Where No Shadows Fall

by Peter Ritchie

  54

  Macallan knocked and walked into Elaine Tenant’s office bang on time because she knew the Chief Super was a stickler for punctuality. Tenant had gone the extra yard to support her, so she thought she deserved the courtesy, particularly if someone was sitting in. Punctuality, or rather the lack of it, was something that had always been a problem for Macallan, who Harkins used to refer to as ‘the late Grace Macallan’. She always took it on the chin because it was true.

  Tenant seemed genuinely pleased to see her, and it helped relax Macallan, who was worried that what she’d been doing was going to backfire on her. A uniformed chief superintendent stood up as she came into the room and Tenant introduced him as Grant Cosgrove from the Counter Corruption Unit. Macallan was clean but there was always something about a visit from those boys that made you just make sure your memory wasn’t playing tricks about whether you were actually a bent bastard about to get the big message.

  He stuck out his hand and on his feet he was an impressive character, although definitely way the wrong side of fifty. Well over six foot, wide shouldered and not carrying an extra pound, he was either a gym addict or at least a keen sportsman. His thinning grey hair was cut skin short and it suited him. There was serious scar tissue above his right eye, which just added to the package, and Macallan thought that if she’d been into older men then he would be worth a look.

  His smiling blue eyes almost made her forget why she was there and it was Tenant who brought her back to earth with a mild stab at humour, which was unusual for her.

  ‘Grant’s not here for you, Grace, so you can relax.’ Tenant was pouring the coffee as she spoke, and Macallan had already picked up a vibe that there might be someone in the room who did fancy an older man. Cosgrove wasn’t wearing a wedding ring so it was fair enough, but it was the first time Macallan had even imagined Tenant being interested in men. Perhaps her Chief Super was more human than she’d ever imagined.

  They took their seats and Tenant didn’t waste time on small talk before telling Macallan that the CCU were interested in Charlie MacKay. Macallan stayed quiet but found it hard to disguise her surprise at the turn of events. She’d been worried that if MacKay was bent she would struggle to prove anything, given that it wasn’t really what she was supposed to be looking at.

  ‘Can you quickly go over what you’ve been doing and anything you’ve found? Please speak freely in front of Grant. He needs to know what you know.’

  Macallan felt almost relief that a team with the clout of the CCU and all their facilities were in on the game. They were under pressure in the press over the hunt for a leak in Police Scotland, but that wasn’t her problem. She’d already taken the decision that she would not reveal her gut feeling that Slab had been murdered; nothing had come back from the PM yet to change her mind.

  ‘There’s been a development since we last spoke, Elaine, and I’ve just come from a meeting with Jimmy and Felicity.’ She watched Tenant’s head tilt back – she had her attention. Cosgrove never batted an eyelid – he was a cool one. But then she hadn’t expected anything else.

  Macallan briefed them on her visit to the prison. She moved on to the interviews with Goldstein, Holden and Adams before filling them in on the work McGovern and Young had been carrying out on the people behind the various phone numbers that had been in contact with Mickey Dalton in the weeks before his death. When she revealed what Adams had said about the murder and disposal of a child’s body, they both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Cosgrove might have been cool but he wasn’t inhuman. Macallan was holding back on a question for Cosgrove but decided she needed an answer before she said any more.

  ‘With the greatest respect, sir, it’s unusual for you guys to come out and disclose who you’re after. May I ask why?’ She watched Tenant twitch slightly at the question, but she never believed in one-way traffic on these things.

  Cosgrove nodded and seemed almost pleased with the question.

  ‘I’m glad you asked, and I respect what’s behind it. Let’s just say that we know that you’re quite involved in matters not that far removed from Charlie MacKay and that we trust Elaine and you completely. Your records tell us that. More than that, the two of you have stood by principles that have cost you in different ways. Sometimes we have to come out and trust people, Grace, because the majority in this job are clean. Simple as that. Will that do for now?’

