‘I was born two years later, and for all my childhood he spent as much time as he could with us. He was as good to Antonia as he was to me. That’s what made her behaviour all the more despicable. You were right. She was just a nasty little blackmailer.’
‘When did you get back in touch with him?’
‘I was never out of touch. Gifts would arrive, and letters, never traceable, only ever signed “Papa”. The theory is wrong, incidentally, about the Mafia. They were his partners in the Ponzi business, not his victims. They all made lots of money and when the time came to close it down, they helped him get away, and they planted the idea that they had killed him. In fact he lived in the West Indies for six years, as Peter Friedman. He moved to Mull ten years ago, around the same time as I came to Britain. It was then he told me his new name.’
‘Whose idea was it for you to join MI5?’ Skinner asked.
‘A shrewd question, because I think you know the answer. Papa suggested it. The idea was that if the Australians started looking for him again, in Millbank I would be well placed to hear about it. By that time I was in a security department within the Met, so when I applied, it seemed a natural step, and I was accepted. Brian Storey was my boss then, and he endorsed me. Antonia never knew, though, not ever. The service, as it does, gave me a front as an importer for a chain of florists.’
‘That sounds like an Amanda Dennis touch.’
‘It was. She’s a good teacher.’
‘You were a good student, Marina. You could have been Amanda yourself, if you’d stayed the course, instead of letting them move you out to spy on your sister.’
‘But if I had stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to deal with her when the need arose.’
‘By telling your father how to get rid of her? No, I don’t suppose you would.’
‘Papa never knew,’ she said.
Both police officers stared at her.
‘It’s true, I swear,’ she exclaimed. ‘If I had told him he would have forbidden it, absolutely. All he ever did was make a donation of three hundred thousand pounds to a charity I told him about. He was a sucker for charities, especially those involved with cancer research; I told him it helped patients with difficult personal circumstances. I approached Cohen, using a contact email address I’d picked up in the service. I gave him the commission and he named his price. No conscience, that man, only a cash register. I also gave him Brown as a resource on the ground in Glasgow. I’m sorry they had to kill him, but not too sorry, as he was a traitor to his own kind. No, the decision was mine, and the orders were mine. Knowing what Antonia was, and what she might have become, I don’t regret them. I’m sorry for Maman, and for Anil, and for Lucille, of course, but they will bring her up as if she was their own. Maman is still young and fit enough to see it through.’
‘But what about Papa?’ Skinner murmured. ‘He isn’t, is he?’
‘Yes, Papa,’ she sighed. ‘I suppose you have come to take him away, as Antonia did not.’
‘We haven’t come to ask for a raffle prize for the policeman’s ball, that’s for sure. As for taking him away, we’ll see about that. But I would like to meet him.’
‘Then come with me, Chief Constable, and you shall.’ She stood; Skinner and Payne followed suit. ‘In your car? You have a car, I take it.’
‘Yes, but Superintendent Payne can take that. I’ll come with you, just in case the minder panics at the sight of strange vehicles. By the way, no nonsense up there, Marina. There are firearms in my car; that’s a practice your sister introduced.’
‘He isn’t that sort of minder, I promise. Rudolf is a driver and a pilot, that’s all.’ As she spoke, they heard the heavy engine sound of an aircraft. She looked up and pointed, towards a helicopter above them, gaining height. ‘In fact, that’s him.’
‘Hey!’ Skinner exclaimed. ‘Are you . . .’
‘No. Papa is not with him. He’s still at the house. Come and meet him.’
The chief frowned, still cautious, weighing her up, not anxious to be taken twice. ‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘Don’t you want to collect your mail?’
‘It can wait. Come on.’ She led him across the road to the waiting Range Rover.
With the police car following close behind, they drove out of Tobermory, taking a narrower road from the one they had used earlier, passing a campsite on the edge of the small town, then climbing for two or possibly three miles, although its twists and turns made it difficult to judge distance travelled.
She slowed as they approached a gate on the right, with an unequivocal sign beside it: ‘Private’. It was shut, but Marina pressed a button on a remote control and the barrier slid aside.
The surface of the estate road was gravel, but better than the one they had left. Their tyres crunched beneath them, early warning, Skinner thought, for anyone waiting.
The house itself was a grey mansion, large but not ostentatious. It reminded him of some of his neighbours on Gullane Hill, although the stone was different. She drew up at the front door, then waited until the second car stopped alongside and Payne climbed out to join them.
He was holding a pistol, in the manner of a man for whom it was a new experience. Skinner frowned and shook his head; he handed it back to Davie Cole.
‘This way,’ she said, leading them inside, walking briskly through a chandelier-lit hallway, and, ignoring a wide mahogany stairway, into a room on the far side of the house.
It was large, decorated with old-fashioned flock wallpaper. A bay window faced south over a sunlit garden, laid out in shrubs and fruit trees, with stone statuary among them. Soft music was playing, a female singer with a gentle voice; the chief guessed at Stacey Kent.
