Quintin Jardine - Pray for the Dying

Payne and Mann shook their heads.

‘Good. You know where to get me if you have to. Get on with what you have to do. I’m off to stick my head in the lioness’s mouth.’

‘You really are a fucking fascist at heart, Bob, aren’t you?’ she hissed.

‘If that’s how you want to see me,’ he retorted, ‘then honestly, I don’t give a damn. I got you out of there because there was a belief that you, not Toni Field, was the target of those people. And you know what? If they had shot Paula instead, who was sat between the two of you, Toni would have done exactly the same as I did. She’d have got you out of there, and fast.’

‘I should have stayed in the building,’ she insisted.

‘Why? You’re not First Minister any more, Clive Graham is. You were a fucking liability in there, Aileen, somebody else to worry about. I couldn’t have that. Plus,’ he hesitated for a second, ‘you happen to be my wife. I didn’t bend any rules to protect you, but believe me, if I’d had to, I would have.’

‘That’s irrelevant,’ Aileen de Marco shouted. ‘I should have stayed there. It was my duty; I’m the constituency MSP. I should have been there but instead I’m hiding in this bloody fortress like some kid who’s afraid of the dark.’

‘No, you were hidden, if you want to put it that way, because there was a chance you might still have been at risk.’

‘Does that chance still exist?’

‘I don’t believe so,’ he replied, ‘although I can’t be certain.’

‘But I’m free to leave here?’

‘To be honest, you always were. Don’t tell me that hadn’t occurred to you. But you stayed here. Aileen, you’re allowed to be scared! A woman has just been shot dead, a few feet away from you. You may not have noticed this, but her blood is spattered on your dress. The assistant chief constable is in hospital suffering from shock. I am strung out my fucking self! So what’s your problem?’

‘I was detained, man, against my will. Can’t you see that? I’m a politician, and as such I can’t be seen to be showing weakness in the face of these terrorists.’

He threw up his hands. ‘Okay, Joan of Arc, go. There isn’t a locked door between you and the street, and I will arrange for a car to take you wherever you want to go, even if it’s back to our place in Gullane.’

‘Hah!’ she spat. ‘The only time I’ll be back there is to collect my clothes. I’ve got somewhere to go tonight, don’t you worry, and I will not have a police guard outside the door either.’

Skinner stood. ‘You bloody will. You may leave here, but you will have protection, wherever you are. That’s Clive Graham speaking, not me. He’s ordered it, and I’ve had arrangements made. For the next couple of days at least, you will have personal security officers looking after you. That is not for debate, but don’t worry, discretion is included in their training.’

It had been a casual remark, meaning nothing, but she flushed as he said it and he realised that he had touched a nerve.

‘I don’t want to know, Aileen,’ he murmured.

‘As if I care,’ she snorted. ‘Isn’t life bloody ironic? You and I go to war because I’m for police unification and you’re against it, yet here you are in command of a force that covers half of Scotland.’

‘Temporary command,’ he pointed out.

‘So you say, but I know you better than that. You may not have volunteered for this job, but now you’re in it, you won’t want to let it go. Up to now you’ve chosen your own pond, and been its biggest fish. Now one’s been chosen for you, by fate, but your nature will still be the same. Once you get your feet under that desk in Pitt Street, Fettes will never be quite big enough for you again. That’s how it will be because that’s how you are, like it or not!’

‘You might have told me you were goin’ to be on the telly, Mum,’ Jake Mann mumbled, as he disposed of the last of his cereal. ‘I’d have told all my pals to watch.’

‘I didn’t have much notice of it, Jakey,’ Lottie replied. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that, given the subject.’

‘You should have combed your hair.’

She raised an eyebrow and glared at the nine-year-old. ‘Maybe, but my hairdresser wasn’t available at the time. I could have done with a bit of lippie as well, but the make-up room was in use.’

‘You were good, though,’ Jake said, reaching for his orange juice.

‘Good?’ she boomed.

‘Brilliant,’ he offered. ‘Pure dead brilliant.’

‘You’re getting there, kid.’

‘Who was that big man alongside you?’

‘That was Mr Skinner. He’s from Edinburgh, but he’s going to be our chief constable for a while.’

‘Is that right?’ a voice from the doorway asked.

Lottie turned, and frowned. ‘Hey,’ she exclaimed, ‘the Kraken’s awake.’

‘The Kraken of dawn,’ Scott Mann moaned, as he shambled barefoot into the kitchen, in T-shirt and shorts.

‘Dawn? It’s half past eight, for Christ’s sake.’

‘Aye, and you didnae get in till midnight.’

‘Sorry, but you saw what happened. Didn’t you?’

‘Not really. The telly didn’t show much. They just said the chief constable was deid, that was all, even though you and the guy Skinner wouldnae say so.’ He looked at her as he lifted the kettle to check that it was full, then switched it on. ‘Izzat right?’

She frowned. ‘It’s right.’

‘How?’

She nodded towards their son. ‘ Pas devant l’enfant .’

‘Eh?’

‘It means “Not in front of the child”, Dad,’ Jake volunteered. ‘Mum’s always saying it so I looked it up on the internet.’

‘That’s your mother all over, Jakey. She got an O grade in French at the high school, and she thinks she’s Vanessa Paradis.’

‘Hah, and you’d just love it if I was, sunshine. I’m closer to being her than you are tae Johnny Depp, that’s for sure.’ She paused. ‘He’s nearer my height and all.’ Her husband was stocky in build but he stood no more than five feet eight. ‘Yes, that’s a deal, you can have Vanessa and I’ll have Johnny.’

‘Naw!’ Jake protested.

Lottie laughed. ‘Chance would be a fine thing, wee man. On you go if you’re finished; see what’s on CBeebies.’

Their son needed no second invitation to watch television. He grabbed a slice of buttered toast and sprinted from the room.

‘So?’ Scott asked, as the door closed. ‘What did happen?’

‘Three bullets in the head from a professional. The thing was very well planned. They blew the power as soon as they’d fired. They shot two cops on the way out. . Sandy Sproule and Billy Auger. .’

‘Aw, Jesus,’ her husband exclaimed. ‘I ken Sandy. Is he. .’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. He died instantly. Billy Auger will live, but they’re not sure he’ll walk again. Spinal damage.’

‘Bastards.’

‘Ye can say that again. They’d have got away too, had not Skinner and another bloke arrived just seconds after they’d shot them. I’ve seen the video. The other guy did for one of them straight away. His buddy ran for it, but Skinner picked up Sandy’s carbine and put two rounds through him. Never batted a fucking eyelid either, either on the tape or later, inside the hall. The only thing he was sorry about was that if he’d just wounded the guy he might have given us a clue tae who sent him. But he said that from that range all he could do was aim for the central body mass, as per the training manual. That is one fucking hard man. I couldn’t have done that, I’ll tell you.’

Scott squeezed her hand. ‘You know what, love? I’m glad about that.’ The kettle boiled. ‘Want another?’ he asked.