Skinner's Mission

21

‘I wish we could put a tap on Jackie Charles’ phone,’ said Neil McIlhenney. ‘We threw a few scares into Dougie Terry this morning. I’ll bet the first thing he did after we left was get on the blower to his gaffer.’

‘I hope it was,’ replied Andy Martin. ‘The two of them would have been expecting us to ask for clearance to look at his books for evidence of embezzlement and the like, but asking to see the records of his property company, that’s different. That will have taken them by surprise, and that’s why - you’re right Neil, I’m sure that’s what he did - Terry would have been on the phone to Jackie.

‘We don’t need a tap to work that out. Charles certainly didn’t bat an eyelid when the Boss and I asked for access. He didn’t think it over for a second: just said yes.’

Skinner rose from the uncomfortable seat in Dave Donaldson’s office in the St Leonard’s Police Office. The building was new but much of the furniture had come from the old High Street station. Months after his stabbing and the major surgery which had saved his life, the DCC still found it painful to sit on hard chairs for too long. ‘Anyway, Neil,’ he said, ‘it should never be made too easy for us to listen in on someone’s telephone. We’ve never established reasonable cause or evidence sufficient for us to ask for wire-tap authorisation on Charles.

‘If you could plug into his line, just like that, how would you know that I couldn’t plug into yours?’

The big Sergeant grinned back at him. ‘I wouldn’t know that, sir. I don’t know that you can’t. But if you did, your ears would be sore in no time from listening to my Olive blethering on to her mates.’

None of the three others in the room had actually met Mrs McIlhenney, but the awe in which her husband professed to hold her had made her a figure of formidable legend among his colleagues.

‘Seriously, though, sir,’ said McIlhenney. ‘It’d be worth hearing what the Comedian was saying to anyone right now. He didn’t see the funny side when Mr Donaldson suggested that he might be a consolation prize for whoever failed to kill Jackie.’

Skinner’s eyebrows rose and he looked across at Donaldson. ‘Why did you say that?’

‘To see if he runs, sir,’ said the Superintendent.

‘So far he’s stayed put.’

‘Then suppose that’s because he’s our fire-raiser?’

Skinner shook his head. ‘He isn’t. I don’t believe that for one second.’

‘What makes you so sure, boss?’ asked Donaldson. ‘Does Charles have some sort of hold over him that the rest of us don’t know about?’

‘Yes,’ said the DCC, with the faintest trace of impatience. ‘I’ve known this pair for twenty years, and I think he does. Three holds, in fact. They’re called loyalty, friendship and gratitude. Terry’s done a good job for Jackie over the years and he’s been well rewarded for it. Look at the Jag, the big house in Torphichen, the expensive suits. He actually likes Charles, and Charles likes him. The guy’s too loyal to have been bought.’

The Superintendent looked at him. ‘Maybe that loyalty will go if we can find something solid to nail Terry with. Maybe he’ll give Jackie up then.’

‘Maybe he will. So let’s hope that Maggie can find this guy with the vulture on his shoulder, or that we get something from these notes the man Medina is bringing in.

‘Speaking of whom . . .’ He glanced at his watch: it was twenty-three minutes past four. ‘He should be here by now.’

‘Can’t be, boss,’ said Donaldson. ‘I gave specific instructions that I was to be advised the second he arrived.’

Andy Martin looked at him, then across to McIlhenney. ‘In that case, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘why are you sitting here? Let’s not await Mr Medina’s pleasure. Go and bring him in.’