Quintin Jardine - A Rush of Blood

‘Maybe not, but his personality hasn’t changed. Research shows that people like him have strong psychopathic tendencies. This includes a disregard for life, even their own. This is evident in the modern generation, in the street gang world. A lot of these kids regard death as an occupational hazard. It’s nothing new, really; look at gang culture in other eras and in other countries, and you’ll find the same thing. But my studies show that what gangsters do not do is top themselves. Go back over the years and you’ll find that the suicide rate among people like. . people like Tommy Zale, is way below the national average. Frank Nitti, Al Capone’s sidekick, is the only prominent figure who went out that way. There was another killed himself, supposedly, around that time, but there’s a good chance that he was actually done by the cops.’

‘Fair enough, Arthur,’ McIlhenney protested, ‘but if this is a gangland killing, like you’re suggesting, why would it be set out to look like a suicide? Chances are that when the post-mortem’s done they’ll find that Zaliukas had cancer and knew it.’ He smiled. ‘A brain tumour possibly, so you’ll need to figure out how to get that frozen grey matter off those rocks for examination.’

Dorward threw him a disdainful look. ‘And why the hell would I want to do that? I’ll just send the rocks down to the morgue with the rest of him and let it thaw out in the warm. Now go on, the pair of you, before you do any more damage with those bloody great feet of yours.’

‘ Do you miss it?’ Bob Skinner asked, as he adjusted his tie, checking in the mirrored wardrobe door that the knot was satisfactorily wide. ‘Time for a trim,’ he thought, noting the fact that his steel-grey hair, which he had allowed to grow longer during the winter, was beginning to touch his ears.

She looked up at him in surprise, from the dressing-table stool. ‘Miss what?’

‘Everything: all the trappings of power that you lost along with your majority in Parliament; the civil service private secretary, the official transport, the First Minister’s official residence.’

Aileen laughed. ‘And the key to the executive washroom? Do I miss it? The car at the door whenever I needed it; that was nice. Lena McElhone as my PS; yes, but she’d have been moving on anyway, within the service. As it was, she’d delayed her promotion by a year to stay with me. The tied house that went with the job? Absolutely not. I don’t miss an Edinburgh base; I love it here in Gullane, plus there’s still my flat in Glasgow for when I’m in my constituency. The truth is, I never liked it when we stayed there; the place gave me the creeps. I’m not saying it was haunted, but all those Scottish Secretaries, and First Ministers that had used it. That’s why I had the mattress changed, and all the linen, when I took over. The idea of sleeping in the same bed as Tommy Murtagh had been in.’ She shuddered. ‘Yuk! Despicable wee man. Or Bruce Anderson for that matter.’

‘Ach, Bruce is OK.’

‘My God,’ she exclaimed. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’

‘He is, though, now that he’s given up politics for good, and lost all that anger he had bottled up within him.’

‘Is he still seeing the Duke of Lanark’s daughter?’

‘Anthea Walters? Not even professionally. He’s passed her on to another drug counsellor. When the judge gave her a suspended prison sentence for heroin possession, it was conditional on her staying in rehab for the full two years. No, Bruce is a different man altogether to the guy I fell out with.’

‘The archbishop likes him,’ she conceded ‘so I suppose he must be.’

‘Jim Gainer likes everybody; he has the gift of bringing out the best in people.’

‘He’d be struggling with Tommy Murtagh. I wonder what he’s doing now; he’s dropped off my radar completely.’

Bob smiled. ‘If you put your mind to it, you wouldn’t be long in guessing what he’s up to. Like many a fallen politician, he’s a public affairs consultant, a lobbyist. While you were First Minister he kept a low profile, but now the Nationalists are in power, I hear that he’s more out in the open.’

‘How do you know all this? That’s not your world.’

He picked her navy blue jacket from the bed as she stood, and held it for her as she slipped it on. ‘Honey,’ he said, ‘I’m the chief constable. Everything is my world. Plus he has priority; I keep half an eye on the little bastard. He tried to ruin your career, and mine. I won’t forget that, ever.’

‘I bet he was jumping for joy when the Nats won the by-election for Ainsley Glover’s seat and took over the Scottish Government.’

‘I’m sure he was, but he had to do it privately. It was his own party that had lost out.’

‘Mmm,’ Aileen murmured. She led the way out of the bedroom, past the children’s rooms, from which sounds of awakening were coming, and downstairs, into the kitchen. ‘You want toast?’ she asked.

‘When do I ever? Cereal’ll do as usual.’ He filled the kettle and switched it on, dropped a tea bag into each of two matching mugs, then served himself a bowl of Special K.

‘You know what?’ his wife remarked, as she waited for the toaster to pop. ‘I’m not so sure we did lose out.’

Half-smiling, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, if you think back six months or so, when I sacked my coalition partners because they were useless, and formed a minority administration, you’ll remember that most of the Scottish media thought I’d lost the plot. When the opposition won the by-election, became the largest single party in the chamber, challenged me and won, they were absolutely convinced that I had. But what’s happened since then? The economic shit-storm has got worse. . as I was told by the Prime Minister last summer that it would. . and there’s no short-term answer. So now I’m leader of the Scottish opposition, and I get to stand up at First Minister’s questions and bat my successor all around the chamber for his failures in tackling an impossible job that’s made all the harder by financial constraints imposed from London by my own party. I know that power and the responsibility of government is what we’re all about, but there are times when it’s better not to be in the firing line.’

His eyes narrowed slightly as he filled the two mugs. ‘Are you saying that you planned this whole thing?’ he asked.

She winked at him. ‘From about half an hour after Ainsley Glover died and his seat became vacant. I knew we had no chance of winning that by-election. If I’d still been in the coalition, it wouldn’t have made much difference, because the Nats won’t share power with anyone, so. .’

‘You set yourself up for the chop?’

‘Ever so slightly. Now go and check the bookies and see who’s favourite to win the election next time.’

‘Have you always been this devious?’

‘Bob, I’m a politician.’

He laughed, incredulously. ‘Sure, but for the last four months I’ve been beating myself up because I thought it was me who talked you into leaving the coalition.’

‘As if you could.’

‘So you’re actually just where you want to be.’

‘Yes, and not just politically. I’ve got a new husband, a new family, and a hell of a lot more time to spend with them than I’d have if I was still First Minister.’

‘And after the next election?’

‘That’s another thing about politicians; very few of us ever think that far ahead.’ She took her mug from him and sipped it cautiously. ‘Right now, I’m thinking no further into the future than First Minister’s questions at lunchtime.’

‘I might come and sit in the public gallery,’ Bob suggested.