Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

The big superintendent laughed, if a little gingerly. 'Your kid really is discreet, you know.'

'What do you mean?'

'She's been working on getting me out of it for the last three months. It's complicated and all the family members have to sign off on it, but basically what's going to happen is that we'll convert from our present status and become a public limited company, with those of us who are beneficiaries at the moment becoming shareholders. Our first act will be to have a general meeting where Paula will be appointed chair, with Stan Coia, her brother-in-law, as the other executive director on the board. My mother's agreed to be a non-executive director, as long as it doesn't involve her in too many meetings. Alex will become company secretary.'

'She's discreet indeed, Mario. She's never mentioned a word to me, or even dropped a hint.'

'The main thing is I'll become an ordinary shareholder: that's as far out as I can get.'

'That will be okay. Christ, I own shares myself in half a dozen companies, and in God knows how many more through some bond investments that I have.' Skinner nodded. 'That's good, Mario; you've taken a load off my mind.'

'Will there be formal interviews for the job, boss?'

'What would we ask you that we don't know already?'

A phone on his desk sounded, once. Skinner looked at his watch again, and smiled. 'What did I tell you? Ten minutes late.' He picked up the handset. 'Jack? Yes, bring him up, please.' He went to the door and waited, until his assistant appeared at the top of the stairs, leading a tall grey-suited figure. He stepped forward and shook his hand, vigorously. 'Greg,' he exclaimed, 'how good of you to find the time to see me. Come in, and tell me all about your new job.' He looked at McGurk. 'No interruptions, please.'

Jay followed him into the wood-panelled office, and stared in surprise when he saw McGuire. 'What the hell is this, Bob?' he demanded, as the door closed on them. 'What's that man doing here?'

'He may be putting his health at risk, Greg; his consultant would shit fireballs if he knew he was here. But he insisted on joining us. Have a seat… no, not on the comfy stuff, sit there.' He pointed to the straight-backed chair facing his desk, then walked round and settled into his own leather swivel. 'Tell me about the job, Greg; tell me how you got it.'

'I sense an interrogation here,' Jay protested. 'I haven't come for that.'

'No,' said Skinner calmly, 'you haven't, have you? I apologise, that was unnecessary… I know how you got it.'

His eyes locked on to Jay, and held him in a steady gaze that brooked no interruption. 'There is a man called Albert Trumble; he is a senior member of the Labour Party and has been for donkey's years. He's one of their king-makers, old Labour in a new Labour suit, although he hasn't held office since Fife Regional Council was disbanded. If you don't have Albert's support, you'll find it difficult to advance through the ranks. If you do, you'll find it easy. Twelve years ago, he met a young man from Dundee at a gathering of regional councillors. This lad had just been elected, but he impressed Albert. A few years later, a vacancy arose for a seat in the House of Commons, in a constituency where he had a lot of influence. He put the word about and, after a local rival had been disposed of, his prot?g? was selected as the Labour candidate. Naturally, since it was in Fife, he won. When devolution came, the young man chose the Scottish Parliament ahead of Westminster. He became a member of the cabinet, on Albert's recommendation to the founding First Minister, who was an old council buddy of his. When the top job itself became vacant a year or so back, well, Tommy Murtagh was more or less anointed, wasn't he? Thirty-five years old, and at the head of the Cabinet table, a great achievement by him and a monument to Albert Trumble's influence.'

He paused. 'That's not news to you, though, Greg, is it? Some of it you could even have read in the papers. But there's something about Albert that's never been reported. He's a fairly rare beast, a Labour Party grandee who is also an active and senior Freemason. As a matter of fact, Greg, you and he have both been masters of the same lodge, over in Fife. You've known each other for twenty years.'

Skinner broke off, glanced at McGuire and laughed. 'Here, this is just like This Is Your Life, isn't it? I'll bet you're half expecting Albert to come out of my bathroom and give Greg a hug.'

The visitor made to rise. 'I'm not staying here to have the piss taken out of me.'

'Sit down!' The DCC's sudden shout slammed him back into his seat, as surely as if he had reached out a hand and shoved him. 'That's better,' he said, calm again in an instant. 'Now where was I? Oh, yes. Not so long ago, Tommy Murtagh told Albert he was looking to replace Jock Govan as security adviser with someone… a little more hands on, let's say. He didn't give it a second thought: he said that you were the man. True?'

Jay glared at him.

'You don't need to answer for I know it is, from an impeccable source. One thing that maybe you didn't know about your friend and patron is that he isn't just a member of your lodge. He belongs to another, in Edinburgh, a very select body with a very limited membership. I'm going to tell you a secret, knowing that you as a good Freemason will not divulge it to anyone, and that Mario, who values his career, won't either. The present master of that most exclusive chapter is none other than Sir James Proud. He asked Albert if he'd put you in post and he told him that he had.'

Skinner swivelled round in his chair. 'That was very silly of Albert, you know. Maybe he thought that Jimmy wouldn't pass it on; if he did, he failed to realise that his first loyalty is to the police service, and that if its integrity is under threat he will do anything to protect it. I don't think I need to tell you, Greg, how embarrassing it would be for the First Minister if the connection that led to your appointment became known, since his party's last manifesto in Scotland promised to root out, quote, "the last remaining influences of Freemasonry on the Scottish police service". Tommy's really going to be pissed off at you.'

'Are you trying to threaten me?' Jay asked.

'Not yet. This is just the warm-up. But if you want me to get to the heavy stuff, I will.' He glanced at McGuire. 'My colleague is present, Mr Jay, because this is about to become an official interview, at which certain allegations will be put to you.' The ex-detective's face took on a shocked expression as he was read a formal caution. 'Mario,' said Skinner, when it was done, 'would you like to carry on, even though you are officially on the sick?'

McGuire rose from the couch and walked over to take the other straight chair, turning it to face Jay. 'Last Friday,' he began, 'Detective Sergeant Sammy Pye and I took a statement from Mr Malcolm Gladsmuir, licensee and manager of a pub called the Wee Black Dug in Leith. Mr Gladsmuir alleged that over a period of several years, he made you regular payments, in return for an understanding that there would be no CID surveillance of activity in his pub. However, the money did not come from Mr Gladsmuir directly but from his three employers. They hide their property holdings behind a limited company, unsurprisingly, for one of them has a conviction for armed robbery, while the other two also have records. All three are thought to be currently involved in organised crime. Do you deny the allegations?'

'Of course I do,' Greg Jay blustered. 'You're not going to take that seriously, are you?'

'I wouldn't have interviewed Gladsmuir in the first place if you hadn't warned me to lay off him, and if you hadn't then visited my cousin at her place of work and threatened her, an act I interpret as a further attempt to put me under duress. You ask me if I take it seriously. Too right I do.'