Skinner's rules

56

‘Wait till you hear this!’ Quickly Skinner told Martin of the building society account, and the cash deposits which had followed the London visits.

Martin’s breath hissed between his teeth. ‘Let’s see if we can tie it into this.’ He waved an A4 document. ‘It’s just this minute arrived from Telecom. I haven’t looked through it yet.’

He laid the sheets on Skinner’s desk and walked round to look over his shoulder. The document was in two sections, one listing Mortimer’s calls, the other, those made by Rachel. Skinner handed one back to Martin.

‘You check that one. Look for London numbers, private listings and ex-directories. Let’s concentrate on the four weeks before Mortimer’s first trip to London. See if we get the same name on each list.’

They studied the columns of numbers in silence for some minutes. When Martin spoke there was an edge of controlled excitement in his voice.

‘Try this, boss. On June the fourteenth, six days before Mortimer’s solo trip to London, Rachel made a twenty-three-minute call to an ex-directory number in London. The subscriber is named here as Fazal Mahmoud, address, Forty-nine, St David’s Avenue, Pimlico.’

‘Okay!’ Skinner’s tone echoed that of the younger man. ‘On June the seventeenth, Mortimer made a seventeen-minute call to the same man. Let’s take it forward.’

Each searched his list in silence for several minutes more. When Skinner was finished he looked across at Martin, a question in his eyes.

‘Nothing else sir. No more calls to that number. How about you?’

‘Consistently. One a month, each lasting no more than five minutes. Then in October, three days before the second trip, a call lasting nineteen minutes and thirty-five seconds.’

‘So. Rachel is the original contact, then Mortimer makes the running, and collects the first slab of fivers. But on the second trip, Rachel goes too, so it couldn’t have been anything risky, or at least Mike couldn’t have thought so.’

‘Yes. I wonder what Fazal’s nationality is, or if his … ’

‘Wait a minute!’ Martin cut in.

‘Fazal. Fuzzy. Rachel’s university pal told me that story about a serious boyfriend when she was a student. Some sort of Arab, she said. She never knew his real name, Rachel and the others just called him Fuzzy!’

‘A pound to a pinch of pig-shit that’s the man!’ Skinner’s voice rose.

‘Let’s see how good your predecessors were. Any Arab student in Edinburgh is quite likely to have wound up on Special Branch files. Come on. Let’s get along to your place and see if we can find your friend Fazal Mahmoud.’

Special Branch duties include the maintenance of a discreet watch over those who might be regarded by the State as malign influences, or subver sives. Sometimes, this category extends to include all citizens of certain foreign countries.

‘What years should we cover, Andy?’ Skinner asked as Martin unlocked the room in which the back files were stored, then answered his own quesion. ‘Let’s try ‘79 to ’82 for openers, since Jameson was thirty-two, going on thirty-three.’

Martin nodded agreement. He scanned the labelled drawers of a bank of grey steel filing cabinets lined against the wall facing the door. Choosing one, he opened it with a small brass key.

‘Let’s be precise, boss. I think Rachel would be nineteen or twenty when she was involved with this guy, so let’s look first at eighty and eighty-one.’

The files were labeled neatly and listed first alphabetically, then in date order. Martin found the 1980 ‘M’ listings and scanned through them. He found no ‘Mahmoud’ file. He unlocked the next cabinet and found the 1981 ‘M’ series in the bottom drawer. He flicked through the names. ‘Could be, boss, could be!’ he called.

He produced two creased yellow folders. ‘Mahmouds, both of these.’ He opened one, and read the top sheet of the papers inside. ‘Mahmoud, Achmed. Iranian; Exile, believed to be in some physical danger from the agents of the fundamentalists. No that’s not him.’ He opened the next folder.

‘You beauty!’

He scanned the pages for a few seconds, then read aloud. “‘Mahmoud, Fazal, Syrian passport holder. Born Damascus 1956. Student of politics and economics Edinburgh University. Matriculated October 1980. Member of Middle-East Students Anti-Zionist League. Member of University Squash Club. Residence, Pollock Halls. Known Associates Ali Tarfaz, Iraqi (see separate file), Andrew Harvey, Scottish (See separate file), Marjorie Porteous, Scottish (Nothing known), Rachel Jameson, Scottish (See separate file).”

‘We’ve got one on Rachel!’

Martin pulled open the second drawer of the cabinet. He searched quickly through the ‘H’ and ‘J’ listings and pulled out two files. Then he unlocked the next cabinet, found the ‘T’ series, and quickly located a third. He opened the Rachel folder and read aloud. “‘ Rachel Jameson. Born Edinburgh 1961. Educated St George’s School. Student of Law, Edinburgh University. Known associate of Fazal Mahmoud, Syrian. Known to have attended meetings of the Middle-East Students’ Anti-Zionist League. Not thought to be a member. Nothing else known.”’

He opened another. “‘Andrew Harvey. Born Airdrie, Lanarkshire, 1960. Student of mathematics, Edinburgh University. Member of Middle-East Students Anti-Zionist League.” — I never knew Airdrie was in the Middle-East, boss — “Also member, Student Front for Ulster Independence, Anti-Nazi League, Campaign for the Legalisation of Recreational Substances, Scottish National Party, Independent Labour Party, Edinburgh University Football Club.” This guy’s a bloody groupie. Let’s look at Tarfaz.’ He opened the third folder.

‘“Ali Tarfaz. Iraqi passport holder. Born Baghdad, 1958. Student of politics and economics, Edinburgh University. President of Middle-Eastern Students Anti-Zionist League. Activities include organisation of demonstrations, fly-posting, etcetera. Surveillance reveals possible links with Iraqi intelligence officers in Europe.”’

There was a photograph stapled to the inside of the folder. The man had a broad dark face. It was disfigured by a jagged, curving scar which ran round his left cheek to finish at the corner of his mouth. ‘Handsome geezer, is he not?’ said Martin.

‘There’s a later entry here, dated 1987. “Ali Tarfaz reported liquidated by Saddam after involvement in unsuccessful coup attempt.” Well, it looks like we can stop looking for him in this movie.’

‘Okay,’ said Skinner, ‘let’s concentrate on Mahmoud, and let’s see if we can trace Andrew Harvey, too. I suspect that’ll be a waste of time, but let’s eliminate him at least.’

‘How do we check out Fuzzy? Through my net in London?’

‘Absolutely not. You’d be bound to alert the Foreign Office, and I don’t want that bastard Allingham to have the faintest sniff of this. Leave that to me. I’ve got a couple of sources of my own.’