Autographs in the Rain

by Quintin Jardine

  heater burned in a corner of the ten-foot square trench, and a camping

  stove stood beside it with a kettle coming to the boil. The sloping roof,

  which used the line of the hillside, was planking with heather laid over the

  top, and it was ventilated by the slit window through which its occupants

  were able to keep watch on the floodlit enclosure.

  'The man still there?' the superintendent asked.

  'Yes,' McGurk replied. 'Still the same story; no one's come or gone

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  since we set up here overnight on Monday. The bloke's living in the

  Portakabin near the entrance. He comes out every so often to load the

  automatic feeders and check the stock then he goes back in again. Always

  he wears this big parka thing with a hood, so we can't get a good look at

  him.'

  'One thing, though; he's got a rifle in there. We don't get all that many

  gulls this far inland, but he's shot a couple that have come close.'

  'Has he now,' said Pringle. 'That makes this a siege in that case. When

  we take this place down, we'll have armed officers in the team.'

  'Sir,' Donovan called out suddenly, peering through the observation

  hatch. 'There's something going on here. There's a tanker arriving.'

  McGurk grabbed his non-reflective field glasses and turned to look out

  of the viewing slot. 'Right enough, boss,' he said, although Pringle was

  peering over his shoulder. 'A big vehicle, not unlike a petrol tanker, or the

  sort of machine they use to pump out septic tanks; one man in the cab. The

  guy's out of the Portakabin and he's opening the gate.'

  As they watched, the driver of the tanker eased it carefully through the

  gates and took up position, within reach for its long flexible hose of two of

  the eight large tanks. Satisfied, he left the engine running and jumped from

  the cab.

  'Fucking hell, it's Gates,' McGurk called out in a stifled shout.

  As the three policemen watched, the Mellerkirk manager and the hooded

  man unfastened the suction pipe from the side of the tanker and positioned

  it in the tank on the left. Then Gates stepped up to a control panel mounted

  beside the door and pressed a button. A new sound overrode that of the

  engine, the higher-pitched noise of a pump at work.

  'Jack,' said Pringle, 'I want him followed when he leaves here. I'll stay

  here and keep an eye on what's happening. You two get down the hill and

  into your Land Rover and be in position to follow when he moves off. No

  radio, just in case. We keep in touch through our mobiles.'

  The sergeant nodded and led Donovan out of the hide, taking care to

  disturb the sloping roof as little as possible as they left.

  The pumping operation continued for twenty minutes, until both tanks

  had been emptied. As Gates and his companion stowed the hose once

  more, Pringle took out his mobile and called McGurk's number. 'Ready

  Jack?'

  'Yes sir.'

  'Magic this, isn't it?' said the superintendent. 'It's just like being a real

  polisman again. Okay, he's on the move. Call me when you get where you're

  going.'

  He ended the call and watched as the tanker turned awkwardly within

  the compound, then drove back out of the gate. The hooded man closed it

  behind him, then went back inside his Portakabin.

  Pringle sat back and waited. He made himself a mug of tea from the

  kettle on the small gas stove; eventually, he made another. At last, his mobile

  played its little tune. 'Yes?' he answered eagerly.

  'You're not going to believe this, sir,' came Jack McGurk's drawl. 'Gates

  has just driven up the track to Mellerkirk.'

  V In his hide, the superintendent laughed quietly. 'The audacious wee so

  and-so,' he said. 'The insurance money's come through, and Gates is selling

  Sir Adrian Watson's own fucking fish back to him, at top dollar, you can

  bet.

  'I wish I could find it in my heart to feel sorry for the arrogant bastard,

  but when this comes out in evidence in the High Court, it'll be the talk of

  the New Club!

  'Job well done, Jack. Let's keep the other two under close observation.

  Then all we'll have to do is wait until they show up, take identifiable

  photographs of them on site and they should be ours.'

  'Save for one thing, boss. Same old problem, how do we identify the

  fish?'

  'Fuck that; we're past that now. We'll just charge them all with murder

  and theft, and stand back, so we're not trampled in the rush to be the lucky

  one who's allowed to shop the others and become a Crown witness.'

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  'Are you sure it's safe to leave Louise on her own?' asked Bob Skinner.

