Lethal Intent

Seventy-three

Mario McGuire was early for his appointment in the deputy chief constable's office. He arrived just after two twenty, but Skinner was free and ready for him. 'How are you feeling?' he asked, as the superintendent entered, and they shook hands.

'Fine, thanks, boss. I've still got a bit of a headache, but nothing that a couple of codeine doesn't put away.'

'When did they let you out?'

'My consultant came in at nine thirty this morning. He started to say something about another night, but I told him he'd have to tie me down or drug me for that to happen, so he let me out, on condition that I take at least three days' sick leave.'

The DCC laughed. 'So what the hell are you doing here?'

'This doesn't count as work. Dr Moores told me to go home and relax. I've been home and now I'm relaxing. I'm looking forward to this.'

'I shouldn't really admit this, but so am I. While we're waiting…' He glanced at his watch as he led McGuire over to the informal seating. 'Jay will be late, I'll bet. I told him two thirty, but he'll keep me hanging about for ten minutes or so, just to make the point that he's an important man. So let's use the time. I had Maggie in for lunch earlier; I wanted to sound her out about becoming head of CID. I didn't offer her the job, you understand; I only asked her if she wanted to be a candidate.'

'Did she turn you down?'

'She did, as a matter of fact. You're not surprised?'

'No. She likes her new job, and she likes her new home life. Plus, she likes being well away from me. If she became head of CID I'd have to report to her.'

'She didn't offer that as a reason, I have to tell you.'

'Maybe not, but it would be in her mind, for sure.'

'Would it have been a problem for you?'

'Not at all, but it might have been awkward round the table for the other divisional commanders, knowing our personal history.'

Skinner scratched his chin. 'I suppose so,' he admitted. 'But it's not going to happen, so that's that. It leaves me with one less candidate, though.'

'Is this where you tell me I'm not on the list, boss? Because, honestly, I don't expect to be.'

'You're either kidding me, Mario, or you're underrating yourself. Of course you're on the list, you and two others. But this is where I tell you there's a condition attached.'

McGuire frowned, then winced as if the gesture had been painful. 'What's that?'

'I want you out of your family business, completely. I can live with your involvement at the moment, just, but if you were in line for a step up, I'd have trouble persuading the chief that it would be appropriate, and make no mistake, he will have to approve the final choice.'

'Boss, I'm only there because my grandfather's will and my mother's retirement put me there.'

'I know that, and I appreciate what you've done by having a lawyer stand between you and hands-on involvement… even if I was slightly embarrassed when you appointed my daughter.'

McGuire's eyebrows rose sharply; he winced again. 'I didn't appoint Alex directly; I appointed her firm because they're the best, and they nominated her.'

'Understood; that's why I let it happen. But listen, Mario, I don't care what your grandfather's will says. This force can't have a head of CID who is a director of a large commercial company; if we did there are people on the joint advisory board who'd be all over us like a rash. The Viareggio businesses would be subjected to more scrutiny than any other in town.'

The big superintendent laughed, if a little gingerly. 'Your kid really is discreet, you know.'

'What do you mean?'

'She's been working on getting me out of it for the last three months. It's complicated and all the family members have to sign off on it, but basically what's going to happen is that we'll convert from our present status and become a public limited company, with those of us who are beneficiaries at the moment becoming shareholders. Our first act will be to have a general meeting where Paula will be appointed chair, with Stan Coia, her brother-in-law, as the other executive director on the board. My mother's agreed to be a non-executive director, as long as it doesn't involve her in too many meetings. Alex will become company secretary.'

'She's discreet indeed, Mario. She's never mentioned a word to me, or even dropped a hint.'

'The main thing is I'll become an ordinary shareholder: that's as far out as I can get.'

'That will be okay. Christ, I own shares myself in half a dozen companies, and in God knows how many more through some bond investments that I have.' Skinner nodded. 'That's good, Mario; you've taken a load off my mind.'

'Will there be formal interviews for the job, boss?'

'What would we ask you that we don't know already?'

A phone on his desk sounded, once. Skinner looked at his watch again, and smiled. 'What did I tell you? Ten minutes late.' He picked up the handset. 'Jack? Yes, bring him up, please.' He went to the door and waited, until his assistant appeared at the top of the stairs, leading a tall grey-suited figure. He stepped forward and shook his hand, vigorously. 'Greg,' he exclaimed, 'how good of you to find the time to see me. Come in, and tell me all about your new job.' He looked at McGurk. 'No interruptions, please.'

Jay followed him into the wood-panelled office, and stared in surprise when he saw McGuire. 'What the hell is this, Bob?' he demanded, as the door closed on them. 'What's that man doing here?'

