Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

'Is it possible that these guys are just on the run from Albania?' asked McIlhenney. 'Maybe there's been some gang warfare and they're the losers.'

Amanda Dennis shook her head. 'Naim Latifi is not a loser. My information is that if there had been a gang war it's more likely that the other side would be dead or on the run than that he would. But there have been no such indications. The Latifi family operations are continuing unfettered in the boss's absence; there are other cousins.'

'Do we know if they're travelling under assumed names?'

'They didn't as far as Rotterdam, but they may have false papers now; in fact, I'd guess that they do. They hadn't changed their appearance when the trucker dropped them off, but they've had time to do it since. The Dutchman said that Samir had grown some hair, so don't go looking for a skinhead.'

'Do we have a description of the fifth man, the guy who met them when the trucker dropped them off?'

'Not much; he was the same height and stocky build as Naim, but that was all the driver told us. He couldn't get close enough. He said that when he stopped, he opened the back of the truck. Naim got out of the cab and went across the car park towards the man with the Transit. They hugged like long-lost friends, then Naim waved to the others and they joined him. The trucker said that he got out of there as fast as he could. He was afraid that they might not want any witnesses.'

'Why would he think that?' Skinner asked. 'Did he know something about them that put him in danger? Did they say anything in front of him?'

Dennis frowned. 'They spoke in Albanian among themselves in the little time he was with them. When they spoke to him it was in English… good English, incidentally. We certainly know that Naim is fluent. However, as we told you, the driver has a Kosovar Albanian girlfriend, so he understands a few words. When they spoke among themselves, the name "Petrit" was used quite a lot; it's a common Albanian male forename. Apart from that, the one word he overheard that struck him as odd, was "Saviour". He said that Naim used it several times to the others, with emphasis.'

'Saviour,' McIlhenney repeated. 'What the hell can that mean?'

'Maybe they've converted,' said Mackenzie, cheerfully. 'Maybe they've come over to start a Christian mission. God knows, we could use it here.'

'If they have, it's a front,' Dennis replied, tersely. 'Don't take the communion wafer or you could be high for a week.'

'I don't suggest that you begin your search with the churches,' Skinner grunted.

'How about the Salvation Army hostel, sir?' asked Mackenzie. 'Could they have meant that?'

'Don't be bloody silly, man. There is only one thing these people will do, and that is to disappear into the local ethnic community. Agreed, Amanda?'

'Absolutely, and that is another reason why we should have been allowed to involve you from the start, and why we need you now. You have established links with that community. We don't: we only spy on them from time to time.'

'If I was an illegal Albanian immigrant,' Haggerty interposed, 'I'd go to Glasgow, not Edinburgh: there's more of them there, so it would be easier to hide.'

'Granted. But these people wanted to come here,' Dennis countered. 'The Dutch driver made several calls in Glasgow during the day. He could have dropped them off there, but he didn't, because they asked specifically to be brought to Edinburgh.'

'That's next to bugger all to go on,' said Skinner, 'but at least it's a start.' He turned to the ACC. 'Willie, we have established relationships with the ethnic communities, and we also work closely with voluntary organisations. I think we should put them to use. Without compromising the secrecy of this investigation, let's see if we can try to establish where Latifi and his friends are most likely to be hiding.'

'We'll try,' said Haggerty. 'Not all the Kosovar refugees went home after 1999; that'll be a good place to start.'

'Yes, but gently. We want to find them, not just to move them on.' He paused. 'There's one other thing: the fifth man, the guy who met them. I know we've got little to go on, but let's start by guessing that he's the "Petrit" the Dutchman heard them speak about. Let's see if we can find anyone of that name in this area.'

He turned to the two chief inspectors. 'Neil, Bandit, I don't discount Amanda's original hypothesis, that these are highly illegal people and that their visit here may well be drug-related. So keep an eye on the clubs, and be sensitive to any signs of new players on the scene.'

'Personnel?' asked McIlhenney.

'What do you need? We don't want to start speculation that something might be up.'

'I'd like to bring Mavis in on it,' said Mackenzie. 'She's already speculating why we had to spring Sean and Jingle Bell.'

'You trust her to maintain secrecy?'

'Absolutely.'

'Then brief her. Anyone else?'

'Alice Cowan?' McIlhenney murmured.

Skinner nodded. 'I thought you'd ask for her. Sure, you can have her; she's proved herself in Special Branch by now. Will that be enough?'

'On top of our normal operations,' Mackenzie replied, 'it will.'

'What about Sean?' asked Dennis. 'He's available to you.'

'We can't put him into another club,' Skinner told her. 'He's already been there, and very visibly too. I think it's best if he's at Willie's disposal for now.' He looked at Green. 'Are you okay with that?'

'Fine by me, sir.'

'Good.' The DCC stood up, picking up his envelope from the desk. 'Go on then, plunge into the haystack and find these five bent needles.'

He left the conference room and walked along the corridor, back to his office. Once inside he switched on the red 'busy' light outside the door, retrieved a number from his palm top and dialled it, using his secure phone.

'Hello, Bob,' said a familiar voice. 'And what fooking crisis has fallen on your old grey head this time?'

'Less of the old, you cheeky little bastard,' Skinner grunted. 'And what makes you think there's a crisis? Can't I call an old mate for a chat?'

'You've never called me just for a chat in your fooking life, so what's up?

Major Adam Arrow held a senior and sensitive post within the Ministry of Defence, in its great grey headquarters in the heart of Whitehall. The two men had been in some dangerous situations together; indeed, they had survived one of them by the skin of their teeth. The little soldier maintained an amiable front, but behind it he was disciplined, resourceful, reliable and absolutely deadly.

'Maybe nothing,' the DCC told him. 'I've had a visit from the spooks, that's all. They want me to run an op for them.'

'Five?'

Yes. Amanda Dennis and one of her boys, overseen by a guy named Rudolph Sewell. I've never met him before.'

'I'm not surprised: until recently he's been in the background… even by their standards… but he's highly rated and his star is on the rise. He's the next DG, or so they say.'

'Who says?'

'The creatures who prowl the murky corridors in which I walk, mate. You could join us, you know.'

The remark took Skinner by surprise. 'What do you mean?' he asked, warily.

'I mean what I said. You're rated down here, Bob. You've worked with Five, and have a reputation there; the DG would have you in his team in a minute, and pretty near the top too. I wouldn't be surprised if he created another assistant post for you, at the same level as Sewell, or maybe even above him.'

'He's never said anything to me about it.'

'That's not the way it works. You have to make the right noises.'

'What? Put in a job application, you mean?'

'No. Just pick up the phone and tell him you'd like to step into the darkness.'

Skinner drew a deep breath. 'But I wouldn't, Adam. My life's dark enough as it is. Right now, I'd welcome a little more light'