Murmuring the Judges

31

Kwame Ankrah looked across Princes Street at the Castle, silhouetted by the morning sun, as its battlements frowned down on the street to which it had given its name. Changes in the traffic plan had made it a cul-de-sac, accessible only from George Street, but now the lower half was closed off completely, from Rose Street down.

Skinner looked at the face which Raglan’s showed to the street. He had noticed the shop often, of course, but had never been inside, preferring to make his jewellery purchases from a family-owned business along in Frederick Street than from a public company which boasted two Royal crests above its doors.

It was a feature of the Castle Street branch that very little stock was displayed in the double window on either side of the entrance. To the left, he saw an exquisitely fashioned suite of emerald pieces, all set in platinum, and to the right, the most expensive items from the most expensive watch brand on the market. Other than that, the shallow windows, with their wood-panelled backings, were empty, but there was no sign that they had been disturbed.

The manager was slightly over-awed to see a large man in an impressive uniform, and an immaculately tailored African, step into his shop behind Martin.

Dan Pringle was surprised also, but made no comment, save a brief nod to the DCC as he stepped across to the Head of CID. ‘Morning, Andy,’ he said, quietly. ‘God’s gift to enterprising thieves, this one was.

‘I don’t know how their insurers let them away with it, but there’s no video surveillance, and a police-linked alarm system which they actually switch off during the day. The only half-serious precaution is a button entry door, controlled from within the shop.’ The Superintendent shook his head in a gesture of disbelief. ‘The manager was just talking me through the stock loss.’ He turned and beckoned to the man, who stood in a doorway behind a glass-fronted counter, at the rear of the shop. Like every other display case in the big unit, it was strewn with empty trays.

‘Mr Rarity, this is DCS Martin,’ he began. ‘The officer in uniform is Deputy Chief Constable Skinner, the other gentleman. .’

Martin helped him out. ‘. . is Mr Ankrah, an African visitor who was with Mr Skinner and me when the call came in. So, Mr Rarity, can you put an approximate value on the haul?’

The man, who was in his fifties and who stood less than five feet six inches tall, chewed at his bottom lip. ‘At retail prices?’ he asked in a high squeaky voice. The Head of CID nodded. ‘I’ll need to work it out accurately, but approximately, the current sale value of our stock is around four and a half million pounds.’

For an instant Martin felt his jaw drop and snapped it shut. Behind him he heard the sudden intake of Skinner’s breath and a gasp of surprise from Kwame Ankrah.

‘Four and a half-million,’ he repeated, keeping his tone matter-of-fact only with an effort. ‘Your customer profile may be top drawer, but nonetheless, how the hell do you come to be holding that level of stock?’

Mr Rarity smiled, and gave a tiny, slightly hysterical, little laugh. ‘Oh we don’t always carry that much. We just happened to be holding an exceptionally large quantity of gemstones today.’

‘Why was that?’

‘Two reasons, really,’ the little man squeaked. ‘We’re a key branch in that we wholesale precious stones for other retailers and craftsmen. On top of that we have a few customers who purchase unset diamonds and other stones directly from us. One of them had warned us to expect him tomorrow, and had told us that he wanted to invest at least two and a half million sterling in quality diamonds of one carat and upwards.’

‘Forgive me for asking,’ said Skinner, moving closer to the man, ‘but why would a buyer like that come to Edinburgh and to you, rather than going, say, to the diamond market in Antwerp?’

Rarity fidgeted from one foot to another. ‘I couldn’t say,’ he muttered.

‘I could. It is because some people do not want to be seen buying such quantities of precious stones. ’The DCC looked down at Kwame Ankrah, standing beside him. ‘In my country, indeed on the whole of Africa, it is usual for black money — if I may use the term — to be converted into precious metals and stones. Traditionally they are the best hedges against inflation.

‘Naturally enough, the people making such investments do not want to be seen trading on the main exchanges. So they buy from private jewellers. In my experience, though, African criminals usually go to Switzerland or Australia to convert their illegal money.’

The DCC looked at the little manager. ‘Where does your customer come from, Mr Rarity?’ he asked.

‘From St Petersburg.’ The answer was barely above a whisper.

