Quintin Jardine - Murmuring the Judges

‘Just think,’ muttered Laidlaw, ‘all this is happening because that bugger over there couldn’t draft a letter properly. If he’d only done a bit more research and added a few caveats to cover his arse, none of us need be here.’

‘True,’ McAlpine countered. ‘But if he had, then some of us would be slightly less wealthy. We make a good living out of people like Jones; let’s not grudge them their imperfections.’

The Queen’s Counsel turned to Martin. ‘Who are you seeing at Saughton, Andy? Anything in it for me?’

The detective shook his head as he looked at the business lunch menu. ‘I’m afraid not, Jim,’ he answered with a smile. ‘This guy’s already represented. By the Honourable Richard Kilmarnock, QC, no less.’

‘Oh dear,’ said the advocate, archly. ‘Still, put a word in for me anyway, there’s a good chap. Kilmarnock’s clients always want someone else for the appeal.’

‘If he listens to what I’ve got to say, there won’t be an appeal. I’m going out there to try a bit of private plea-bargaining. ’

‘Mmm. Thought you chaps didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Supping with the Devil, no?’

Martin smiled. ‘It’s the devil I’m after, Jack. Nathan Bennett’s just a minor demon. I don’t care about him.’

‘Bennett?’ said Mitch Laidlaw, suddenly interested in the conversation, rather than in the menu. ‘Wasn’t he in the dock when poor old Billy fell off his perch?’

‘That’s right. I’m not going to hold that against him, though.’

‘Ha. No, I guess not. That was bound to happen some time. He was a hard old bastard, was Archergait. When he got worked up, the veins used to stand out on his forehead. I remember once. .’

The solicitor’s musing was interrupted by the trilling of Martin’s mobile phone. He took it from his pocket and pressed a green button. ‘Yes?’ he said, tersely.

Watching her partner, Alex saw his expression grow thunderous. ‘Okay, Sammy,’ he said at last, a new, hard edge to his voice. ‘I’ve got all that. Call Saughton for me and put Bennett off till tomorrow morning.’ He pushed an orange button to end the call.

‘What’s up?’ asked Alex, anxiously.

‘Another bank robbery,’ he answered. ‘At the Royal Bank in Galashiels. And this time there are casualties. Sorry about lunch, but I have to get down there.’

John McGrigor’s normally ruddy face was chalk-white as he greeted his Chief Superintendent in the doorway of the Galashiels branch of the Royal Bank of Scotland. In the street outside, around which traffic had been diverted, stood several police cars and an ambulance, its loading doors wide open.

On the pavement, about ten yards away from the doorway, there was a long trail of blood. It was being gradually washed away by the steady summer rain which had begun to fall half an hour before.

‘Tell me about it,’ Martin ordered. As they stepped into the banking hall, the Head of CID was faced by a wall, heavily streaked with still more blood. On the floor, in a a crimson pool, lay a huge man. His abdomen had been ripped open by the blast from a firearm, and entrails, unwound, mingled with his shredded clothing.

‘This is just awful, Andy,’ said the big Superintendent. ‘Big Harry Riach, on the floor there, he and I were at the school together. I’ve locked him up a few times since then, too, when he’s been out of order. I was the only fella that could ever arrest him wi’out a struggle.’ McGrigor shook his head, and Martin saw a tear in the corner of his eye.

‘He had a go, then?’ he asked.

His colleague nodded. ‘Most of the witnesses are still in hysterics,’ he said, ‘but we’ve interviewed those that can speak. It was the same as before. Three men, wearing Hallowe’en masks this time, and armed with sawn-offs, just walked in off the street.

‘It was like clockwork. They had the customers up against the wall and all the staff out from behind the counter, lying on the floor. One held a’ the folk at gunpoint, and the other two collected the money, and took the security video tape.’ He paused.

‘They were just about ready to go when the man who’d been keepin’ everyone covered stepped a bit too close to Riach. “Fuck this for a game!” Big Harry says, and makes a grab for him. According to the witnesses, the guy just stuck the sawn-off in his belly and pulled the trigger. The doctor. . he left just a minute before you arrived. . said he’d have been dead before he hit the floor.

‘None of the three said a word, or seemed to panic in any way. They just took the money in two big hold-alls and backed out. They took the bank keys as well, and locked everyone in as they left.’

‘That’s a new twist,’ the Head of CID muttered. ‘To make for an easier getaway, I suppose.

‘What happened outside?’ he went on.

‘Sheer bad luck,’ said McGrigor bitterly. ‘A young police constable, Annie Brown. . lovely wee girl. . just happened to be there. I don’t know why. She certainly hadn’t been ordered to the scene. One of the boys found a birthday card in the street, though, addressed and sealed. She could have been on her way to post it.’

‘No other officer was with her, then?’

‘No.’

‘So what happened?’

‘According to one of the witnesses who was looking out the bank window, the robber who wasn’t carrying a hold-all just took one look at her when he stepped into the street, and shot her.’

‘Had she done anything, or called out?’

‘Not according to the witness.’

‘What’s her condition?’

‘Critical, according to the doctor. He came from the surgery round the corner; within two minutes, they say. They took her in an ambulance to Borders General. I’ve heard nothing since.’

Martin nodded, and silently held up crossed fingers.

‘How did they make their escape?’ he asked.

‘In a grey Ford Escort,’ McGrigor replied. ‘It was parked right outside the bank. There were half a dozen people in the street, all on the other side. By the time any of them realised what was happening, the girl was down and the car was moving. No one got the number, but I’ve ordered all cars to report every grey Escort seen in our area.’

‘Careful, John. We don’t want any more victims.’

‘I know. I said report but don’t approach, unless the vehicle is empty.’

‘Fair enough,’ Martin nodded. ‘They’ll have changed anyway. That’s the usual pattern.’ He looked at his colleague. ‘Come on, and let’s you and I go to the hospital. I want to be there when she comes round, and I should speak to her relatives.’

He turned to the green-uniformed paramedics, a man and a woman, who stood waiting in a corner. ‘You can take the body to the mortuary now. Hold for post-mortem. ’

He let McGrigor out into the street, and together they climbed into the Head of CID’s Mondeo. The Superintendent gave swift directions to Borders General Hospital, on the outskirts of the town. As he weaved his way though the narrow streets of the centre of Galashiels, Martin asked him, ‘Have you advised the Chief’s office that we have a wounded officer?’

‘Aye. I spoke to Sir James himself, an hour ago. He said he’d be down right away.’

‘Good. Not that I expected anything else from him.

‘Tell me John,’ continued the DCS, ‘do you know whether the bank was flush with money?’

Beside him, McGrigor nodded. ‘I spoke to the manager. He was well cashed up a’right. There’s a big electronics factory outside the town still pays most of its weekly wage staff in notes, and yon big DIY place up the road has a sale on.

‘It’ll take him a while to work out how much has gone, but he said it wouldna’ be less than seven or eight hundred thousand.’