Thursday legends bs-10

by Quintin Jardine

  'While they were waiting, they searched him. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but on a chain around his neck, they found a police warrant card, identifying him as Detective Chief Superintendent Andrew Martin.'

  In spite of himself, the DCC felt his throat go dry and his knees go weak. Unseen by anyone else, Adam Arrow grabbed his elbow, supporting him. 'Where is he now?' he asked, hoarsely.

  'He was put under heavy sedation by the medics and airlifted to the Hospital Unit at Glencorse Barracks.'

  'What else did you find here?' McGuire asked.

  'Only that pistol. There were two discharged rounds in the magazine and four live bullets scattered around, one of them at the dead man's feet, almost hidden from sight.

  'Now,' the MP colonel continued, his tone conciliatory for the first time, 'can you gentlemen tell me who this is and what's happened here?'

  'I can,' said the Head of Special Branch. 'This man here was one Lawrence Scotland, who's been under my department's surveillance for years. He was once a professional assassin, involved in Ireland on the Loyalist side, with several known kills to his name, but he had been inactive for some time.

  'Last night Mr Martin went, alone, to pick him up for interview in relation to a current murder investigation. Scotland wasn't assessed as a real suspect, or as a risk, but he had had dealings in the past with the dead man.' He looked at the MP.

  'Tell me something. The two spent cartridges in the gun; were they in successive chambers, side by side?'

  Fielding walked across the clearing; none of them had noticed the gun lying there; he picked it up, and broke the breech. 'No. There's an empty chamber between them.'

  'Aye, I thought so. This is what happened. I must have been wrong in my assessment of Scotland. He must have been involved in that murder after all. When DCS Martin turned up to interview him, he took him prisoner and brought him up here to kill him.

  'Only he decided to have a bit of fun first; play a game of Russian Roulette. He underestimated his man though. While Andy Martin's breathing, he's dangerous. Scotland made a mistake somewhere along the line and DCS Martin, hands tied and all, just tore right through him.'

  The MP frowned. 'But why would he bring him up here to kill him?'

  'Sorry, Colonel,' Skinner intervened, his composure recovered. 'That part of the story's for Mr Arrow's ears only. Adam, I want you to take me to see Andy, right away.'

  'Sure. We'll take the chopper there now.'

  'But what about this?' Fielding protested, pointing at the ravaged body. 'What do I do with him?'

  'Get a shovel,' the DCC snapped. 'I want him buried up here. Your people, and the soldiers who found them, I want them all told that they've been hallucinating. This never happened. Lawrence Scotland goes on our missing-persons list, only we won't be looking for him.'

  The MP turned to Arrow. 'Do it,' said the little man, in a flat, clipped tone. 'I will speak personally to all the men involved. If they want to have army careers, indeed if they want to have futures at all, they will do what I tell them.'

  The Colonel made a mistake. He frowned. 'I don't know…' he began.

  Arrow stepped up close to him; very close. 'Listen,' he whispered. 'If that man there asked me to bury you up here, I'd start digging. So: do as you're told.'

  44

  'Look, are you guys going about this systematically?' Karen Neville asked the Operations Inspector.

  'Of course we are, Sergeant. But have you any idea how many white Mondeos there are in our area, let alone how many white motor vehicles? I will find this car for you, but I won't give you any guarantee as to how long it will take me.

  'Now. I don't care whose bloody office you're in, stop being so bloody pushy and back off. Or I will call my boss, and have him call ACC Elder, and have him lean on your boss… I think he still outranks him. Or am I wrong?'

  'He doesn't outrank Bob Skinner though. Do you want to talk to him?'

  The phone at the other end of the line was slammed down.

  'Karen,' said Sammy Pye. 'I think you should calm down. You losing it is not going to help us find him.'

  'Plodding so-and-sos like him aren't going to help us either,' she shot back.

  Pye stood and walked across to her desk; he sat in the edge and took her hand. 'Listen, Sarge,' the young Detective Constable murmured gently. 'You're giving away too much here. At the moment only we know that Mr Martin's missing; but pretty soon others are going to twig, and here you are sending the message loud and clear to everyone you speak to that this thing goes way beyond the professional with you.

