Skinner's rules

87

When Skinner returned to his office, he found a note from his secretary on his desk. ‘At lunch. CC called, asked if you could spare a minute on your return.’

Skinner called to check that Proud was still there, then walked the short distance to his office.

‘Hello, Bob. Come along in. Coffee?’ Skinner nodded. ‘Sandwich?’ Proud jerked a thumb towards a plate on his desk. Skinner helped himself to a BLT as the Chief handed him a steaming mug.

‘How did your recce go? Do you see any problems?’

‘Just like you’d expect with the SAS boys — like clockwork. There’s no way that anyone will get near our guest without being spotted. No one will have a go at this man and walk away from it. But of course, political assassins don’t care about walking away. If there’s a fanatic out there, he’ll have a chance.’

‘And is that what you’re after in this investigation of yours, Bob — a fanatic?’

‘No, Chief. I’m after a cold, calculating devious bastard who kills for purpose.’

‘And this Arab chap? Does he fit into that category?’

A slight smile flicked the corners of Skinner’s mouth. Had Proud Jimmy been nobbled? ‘Fuzzy? No, I don’t think so. Yes, Fuzzy’s a killer but he’s not the one I’m looking for. He’s a loose cannon. Somebody’s wound him up and let him go.’

Almost dreamily, he continued in a soft voice, ‘No, there’s someone else, someone much more heavy duty than him.’ Abruptly he looked Proud traight in the eye. ‘What did Fulton tell you?’

The Chief looked slightly furtive. ‘He told me that this man Mahmoud was on the run from his own people because of some political thing, and that Fulton’s outfit was keeping out of it.

‘He said that you had picked up a false trail linking the man with Rachel Jameson, that by chance you had got too close to him, and that he had panicked. He said that Mahmoud murdered the people who were hiding him, that pair that were shot in Earlsferry on Sunday. And he said that you’re still after him. That’s what he said.

‘And he asked me — no that’s the wrong word — he told me, to nail you and Martin to your desks for a while.’

‘And will you?’

‘Should I?’

‘That depends upon whether you like the idea of people in your town, one of your men among them, being killed for politics.’

‘That’s what you think?’

‘That’s what I know, Chief. There’s a wee bit of what Fulton told you that’s true. Fuzzy Mahmoud is on the move, and I want him. But not because he killed our five people. He didn’t. There’s a hell of a lot that I know that Fulton didn’t tell you. I think I even know some things that he doesn’t. Unless you order me otherwise, I’m going to keep it all to myself, to protect your position if nothing else. I’m a loose cannon in this thing too, Chief. Let me stay that way!’

Proud looked at Skinner long and hard. ‘Bob, if something goes wrong here, like as not I’ll be in the firing line along with you.’

Skinner sighed. ‘I know that, Jimmy. And I’ve no right to expect it of you.’

The Chief’s solemn face broke into a sudden, sunny smile. ‘I’ve never liked that big Aberdonian bastard Fulton. The man keeps saying that he doesn’t exist. Well, if that’s the case, then he couldn’t have been in my office this morning. And if he wasn’t, then you’re not here now either, and this conversation hasn’t happened. So away you go then, before I notice you!’