There was a smell about the room, a smell of disinfectant, a hospital smell, one that seemed fitting given the metal-framed bed that was positioned facing the window. Skinner saw an oxygen cylinder on the far side as they approached, and beside it, in a stand, a vital signs monitor.
All the lines on it were flat.
The man on the bed was old, but his face was unlined. He looked peaceful, with his eyes closed.
‘Papa died just over two hours ago,’ Marina murmured. ‘Rudolf has gone to Oban to fetch an undertaker, and to take Sister Evans to the station. She’s been with us for the last month. She did a great job; he was pain-free all the way to the end. The doctor from Oban was with him at the end. He was kind enough to stay overnight. He caught the first ferry back this morning.’
‘I suppose I should say I’m sorry for your loss,’ Skinner told her. ‘And I am, honestly, even if he was a billion-dollar fraudster, and you’re a sororicide . . . if that’s a word. You are a first, Marina. I’ve come across plenty of conmen in my career . . . although not on your dad’s scale, I admit . . . but I’ve never met someone who’s killed her own sister.’
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked. Payne, standing on the other side of the bed, saw a hint of trepidation in her eyes, for the first time since their encounter in the café.
‘What do you think?’ the chief retorted. ‘I’m duty bound to arrest you and charge you with murder. You’ve admitted it, and even if you recant that, I know enough now to put a case together.’ And then he sighed. ‘That’s my duty, but the judge would be bound to knock out so much of my evidence on national security grounds that you would walk. Your problem would then be that you wouldn’t walk very far, before you were hit by a runaway lorry, or killed in a random mugging, or died of a peanut allergy that nobody knew you had, or just plain disappeared.’
Her trepidation turned to undisguised fear as she acknowledged the truth in what he said.
‘Who are you now?’
His question took her by surprise. ‘My new identity, you mean?’
‘Yes.’
‘I have a Jamaican passport, in the name of Marina Friedman. My father obtained it for me, in case we both needed to move on in a hurry.’
‘What was your next move? Your plan for life after Papa?’
‘His will is with his lawyer in Jersey. It names me as his sole heir. He told me to go there, with the death certificate and my passport, to claim my inheritance.’
‘That won’t be happening now,’ Skinner said.
‘No, I realise that. So, what will you do with me? Will you save the expense of your abortive prosecution by handing me straight over to Amanda Dennis?’
He took a breath and blew out his cheeks. ‘Like she would thank me for that,’ he exclaimed. ‘It would be better all round if I just shot you myself and buried you somewhere on this big island.’
She backed away, staring at him in sudden naked terror.
‘Hey!’ he exclaimed. ‘Calm down. Better all round, but I’m not one of them, Marina. Besides,’ he added, with a half smile and a nod in Payne’s direction, ‘there are witnesses, and your man Rudolf will be back from Oban soon. So,’ he told her, ‘here’s what you do. You take whatever you can pack quickly, and as much as you can in the way of cash and valuables, you get in that car and you drive it straight on to the ferry. When you get to Oban, keep on driving, in any direction you can and in any direction as long as it is out of the jurisdiction of any Scottish police force.’
‘But not Jersey, I take it.’
‘No; there’ll be nothing there by the time you get there. Whatever fortune your father’s left isn’t for you, it’s for the people he swindled, even if some of them will be dead themselves by now.’ He gazed at her. ‘This is what’s happened,’ he said. ‘Lowell and I arrived to arrest him, following my discovery of some papers in Toni’s safe. Sadly, we were too late. You were never here. When Rudolf gets back and asks, “Where’s Marina?” I will say, “Marina who?” That’s the outcome. We get Papa, you get lost. We will be fucking heroes, Lowell and me, in Australia most of all. As for you, you will be alive.’
She looked at him, still doubting, until he nodded, to reassure her.
‘You’re a resourceful lady. You’ll get by for a couple of years, and after that you can probably go back to Mauritius and become yourself again, because nobody will be looking for you. But don’t ever show up here again, for I will know about it. You’re getting away with murder, because that’s what suits everybody best. But don’t you ever forget it.’
PostScript
‘Why did you decide to quit as leader? Were there knives out for you because of the Joey incident?’
Aileen snorted across the lunch table in a restaurant next to Edinburgh Castle. They had gone there after finalising their divorce, in the Court of Session, further down the Royal Mile.
‘They wouldn’t have been nearly sharp enough. No, to be frank I resigned because we are going to get absolutely slaughtered at the next Holyrood election and I don’t want that on my CV. That twerp Felix Brahms will inherit it, now that I’ve endorsed him.’
‘Foresighted as ever,’ Bob chuckled.
‘Of course, and there’s this. I won’t be a candidate in Scotland next time. One of our guys in a safe seat on Tyneside is about to retire early on health grounds. I’ve called in some favours; it’s mine.’
‘The divorce won’t be a problem for you, will it?’
