'Speak for yourself, Mandy,' Sean Green muttered, fingering the plaster on his nose, and breaking the tension with a grin. 'I'm sorry about the blade, by the way. At first I thought your guy might have been an Albanian, but I could tell by the look of him that he wasn't, so I didn't try to stick him, honest. If I had been trying…'
Skinner's eyes fell on him like two blocks of ice. 'You wouldn't be here today, boy,' he said, slowly, in a voice not much above a whisper. He turned back to Dennis. 'They're out of the picture now, you know that. Too many people in the club saw him being filled in and Jingle being lifted.'
'Absolutely. I accept that we can't put them back in. That's why we're here.'
'Cap in bloody hand, eh.'
She nodded, and smiled, wryly. 'I have to accept that description.'
Bandit Mackenzie raised a hand. 'Permission to speak, sir?' he asked.
The DCC chuckled. 'Aye, go on then, as long as it's constructive.'
'It's a question really, sir, for Sean. After you and Bell were done, when we had you in the interview room, why the hell did you keep stringing us along? You must have known that it would all end up at a meeting like this and that I'd find out about you in the end. So why didn't you just switch off the tape and spill it?'
Green looked at him, through his puffy eyes. 'If it had been just you and me, I probably would have, but your sergeant was there. All due respect, but Mandy would have crucified me if I'd talked in front of her.'
'On a barbed-wire cross,' his section head confirmed.
'So,' Skinner exclaimed, 'with your team out of the picture, what are you asking of us?'
'That you take over from them: find the Albanians, determine what it is they're up to, and remove them as a threat.'
'By any means necessary?'
Dennis looked at him, but said nothing. In the silence, Rudolph Sewell leaned forward. 'It may be,' he murmured smoothly, 'that once you have secured them you would prefer to hand them over to us.'
'And it may not,' the big policeman retorted. 'I've just lost a terrorist gang, identified and arrested by my people, to the Americans; that's not going to happen again. Let's cross that one when we reach it, though. Meantime, how much scope do we have?'
'You operate under the same legislation and codes of practice that we do,' Dennis replied.
'What about electronic surveillance? We'll need legal authority for wiretaps.'
'You have it: you'll be our agents in this operation and the Home Secretary has given us blanket authorisation already.'
'How wide is the loop? Has the Home Secretary changed his mind and advised our First Minister, or his own opposite number in Scotland, our Justice Minister?'
'No, and I'm told by my director general that he doesn't plan to.'
Skinner stared across the table, 'I've got to have discretion to do that if I think it's necessary, without reference to you.'
Sewell drew in a deep breath. 'Oh, I don't know about that,' he retorted. 'We're the principals in this operation; I don't think we can delegate to that extent.'
'You weren't listening to me,' the DCC told him. 'I said that I must have that discretion. I'm not negotiating here. You may be his number two, but I know your director general; I have done for longer than you've been in post, and maybe even in the service. I make one phone call, I will get what I need and you will be overruled. Let me tell you, within these walls,' he glanced at his fellow police officers, 'why I must have the ability to widen the loop if I need to. Our First Minister has decided that he's going to take overall control of the police service into his own tight wee grasp. He's persuaded his coalition partners that it's in the public interest to give him the effective power to promote or dismiss every senior copper in Scotland, and the bill to enable that will be published very soon. Already we're coming under closer scrutiny than ever before. Mr Murtagh has appointed a former colleague of ours to be his eyes and ears, and he's making his presence felt. I don't want him blundering in on this operation by accident'
'Would you like us to persuade the Home Office to advise Mr Murtagh and Ms de Marco?' asked Dennis.
'No. Leave it to me to tell them, if I judge it to be necessary.'
She looked at Sewell, who nodded. 'Okay, Bob,' she conceded, 'that's agreed. Do you want anything else?'
'Yes. I want you on the ground here.'
She smiled again. 'So does Rudy, but thank you for inviting me.'
'And I want the ability to call in special forces the moment that we identify an imminent threat'
'No promises, but we'll do our best.'