  She nodded and looked at Tenant, who was staring at Cosgrove, before continuing. ‘Adams won’t go on the record and that’s final. You’re welcome to try, but he’s one of a dying breed. Unlike almost everyone these days he believes in the old ways and sticks to the omertà code.’ Macallan apologised immediately. ‘Sorry, I know we’re in Scotland but I love anything with the Mafia in it!’

  ‘No problem; you aren’t the only Sopranos addict in this room.’ Cosgrove smiled easily, Tenant’s eyes flickered and Macallan suppressed a grin as she noted her boss’s non-verbals.

  Macallan told them what had been said and went on to report her meeting with MacKay till Cosgrove interrupted politely.

  ‘We heard you had a difficult meeting with him, but what did you think of him?’ Cosgrove put his cup on Tenant’s desk and leaned forward slightly. She knew she was under the microscope, but that was no more than she would expect if they were taking her into their confidence.

  ‘Jimmy McGovern knew him and had a negative opinion but nothing that could be described as criminal. I try to make up my own mind, but sorry to say I just didn’t like the man, and my gut tells me he’s dirty. I know that we’re not supposed to have gut feelings nowadays, but that’s the truth.’

  Cosgrove nodded slowly as Macallan fired a question back at him.

  ‘If you heard we had a problem, I’m guessing that you have a source close to him, either human or technical?’

  ‘You have more experience of the dark arts than I’ll ever have, Grace, so you know I can’t answer that.’ His smile was back and she knew she could work with him.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’ She was pushing a bit hard and noticed Tenant strumming her fingers on the desk. That was a common habit she had and signified that the dialogue was just a bit too cosy. It was time to get serious and back to business. Macallan moved on to giving an account of the locus of Slab’s death, relating it as a routine incident and making no mention of any suspicions.

  ‘So the problem is that we have some red flags for corruption, but if people keep dying on us then where does it go? As it stands now, the next of kin is Big Brenda, and I thought I’d speak to you first, Elaine, before we do anything further.’

  Tenant finished making a note and asked Cosgrove to brief Macallan on what they were doing that involved MacKay.

  ‘We’ve been interested in him for some time. What I should say is that, as we’ve discussed, it’s unusual for us to make an approach to you like this, and I’m sure you understand that our conversation must not go any further than this room. It’s a compliment to you both that we looked at your records and felt we could take you into our confidence. What I can tell you right at the start is that if there is corruption it’s nothing to do with money, or else he’s brilliant at laundering it. It can only be about the desire to succeed, or promotion, or whatever term you want to use.’

  ‘Seen it before, sir, and I guess we all have,’ Macallan said quietly.

  ‘MacKay has an excellent CV by any standard, much of it built on source information – and when I say source, I mean CHIS jobs. When he was in the Source Handling Unit he cultivated some top-quality sources and has continued since he left it. However, some of those sources seem to have received preferential treatment over the years, although we haven’t been able to prove a direct link to him.’

  ‘Does that include the McMartins, sir?’ Macallan asked the obvious question.

  ‘Of course, and as you know the Tommy McMartin case gave him a strong defence against that accusation. We still can’t figure that one out, but we believe he was runnin
g an unregistered source at that time, for whatever reason. Our suspicion is that the unregistered source was Slab himself, but that’s still only a theory.’

  Macallan lifted her head at the term ‘unregistered source’. The old bogeyman. The days when detectives ran their own sources was long gone, and with justification: the practice had led to endless abuses and scandals where criminals who were run as informants were given a pass on almost anything they did. SHUs had been set up, and the sources now belonged to the force rather than to the individual officer. It was a serious disciplinary offence to go off-message on this, but it still happened, and it didn’t surprise her that a man like MacKay would do this. She’d seen it often enough before.

  A text came in on her phone. She checked it and shook her head at the contents before looking up at Elaine. ‘Ian Moore is alive but very ill and suffering from Alzheimer’s. We’re cursed every way we turn on this.’

