A Rush of Blood

Seventy-five

‘Maybe the gun was for the bull right enough,’ Detective Chief Superintendent Rod Greatorix ventured, with a half smile on his face.

‘Maybe it was,’ said Martin to his Tayside colleague, ‘but after the mayhem that Henry’s caused in Edinburgh over the last week or so, we don’t feel like taking a chance on that.’

‘Are you dead certain it was him?’

‘We’ve got a physical description that convinced Andy,’ Skinner told him. ‘Then there are the Gerulaitis deaths. We still can’t prove to prosecution standard that they were murdered, but we’re sure. They were killed by someone with specialist knowledge, an arsonist who knew how to set a fire and make it look accidental.’

‘There’s just one thing I don’t get, Bob,’ said Martin. ‘The pathologist thought that Valdas was tortured before he died. Henry’s a ruthless guy, and we suspected him of a few serious assaults and even a couple of murders, but he’s practical too. Why would he do that?’

‘Punishment, maybe. Gerulaitis was importing his own whores to work in the massage parlours and skim the profits, or. .’ He paused and for a few seconds his eyes seemed to lose focus, as if they were fixed on something in another place. ‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘Less than a day before he killed himself,’ he went on, ‘Tomas Zaliukas changed his will. Instead of leaving his interest in Lituania SAFI to Regine, along with everything else, he left it to Laima Gerulaitis. Now why would he do that? He couldn’t stand the fucking woman; nobody could apart from Valdas, and we’re not even sure about him. Think about this, bright boys. What if he was meant to leave it to somebody else? And who else would that person be but his partner, your target, Cameron McCullough?’

‘So why would he leave it to the woman?’ Martin asked.

‘Because he guessed what would happen. After all, Tomas had a wicked sense of humour, hadn’t he? Remember the guy who copied his tattoo? The story was that he thought what he did to him was hilarious.’

‘Are you saying that Valdas was tortured to get Laima to sign away her interest?’

‘Let’s say I’m offering it as a possibility.’

‘But how would McCullough even know for sure that he had changed his will?’

Skinner’s expression darkened. ‘Now that is a hell of a good question. But he did, because Henry had a meeting with the managers the very next morning, and told them that the old order was gone for good, and that new hands were on the tiller. Who was his source? Well, the SAFI lawyer was Ken Green. Marianne McKean, his ex-wife, is Tomas’s lawyer’s secretary. We can’t ask Ken any more, but tomorrow my guys are going to be having another word with her. She’s the obvious likeliest. How he knew what was in it, that may be another question, but equally it might not be. The McKean woman may have typed it. I hope she did, for selfish reasons. That’s our Alex’s firm, and if the information has leaked from there, the partners need to identify the source and shut it off.’ He turned to Greatorix. ‘Can you see any movement up there, Rod?’ he asked.

The Tayside detective leaned against the gate behind which they were concealed. His car, and Skinner’s, were parked on the farm track a hundred yards further back. He put a pair of heavy night glasses to his eyes, and surveyed the buildings once more. ‘Not a sign,’ he whispered. ‘Henry’s car’s still there, driver’s door hanging open. But he must be still in the cattle shed. Likely he’ll have shot the fucking bull and he and the manager are butchering it.’

‘In the dark? There are no lights showing. Andy,’ he asked, ‘how about the check on McCullough?’

‘He’s at home. When our car drove past, the curtains weren’t drawn. They could see him in his living room.’

Skinner shifted impatiently. ‘Where is this team of yours?’ he said to Greatorix.

‘They’ll have had to get ready first, sir,’ the detective replied, defensively. ‘We don’t have twenty-four-hour armed patrols. Our guys have to be brought in.’ He swung the glasses round and looked back down the track. ‘That’s them now,’ he announced in a tone that might have been satisfaction, or relief.

There were four people in the firearms unit that approached them, quickly but silently. Skinner saw sergeant’s stripes on the black uniform of the slightly built leader, female, he realised as they drew close.

‘What have you got, sir?’ she asked, speaking directly to the chief superintendent, as if the others were spectators.

‘Henry Brown,’ he told her. She whistled. ‘He’s wanted for questioning in a murder investigation in Edinburgh. His wife says he’s armed. He told her that a bull was causing trouble up here, but since Henry wouldn’t know a bull unless it was medium rare and on his plate, we’re not convinced. He came up here to meet somebody; that’s all we know for sure. It’s been quiet, though.’

‘So you can’t actually say that he’s in there?’

‘No, Doreen, that’s what we want you to find out. Challenge him, tell him to come out and if he does, secure him. If he refuses, or if he doesn’t respond. . in either circumstance, you’re the trained officer so you’re in charge of the incident. What happens next will be your call.’

‘And if he offers armed resistance. .’

He cut her question short. ‘That’s why you’ve got guns, Sergeant. We’ll back your judgement.’