Skinner rose to his feet. He looked at his three colleagues. 'Willie, Neil, Bandit, you're the lead team on this operation, reporting to Mrs Dennis and me. If you need additional personnel, use only your most trusted people, and tell them as much as they need to know, but no more. Amanda, will you be in a position to give us everything you have on these men at nine tomorrow morning?'
'Yes,' she replied.
'Excellent; we meet in this room.' He headed for the door. 'Now, if you don't mind, I'm getting out of this murky place and going home to my kids.'
Nineteen
'My son was an inquisitive boy,' said George Regan. 'From his earliest years, he was always wanting to know how things worked, always with a -question in waiting to follow the one you were answering.' He smiled. 'It was difficult staying one step ahead of him from time to time.' A tentative laugh rippled through the group of journalists as they faced him.
'I can't deny that he was an adventurous lad too, always up for a dare, always up for showing what he could do. My wife and I are ready to accept that his death was the result of an adventure gone wrong. While it was unusual for him to be so reckless, I can't put my hand on my heart and say that it was out of the question.'
He paused and took one more look around the room. 'But we need to know for sure about his final moments. Jen and I can't face the uncertainty for the rest of our lives. So, if there are people out there who saw wee George after he left the bus stop where he was last spotted, if anyone saw him entering the castle grounds, I ask them through you, ladies and gentlemen, and through the broadcast media, to come forward and help us to cope with what has happened to our son. Thank you.'
Slowly he rose from his chair, behind the table, in front of the backcloth embellished with the police-force crest, and walked from the room. There was no sound as he left; no questions were called after him. It occurred to Stevie Steele that he had never heard a group of journalists so quiet for so long.
He followed his colleague through the door, and back through the CID office to his own room. 'Thanks, George,' he said, as he closed the door, 'I know what it must have taken to do that.'
Regan gave him as sad a smile as he had ever seen. 'With respect, Stevie,' he replied, 'I don't really think you do. I was pleased to do it for you, though; I meant every word I said out there.'
He sat on the edge of the detective inspector's desk, all at once looking completely exhausted. 'You're going to close the book, aren't you?' he said, quietly. 'You're going to pass the file to the Fiscal and let him make the decision.' There was no rancour in his voice: it was matter-of-fact.
'I promise you, mate,' Steele told him, 'that Mary and I have been totally conscientious about this. I admit that we've gone as far as we can in term of witnesses; that's why we asked you to do the public appeal. But we're going to do what you'd expect of us, and what you would do yourself. We'll wait for responses to your statement, and we'll follow them up meticulously. There are no constraints on us.'
'Not even from Dan Pringle? This isn't really a CID job; we both know that.'
'Absolutely no pressure, I promise; and if there was we'd resist it. The head of CID's as gutted as the rest of us, George, believe me.'
'Ach, I do. I've known Dan for years; he's a good bloke. It's just that we're all totally bloody driven by clear-up figures these days. See public accountability, Stevie; setting targets and all that stuff. It's great in principle, but when it affects
the way we do our job, or stops us doing it altogether, I wish they'd just let us get on with it.'
'So do I, from time to time,' Steele admitted. 'It's here to stay, though, and I've got a hunch that it might get worse before it gets better. I just heard something on the grapevine that set me back on my heels. A pal of mine in St Andrews House told me that the security adviser's office there has a new occupant: Greg Jay.'
'You're joking!'
'My sense of humour isn't that black. I asked the chief super if she'd heard about it, but it was news to her.'
'That'll be great,' Regan exclaimed, ironically. 'Mr Bitter and Twisted himself, whispering in the ears of the First Minister and the Justice Minister.' He glanced at his colleague. 'Although my own personal rumour mill says that someone has been whispering in de Marco's ear before him.'
Steele frowned. 'Who's that?'
'I'll do you a favour and not tell you. If it's just unfounded gossip you're best not to know.'
Between them, a silence fell; and in it, Regan's grief, from which their conversation had been no more than a moment's respite, returned in full force. 'I've got to go, Stevie,' he said. 'It was a hell of a job persuading the wife not to come here; I have to get back to her now. I'll take a couple more days' leave, yes?'