‘I don’t see it. We’ve settled on unreasonable behaviour as the grounds, not adultery. As for the Daily News pictures, they’re old, cold news by now. Besides, it’s a safe seat, like I said. The Lib Dems don’t count there and as for the Tories, they’re really too nice to use those sort of tactics.’
‘Will Joey put in an appearance for you?’
‘As if I’d ask him. Look, Joey and me, it’s a thing from way back. I suppose I can confess now, there were other times while we were married, not just that one. Sorry if it dents your male ego, but there were.’
‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘Toni Field had a file on you. It’s long since gone into the shredder. Mind you, she did hint that there was somebody else, apart from Joey.’
Aileen’s eyes widened. ‘She did what? Any name mentioned?’
‘No, and I’m sure I don’t want to know.’
‘Oh but you do. Who knows? It might come in useful to you one day. The US government ran a big hospitality shindig a couple of years back in the Turnberry Hotel. All the party leaders were there, and the champagne was fairly flowing. As usual, I had a wee bit too much, and God knows how it happened, but I woke up next morning with Clive Graham. So there you are. My deep dark secret, and Clive’s, except . . . somewhere there may be CCTV footage of the two of us going into his room, and probably of me leaving. Find it and it could buy you a lot of influence.’
He sighed. ‘My predecessor did that sort of thing, and it got her fucking killed.’
‘What? She tried to blackmail Colombian drug lords?’
‘Not quite. That was the official version. The true story’s a lot different, but I’m not sharing, as the spooks say.’
She shrugged. ‘Be like that. Here,’ she went on, ‘the way you said “My predecessor” there, it sounded as if you’ve made a decision.’
‘I have. I’ve decided that I can’t go back to Edinburgh. Mario and Maggie are getting on fine without me. They don’t need me any more; if I went back I’d be a spare wheel. So my application for Strathclyde, permanently, is in the hat with the rest.’
‘And you will get it, especially after all those headlines you got when you found that Australian fraudster.’
Bob laughed. ‘You ain’t kidding. The day I moved into Pitt Street, I inherited an invitation to address an Australian Police Federation conference. Since then I’ve had twenty-two more, from other organisations down under. Yes, I know I’ll probably be confirmed in post. If not, I’ll do something else. I might even retire and buy a boat.’
‘And sail away, with Sarah and the kids?’
‘They’re all too young, and she’s not ready.’
‘It’s cool, though? You and her?’
‘Honestly? It is, for the first time really. We’ve discovered that being nice to each other, all the time, is all it takes.’
‘Maybe I’ll try that, next time.’
‘Some chance of that,’ he scoffed. ‘You’re a politician. By the way,’ he added, ‘the Turnberry tape did exist, kept carelessly by Toni in a plain envelope that I found deep in the desk that is currently mine. It does not exist any longer.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘To be honest, I was really worried about that, and not for Mrs Graham’s sake.’
‘It’s nothing to be concerned about any more,’ he replied, ‘but this is.’ He took an envelope from a slim document case that he had brought with him.
She took it from him and her face paled, as she studied its contents: two photographs of her, with two other women, in a ladies’ toilet.
‘What are . . . Bob, I think I know when those were taken, but . . .’
‘You have to give up the booze, Aileen,’ he said. ‘You must. I didn’t realise you had a problem, maybe because whenever we had a drink at home, you went straight to sleep, or else you got amorous and I put it down to my fatal attraction. But that’s twice you’ve courted potential disaster, not counting the Morocco fiasco.’
‘How did you get these?’
He smiled. ‘The strangest thing happened a few weeks back. Amanda Dennis called all her Scottish team down to London for a two-day performance review. While they were gone, somebody broke into their office, and opened the safe. I don’t think they even know it happened, not yet. All that was taken were those photos, and the master tape. It’s in there too. Somehow they found their way into my possession.’
She gazed at him. ‘You know, I could fall in love with you.’
‘Nah, you didn’t before, so how could you now?’
She laughed. ‘Okay. Then how about a farewell shag? We could get a room.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sworn to be faithful. You should try it too. Besides, someone would be bound to photograph us. For example . . .’
He took another, larger envelope from the document case. ‘These are my parting gift
s to you, Aileen, and my greatest. Where you’re going to be after your by-election, these will represent your ticket straight to the front bench, and a fast track to the shadow Cabinet. In this package you will see Toni Field doing what she did best. You’ll also recognise the bloke she’s doing it to, and I think you will find that you know his wife too. The stupid bloody woman actually believed I wouldn’t make copies! That same lady had you set up by those two scrubbers, who are, incidentally, no longer Security Service staff, and tried to use your moment of weakness to club me into submission and silence.’
He lifted his glass and drank a toast, to her, to them, to their past, and to their separate futures.
‘Use them wisely, choose your moment, and when you do, make certain sure that the damage to Emily Repton is terminal. “Provincial copper” indeed. Doesn’t she bloody know that we’re a nation?’
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Also by Quintin Jardine
About the Book
Dedication
PreScript
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Pray for the Dying Page 71