Quintin Jardine - Fallen Gods

"There's not much subtlety about me, is there? You've got two out of three right; where you're wrong about is that I can't tell you, not yet at any rate."

"Two out of three's not bad," Andrea conceded. "So what is it that you want to ask me?"

"I don't need to at all, actually; I could find out from other sources, but it would be quicker if I got it from you."

"Go ahead then."

"Okay, if you're happy. When you were in trouble, for trying to burn down the Baptists, and you appeared in court, who acted for you?"

"A woman called Davina Chapin, of Candela and Finch; they're our family's lawyers."

"Mmm," Steele muttered, trying to sound matter-of-fact, and succeeding.

"Thanks."

"You mean that's it?" she exclaimed. "That's all?"

"Yup," he assured her. "I promise that's the last question I will ever ask you about this investigation. In the event that we do need to talk to you about it again, it'll be Maggie Rose who does it. I'll be nowhere near."

"Promise?"

"Promise. I'll declare a personal interest."

Andrea took his hand and tugged him gently off the wall. "In that case," she said, "I'd best make an honest copper of you. Would you like to come in?. Just for a coffee, you understand."

"I hope you're grateful," said Neil Mcllhenney, as he pushed a video cassette across Bob Skinner's rosewood desk. "I took Thursday night off the football to get that for you. I had to frighten Joanne Virtue to do it as well; I wasn't very happy about that."

"You must have been impressive if you could scare big Jo. What's on the tape?"

"A virtuoso performance, signifying the end of the career of Black

Agnes Maley. You can watch it if you like, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'd like it back afterwards if you do; it belongs in my safe."

"Just tell me then. What have we got on her?"

"Improper use of influence in return for sexual favours," Mcllhenney replied. "That sums it up as politely as I can."

"And Joanne Virtue helped? The Big Easy herself?"

"Yup."

"Good for her; as of now she's on the list of those to whom we owe favours. Can we prosecute Maley?"

"Not for what's on the video. What they're doing isn't against the law, no money's seen to change hands, and all three of them are of age.

In theory there's corruption, but we'd never make it stick. Anyway we don't need to."

Skinner tapped the cassette box. "I take it there's another copy."

"Yes. It's in the possession of the First Minister's security adviser."

"Jock Govan? He's laced up as tight as they come."

Mcllhenney nodded and laughed. "He was just about sick when he saw it. I don't know whether he showed it to his boss or not, but it's had its effect. Maley's off the list for Holyrood and her resignation as a councillor will be tendered formally to the Lord Provost this morning. She's gone for good, and we've got a criminal intelligence file on her as well."

"Big Jo is safe, is she?"

"Maley's been warned off, don't worry."

The DCC beamed. "Happy Mondays, then. Thanks a million, Neil; I never expected a result like this when I set you on the woman." The smile vanished, abruptly. "I never thought you'd have to get your hands so dirty either. I know it can't have been pleasant. I won't forget it."

"You do exactly that, boss; forget it. When it comes to favours exchanged between you and me you're still well in credit." He picked up the tape. "I'll take this, if you don't want to see it."

"Do that."

Mcllhenney nodded, then held out a big padded envelope, which had been tucked under his left arm. "This was delivered to me on Friday morning," he said, 'from your sinister pal Arrow'

Skinner took it from him. "There's nothing sinister about Adam," he chuckled. "What you see is what gets you. Thanks again."

"No problem." The big inspector looked down at his friend, back in his accustomed chair. "Good to see you there at last," he said. "You got a result in the States, then?"

"The man was in court while we were still on the runway at JFK on Friday. He'll plead to manslaughter; there'll be no trial… for which I am profoundly grateful."

"And you and Sarah? Did you get a result there too?"

"She came back with me; let that speak for itself. I've learned a lot, Neil, about her and about me. I'll change, or at least I'll do my best. You've helped in that too, mate; whatever you say, if there was ever an account between you and me it's tilted well back to you."

"You'll be at the football in North Berwick on Thursday, then?" asked Mcllhenney.

"Count on it."

"About bloody time too; we've been a man light for weeks now." He turned and walked out of the DCC's office. As soon as the door had closed, Skinner picked up the package on his desk, ripped it open, and tipped out the contents. Three documents fell on to the desk; one of them, he saw immediately, was a note from Adam Arrow.

He had just picked it up, when his internal telephone buzzed. He picked it up. "Jack," he said, knowing that his exec would be on the line.

"Sir," said Detective Sergeant McGurk, briskly. "The head of CID's been on; he's got Superintendent Rose and Inspector Steele in his office, and he'd like to bring them along. He wants to brief you on an investigation they've had running in your absence."

"Tell Dan to hold on for a bit, please, Jack. There's something I have to read up on first; I'll call them when I'm ready."

He hung up and turned back to the contents of Adam Arrow's package. He read through them slowly and carefully; once or twice he raised an eyebrow, but for most of the time his expression remained impassive.

Finally, he finished the last of the three documents, returned them to the Jiffy bag in which they had been delivered, and stored it in a deep drawer in his desk. When he was finished, he picked up the phone once more and called McGurk. "Okay, Jack," he announced, "I'm ready. Wheel them in; you come in too; most things I hear you can hear as well."

"Very good, sir. Will you need coffee?"

"If anyone's desperate I've got a filter machine here that's rarely empty; I'm not running a cafeteria, though."

Two minutes later, his door opened and Detective Superintendent Rose stepped in, followed by Steele, Pringle and McGurk. Maggie had been the DCC's exec, on her way up the ladder. He knew her well, and gave her an appraising look as she sat on one of the sofas that he used for informal meetings. He was pleased to see that the tension she had been showing the last time they had met seemed to have gone; she looked purposeful and relaxed. In contrast, Pringle looked gloomy and preoccupied. He wondered whether it was just another of Dan's famous Monday mornings, or if there was something more.

"Good to see you all," Skinner began, once everyone was settled comfortably, or in McGurk's case as comfortably as anyone of his height could on the low furniture. "It's bloody good to be back, I don't mind telling you. Now, what have you lot been up to while I've been away? You're going to need to start from scratch, I'm afraid. A few things have happened to me lately; I feel more out of touch than I've ever been in my life."

He saw Rose glance at Pringle; he caught the head of CID's brief nod for her to proceed. "This has all built up in the last week, sir," she said. "It began last Saturday, with a fire at an exhibition of religious art in the Royal Scottish Academy. A picture went up, in the middle of the opening speech by the chief sponsor, Mr. David Candela."

"Who?" asked Skinner.

"David Candela; he's senior partner of Candela and Finch, the lawyers."

"Mmm. Okay."

"It was clear from the start that an incendiary device had been planted. The building was cleared, the fire services turned out en masse, the fire was extinguished, the rest of the exhibition was checked out and cleared, and the guests were allowed back in."