Lethal Intent

Sixty-eight

'We must stop talking like this,' Bob Skinner chuckled, as he answered the phone just after midnight, 'Trish will get suspicious.' There was no laugh from the other end of the line. 'What's up?' he asked suddenly serious.

'Samir Bajram is,' McIlhenney replied, tersely. 'Him and the Jakes brothers; I'd reckon they're about three miles up by now and heading for orbit.'

'They're what?'

'As far as we could see it was car bomb. Sammy showed up in the pub. Frankie introduced him to us as his cousin, then the three of them went to the other end of the pub. They had a drink, went outside, got into a motor and were blown to smithereens.'

'Were you close?'

'Not close enough to get hurt, although the Bandit nearly got his eyebrows singed.'

'What did you do?'

'We got the hell out, as fast as we could. Since we weren't supposed to be there in the first place, I didn't reckon you'd want us giving witness statements.'

'Too damn right. We'll leave it to Strathclyde, and maybe the SDEA to clear up. You are sure it was Samir?'

McIlhenney growled. 'I won't dignify that with an answer, boss.'

'Okay, sorry. Did you get any idea what he might have been up to?'

'Frankie said that they were doing some business… or bizniz, to use his word. I guess it was that other thing he was talking about.'

Skinner frowned. 'Given his background that must mean drugs. Could that be all there is to these guys' presence here after all, a drugs shipment?'

'Maybe, but if so, where were the other three? No, I don't think so.'

'No, that's true.' He sighed. 'It's a bugger, though: I was counting on Samir to lead us to the rest; now we're back to scratch. Plus, it leaves us with another question. Who did the three of them in, and why?'

'The way I see it, Sammy was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It looks like a Glasgow gang hit, with the Jakes boys as the target. I could understand Frankie pissing somebody off badly enough.' He laughed, softly. 'He was an annoying so-and-so.'

'You sound as if you'll miss him.'

'Strangely enough, I will. I actually liked the ugly wee bastard. Whoever did him just joined the long list of people I'd like to meet.'

'Chances are you never will, Neil. Good night.'

Skinner replaced his bedside phone in its cradle, and picked up his book. He looked at the page, but the letters were blurred. The day was coming, he knew, when he was going to need help for night-time reading. But it was not his late-forties vision alone that made him unable to focus. At the back of his mind, a disconcerting scenario was taking shape.

He thought about it for a few minutes, then reached a decision. He climbed out of bed, picked up his personal directory from the dressing-table and, holding it directly under the light so that he could see clearly, looked through it until he found Amanda Dennis's mobile number.

She was fuzzy with sleep when she answered. 'Yes?' The word was slow and heavy.

'Amanda,' he snapped, urgently. 'It's Bob. I want you to pull Sean Green out of his waiter job, right away. I'm probably being alarmist, but he could be in danger.'