Stay of Execution

24

Skinner sat behind his desk, looking out of the window. He could have had another office, adjoining that of the chief, one that was slightly larger and which enjoyed year-round sunshine, but he had chosen to stay in his first room in the command corridor. It was cooler in the summer and, the clinching fact in its favour, it allowed him to look down the roadway that led up to the main entrance to the headquarters building, and to keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings.

He had been surprised a few hours earlier, just over an hour past midday, to see Sarah drive up the slope and park in one of the visitor spaces. He had been on the point of going along for lunch and had invited her to join him, but she had declined. So he had asked for a salad to be sent along from the dining room, and she had watched him eat.

At first he thought it might have been a business call, but she had assured him that it was purely social, following on from a food shop, before she went home to write her report on the morning’s autopsy. She had been in a funny mood, but then, he had to admit to himself, so had he: he had felt a distraction, the reason for which he still found it hard to pin down.

He had kissed her goodbye as she left, but there had been a distance between them, one that he knew needed to be closed. On impulse he picked up the phone and dialled Sarah’s private line in her office at home. ‘What is it?’ she asked him irritably. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Me too, but I’ve got time for this. I thought I’d take tomorrow afternoon off, and you and I could get in the car and go up to Gleneagles Hotel for the night: no kids, just us. We’ll stay till about noon, then get back in time for dinner with the American at the club. How about it?’

She felt a shiver of crazy anxiety. Had she been spotted following Stevie to his place? Had someone told Bob? She discarded the notion in a second: she knew nobody brave enough to tell him. ‘What’s pricked your conscience?’ she asked him.

‘Nothing,’ he told her truthfully. ‘It’s just something I think we need to do.’

‘Maybe we do at that,’ she conceded, after a few seconds’ thought. ‘Okay. Will you book it?’

‘Sure. See you later. Maybe we can manage to finish dinner tonight.’

She laughed and hung up. Bob cradled the phone for a second, then buzzed through to Ruth Pye, his secretary. ‘Do me a bit of extra-curricular, please?’ he asked her. ‘I’d like you to book me a suite for tomorrow night, dinner, bed and breakfast, at Gleneagles.’

‘I take it Sarah’s going too.’ There was a laugh in her voice: he had told her earlier that her husband was being transferred back to Edinburgh from the Borders, and she was still basking in the news.

‘What?’ he grunted. ‘Yes, of course. If I was taking anyone else I’d book it myself, Ruthie, don’t you worry.’

‘I hope you’d choose somewhere a bit more discreet than Gleneagles, in that case.’

‘Discretion’s never been my strongest card.’

‘I’m saying nothing. By the way, you had a phone call just now, while you were engaged; a Ms McElhone, from the Scottish Executive Justice Department. She wouldn’t leave a message, but she asked if you’d call her back as soon as you can. Will I do that first?’

‘Yes, please. Get her for me, then call Gleneagles.’

He hung up, waited till the phone sounded again and picked it up on the first ring. ‘Mr Skinner?’ Like every ministerial private secretary he had ever heard, Lena McElhone sounded very young, very keen and very confident. ‘Ms de Marco would like to speak to you. If you hold on I’ll put you through to her.’

He felt himself smile as he waited, wondering whether the minister’s brother had been so upset at being chucked off the Pope’s platform that he had asked her to use some muscle. If that was the case, the ball would be passed to Jim Gainer, double quick.

‘Bob?’ Even in the way she said his name, there was something different about her voice; an excitement that he had not noticed before. ‘I have some news for you. It’s going to be breaking soon, within the next hour in fact, and you’re one of the people I wanted to tell in advance. My boss, Crichton Griffiths, the Justice Minister, has resigned. He’s been diagnosed with a form of leukaemia, and begins chemotherapy this week. The First Minister has asked me to take his place.’

Skinner took a second or two to let the news sink in. He knew Crichton Griffiths professionally, and had always found him polite and courteous. However, he had also regarded him as Tommy Murtagh’s lackey, a bit too much his master’s voice rather than his own man. ‘Congratulations, Aileen,’ he said. ‘It’s a big job you’re taking on, but you’re up to it. The Association of Chief Police Officers will welcome your appointment; I can assure you of that.’

‘It’s nice of you to say so. Crichton’s always described them as a forbidding, argumentative lot, so I’m a bit apprehensive about facing them.’

‘Hey, I’m one, remember, and I do my best not to be forbidding. I don’t always succeed, I know, but I try. .’ he gave a soft laugh ‘. . unless, of course, I come up against someone I really want to intimidate.’