'He may be putting his health at risk, Greg; his consultant would shit fireballs if he knew he was here. But he insisted on joining us. Have a seat… no, not on the comfy stuff, sit there.' He pointed to the straight-backed chair facing his desk, then walked round and settled into his own leather swivel. 'Tell me about the job, Greg; tell me how you got it.'

'I sense an interrogation here,' Jay protested. 'I haven't come for that.'

'No,' said Skinner calmly, 'you haven't, have you? I apologise, that was unnecessary… I know how you got it.'

His eyes locked on to Jay, and held him in a steady gaze that brooked no interruption. 'There is a man called Albert Trumble; he is a senior member of the Labour Party and has been for donkey's years. He's one of their king-makers, old Labour in a new Labour suit, although he hasn't held office since Fife Regional Council was disbanded. If you don't have Albert's support, you'll find it difficult to advance through the ranks. If you do, you'll find it easy. Twelve years ago, he met a young man from Dundee at a gathering of regional councillors. This lad had just been elected, but he impressed Albert. A few years later, a vacancy arose for a seat in the House of Commons, in a constituency where he had a lot of influence. He put the word about and, after a local rival had been disposed of, his prot?g? was selected as the Labour candidate. Naturally, since it was in Fife, he won. When devolution came, the young man chose the Scottish Parliament ahead of Westminster. He became a member of the cabinet, on Albert's recommendation to the founding First Minister, who was an old council buddy of his. When the top job itself became vacant a year or so back, well, Tommy Murtagh was more or less anointed, wasn't he? Thirty-five years old, and at the head of the Cabinet table, a great achievement by him and a monument to Albert Trumble's influence.'

He paused. 'That's not news to you, though, Greg, is it? Some of it you could even have read in the papers. But there's something about Albert that's never been reported. He's a fairly rare beast, a Labour Party grandee who is also an active and senior Freemason. As a matter of fact, Greg, you and he have both been masters of the same lodge, over in Fife. You've known each other for twenty years.'

Skinner broke off, glanced at McGuire and laughed. 'Here, this is just like This Is Your Life, isn't it? I'll bet you're half expecting Albert to come out of my bathroom and give Greg a hug.'

The visitor made to rise. 'I'm not staying here to have the piss taken out of me.'

'Sit down!' The DCC's sudden shout slammed him back into his seat, as surely as if he had reached out a hand and shoved him. 'That's better,' he said, calm again in an instant. 'Now where was I? Oh, yes. Not so long ago, Tommy Murtagh told Albert he was looking to replace Jock Govan as security adviser with someone… a little more hands on, let's say. He didn't give it a second thought: he said that you were the man. True?'

Jay glared at him.

'You don't need to answer for I know it is, from an impeccable source. One thing that maybe you didn't know about your friend and patron is that he isn't just a member of your lodge. He belongs to another, in Edinburgh, a very select body with a very limited membership. I'm going to tell you a secret, knowing that you as a good Freemason will not divulge it to anyone, and that Mario, who values his career, won't either. The present master of that most exclusive chapter is none other than Sir James Proud. He asked Albert if he'd put you in post and he told him that he had.'

Skinner swivelled round in his chair. 'That was very silly of Albert, you know. Maybe he thought that Jimmy wouldn't pass it on; if he did, he failed to realise that his first loyalty is to the police service, and that if its integrity is under threat he will do anything to protect it. I don't think I need to tell you, Greg, how embarrassing it would be for the First Minister if the connection that led to your appointment became known, since his party's last manifesto in Scotland promised to root out, quote, "the last remaining influences of Freemasonry on the Scottish police service". Tommy's really going to be pissed off at you.'

'Are you trying to threaten me?' Jay asked.

'Not yet. This is just the warm-up. But if you want me to get to the heavy stuff, I will.' He glanced at McGuire. 'My colleague is present, Mr Jay, because this is about to become an official interview, at which certain allegations will be put to you.' The ex-detective's face took on a shocked expression as he was read a formal caution. 'Mario,' said Skinner, when it was done, 'would you like to carry on, even though you are officially on the sick?'

McGuire rose from the couch and walked over to take the other straight chair, turning it to face Jay. 'Last Friday,' he began, 'Detective Sergeant Sammy Pye and I took a statement from Mr Malcolm Gladsmuir, licensee and manager of a pub called the Wee Black Dug in Leith. Mr Gladsmuir alleged that over a period of several years, he made you regular payments, in return for an understanding that there would be no CID surveillance of activity in his pub. However, the money did not come from Mr Gladsmuir directly but from his three employers. They hide their property holdings behind a limited company, unsurprisingly, for one of them has a conviction for armed robbery, while the other two also have records. All three are thought to be currently involved in organised crime. Do you deny the allegations?'

