freshen up your Special Branch contacts in the other forces, but before you do that, could you maybe do me — and Brian Mackie — a favour?'

Doherty blinked and looked across at him. 'Name it, my man and it's yours.'

Skinner eased the car up the rise which led out of Longniddry. I'd like to call on the resources of the World's Greatest Law Enforcement thingy once more.

`The more I think about the way Morton reacted to Masur yesterday, the more I fancy him to be involved with the White murder. Now I know that when Michael was killed he was in another room surrounded by witnesses, but if a job's worth doing… it's worth paying someone to do it well!' said Doherty, nodding, and picking up Skinner's favourite saying.

`Right. So what I'd like you to do is ask the Bureau to look again at SSC, but to look past Morton, or Morticelli, and to pull out everything they know about his associates in the company, and anywhere else for that matter. I'm sure that they'll all be law-school guys like Morton, or accountants, but I'd like them all checked out, just to find out whether anyone isn't what he seems. While you're doing that, I'm going to do some digging at the UK end.

Is that OK?'

`Sure,' said Doherty. He glanced at his watch. The time was 8.03 a.m. 'I'll take great pleasure in waking the duty team from their beauty sleep. God knows, they've done it to me often enough!'