  'Yes,' replied Mcllhenney emphatically, 'there's no problem. I thought

  I'd take the chance to come into the office, since they're shooting a scene

  in the Laigh Hall this afternoon; you know where that is, just about directly

  below the Great Hall itself. It's a part of the building that we can control

  quite easily. No one's getting in without identifying themselves to a

  uniformed officer.

  'Everyone involved on the shoot has to carry a laminated photo-pass,

  signed by Warren Judd, no less.'

  'They'll become collector's items,' the DCC grunted sourly.

  'I doubt it. There's too many of the bloody things; there are a hell of a lot

  of people in a full-scale film production crew you know, especially the sort

  of big-budget jobs that Lou works on.'

  'Listen to the expert. How's the filming been going anyway, Mr de Mille?'

  'Remarkably smoothly, considering that they lost Monday. Silver split

  the crew into two, so they could film simultaneously on different locations;

  Lou's not in every scene herself so it was simply a matterof dividing up the

  extras.'

  'They're all checked out too, I hope.'

  'To be sure. They all have photo-passes as well, even Lucy, Lou's sister;

  she's got a walk-on part.'

  'She's a thesp too?' said Skinner, surprised. 'I didn't know that.'

  'Well,' the inspector sounded hesitant, 'it isn't as simple as that. She'd

  like to be, but she's got a couple of big obstacles ... no joke intended. She

  looks too much like her sister for a start; she'd have difficulty establishing

  her own identity. On top of that, she's not a very good actress.'

  'Ah, that's unfortunate.'

  'Lou's got her a couple of jobs, on the back of which she has an Equity

  card, but she didn't exactly shine in either of them. Still, when she asked

  for a part in the new movie, Lou got soft and told Silver to write her in.'

  'What does she play?'

  'Lou's character's sister, what else? She's only got a couple of lines,

  though. One in the Laigh Hall today, and the other in the big climax scene;

  they're shooting that in the Great Hall over the weekend.'

  'It's not finished already is it?'

  'No,' said Mcllhenney quickly. 'They've got another week of location

  shooting after this, then they break for Christmas, and come back to do the

  Hogmanay stuff.'

  'And during the break?' Skinner asked. 'I mean, there's no reason to

  suppose we're going to have caught this bloke by then. Have you given a
ny

  'thought to that? No, I suppose I mean has Lou given any thought to it?

  'If she's still under protection . . .' he went on. 'You have to spend

  Christmas with your kids . . . Christ, I should have thought this through,

  before I allowed you to move her in with you, whatever your personal

  relationship.

  'In spite of your personal relationship!' he shouted. 'I have messed this

  up. I should have moved her in with Mario and Maggie, not you.'

  'Sure,' his assistant said quietly. 'If you'd done that at the start. Aye, and

  if Alex hadn't been working that Friday night, Lou and I might never have

  met. But she was, and we did, and there and then things started to happen

  between us without either of us being aware of it, until the truth dawned.

  'Don't worry, I'm a big boy; well-fired in life's furnace you might say.

  I'm not disregarding the possibility that Lou's feelings might change once

  this clown's caught and the strain is off her. It was just about the first thing

  I asked her, in fact. She said no; that she's sure. In any event, I know how I

  feel about her, and that's got sod all to do with being her knight in shining

  armour. It's man and woman, pure and simple.

  'So let me ask you this, Boss.' He stopped. 'No, let me ask you, Bob,

  man to man. If Sarah was under this sort of threat, would you delegate the

  job of protecting her, or would you allow the Chief to delegate it?'

  Sitting on the edge of his desk, the DCC smiled at his friend. 'No, I

  would not,' he answered, truthfully. 'As you know damn well.

  'Doesn't alter my question, though. What are we going to do during that

  Christmas break to get you and the kids together, yet protect Lou?'

  'She's thought about that too. We haven't discussed Life After John

  Steed, as you might put it, but the Christmas question has come up.

  'Lou has four homes,' said Neil. 'One in London, one on the Cote d'Azur,

  one in Ireland, where she's officially resident, and one in Beverly Hills. It's

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  on an estate with its own security, and she wants us all to go there for

  Christmas.

  'If we did, d'you think your pal in the States could fix it for me to carry

  a firearm?'

  'I know he could.' Skinner grinned. 'Don't shoot anyone unless you

  have to, though. It could get messy.'

  'I promise, boss. In that case . . .'