  'If that gets back to the DCS when he does turn up, that could be very embarrassing for him — and problematical for you, because you know he won't like it.'

  She gave his hand a quick squeeze. 'You're right, I'm sorry. I'll tell you what, you do all the talking from now on.'

  The phone on her desk rang. Pye grinned and shook his head, as she picked it up automatically.

  'Karen,' a steady voice said. 'This is Neil. Tell me why you are antagonising the entire ops room with this vehicle search of yours? I have just had a mate of mine on the blower yelling at me, insisting that I kick your shapely bottom.'

  'You know why I'm doing it,' she answered.

  She heard Mcllhenney's light, sad, laugh. 'Yes, love, I know. I couldn't tell him that though. Anyway, you are to stop it; cease; desist. This doesn't come from Ops; this comes from the Big Man himself. The DCS has turned up and he's safe.'

  She slumped back into her chair, vision blurred with sudden tears.

  'But there is to be no discussion of it,' the Inspector went on. 'In fact, after the waves you've made, best that you and Sammy just get out of everyone's way. Go and interview pigeons in the Botanies for the rest of the day.

  'You'll be told where Andy is, maybe even get to see him, when Mr Skinner is good and ready. Till then, just be patient… and be relieved.'

  45

  Glencorse Barracks and its hospital wing were probably Victorian, Skinner guessed, but the equipment was high-tech.

  Andy Martin lay on a modern hospital bed, his upper body raised slightly and supported by pillows. He was either asleep or unconscious; the former, Skinner hoped. Sensors were stuck to his bare chest, leading to a cardiac monitor, on a shelf. The DCC was relieved to see that his heartbeat was strong, slow and regular.

  'How is he?' he asked the young Army Medical Officer by his side. 'Was he hurt in any way?'

  'Physically, very little. He has a split lip, some bruising to his face and his shoulder, but otherwise he's fine. Psychologically, I couldn't say. He was in shock when he was brought in here, rambling and delirious. I gave him a strong sedative, enough to knock him out for a few hours.

  'I can't predict what he'll be like when he comes round. What happened to him? How did he get like this? I haven't been told, but he was in a hell of a mess. He reminded me of a soldier I saw once who was too close to a colleague when he stepped on a mine. But this man

  … God, his teeth… the time it took to clean them alone.'

  'Don't ask, Doctor,' said the DCC quietly. 'I want to be here when he comes round, okay?'

  'Of course. If you're a friend, seeing you should be good for him.'

  The MO left the room. Skinner pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat, looking at his friend's sleeping face, and wondering what his dreams were like, hoping that he had none. He tried to imagine the scene in the Pentlands, and Andy's fight for his life. Jesus, what must Scotland have felt like having this mad, desperate, bull of a man coming at him. What a way to kill someone. He imagined being in the same situation himself, then remembered that he had been; that man was in an unmarked grave too. There are no rules in a fight for survival.

  He sat for over an hour, waiting, not thinking of McGuire and Arrow in the corridor outside, thinking only of Andy, and of what he would say when he awoke.

  At last he began to stir on the bed. He whispered something. One word, very softly, but Skinner caught it; 'Karen.'

/>   His right shoulder twitched; his head made a butting movement, then began to roll from side to side. His jaws clamped tight working, working. His eyes flickered, closed again, flickered, then suddenly, opened wide. He sat bolt upright in bed with an expression on his face unlike any that Skinner had ever seen — a mixture of terror and sheer animal ferocity.

  The big DCC jumped to his feet and held him, using all his own great strength to counter Andy's and press him back down on to the bed. 'Okay, son, it's okay.'

  Martin's face cleared at last. 'Bob?' he said, in a dazed croak. 'Where am I? Have I been in an accident? Or shot, or something?

  'Bloody hell, that was some nightmare I was having.' He looked at Skinner, read his face, and fell silent again. That unnatural look came back, but this time it was pure terror, and that alone, as everything came flooding back.