  ‘Where do you suggest we go with this now, Grant? We have serious allegations here, but as far as I can see there’s only Brenda to focus on – and MacKay. He’s outside Grace’s remit by a mile, and in any case I presume that’s something you want to keep control of. As for Brenda, I suppose you would want to see her anyway, but you have no authority to investigate an old murder. Now we have Tommy, who we could describe as the accused or perhaps even another victim. Christ, this is a mess.’ It was almost unknown for Elaine to use anything close to a curse, but the occasion and problem warranted more than that.

  ‘I would like to see Brenda,’ Macallan replied, ‘but she probably won’t speak to me because we didn’t exactly hit it off the last time we met. Apart from that, there’s not much more I can do on the remit for looking at Tommy’s suicide.’

  Cosgrove was deep in thought and rubbed his chin as he searched for a way ahead.

  ‘First things first. You have an address for Brenda. You have to get that intelligence into the system. If she attacks some poor sod, or another criminal for that matter, you’ll be neck deep for not making the information available.’

  Macallan’s phone rang and she looked apologetically at Tenant, who told her to take it just in case it was relevant.

  She said okay a few times and set her phone back down on the table. ‘Sorry, that was Jimmy again. There’s intel from the NCA that they’ve picked up source information down there that there’s a contract out on Brenda and it’s a Liverpool team that are doing the job. That backs up intel put on by MacKay’s team that there was a contract being sorted with a Scouse team.’

  Tenant rarely drank but for the first time in a while she could have murdered a glass of something. The case was a collection of fragments that were becoming harder and harder to pull together. It was out of her range of experience, and she hoped Cosgrove could take the strain on it. She didn’t have the answers but trusted the other two people in the room.

  ‘The other problem,’ Macallan continued, ‘or advantage for us as regards Brenda, is that no one on the police side is really spending a lot of time looking for her. There are no complaints because the robberies were against other criminals. We have Jimmy Adams’ story and nothing else about the murder so we can wait and see where that goes. There’s a contract on her, so let me see her as Tommy’s relation and deliver the Osman warning.’ The Osman warning was an obligation on the police to warn someone, whether they were a criminal or not (and they almost always were), that they’d received information that a threat to their life existed. It happened all the time. Although in most cases the police would have been happy to see the sentences carried out, it was the law and they had to comply. ‘Normally it would be Glasgow that would do it, in fact Charlie MacKay’s people. They don’t have her whereabouts, but if I put this information on they’ll pick it up immediately. Can you fix it, sir?’

  She looked at Cosgrove and waited while he ran over the issues.

  He made a note and looked back up. ‘Consider it done. I’ll make the calls now. I’m going to arrange it so that because you’re doing the Tommy McMartin investigation, you have to see Brenda, and it’s appropriate that you deliver the Osman warning. MacKay will get a call shortly to say you’re handling it. Let’s keep him calm. I want you to call in and see MacKay on the way and appear to make peace with him. Make it look as routine as possible while we follow up the various lines your team have dug up. We can work together on this.’

  He looked at Tenant as Macallan’s boss and she looked delighted that there was a reason to keep up their liaison. ‘We’ll do anything we can do to help, Grant.’

  Macallan hoped Cosgrove fancied the offer Elaine was telegraphing across the room.

  ‘The only thing though, Grace, is that you need someone with you, and I believe Jimmy’s back behind the desk. He spoke to me and told me what had happened; you did the right thing. Who do you want?’

  ‘DS Mark Dunbar, a Weegie. Don’t ask me why, but I met him at Slab’s and think he’s a man I can trust on this. And he knows the McMartins.’

  ‘It’s done; I’ll make that happen. Just call him in about an hour and make your arrangements.’

  Macallan nodded and felt they were moving towards some kind of truth, but whether there would be a reckoning with anyone was in the lap of the gods. ‘It won’t be easy pretending with Charlie MacKay, but I’m ex-RUC SB, sir, so know what needs to be done. I’m going to call Brenda and just go for it.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Cosgrove stood up and shook her hand.

