Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

'How should I know? I go after we serve the last people. He no' here then, though. New head waiter say I could go.'

'Who was here when you left?'

'John, the new guy, and him.' The chef pointed to one of the two waiters, the Asian.

The man nodded. 'But I left after that,' he said, quickly.

'So John was alone?'

'Yes.'

'Where was Bassam?'

'I don't know.'

The DCC turned back to the chef. 'Do you?'

'No' here,' the truculent Sukur grunted. 'He went out before that'

'When?'

'Earlier on.'

'Don't try my patience,' Skinner warned him. 'At what time?'

'I dunno, maybe eight, maybe earlier.'

'Did he tell you where he was going?'

'The boss no' tell me anything. He just leave me to run the kitchen.'

'But you knew he had gone. Does that mean you saw him leave?'

Sukur nodded. 'I see him through kitchen window. He get into van.'

'What van?'

'Mr Bassam's van: an old thing he uses to go to the cash and carry. He keep it at his house and sometimes he bring it here. It was here last night, parked out back. He get into it with the other guys.'

Skinner's eyes narrowed. 'What other guys?'

'I no' know who they are; they friends of his, though. Not Turkish, but then neither is he.'

'What do you know about them?'

'Nothing. They been living upstairs, but they don't come in here, ever.'

'What's upstairs?'

'The boss have a flat upstairs; he used to stay there, till he bring his family over and buy his house.'

'Do you have keys for it?'

'No. The boss keeps those.'

'How long have these people been there?'

'I dunno; not long, a few weeks maybe.'

'Come on,' said the DCC, 'show me where this place is.' He turned to Pye. 'Sam, with me.'

The chef, still scowling, led them through the kitchen, and out into Delight's back yard. A flight of stone stairs, on the outside of the building, led to a green-painted door. 'There,' he grunted.

The two police officers climbed the worn steps, coming to a square landing on top. Skinner tried the door handle, then, finding it locked, kicked it open effortlessly with the sole of his right foot.

'Sir,' Pye exclaimed.

'It was stuck: the wood must have been warped.'

'Yes, but…'

'Ah, you think they might be in there, do you, Sam? Not a cat's chance, but there's one way to find out.' He stepped into the flat.

All four doors off the hall were open: two led into bedrooms, each with twin beds, a third to a bathroom, and the last into a large living room, with a kitchen area against the far wall. The place was a mess: discarded cigarette packets, bottles and food wrappers lay everywhere.

'Not exactly Good Housekeeping,' Pye muttered.

'Looks a bit like your wife's desk from time to time.' The DCC chuckled. The sergeant was married to Ruth, his secretary. He walked over to a small dining-table positioned at the window. It was strewn with crumpled sheets of paper, which seemed to have been torn from a pad. He picked one up, and saw a few words jotted down. Whatever the language was it was unknown to him.

'Sir.' Skinner glanced across at Pye. He was standing by a small side table, looking at a heavy black machine. 'It's a fax,' he said.

'Do you think it might have been used?'

'If it has, it might have a log that tells us.'

'Try it'

The sergeant bent over the device, pushing a button repeatedly as he read the menu. 'Got it,' he whispered, finally, then straightened as a humming sound began, and a sheet of paper started to emerge from a slot below the key-pad. He caught it before it could fall to the floor, and handed it to the DCC.

He read it, his eye scanning down a list of numbers and dates. Only two entries had any currency, and both showed messages received from the same number. 'Oh two oh seven,' he murmured. 'Thanks, Sam,' he said. 'That was good thinking. Now go back to the restaurant, please, and wait for DCIs McIlhenney and Mackenzie. When they arrive, send them up here.'

As soon as he was alone, Skinner took his palm-top computer from his pocket and turned it on, using a security code. He opened his personal directory and chose the letter 'A', quickly finding the phone number he sought.

He switched on his mobile and dialled. His call was not picked up directly; instead he heard a click and the dialling tone change pitch. At last a voice answered. 'Yes, Bob,' said Major Adam Arrow.

'Are you on a cell-phone?' he asked his friend.

'I'm in the field at the moment. What can I do for you?' There was none of the customary profane banter that was his usual trademark.

'Is this secure?'

'All the way, don't worry.'

'I need a number checked out.'

'Have you thought about Directory Enquiries?' The question reassured Skinner; it was more like the usual Arrow.

'For about a nanosecond: remember those Albanians I told you about?'

'Yes.'

'I've found them. I'm in a flat on my patch where these guys have been living since they pitched up here. They've been under the protection of an Albanian Turk called Petrit Bassam Kastrati, who runs a restaurant directly below where I'm standing, and now they've broken cover. In the last four days, they've received two faxes, and I'd like to know the point of origin.'

'So would I, but so would Five. Why aren't you asking them?'

'We had a line to one of the Albanians. He was killed last night in Glasgow, in sight of my people, as they were about to follow him back here. We had an MI 5 operative under cover in the restaurant; he was found dead a couple of hours ago. His handler is currently being held in custody in my building.'

Arrow whistled. 'You don't need to say any more; give me the number.'

'You'll check it and get back to me?'

His friend chuckled. 'What's up, Bob? Not sure you can trust me?'

'Did I call you? You're the only man outside my own team I'm sure I can trust. Adam, if that's a Five number…'

'Then the fall-out will be in my area of operations, so don't you get into it. From the sound of things you were right to take the handler out of play. Can you tell me who it is?'

'Amanda Dennis.'

'Hell, I know Amanda. Are you sure she's a risk?'

'No, but I'm taking no chances.'

'I don't suppose I would either. You say the Albanians have gone. Do you have any idea where?'

'That's the really heavy bit. The only lead I have points to St Andrews, and you know who's there.'

'God almighty!'

'Not quite, but the future Defender of His Faith.' Skinner paused. 'Whatever these guys are here for, it's not a drug run. As of now, it looks like they're a hit team.'

Arrow hesitated for a few seconds. 'There's another strong possibility,' he ventured. 'In fact I'd say it was almost likelier than an assassination. I did some research after you called me and I've come up with a possible answer. As well as all those criminal activities for which they've become world famous, they have another speciality. They stage kidnappings for ransom. Can you think of a victim with a higher price tag?'

The DCC pondered the suggestion. 'Whatever they're up to,' he said, 'they're equipped for it. We believe that they acquired a load of armaments in Holland; from the sound of things they gave us a sample of their fire-power in Glasgow last night. The guy I told you about, Samir Bajram, was with two locals. He was completing a drug deal, but I reckon he was doing a bit of business on the side, and when Naim Latifi found out, he took him out of play. The car he was in was hit by an anti-tank missile.'

'Jesus.' Arrow whistled again. 'Why make a small bang when you can make a really big one?'

'Adam,' Skinner went on, 'if Five's been penetrated, I've got to keep my distance from them. Can you send me fast back-up, from anywhere?'