  "That was no nightmare, was it?' he asked, at last. 'No, Andy boy. No, it wasn't.' 'Scotland. How's he?'

  'How do you think? He's dead; you ripped his throat open.'

  'Good!' For a second, the DCC was shocked by the intensity of the malice in his best friend's eyes, but then he remembered his own emotions at a similar time.

  'I told the rat-fucker I would kill him. He should have believed me.'

  'It's just as well he didn't. He wouldn't have played his bloody game if he had; he'd have shot you straight off.' 'You worked it all out then?'

  'Mario did. So it was Scotland after all, Scotland who did Alec?'

  'I suppose so. Even though it took him years to pluck up the courage; but he had to play his game too. He had to get someone up there.'

  'Why in Christ's name did you go for him on your own, Andy?' Skinner asked. 'A man with a history like that.'

  'I guess I have to call it an error of judgement. Between you and me, I've got a few distractions in my private life right now. I've done smarter things in my time, right enough.'

  He paused. 'On the other hand, if I had taken Sammy Pye with me, one of us would have been dead now. Probably both of us.'

  'Aye, well. You can hold an inquiry into yourself, later. You're alive, so fuck the recriminations.'

  'What happens now?' Martin asked. 'Report to the Fiscal?'

  'Hell no. Nothing happens. It's all taken care of; you're in Army hands at the moment. Adam Arrow's involved and he's made everything go away, including what's left of Scotland.'

  The younger man looked up at him. 'You've done that?'

  'Too fucking right. Not just for you, for the force. I don't want any of the Alec Smith story to come out.'

  'I told Scotland that too. But the guy was only into talking, not listening.' He pulled himself up into a sitting position.

  'When can I get out of here?' he asked. 'There's someone I have to see/

  'You can get out of here now, but you're coming home with me. No arguments; you're either under Sarah's care, or I'll leave you here with the Army doctor. We'll see how you're feeling tomorrow. Meantime, I've told everyone who needs to know that you're all right.'

  Bob stood, and moved towards the door. 'I don't think you're going to want to see your clothes again, but I'll have the Army fix you up with some uniform stuff. Then you and I are going for a nice helicopter ride out to Gullane.'

  46

  The nine Legends sat around the table in the Golf Hotel bar, stunned and subdued. As a group they were rarely lost for a word but, after the bombshell which Skinner had dropped, not one of them had anything to say.

  It was David McPhail who broke the seance-like silence with a blunt question. 'How come it took so long to identify him, Bob? I mean, a whole week…'

  The DCC was stung by the implied criticism of Dan Pringle's team. 'Look, nobody reported him missing. Edith and the family were away, and his colleagues didn't want to make their client base nervous.'

  He looked across at McPhail and added tersely, 'The fact that he didn't have a fucking face wasn't a big help to us either. My wife did the post-mortem; she knew the Diddler well — he lived just up the road from us, remember — and she didn't know who it was.'

  'What happened to him?' Grant Rock looked a wholly different man when he was being serious; this occurred so infrequently that the policeman felt almost as if he was facing a stranger.

  'I don't like to talk about it, and I only tell you guys on the basis that it doesn't leave this room. He was tied to the bed at his son's place, then beaten to death with a baseball bat. We only made a positive identification from blood samples.'

  'Tied to the bed,' Stewart Rees mused. 'Was the Diddler diddling again?'

  'Let's not speculate about that.' 'Has Edith been told?'

  Skinner held up his empty glass and nodded to the Friday barmaid, prompting a rush of refills.

  'I called France this afternoon,' he said, when everyone was settled again. 'They have a friend down there, a Scots guy; I met him once. I called him and had him go along to break the news to Edith. Always better face to face; it's harder to believe a voice on the telephone.

  'She called me just before we came along here. Poor woman. She's flying home tomorrow morning with Victoria, Air France from Nice through Charles de Gaulle; I've said I'll meet them at the airport.'

  'What are you going to do about your car?' Mcllhenney asked, casually. 'It's still up at Fettes, remember.'