'Of course I do,' Greg Jay blustered. 'You're not going to take that seriously, are you?'

'I wouldn't have interviewed Gladsmuir in the first place if you hadn't warned me to lay off him, and if you hadn't then visited my cousin at her place of work and threatened her, an act I interpret as a further attempt to put me under duress. You ask me if I take it seriously. Too right I do.'

'Then there's this,' said Skinner, taking a folder from his drawer. 'It contains a statement from a former prostitute named Joanne Virtue, claiming that at an earlier period in your career, when your duties included control of vice in the Leith area, you regularly elicited sexual favours from her, in return for a blind eye being turned. She directed us to three other street women who made similar allegations. Under a strict interpretation, coercing women into sex could be construed as rape.'

'You're accusing me on the word of hoors?' Jay murmured.

'These are sworn statements, man. Why shouldn't a prostitute's word be as good as a priest's?'

'I want a lawyer. You will never prove any of that in court.'

'Don't get ahead of yourself, Greg. If I have to, I will arrest you and hold you in custody, while the experienced officers from another force, with whom you threatened Paula Viareggio, go through your financial affairs. They will look at every penny you've ever spent and link it to every pound you've ever earned. Unless you've buried that money in your garden, and maybe even then, for if we have to we'll dig up every square foot of it, we will prove Gladsmuir's statement beyond any reasonable doubt. If at that point you plead guilty, I won't humiliate your wife by producing the women. If you force me to, I will.'

He stood and walked to his coffee filter in the corner, filled three mugs, added milk and handed McGuire and Jay one each, then took his own back to his desk.

'That's what you're looking at, Greg. I'd reckon it will be worth between five and seven years, given your rank at the time.'

The former superintendent was convinced at last. He sat, broken, as his former colleagues looked at him sternly. 'Is there a way out?' he murmured.

'There might be, for all of us,' Skinner replied. 'I don't give a stuff about you, but I don't want to embarrass this force or the honest men and women who work in it, any more than I have to. My problem is that Mario and I are police officers, and we've got an allegation of corruption before us: we couldn't ignore it even if we wanted to. However, if you make a full statement and admit to receiving payments from Gladsmuir, I won't arrest you, at this stage at any rate. I'll talk to the Crown Office, and we'll see what sort of a plea bargain they'll tolerate. Dig your heels in and I'll bury you. Accept, and once you've made your statement you can walk out that door.'

He locked his eyes on to Jay once more. 'In return for that leniency I want only one thing: a full account of every order you've ever been given by Tommy Murtagh and of everything you've ever done for him.'

As the cornered man nodded, the phone on Skinner's desk rang. Frowning his annoyance he picked it up. 'Sorry, sir,' said Jack McGurk, 'but DCI McIlhenney's here, and he says that he has to speak to you at once.'

A sense of foreboding gripped Skinner, and a fear that he had tried to push aside returned. 'Tell him I'll be there in a minute.' He hung up and turned to McGuire. 'No conversation till I'm back.'

McIlhenney was standing in the corridor outside McGurk's office as the DCC approached, with Amanda Dennis beside him, looking distraught. 'Green?' he asked.

The chief inspector nodded. 'A white Transit van, registered owner Petrit Kastrati, has been found, abandoned, outside a warehouse in Newcraighall. There's a body inside. The officer who reported it says it looks as if he's been strangled. Divisional CID were on their way, but I stopped them. I thought you'd want me to.'

'Good thinking, Neil. Tell them to go to Bassam's restaurant instead, not that there's a cat's chance he'll be there, but clear the place anyway. I want it torn apart. Meanwhile take Mackenzie and go to the warehouse yourself. Confirm the identification, then act as you think fit. I'm in some heavy business here. When or if I can I'll join you.'

'I'll go with them,' Dennis declared.

'You will not, Amanda.' He turned and leaned into McGurk's office. 'Jack, I want you to call Alice Cowan in Special Branch, tell her to come up here and take charge of Mrs Dennis. She is to be held incommunicado, and she is not to be left alone.'

'Bob,' the MI5 officer protested, tears in her eyes, 'this is outrageous.'

'Maybe so, but it's necessary: you of all people should know why. Stay with DS McGurk, then go with DC Cowan. I'll speak to you later.'

He walked back towards his own room, motioning McIlhenney to follow.

'What was that about?' the DCI whispered.

'Coincidences. Samir Bajram wasn't the victim of a gang hit, like the tabloids are inferring. That's far too neat and convenient. We had a lead to him and he was killed to close it off. The same with Sean Green; someone told Bassam what he was. Within the very small group of people who know about this operation, Neil, we've got a leak, and the finger points at Amanda Dennis.'