Skinner's ghosts

55

'We spoke to the nearest thing we have to a witness before we came along here. When we pressed her, she said she thought she saw a silver or a grey car heading away from the scene, towards Dundas Street.'

'What does that mean?' asked the Secretary of State for Scotland, ashen-faced.

'We believe that the man who kil ed Leona McGrath, and took Mark, drives a grey car,' said Andy Martin.

'I see.' Dr Bruce Anderson nodded. He was standing by the tal fireplace at one end of the long, formal drawing room of Bute House, his official residence in Charlotte Square. He started to walk to the window, but Bob Skinner reached out and caught his arm.

'Don't do that. You wouldn't want to be photographed just now.'

'No,' agreed Anderson. 'You're right. Wouldn't do, would it?' His cheeks were still wet with tears as he looked up at Skinner. 'I was surprised to see you here Bob, but now, I'm glad of your presence; yours and Mr Martin's. Look, let's go upstairs and have a seat somewhere less grand, so we can talk about this.'

'You don't have to do that yet, sir,' said the DCC. 'I mean to say, you've just lost your wife.'

'Yes, and my child has just been kidnapped. I can't do anything for the one, but if I can help you find the other… Come on.' He turned to Hewlett who was standing close by. 'David, you'd better find a phone and sort something out with the Information Office.'

'The Director's on his way, sir.'

'Good. You wait here for him, then. I suppose you should get together with the police Press Officer, so that everyone knows everything that's being said.'

He led the way out of the public room and up a narrow staircase, to the floor which had been fitted out as private family quarters in the fine old Georgian House.

'Why did you stay here every Saturday, when your main home and your constituency are in the West?' Martin asked, as the three men entered another sitting room, much smal er than the first, but still finely furnished.

Anderson smiled, as the three men sat. 'Catherine liked Edinburgh.

She was like a kid with a new toy when she found that this place came with the job. So every Friday evening, when she had finished teaching and I had done my constituency surgery, she insisted that the three of us pack the car and come through here.

'Normally we stay till Sunday evening. The girls have to be back in Glasgow for school on Monday.' His eyes moistened again, as his out-of-date tenses caught up with him.

'Catherine found the hairdresser, Charlie What'sHis-Name, through the wife of one of my colleagues. She was very particular about her hair, and about Tanya's.' He broke off. 'Look, Bob, when can I see her?'

'As soon as possible. Before the post-mortem, certainly.'

'Where was she shot?' the bereaved husband asked, quietly.

'Back of the head, once from close range,' Skinner replied. 'She'd have died in an instant.' He touched his forehead. 'The bullet exited here. It was a medium-calibre weapon; from the cartridge case we found, I'd say nine-millimetre.'

'Christ, and I thought we'd banned al handguns,' Anderson moaned.

'You might as well have banned the wheel. In my experience, murderers don't mind using il egal firearms. The fact is they nearly always do. With one or two notorious exceptions, when a person used his own, registered firearm to kill, it was nearly always a suicide.'

He smiled, grimly, for a second. 'See those blokes you've brought up to investigate me? In their home city you can buy a gun in a pub for a few quid. There are so many shootings down there, they barely make the papers now, unless they're fatal. Eastern European weapons usually. Half the Red fucking Army seems to have sold its weapons on the Black Market. Nine-millimetre pistols, many of them are, and they change hands a lot.

'When we find the bullet that killed your wife. Minister, it will tell us whether the gun has been used in an earlier crime, but it's highly unlikely that it will tel us who pul ed the trigger.'

Anderson nodded. 'I understand.' He sighed. 'To think that I turned down the chance of Protection Squad cover. What a bloody self-confident fool I am.'

'No,' said Skinner, quickly and emphatical y. 'Don't torture yourself with that one, sir. They'd have been with you, not your wife and daughter.'

'Okay. That's some comfort. Now what can we do to catch this man?'

'We've already blocked every main road out of Edinburgh,' Martin replied. 'However, he may have gone to ground in the city itself.

Alternatively, he had plenty of time to make it out of the city before our officers were in place.

'To be frank, sir, I don't see this man simply driving up to a roadblock. He's too thorough.' The Head ofCID paused. 'How long had your wife been going to Charlie Kettles on Saturday mornings?'

'About three months.'

'And taking Tanya every second week. The man must have been watching her for al of that time, establishing a pattern, planning. He must have watched Leona McGrath in the same way.'

Anderson twisted in his chair, to look at Skinner. 'Need this be the same man? Couldn't it be a copycat?'

'Aye,' said Skinner, 'it could. But it isn't. It's the same man. I received a tape this morning.' He looked round, and saw a midi hi-fi unit on a sideboard behind the couch. 'Listen to this.'

He took the copy of Mark McGrath's message from his pocket, slid it into the tape player, and switched it on. Anderson listened in silence, as the child's voice filled the room. Gradually, his face twisted in anguish, and he began to sob.

The two detectives waited, as he composed himself once more.

'Sorry, gentlemen,' he said at last. 'It's all just too much.'

'I know,' Skinner whispered. 'My daughter was kidnapped once.'

The Secretary of State looked up at him. 'Did you catch the man who did it?'

'Oh yes,' said the detective, even more softly than before. 'I caught him. He won't do it again. I'l catch this bastard too, and neither will he.'

Anderson smiled, weakly. 'I'd better lift your suspension, then, pending the outcome of the enquiry.'

'No. Don't do that. I don't know for sure, but it may be better if this man thinks I'm out of the action.'

'Whatever you want. So how wil you catch him. Bob?'

'I'll wait. The next move is his. When he makes it, I'l be ready for him if he makes the slightest mistake. Sooner or later, he will.'

Anderson sighed. 'Oh my God, but I hope so.' He looked at the two detectives, numbly, from one to the other. 'Is this political, gentlemen?' he asked, bewildered

'It has to be,' Skinner replied. 'Two MPs' children snatched. A Member and a Member's wife murdered. And yet it could be personal too in some way. The man chooses to contact me. There's a link between Leona and me, and between Mark and me. There's a link between you and me, Dr Anderson. So it could be aimed at me, somehow. Or it could be all about money.

'We'l know soon, when he contacts us again. For now Andy and I will just have to do the thing we're worst at.'

'What's that?'

'The waiting.' He rose from his seat. 'We'l send a car for you, Dr Anderson, when your wife is ready for a visit. It'll be within the 187 hour, I hope. We'l use the back entrance for your privacy.'

'Also,' said Martin. 'I'll put armed officers in position, front and back.'

'What's the point?' replied the Secretary of State. 'The horse has bolted.'

'Still.' The Head ofCID followed Skinner out of the room, all the way down the stairs to the back door at the sub-basement level.

'Here,' he began, at last, as they slid into the Mondeo, 'upstairs, when you were talking about motives, you said something odd: about links.'

'I know,' said Skinner. 'I should have told you before, and I better had now. Because I'm pretty certain you're going to find out anyway.'