Quintin Jardine - Fallen Gods

The policeman took another step towards Candela. "Then there's this; the two guys who were killed had duties with the quartermaster's unit.

There had been major stock discrepancies from that unit in the days leading up to the incident. You had orders to arrest those two guys and hold them for military police questioning as soon as you got back from that mission. And those orders were confidential; only you knew about them. No one could prove anything about you either, of course.

The engagement happened in the dark, and friendly fire incidents do happen. But still…"

He paused." So you resigned your commission, revived the law degree you'd put on ice, and went into the family firm, a year ahead of schedule. Mike resigned his too, and came back to Mother well to become a piss-artist, until finally he got out of control, I tried to batter his brains out, and he had to be put away.

"And you knew about that, of course. My father set up the trust that looked after him through your firm, rather than use his own. He did it for the sake of confidentiality, but it backfired on him. You found out, and naturally, you didn't forget."

He tossed the envelope on to a chair. "All information is useful, isn't it, Candela? It's my stock in trade; I take pieces of information and use them to build models; of events, scenes, crimes. My officers down in Edinburgh, and one in particular, has done a bloody good job on you over the last week. He worked out that the fire in the

Academy was a scam, and from there it was a short step to Tubau Gordon.

Once he got in there, and he looked at the circumstances of that fire, at where and when it was started, your name jumped out at him. When he was told about the thirty-million-pound loss that's been uncovered since, your motive, and your guilt, became self-evident."

Skinner smiled. "That's as far as he could go, though, poor lad; that's all the information he had, so the model he could build with it only shows how fucking clever you've been. Giving us the girl might have been risky, only it wasn't, because of the way you set her up.

It's funny, setting up Andrea was much the same as you did in the jungle… when you used someone else's weapon and left him to take the blame."

For a moment Candela relaxed, but only until Skinner took another step towards him. "Ah, but I've got more knowledge, though. I can build the model a bit higher. Looking at the timings involved, I know that when you realised that you had lost the biggest and most exciting gamble of your life, and that you were about to be exposed, arrested, disgraced and all that stuff, you thought of my poor brother. After all these years, maybe he'd prove useful again. So you checked that he was still in Oak Lodge, and you got in touch with him.

"I can almost hear the conversation, you know. At some point you established that Mike still had his skills… I knew that myself from something Aidan told me… and then you invited him to your place in the country. Once he was here, you told him what you wanted him to do."

Skinner sighed. "I hope he didn't agree just like that; I'd prefer to believe that he didn't. So how did you force him, I wonder? Did you really beat him with a hammer? Was it you who put those marks on his body, not some drunken fall? Or did you torture him by filling him full of drink and then depriving him of it, until he did what you wanted, and built you a device to trigger the fire in the painting, and another one for the computer, undetectable because everyone, even the experts, would think it was part of it?"

He saw Candela's eyes narrow, very slightly. "Yes, that was it, wasn't it." He nodded. "Know what I think Mike did? I reckon he made a device that would blow out the fuses of the computer and cause a big power surge that would start a massive electrical fire, then he showed you where to install it within the computer, and how to set it as a timer. The security records show that you went into Tubau Gordon on

Thursday evening, less than two days before the fire. I suppose you did it then. It worked, too; I've seen the reports. The heat was so intense that there was nothing identifiable left; a nuclear explosion couldn't have done more. Score one for Michael."

He stared at Candela; his pretence of amiability was gone. "So?" he hissed. "How did my brother die?"

"He had a heart attack," said the lawyer 'simple as that. We had dinner here, he got drunk as usual, and he fell down dead. Naturally, I didn't want him found here, so I gave him to the river, at the foot of the garden." He gave the policeman a look of pure contempt.

"And that's all I'm telling you."

"You don't have to tell me any more. I know everything now."

"And much good may it do you, Mr. Skinner. You still don't have a case you can take to court. There's no forensic evidence, Michael's dead, and you cannot prove, nor will you ever, that I was responsible for one penny of that loss."

"You're really not much of a fucking lawyer, are you," said the DCC.

"Superintendent Rose and Inspector Steele of my staff are, even as I stand here, working overtime putting together a report for the Crown Office. Tomorrow morning they will present it to the Lord Advocate, in person. It's touch and go, but you're a betting man, Mr. Candela.

Knowing how the LA feels about bent lawyers, would you lay a tenner against him taking you before a jury?"

"He'd never get a conviction."

"No?"

"Not one that would stand up at appeal."

"Does that matter? As soon as they get a warrant for your arrest, Maggie Rose and Steven Steele will pick you up, either here or in Edinburgh. I'd like it if they were able to huckle you out of your office, actually. That would be nice."

"I'd still be acquitted though."

"You'll be ruined too."

"Don't you believe it."

The policeman let out an explosive, brutal laugh. "You don't get it, do you, Candela? This is personal. Whether you killed him or not, you took Michael away from somewhere he was happy, and you forced him back into his past, to do your will. You used him one last time, and then you just threw him away. Listen, I'm under no illusions. My brother was little short of a beast as a young man; he was a drunken, sadistic thug. But somewhere along the line, with help from the good Brother Aidan, he found the good within him, and he lived a contented, if unfulfilled life.

"Then you came along and took him away from it. And you did worse; you treated him like a dog, before and after he was dead."

Skinner's eyes were chilling as he looked at the lawyer. Finally, fear showed on Candela's face. "Suppose you do walk away from your so-called perfect crime, you're still going to account for it in public and for the rest of a life which I hope, if you have any sense, will be very short.

"You're going to be a pariah, Candela, a social outcast. If necessary, our report to the fiscal will be, regrettably, leaked to the media. You think no one will use it? Ultimately, we might not have enough for a criminal conviction, but a civil jury would be pretty certain to find against you, should you choose to sue for defamation… especially as you couldn't offer any defence, since you're guilty as fucking sin." He picked up the envelope. "If you don't believe me, ask my daughter, like I did; she's a bloody sight better lawyer than you ever have been, or ever will be."

"But leaking that report would end your own career," the man whispered.

"Don't be stupid. It would never be traced back to me. Don't you have any idea of what I can do?"

He started for the door. "Think about it, Candela. There's about a twenty per cent chance you're going to prison. But there's a one hundred per cent certainty you'll be disgraced. Plus, you'll have me on your back for the rest of your life."

He glanced around the distinguished room. "This place must have a library. And, gun control or not, you've probably got a pearl-handled revolver lying about somewhere.