Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

'Do they help?'

'They helped me.'

'Give me the details, and I'll pass them on.'

'You could get the human-resources people to do it,' McIlhenney suggested.

'I know I could, but there are some things I don't delegate.'

'There are many things you don't delegate.'

'So it's been said,' the DCC admitted, with a brief smile. 'Anyway, you wanted to see me. What's up?'

'It's the Albanian thing, and it might be as well if Amanda Dennis was here.'

'She and Green are using a room along the corridor. I'll ask her to join us.' He made the call; the two men sat and waited for around a minute, until the door opened and the MI5 officer stepped into the room.

'Thanks, Amanda,' said Skinner, once she was seated. 'Neil's got something for us. Fire away, Chief Inspector.'

'Yes, sir. My wife and I had dinner with Mario McGuire…' he looked at Dennis '… he's a friend of mine, a detective superintendent in Leith… and Paula last night, and he and I had a private discussion. Don't worry,' he said hastily, 'I didn't spill all the beans, but I did ask him if he knew of any contacts. He gave me a lead, to a bloke who runs an allegedly Turkish restaurant down in Leith, only he's not Turkish by birth, he's Albanian. He goes by the name of Peter Bassam.'

'Indeed?' He had Dennis's attention. 'Have you had him checked out?'

'First thing this morning. Alice Cowan ran him down with the DSS and the Home Office immigration section; she found out that he's here because he's got a German passport, thanks to his grandfather, an SS officer who deserted to Albania from Greece when the Germans got out of there, and sired his mother. He applied for citizenship through the German embassy in Turkey four years ago and it was granted.'

'So he's legit: he has a right to be here?'

'Yes, he's a European Union citizen.' McIlhenney smiled. 'But there is one thing about him that caught my attention, thanks to young Alice, who dug deep enough to find it. He calls himself Peter Bassam, but that's not the name on his passport. His given name is Petrit Bassam Kastrati.'

Skinner chuckled. 'Is it indeed? I can understand why he doesn't use his surname, but why did he change the other, I wonder?' He looked at his colleague. 'Sounds as if he bears investigation. Any ideas?'

'I've got one. While Alice was doing her research, I took a run down to Elbe Street and checked out his place. It was closed, of course, but he's got a sign in his window saying that he's looking for a waiter.'

'And you were thinking?' Dennis asked.

'I was wondering, to be more accurate, whether Sean Green has any experience in that line of work.'

She looked at Skinner. 'Sean's experience is pretty broadly based. He's been under cover in pubs before now; I'm sure he'd be prepared to play the waiter. Is this a formal request?'

The DCC considered the question, then nodded. 'I reckon it is. Do you have to clear it?'

'Only with Sean; I never force people into undercover assignments.' She smiled, fondly. 'He's never turned one down, though.'

'Okay, ask him. He'll need a new identity, references, and the ability to back them up. How long will that take?'

'That can be in place tomorrow. But what about the state of his face? Won't that invite questions?'

'Sure, but that won't be difficult. Couldn't you build it into his cover story, as a reason for being sacked?'

'Screwing the chefs wife at his former place of employment, for example? Good idea: he could certainly pull that off. It would be quite in character in fact. My only small doubt is that he's been exposed in this city only recently.'

'We can take that chance,' said McIlhenney. 'Clubbers don't eat Turkish in Leith. They hang out in the yuppie bars in George Street and go on from there.'

'In that case, I'm convinced. We'll give him a hair-dye job and spectacles as added cover, just in case, but let's go. He'll need an address, but I can do that. Let's just hope that sign hasn't gone from the window by tomorrow.'

Andy Martin had the greatest respect for his chief constable. Graham Morton had been in post for almost as long as Sir James Proud, although he was still a few years short of the compulsory retirement age, and he was regarded as one of the leading figures in the Association of Chief Police Officers Scotland.

Nevertheless, Martin was cautious as he faced his boss across the desk of his office in Dundee. 'What line do you think that ACPOS will take over the First Minister's new appointment?' he asked.

Morton leaned back in his chair, scratched his square, bald head and considered the question. 'I think that at the next meeting there will be a lot of huffing and puffing. I expect that Dees will lead the charge: he says that the moment he heard about it he decided to retire.'

'And do you believe that?'

'Not for a minute.' The veteran chief constable chuckled. 'Geoff told me in private six months ago that he was planning on spending Easter with his son in South Africa, and maybe not coming back till the summer. His resignation's been in for a fortnight, and he's persuaded his board, which does not have a Labour majority, to fill the post as soon as possible.'

'I'm told that Murtagh's planning to take a greater interest in the police service,' said Martin, 'and that this appointment's just an opening shot.'

'It wouldn't surprise me. Even when he was on the council here, wee Tommy was a bit of a control freak.'

'You know him well?' asked Martin.

'Well enough; I was in post all that time, remember. I confess that I was quite relieved when he left to become a Westminster MP for a constituency over in Fife.'

'What sort of man is he?'

'Take the following three words: cunning, ambitious and bastard. They just about sum him up.'

'You missed out "talented".'

'So I did,' the chief constable admitted, 'and I should have included it. I can't deny him that. Mr Murtagh has a talent for climbing. He started off as a labourer on a building site, and in no time at all he was a general foreman.'

'A wee chap like him? Building sites can be hard places.'

'Don't let his size fool you, Andy. He's as hard as nails; the legend was that a big brickie had a go at him one day and wee Tommy laid him as broad as he was long. Real foreman material from the start, you might say. Anyway, he gave that up pretty soon and went to Dundee University as a mature student; he did a degree in politics and economics. He was elected to the council in his final year, and when he graduated he went back to work for his old firm, Herbert Groves Construction, with the title of contracts manager.'

'And did his firm win many council contracts?'

'They got their share, but Tommy always declared an interest at every stage, and the officials always noted these in the minutes. But the fact was that he didn't need to vote in the debates: the council was heavily Labour, and his colleagues voted the right way. To be fair, most of them were competitive tenders and Groves came in with the lowest quote.'

'Insider knowledge?'

'There was never any evidence of that, and none of the unsuccessful firms ever complained.'

'What was Councillor Murtagh's lifestyle like?'

'Pretty decent, but the company was successful. So why did he give it up to become an MP? That's what you're going to ask next, isn't it?'

'I suppose so.'

Morton smiled. 'He never said, but we all just assumed he'd outgrown Dundee. I wasn't sorry to see him go; there was talk of him becoming chair of the police authority, and I did not want that to happen. You see, he was anti-police even then, Andy.'

'Why?'

The chief constable raised his eyebrows, 'I'm damned if I know.' He paused. 'I do know this, though: you've been picking my brains.'