Quintin Jardine - Stay of Execution

‘You’ve only just begun. How did your lunch with my friend Mitch go on Monday?’

‘It was excellent. I learned more about the law in those two hours than in all my life up to then. Tell me, Bob, why isn’t he a judge?’

‘Because he’s a solicitor, and always has been; he prepares cases and instructs counsel but he doesn’t plead the case in court. Received wisdom is that to be a judge you have to have done that.’

‘You don’t go along with that?’

‘Not all the way. Mitch has only ever lost one action in his life, and that would have been overturned had the pursuer not died before it got to the Appeal Court. I agree with you: he’d make a fine senator. . if he wanted the job.’

‘I must have a chat with the Lord Advocate, in that case. Maybe we can put his name before the Judicial Appointments Board.’ Skinner raised an eyebrow, and she caught its meaning. ‘Do I take it that you’re not a fan of the board?’ she asked. ‘We think it’s one of our finest achievements.’

‘I’m a great supporter of the Scottish Parliament, and the Executive,’ he told her, ‘except when it does something bloody stupid. The old system worked; it didn’t need fixing.’

‘What?’ she exclaimed. ‘Judges appointing judges?’

‘That’s not how it was, and you should know that. Politicians always made the appointments, on the basis of independent recommendations by people who were capable of assessing the fitness of the candidates for office.’

‘Come on, it was Buggins’s turn, and you know it.’

‘I do not,’ he countered. ‘I could name you umpteen brilliant lawyers who did not make the Bench, because their appointments would have been dangerous, and maybe disastrous. Your system, a board that’s made up of half lay members, who are not experts in the subject, and a minority of practising lawyers, who are, will let some of these people through. What’s the next step? Telephone voting by the punters?’

‘We won’t go that far, I promise.’ She threw him a mock frown. ‘Here, this is my baby you’re calling ugly.’

‘Not yours.’

‘I’m its guardian at least. Maybe I should appoint you to the next vacancy.’

‘You’d have to wait a long time for that, till after I retire, and even then, if there was a remote possibility that I might be interested, I’d need to be chairman.’

‘You’re a passionate man, aren’t you?’ said the minister. ‘I’d never have suspected that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re iron-clad.’

‘I’m passionate about justice,’ said Skinner, ‘and in particular about its impartiality. My father was a family solicitor, but he was a bit of a constitutional lawyer too. If he was alive, although he voted for your party all his life, he’d be dead against anything that eroded the essential distinction between the people who enact legislation. . that’s you lot. . and the people who interpret it. . that’s the Bench.’

‘Where do you fit in?’

‘In the middle; we enforce it. . the parts that relate to crime and public order.’

‘And should you be independent of government too?’

‘I think we should be removable by government, as ultimately we are, but I do not think you should have day-to-day supervision over us. Who investigates you?’

‘Nobody, if we don’t want it to happen. Isn’t that the case?’

He smiled. ‘So how come you didn’t know you’d been vetted?’

She shivered. ‘Spooky.’

‘Listen,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘However liberal a society may be, if it is to be safe, there have to be dark areas. All countries operate that way. Because of who I am and what I do, there are few doors if any that are locked to me in Britain. But this morning, in another European country, one was slammed right in my face.’

Aileen de Marco’s eyes widened. ‘Do tell!’ she exclaimed.

‘I might. . since you’ve been vetted. . but I thought you mentioned something about dinner. I had about a quarter of a fairly inedible salad eight hours ago; I am seriously hungry.’

She glanced at her watch. ‘God, you’re right; we should be upstairs.’ She stood, smoothing her grey skirt, picked up its matching jacket, and led him once more, this time up a flight of stairs to the club’s dining room. ‘I’ve kept the menu plain and simple. Tomato soup, grilled sole, and ice cream.’

A waiter showed them to their table, left for a few moments, then reappeared with their ice bucket and glasses. Skinner glanced across the room; there was a party of two couples at a table in the furthest corner. He recognised both men: one was an actuary and the other was chief executive of an insurance company.

‘When I changed the booking I was told we’d have company,’ Aileen said. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all,’ he replied, giving the group a nod of acknowledgement. ‘If they were lawyers it would be all over town in twenty-four hours, but the only things actuaries ever tell people have numbers in them.’

They sat in silence as the waiter served their first course; home-made, he noted. ‘So,’ the minister whispered as soon as he had left, ‘what was your sudden trip all about?’

‘Dead Belgians. I wanted some information, and I thought their government would be helpful.’

‘But they weren’t?’

‘They treated my colleague and me to dinner in the best hotel in town. Then this morning they gave us the bum’s rush.’

‘I can’t imagine anybody giving you the bum’s rush.’

‘It isn’t over. I will find out what they’re covering up.’

‘Who’s going to tell you?’

‘That I can’t say, not at this stage, anyway.’ He picked up his spoon.

They did justice to dinner for the next half-hour, talking trivia about movies and music, discovering that they were both Lord of the Rings devotees, and Skinner admitting that his off-duty reading consisted mostly of crime fiction.

‘Can’t get away from it?’ Aileen asked.

‘What did you read last?’ he asked her.

‘ First Among Equals ,’ she confessed. ‘Okay, I know it’s about politics, and I know it was written by a Tory, but it’s still a first-class read.’

The coffee was poured and cooling before the minister steered the discussion back to business. ‘The First Minister came by my office this morning,’ she said. ‘He asked me if I’d heard anything about that poor American policeman.’

Skinner frowned. ‘Aileen,’ he murmured, ‘I’m happy to talk to you all night about policing, but I’m uncomfortable when you get into active investigations. . especially when Tommy Murtagh’s name’s mentioned.’

‘You really don’t like the First Minister, do you?’

‘Not a lot. I told you, when it comes to my view of politicians, you’re one of the few exceptions to the rule. I don’t trust them, and you should learn to do the same. Do you think Murtagh knew you were seeing me tonight?’

‘It never occurred to me.’

‘Well, it’s the first bloody thing that occurred to me. As it happens we’ve got a strong lead in that investigation, but I don’t want you telling him so. If he wants to know anything of that nature, he should be asking the Lord Advocate, not you, and he’s well aware of that fact. He’s testing you, just to see how compliant you are; watch him.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’d certainly never be compliant for him,’ she murmured, with a smile. There was a movement in the doorway behind her. ‘Bob,’ she said, ‘I think they want to close up.’

He looked round and saw that the other table was deserted. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise how the time had gone.’ He glanced at her. ‘Aileen, taxis can be hard to find at this hour. Can I run you home?’