‘He said that too. You don’t like the First Minister a lot, do you?’

‘He talks too much. The first time I catch him listening I might start to respect him.’

‘I’ll have to bear that in mind.’

‘You’re different, don’t worry. This phone call alone is evidence of that. You’ll be a breath of fresh air at the cabinet table. I’m in no doubt about that.’

‘Thanks for your confidence, Bob. I have to admit that, right now, I’m struggling to share it.’

‘Trust me.’

‘I do, as it happens, but I’m under no illusions. I’m wildly inexperienced for the job. .’

‘It’s still a new legislature,’ Skinner pointed out. ‘You can say that about every one of your colleagues.’

‘Fine, but this is me I’m talking about, my insecurity. I’m responsible for the administration of the courts, for the prison service, the probation service, the fire service and the police. I’m going to need help and advice.’

‘You’ve got a small army of civil servants to help and advise you.’

There was a pause. ‘Exactly.’ They both laughed. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I told Lena not to listen in. It’s part of the private secretary’s routine, you know; hold the mute button and listen in on the minister’s calls.’

‘I know. But in the main, you can trust your civil service. Some of them might be a bit self-important, but they’re conscientious. . and they are experienced.’

‘I appreciate that, but I’m not going to accept everything they say and recommend. I want to have other input available when I need it. I’d like to have a private group of advisers, in each of the areas I’m responsible for, and I was wondering. . Can I count on you? Can I use you as a sounding board when I need one? You’re your own man, the last person to tell me what you think I want to hear.’

‘What makes you so sure of that?’

‘You fell out with the Secretary of State, when you were his official adviser; everybody knows that. More recently, though, you told Crichton Griffiths to piss off when he offered you command of the Scottish Drug Enforcement Agency.’

Skinner chuckled. ‘That wasn’t quite what I said.’

‘That’s a fair summary of how he described your conversation to me.’

‘It’s true that we discussed the job. I told him that I had reservations about a national body that’s focused on a single issue. If we’re talking about fighting serious crime in general, that would be another matter, but Crichton didn’t see it that way, or rather his boss didn’t. As usual, he let the Scottish media set his agenda, so we got the SDEA. At that point your predecessor did try to lean on me to take the job; he suggested that it might be my only shot at chief constable rank. I didn’t tell him to piss off, though; I told him to tell Tommy Murtagh to shove it up his arse, and not even to dream about threatening me again.’

‘I doubt very much if he passed that on.’

‘I doubt it too,’ he laughed, ‘but it might make you consider, Aileen, whether you really want me as an adviser, informal or not.’

‘It makes me dead certain that I do. Consider it, please.’

‘I don’t need to. I’ll do it. If you’re going to be a listening minister, I’d be bloody stupid to pass up the chance to tell you what I think.’

She gave a small sound of pleasure. ‘Thanks, Bob, thanks very much.’

‘Don’t mention it. So what do you want to pick my brains about first?’

‘How about the SDEA? What should I do about that?’

‘You don’t have any choice. You have to give it your full backing. My view on that is irrelevant; your administration set it up and gave it a job to do. There are dozens of good officers out there now, working hard at it, and I will never do or say anything, in public or in private, to undermine them. My argument with Murtagh was strategic. I do not subscribe to the view that all serious crime in Scotland goes back to the drugs trade, simple as that.’

‘We’ll have a longer discussion about that,’ said de Marco, ‘and soon. Before I go though; you’ve got contacts, could you help me build up my advisory network?’

‘I’ll think about it, but I can give you a couple of names right now: Mitchell Laidlaw and Lenny Plenderleith.’

‘I’ve heard of Laidlaw,’ the minister murmured, ‘but not Lenny Plenderleith. Should I?’

‘As of today you should have. You’ve got him locked up for murder. Lenny was a gangster, and I put him away, but he’s a very bright guy, and in a strange way he and I have become friends. His motivation has changed, and so has his outlook on life. He knows more about the prison service than most of the guys who run it. If you really want to understand what happens inside, he’s the guy to put you right.’

‘I’ll read his file. Let’s meet, Bob, privately; the evening would be best.’

Skinner hesitated. ‘I can’t do it before Monday,’ he said cautiously.

‘That suits me. We’ll confirm arrangements later. I have to make some more calls now.’

He laughed. ‘Not least to your brother. You can tell him he’s back on the platform at Murrayfield.’