  The wheels were turning quickly now, and after Macallan explained to McGovern and Young what had happened, without mentioning CCU’s involvement, she went back to her office and called Brenda’s number. It rang for a full minute and there was no voicemail so she put the phone on the table and felt her shoulders ache with tension. She chewed the side of her finger and worried that what had seemed clear in Tenant’s office might be upset by just not being able to find Brenda. She tried again and this time the phone was picked up after the third ring.

  ‘Brenda McMartin?’ Macallan hadn’t worked out what she would say so played it by instinct.

  ‘Who the fuck is this?’

  ‘Superintendent Grace Macallan. We need to speak.’

  There was a long pause and Macallan heard a radio playing in the background.

  ‘Saw your name in the paper. You’re on Tommy’s case. That fuckin’ insult in the hospital was out of order by the way.’ She was referring to their only meeting, which had ended up with Brenda on the floor next to her hospital bed.

  ‘Okay, tell you the truth, I’ve hardly been out an’ it’s drivin’ me fuckin’ mental. Any chance you could buy me a few packets o’ crisps on the way?’

  Macallan shook her head in wonder; it was the last thing she’d expected to be asked. ‘OK,’ she agreed.

  ‘Where?’ Brenda asked.

  ‘I can come to your place. I know where you are.’ Macallan knew that information would have an impact and there was another long pause before she heard a quiet snigger down the line.

  ‘Sounds like you’ve had a word wi’ Fanny Adams. Grassin’ wee bastard. Doesn’t make much difference so come ahead.’

  After she hung up, Macallan went into the bathroom and splashed cold water over her face. She stayed there for a few minutes and tried to gather her thoughts. When she went to pick up her jacket and case she sent a text to Jack with a line of five kisses and a picture of a wedding cake.

  She climbed into the car, turned the ignition and flicked on the radio. Another high-profile politician was up to his arse in alligators, and politics was hot with the European issue still tearing the Tories apart. Macallan decided that she couldn’t stand another report on politics and put on a music channel that she hardly listened to on the way through to Glasgow. Dunbar called her and didn’t seem the least bit surprised at the request he’d received from on high to team up with her.

  ‘No problem, boss. Had a feeling we’d be meeting again.’

  They arranged a where and when and Macallan stared at the M8 sli
ding below her on the way to the truth.

  55

  When Macallan hit the traffic on the east side of the city she called MacKay’s number, felt a tremor in her stomach and had to work hard to control her nerves. When he answered he was guarded and obviously being careful with a call he hadn’t expected so soon after their previous meeting.

  ‘Look, we got off to a bad start and I want to come over and fill you in on what I’m doing,’ Macallan told him. ‘You were involved in the original case so it’s only fair. I take it you got the call that I’m seeing Big Brenda and have to hand out an Osman warning?’ She waited for his reaction.

  ‘Fair enough, drop in. As for Brenda, well, she’s not a priority for us anyway. Intel on the rip-offs is all we have – not a single complainer. So you have an address for her?’

  ‘Speak to you when I get there. I’m picking up the DS who was at Slab’s and he’s going to Brenda’s with me.’

  ‘Who’s that then?’

  ‘Mark Dunbar. Seems okay.’

  ‘Not my cup of tea.’ There was too long a pause before he said it, and that proved Macallan’s original assessment of Dunbar was on the money. If MacKay didn’t like him it was probably an unintentional compliment.

  When Macallan picked up Dunbar he seemed relaxed given he’d had almost no information about what he was supposed to be doing with her. He had all the experience in the world, however, and had already guessed that her actions and words at Slab’s house meant it was something to do with the McMartins, so he wanted in. He’d gone up against them so many times and had nearly always failed to put one of them away. It didn’t matter – he would always have another crack if the chance came along, and something told him Macallan might just give him that opportunity – so why not?

  ‘I’m stopping at Charlie MacKay’s office on the way, just be ten minutes with him. I’ll do that on my own and then we’re going to see Big Brenda. Were you told that?’