‘And how does he pay you?’

‘In cash. Invariably in used US dollars. He carries it in a suitcase.’

‘A fucking big suitcase, I’ll bet. How often does he visit you?’

Rarity hesitated. ‘Usually twice a year,’ he answered, at last. ‘Certainly, for the last three years, it’s been twice a year.’

‘Spending how much?’

‘From memory, the least he’s ever spent was three million dollars. His biggest single purchase was of stones worth eight million.’

‘So if I guessed that this man has put ten million dollars a year across your counter, for the last three years at least, I wouldn’t be far off the mark?’

‘I suppose not.’ Something stirred within the little manager. ‘But in any event, it’s perfectly legal. A sale’s a sale. It’s not for me to ask any customer how he came by his money.’

Skinner exhaled hard, the breath whistling through his teeth. ‘So are you saying to me that if the people who’ve been knocking over banks in this area walked in here and put one and a half million pounds on the counter, you’d sell them diamonds, no questions asked?’

Rarity looked at the floor. ‘No. In that case, I suppose I’d alert you.’

‘But this chap’s a Russian, so it doesn’t count. Jesus! Do you have to clear transactions like these at Board level within your company?’

‘No. Managers have local autonomy.’

The DCC laughed, harshly. ‘I’ll bet. So that if there’s a can to be carried. . Meanwhile, with a ten-million dollar boost to your annual turnover, you’re probably the company’s star performer.’

Rarity flushed.

‘What’s this man’s name?’ Skinner fired at him.

‘Malenko; Ivan Malenko.’

‘Do you have any proof that’s his real name?’

‘The first time he came here he showed us a passport.’

‘How does he communicate with you?’

‘By fax: always by fax, giving us about two weeks’ notice of his arrival, and the value and types of stones which he’d like to buy. I would put an order into our purchasing department and the gems would be delivered at least two working days in advance, to give me a chance to sort and evaluate them.’

Skinner looked at Martin and raised his eyebrows. ‘Who would see that fax, Mr Rarity?’ he asked.

The manager shrugged his narrow shoulders, bouncing the padding of his Chester Barrie suit. ‘Whoever picks it off the machine. It’s located upstairs in our general office.’

‘I see, so everyone on your staff would have known that you would have a large quantity of stones on the premises today.’

‘Could have known, Mr Skinner. I can’t say honestly that everyone would have.’

‘How large a staff do you have?’

‘Seven altogether, sir. Myself, Mrs Hall, who’s my deputy, two sales assistants, a craftsman, a trainee, and a book-keeper cum secretary.’

‘And where are they now?’

‘Upstairs in the general office.’

‘All of them?’

‘All apart from Nick Williams, one of the sales assistants. He called in sick this morning.’

Skinner looked at Pringle. ‘Dan, have. .’

The Superintendent nodded. ‘I’ve asked for a car to call at his address and bring him in, sir, unless he’s really unfit to leave the house.’

‘That’s good.’ The DCC turned towards Martin, stiff in his uniform. ‘Andy, you can see where we’re headed on this. I’d better take Kwame here back to Fettes, then I’m off to PC Brown’s funeral. Check in with me around five-thirty, would you. I ought to be back by then.’

‘Okay, Boss. See you then.’

‘Excuse me, Mr Skinner.’ The Ghanaian had a gentle smile on his face. ‘Do you think it would be possible for me to remain here for a while? This is really what I am here to study, and with respect to your fine officers, it would be more worthwhile for me to observe your detectives at work than to be shown them.’

The big policeman laughed. ‘You’ll miss a good lunch, but that’s okay by me. You hang on with Andy and Dan for as long as you like. I’ll go back and entertain your escorts, and let them catch up with you later.’

Half turned towards the door, he looked at Martin. ‘Once you’re finished here, Superintendent, I’d like you to take Mr Ankrah back to Fettes and show him our intelligence operation. After all, he must see something of our resources. When you’re there though, have them plug into Interpol and see if they can come up with anything from Russia on Mr Ivan Malenko.

‘If we can do them a favour in the course of this investigation, why not. Unless he reads British newspapers, he should still arrive here tomorrow. Maybe we should give him a proper welcome.’