A Rush of Blood

Twenty-three

‘We are not alone,’ Mario McGuire announced.

Maggie Steele and Neil McIlhenney looked at each other across the small conference table in the head of CID’s office. ‘I’ve always thought there were other beings out there,’ said the detective superintendent, laconically, ‘but I didn’t expect contact to be made in my lifetime. What about you, Scully? What do you think?’

‘You must stop watching that sci-fi stuff,’ the ACC retorted.

‘Indeed,’ McGuire continued. ‘I fed information on our two raids to the national intelligence centre in Paisley, and had an interesting response. Over the last six months, there have been similar, no, pretty much identical robberies at golf clubs in Seamill, in Ayrshire, in Blairgowrie, on Tayside, in Cumbernauld, near Glasgow, and on Loch Lomondside. . not the big club, another one.’

Steele’s eyebrows rose. ‘Nobody thought to issue a national alert? What is the SCDEA for?’

‘They’re short-handed through there, but that will be done now, they promise. The guy I spoke to in the intelligence unit told me that the new deputy director’s been appointed. .’

‘That’s lightning fast; the boss only mentioned the vacancy yesterday.’

‘I know, but they’ve short-circuited the usual procedures. The director’s just gone off on long-term sick leave, so they need someone in post, like now; whoever the new appointee is, he’ll be running the show from the off.’

‘Your contact didn’t tell you who it is, did he?’

‘He didn’t know.’

Steele laughed. ‘So much for intelligence. But back to the topic. We have a determined, professional outfit in action all across Scotland, running rings round us all. They’ve hit us twice, probably knowing how exposed we are rurally. We have to assume that they’re going to do it again. So what do we do?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ McIlhenney said. ‘How about we have CID teams in place to respond instantly to any alarm calls from golf pro shops?’

‘Jesus, Neil,’ McGuire hissed. ‘Budgets, budgets; they’d be sat on their hands all night, across the whole of our county area. Mags, can you make extra patrol teams available?’

‘Budgets, Mario, budgets.’

‘Can you divert patrol teams from the city?’

‘We’re stretched there too.’

‘Dead end, then.’

She nodded. ‘However,’ she began, ‘there is one tactic that’s occurred to me. Do you know, or can you find out, the time elapsed between the last false alarm call logged in by our communications centre and the alerts from each golf club that’s been done?’

‘I know already. Ten minutes in the first case, eleven last night.’

‘OK. Then how about, if we have police emergency calls during the night in quick succession, taking all of our cars out of play, be it three in East Lothian, four in West, whatever, we delay the response to the last of those calls by fifteen minutes. If we have an alarm warning within that time, the third car heads like shit off a shovel for the location.’

‘But what if these calls are genuine?’ McIlhenney exclaimed. ‘What if some guy really is beating his wife to death?’

‘It’s a hell of a chance to take, I’ll grant you. But statistically, how many calls do we get during the night out in the counties? Damn few. And in quick succession?’

‘Statistics won’t stop someone from bleeding to death.’

McGuire nodded. ‘I agree. It would be a risk, Mags. And I suppose I could have a few CID on stand-by, let’s say one unit in Edinburgh, one in Dalkeith and one in Livingston. But we’d need to get the OK from the boss to holding back responses.’

‘Would we?’ she posed. ‘What about allowing him deniability?’ The words hung heavily in the air. For almost a minute no one spoke.

‘No, Maggie,’ said the head of CID, at last. ‘If we pulled something like this without telling him, and it went disastrously wrong, you know that friendship would go out the window. He said as much yesterday. He’d have our guts, all of us. And at the end of the day, he’d carry the can anyway, whether he knew or not. We’ve got to tell him. I might be the junior officer round this table, but I’m putting my foot down on this one. It’s a matter of loyalty.’

Steele leaned back in her chair, staring him down, but he held her gaze. And then she laughed. ‘Absolutely,’ she exclaimed. ‘Consider that a test, and you’ve passed. I was only wondering whether you two were still the reckless buggers I used to know.’

‘Thanks very much,’ McIlhenney growled.

‘Ah, don’t take it to heart, man,’ she chided. ‘Have you lost your sense of humour as well? I’ve already spoken to Bob, before I came along here. He says, “Do it, and do it from tonight.” Is that OK with you,’ she asked, ‘or do you want it in writing?’