'You'll take a couple of weeks more; you'll take as long as you and Jen need. Fuck the clear-up figures, George: there are more important things in this world.'
Twenty
'Pops, there's something I have to tell you,' said Alexis Skinner.
'You're getting married.'
'No. I'm not even seeing anyone just now.'
'So you're not pregnant either, then.'
'Don't be daft. I made that mistake once; it won't be repeated.'
'What is it, then?'
'I'm a bit scared.'
Bob looked at her across the dinner table, eyebrows raised in surprise. 'You're what? You've never been scared in your life. What's the problem? Are you in trouble at work? Are you ill?' He sat bolt upright as his mind ticked off a list of crisis scenarios and stopped at the worst case. 'You haven't found a lump, have you?'
'No, Pops, it's nothing like that, none of those things. I'm fine, but I'm scared for you.'
He picked up his glass and shook his head slowly. 'Is that all? Alex, my love, you're the oldest of my children, but you're not always the most sensible. Why the hell are you scared about me, any more than you have been for the last twenty years?' He rose from his dining chair. 'Come on, let's go through to the comfy seats and you can tell me all about it.'
'Okay, but go and say good night to the sibs first.'
He did as he was told, climbing the stairs to the children's rooms. They had been all over him when he had arrived home, even Seonaid, whom he had thought too young to have noticed his absence. He had given time, and presents, to each of them in turn, explaining as best he could to the two boys why their mother had decided to stay in America for a little longer.
To his surprise, Mark had been the most anxious of the three. James Andrew and Seonaid had accepted his promise that she would be back for Christmas, but his older son had needed more reassurance. 'She isn't ill, is she?' he had asked at one point.
'No,' he had replied. 'She's been very tired, but she's okay. Mum's been through a lot this year. She's in need of a good long rest, that's all.'
He stood in the doorway of Mark's room, looking at him; as he had expected, his younger son and daughter were sound asleep. He was sitting with his back to the door at his computer, as usual, but not at a document or website. He was on-line, in the midst of a video conversation, but he wore a headset so only he could hear the incoming sound. Bob moved silently behind him to see the face on the small square in the centre of the screen: it was Sarah, and from the background he could tell that she was in the internet cafe they had found near their hotel. He waved at the camera. A second or two later, Mark turned, surprised and looked up at him. 'Go on,' said Bob, quietly, ruffling the boy's hair. 'Don't mind me.' He leaned over to be close to the microphone. 'Hi, Sarah, sorry to butt in. I'll leave you to it; my big kid's downstairs.' He read her lips as she mouthed, 'Okay. Good night.'
'Good night,' he replied, 'to both of you.' He closed the door behind him and made his way back to Alex.
She was sitting in the big conservatory-style sitting room on the end of the house. 'All okay?' she asked.
'Yeah, fine.' He told her about the conversation he had interrupted, and about Mark's earlier concern.
'You know why he's anxious, don't you?' she asked.
'Tell me.'
'He's already lost one mother; he doesn't want it to happen again.'
'He sees that as a possibility, does he?'
'Of course he does. You parents either have unrealistic expectations or you underrate your children. Mark's a very gifted mathematician; you're aware of that, but you don't realise how emotionally mature he is. He picks up the same vibes I do. He reads things that the other two can't see.'
Alex pulled her legs up underneath her on the big armchair she had chosen. The curtains were open and the lights were dim; through the picture windows, the moon shone on the Firth of Forth, turning the eleven-mile wide estuary into a great silver ribbon.
'How was I with you?' Bob asked. 'Unrealistic or a putter-downer?'
'Father, you thought the sun shone out of my arse but, then, you thought the same about my mother too.'
'I don't deny either of those charges. I don't regret either… either. Fact is, I've never changed those opinions.'
She drew him a long look, arching her eyebrows. 'Even though you now know all about Mum's affairs? Even though I aborted my fianc's baby, without even telling him I was pregnant?'
'Even though. I'll support you in anything you do.'
'Even if it's illegal?'