  'I'll pull rank. I'll have a patrol car pick me up in the morning and take me to collect it. Andy too, if Sarah says he can go home.'

  The Inspector leaned back against the window and whispered, so that no-one else could hear. 'You going to tell me what happened today?'

  Skinner shook his head.

  'Never?'

  Skinner nodded his head.

  'Fair enough then,' Mcllhenney murmured. 'I won't ask again.'

  'Bob,' said Mitch Laidlaw from across the table, 'it can't have escaped anyone's attention that two of our number have met violent deaths very close to each other.' He seemed to send a shiver round the table.

  'It hasn't escaped mine, Mitch, that's for bloody sure. That's the other reason I called us all together… I mean, apart from believing it appropriate to give you all the bad news in person. You can forget the idea that there is any sort of a vendetta against our honoured group. There's no-one out there who wants our Thursday time at the Sports Centre so badly that he's prepared to bump us off one by one to get it.

  'To put the thing in perspective, two guys who played together among us, for a fairly short time, set against the years we've been at it, met violent deaths within hours of each other. But they were very different deaths.'

  'How was Alec killed, then?' asked McPhail.

  'You do not want to know, David,' Skinner frowned at the interruption. 'The point I was about to make was that I am assured by an eminent and highly skilled forensic pathologist — with whom I am currently sleeping — that Alec Smith and the Diddler were killed by two different people.

  'I can tell you also, in police speak, although I cannot go into detail, that I have reason to believe that the Alec Smith investigation will be closed pretty soon.

  'So relax, lads. We don't have a stalker.'

  'Yeah,' said Grant Rock, returning rapidly to normal. 'But what if there's a whole crowd of them after our time?'

  Mcllhenney looked at him from beneath his heavy eyebrows. 'If there was, the smart thing to do would be to give it to them.'

  'I'll never be hung for being smart,' said Rock.

  47

  'Are you going to tell me what happened today?' Maggie Rose asked her husband.

  Mario McGuire shook his head.

  'Never?'

  Mario McGuire nodded his head.

  'Don't you think this is taking Special Branch secrecy a little too far?' his wife asked.

  'Mags love, what happened today goes way beyond Special Branch secrecy. But that's not why I'm not going to tell you about it. I'm keeping it to myself because it was so fucking horrible that I cannot bear the thought of you knowing about it. I will never tell anyone about what
I saw today, nor will anyone else who was there.'

  'What was Andy Martin's involvement in it?'

  'Who says he was involved?'

  'No-one, but… I heard there was some sort of a panic this morning, involving him; that Karen Neville had the whole Ops Room stirred up trying to find a car he was driving.'

  'If that happened, then that's all it was… a panic. Karen got her knickers in a knot unnecessarily, until she was told by Neil to go away and untie them. Andy Martin is okay. I know this; I've seen him.'

  'What do you mean you've seen him? Where?'

  'Never mind. The DCS is okay, and you can bet that he will be back in the office on Monday, gung-ho as ever was.'

  'What about this man Lawrence Scotland? You haven't said anything about him for a while. You told me about Morrison, and what Alec Smith did to him. That was heavy enough, but now you're clamming up altogether about the other suspect.'

  'Mags,' he said, testily, 'stop trying to interrogate me, will you? Lawrence Scotland is missing.'

  'In that case, I have to find him. He's a potential suspect in my investigation.'

  'For fuck's sake,' he shouted, suddenly. 'Leave it!'

  She sat straight up on the sofa and stared at him, startled and hurt. His anger vanished in an instant; he took her hand and drew her to him. 'I'm sorry, Mags, I'm sorry.'

  'That's the first time you've ever raised your voice to me.'

  'And it'll be the last, I promise. Love, I keep having to countermand you these days and I don't like it; not just because of our respective ranks, but because you're my wife and I love you and not least because you're a brilliant detective and I admire you for that reason too.

  'But through no fault of your own, you are way over your head in this. The Boss has told me to rein you in on Scotland, very quietly. He told me to tell you that you are still in charge of this investigation and, further, that he couldn't be more impressed by the way you've handled it. Now you have to hold your horses for a day or two.