  He was interrupted by the ringing of the DCC's private line. Skinner

  frowned in momentary exasperation, then picked it up. 'Yes,' he snapped.

  'It's Dave Mackenzie, Mr Skinner. I'm going to need your help.' The

  Strathclyde DI sounded anxious.

  'Sure, if I can. What do you want me to do?'

  'Can you have a word with my superintendent?' asked Mackenzie

  plaintively. 'I've spent all week logging on to porno websites. In the process,

  I've run up this bloody enormous bill on my credit card for material I've

  downloaded. If I'd known what I was getting into I'd have cleared the

  spend before I started; I didn't, though. When I went to the DCI, he crapped

  himself and referred it up the line.

  'The Super went ape-shit, and demanded to know exactly what the fuck

  I've been up to. I had to show her the list you gave me; now she's demanding

  to know exactly where the fuck it came from!

  'I tried to tell her that I had a source to protect. She told me that in that

  case I could protect him even more by paying my own credit card bill. I'm

  in it deep, sir. Can you help me?'

  Skinner laughed. 'I reckon I can,' he said. 'Is this your divisional

  commander you're talking about?'

  That's right.'

  'You're in luck, Bandit. She and I went to the same primary school in

  Motherwell; not only will I fix it, I won't even need to tell her that I got

  involved in your investigation after you threatened to lock up my secretary.'

  Mackenzie sighed with relief. 'Thanks sir,' he exclaimed, 'I've been

  trying to imagine having to explain to my wife that I've wiped out our

  Christmas spending power by downloading porno videos.'

  'That's okay. I'll pull another string and have you set up with an

  untraceable AMEX account for the rest of it.'

  'Ah,' said the inspector, 'I don't think I'm going to need much of it. This

  is where I get to the good news; I think I've got a result.'

  Skinner, in his swivel chair, sat bolt upright. 'You've what? Son, I thought

  AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN

  I'd probably sent you on the dirtiest wild goose chase of all time and you're

  telling me you've got something?'

  'Yes sir.' The DCC could almost hear the young man beam. 'I found it

  on a website on your list called www dot mortestrellas dot ec.'

  'Death Stars,' Skinner translated. 'What's the dot ec bit?'

  'Ecuador, I think. The site narrative's in Spanish and English. It's

  desperate stuff, sir. A series of short videos of girls made up to look like

  pop stars being abused and then stabbed or strangled. There's an on-site

  disclaimer that says that all scenes of violence are simulated,' Mackenzie's

  voice grew grim. 'But they're not, sir, be sure they're not. l! 'Among these I found a series of videos offered for download, under the

  title, Blue Star Falling, numbers one to six.

  'So far, I've downloaded the first two. They're different, sir. The ...' he

  paused for a second, '... performers, are an old man and a young woman,

  both naked, and in action . . . her more than him, though. She's wearing a

  mask, but he isn't. The downloaded quality isn't all that great, and I've

  only seen old John McConnell once, on a mortuary slab after he'd been

  dead in his bath for a fortnight, but.. .'

  'Good for you, Dave,' said Skinner. 'What are you going to do with it?'

  'First off, sir, I want to show it to you. At some point I'm going to have

  to show it to Ruth to get an identification, and I'd like you to look at it

  first.'

  'Charming. But I started you off on this, so I suppose that's only fair. I'll

  tell you what to do; download the rest, then link it all together. If you can

  transfer it to VCR then do it. If not, store it on Zip discs or whatever it takes

  and bring it through here. We can look at it with my technicians; I'll have

  them isolate an image of the old man and enhance it as far as they can.

  We'll show that to Ruthie; nothing else.

  Til get you a shot of the woman too. Mask or not, it might help.

  'Come through here tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. We'll be ready;

  bugger jurisdiction now, Bandit. This investigation doesn't have any borders

  any more.'

  He hung up. 'Would you credit that?' he said. 'The boy's got a result; he

  thinks he's found Ruthie's uncle starring in a South American porno movie.'

  'You rate that boy, don't you?' said Mcllhenney.

  Skinner nodded. 'More highly with every encounter. He reminds me of

  a young bloke I knew once. He's got the gift.'

  'What's that?'

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  'Luck, and he pushes it.' He looked at his assistant. 'Lou's on a secure

  set tomorrow, yes?' Mcllhenney nodded.