'Even if. But that's semantics: you couldn't do anything illegal, unless it was for the most moral reasons.'
'What makes you so sure?'
He grunted. 'You're my daughter.'
'I'm also my mother's daughter. Does that mean you expect me to have affairs?'
'God help the guy who marries you. If genetic inheritance counts for anything, he's stuffed from both sides.'
Alex turned on him. 'You see? There you go, that's how you're scaring me. You've changed, you're not the man I've always known. You're different.'
'Nothing's changed. This is the man I've always been; if I seem different it's because I've shed my old skin. Maybe it happened when they put the pacemaker in. Maybe it was when I found out that my brother was dead. Maybe it's when I found out about Sarah and Ron bloody Neidholm.'
His daughter gasped. 'What? The man in Buffalo? The one who was killed? Sarah and he…'
'… were lovers? Yes.'
'God, Pops. I don't know what to say.'
'How about "Not again"? Before that there was another guy in the States, called Terry Carter.'
'You haven't been perfect yourself,' she reminded him.
'Of course not. I'm obsessive, I have a wicked temper, and I have an occasional tendency to follow my dick where it leads me. I suppose that's why your mother and I were soul-mates.'
'You missed out "cynical".'
'Sorry, that too. But it's a fault I've acquired only recently.'
'Pops, what's brought all this on?'
'Like I said, I don't know. All I do know is that suddenly I've become completely self-aware, and with it self-critical. All my life, Alex, I've had a great big ego; I've believed in my own public image, and, I confess, I've even pandered to it from time to time. I just didn't recognise the fact until now. Maybe it was the heart scare; maybe when it stopped, then started to beat again, I came round as a different guy. Certainly, from around that time I've seen things, and myself, completely differently.'
'Are you saying you've lost your self-belief?'
'I don't think so. Truth be told, when I'm not with you, and them upstairs, I'm happiest doing my job. That's why I fought so hard wh
en it was under threat. That's the main reason why Sarah and I are in the trouble we're in right now.' He looked at her, suddenly, sharply. 'Who's the most important person in your life?'
'You are.' Her reply was instant.
'Good. Next.'
'James Andrew, because he's special; he's my blood and he's you, scaled down.'
'Then if anything happens to me, you raise him, and make him different. Instil some humility in him; my dad tried it with me, but he failed… possibly because he wasn't very good at it himself,' he added.
'Nothing's going to happen to you for a very long time,' she said, 'so let's not even go there. What's the point of your question?'
'My point is that if I made the same list, totally honestly, the names on it, in order, would be you, the Jazzer and Seonaid, my blood children, first equal, then Mark and then me. Sarah would follow on somewhere.'
'I see. Not a good basis for a sustainable marriage, is that what you're saying?'
'Unless you both think the same way, and you realise it and accept it'
'And what if that special person comes along?'
'I think Ron Neidholm may have been that special person for Sarah.'
'And what about you?'
His mouth fell open slightly with surprise as he looked at her. 'God, don't you know that? I met her long ago. She died long ago.'
'Mum.'
'Of course.' He felt his eyes mist over, and turned his head away so that she would not see. 'I have never got over your mother's death, Alexis. I've put it away in a box inside me, like that box of hers I hid in the attic in the old cottage, but the hurt has always been there. It always will be. You have no idea how much I miss her.'
'Maybe I do,' she whispered, with a catch in her voice, but he did not notice.
'There is no day goes by without me thinking of her and feeling the pain of her loss. Tell me, did you assume that if I had found out about her infidelities when she was alive I'd have divorced her?'
'I suppose I did.'
'Well, you're wrong. I could never have done that because I loved her with all my being, and she loved me in the same way. Okay, I was arrogant and driven and consumed by ambition, and she was manipulative, immoral and ruthless. Those guys of hers: they thought they were using her, and all the time it was the other way round.' He laughed. 'There we were, the two of us, the Guardian couple of the month, Gullane edition, all of it a front. And yet behind the secrets and lies, when it came to it we were like twins, conjoined at the heart and at the very soul.'
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