Quintin Jardine: Lethal Intent

Bob smiled and ran his fingers through his sticky hair. 'I'm glad about that. You take all the time you need. I'll tell the kids you've got some stuff to sort out over here.'

'Mark might not believe you.'

'I can be persuasive, even with him.'

'I promise you that I'll come back in plenty of time to make sure that they all have a great Christmas. We can talk about everything then. You okay with that?'

'Deal.' He finished his beer and glanced down at the ice-bucket; it was empty. 'Dinner?' he asked.

'Yes. Have a shower, and then we'll go out. Let's eat lobster at Alonzo's… and I promise not to throw any over you.'

Detective Chief Inspector Neil McIlhenney made a point of being first to arrive each morning in the Special Branch suite. So he was surprised, when he reached the door of the outer office, to see light shining through the glass panel.

He turned the handle and stepped inside, expecting to find DC Alice Cowan behind her desk; instead he saw the dark-suited stocky figure of Assistant Chief Constable Willie Haggerty. 'Morning, sir,' he said. 'How did you get in here? This is supposed to be a secure area.'

'I'm an ACC, for fuck's sake,' the gruff Glaswegian replied. 'I'm supposed to be able to go anywhere in this building.'

'Not into my room, though,' said McIlhenney, walking across to his private office and holding a key in the air. 'I put my own lock in it when I took over from Mario McGuire, and there's only one other guy has one of these.'

'Aye,' Haggerty grunted, as he followed him into the modest room, 'and I can guess who that is. Where is he, by the way?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you're his best mate in this building.'

'He doesn't tell me everything, though.'

'And even if he did, I don't suppose you'd tell me.'

'Not if he didn't specifically ask me to.'

The assistant chief glowered at him. 'Maybe you've been in this job too long, Neil. You SB guys can get too comfortable with secrets.'

'That's the whole point of us SB guys, isn't it?' McIlhenney countered cheerfully. He walked over to a small fridge in the furthest corner of the office and took out a bottle of water. He did not drink tea or coffee, and very little alcohol. 'Want one?' he offered. 'Or a Pepsi?'

Haggerty shuddered and shook his head. 'Did you know about the terrorists?' he asked. 'The ones you lot lifted last month.'

'What about them?'

'They're off to the cages in Cuba.'

'Eventually, you mean?'

'No. Now, I mean. They were handed over to the Sherman Tanks last night and flown straight out. The Chief Constable just told me; the First Minister's private secretary only told him after it had happened, and he's not best pleased about that. The Solicitor General will advise the court this morning that all charges against them have been deserted; he'll say that it's pro tern, but it might as well be simpliciter, permanently. We'll never see them again.'

'Neither will anyone else,' McIlhenney murmured. 'I knew that a couple of them would go sooner or later, but I heard that everybody had agreed they'd be tried here first.'

'Not everybody, the Americans didn't. The Lord Advocate signed the release papers yesterday.'

'It gets them out of our hair, I suppose, but I know somebody who will not be at all happy about it.'

Haggerty glanced at him. 'Naw, he won't. In fact, he'll go ballistic when he finds out.' He took a breath. 'There's other things he's missing out on as well. What do you know about Greg Jay?'

'Between you and me?'

'Of course.'

'I know that he's unpopular with his men, and that the general view is "Don't take your eyes off him." I've never served under him, but I have seen him in action and I didn't like what I saw. He was good in his time, though, and he got where he is, divisional CID commander, on the basis of results. Why are you asking?'

'Because he's gone.'

'Gone?'

'Taken early retirement. Big Bob didn't say anything to you about it, did he?'

The DCI shook his head. 'Not a word.'

'Is that so? Big McGurk, his assistant, had heard nothing about it either, and I think Bob would have told him if he'd known, even if he didn't say anything to you.'

'What happened?'

Haggerty gave him a shrug and a blank 'don't know' look. 'Nothing. He saw the chief last Monday morning, and told him he wanted to go by the end of the week. He said he didn't want any fuss made: no announcement, retirement piss-up or anything like that. He wanted to leave very quietly.'

'He probably figured that if they'd passed the hat round for him, it'd have come back empty.'

'Maybe that's all it was,' the ACC conceded. 'Still,' he mused, 'it intrigues me when a guy does something like that. It usually means he's dodging the bullet, or he's been made a good offer somewhere else.'

'Do you want me to find out?'

'Naw, leave it. He's no' worth your time.'

'As you wish.' McIlhenney smiled. 'You're full of surprises this morning, sir.'

'Ah, there's lots more than that, though: this'll be news to you as well. We had a return visit from Andy Martin last night'

Yet again, the big DCI was caught off guard. 'How come?' he asked.

'A bit of inter-force co-operation. You know Andy has a friend who owns a disco, or club, or whatever?'

'Spike Thomson? Sure.'

'Okay, and do you know a guy called Charlie Bell?'

'Jingle? Yes, I know him. He used to be a runner for Tony Manson, then for Dougie Terry; got scared and left town after Dougie got done. Strictly small change.'

'Not quite so small now. Bell and a minder called Richard Cable… Do you know him?'

McIlhenney frowned. 'Richard Cable? Is that his real name?'

'It was the name on his driving licence and his credit cards.'

'Not one I've heard, then. Has he got previous?'

'None that anybody can trace so far. Anyway, Jingle, with him backing him up, started moving drugs through Andy's mate's club a couple of weeks back; they told him that unless he kept his eyes and his mouth shut he'd never be able to open them again. The guy. .'

'Spike?'

'Called Andy straight away and reported it to him. Andy came to the DCC and told him, on the quiet; Bob brought me in on it because he was up to his balls in the papal visit, and asked me to brief Bandit Mackenzie. He's new in town, so we guessed right that Bell wouldn't know him. Bandit staged a couple of buys last week, just to test the ground, then went back last night. Got a result; lifted them both.'

'Did you say Andy was there?'

Haggerty smiled and nodded. 'He asked me if it was okay: I told him to be our guest. While Bandit and Mavis MacDougall were in lifting Bell, Andy took care of Cable. The eejit pulled a knife on him; he actually cut his leather jacket. He got his nose smashed for his trouble as well.'

McIlhenney chuckled. 'He's lucky that's all he got burst. Andy loves that jacket: it's the only uniform he ever liked wearing.'

'He might be a happy boy, then,' Haggerty grunted. 'Maybe he won't be stuck in one at Tayside for too much longer.'

'What do you mean?'

The ACC tapped his nose. 'Just a feeling I've got,' he chuckled. 'I don't see Andy as a long-term Dundonian, that's all.'

'Thank you, sir. Is that all this visit was about: to wind me up about things I don't know?'

'Not quite. The chief had another call this morning, and he asked me to tell you about it. We're having a visit tomorrow afternoon from friends in London, and he wants you in on it. Most important of all, they want Bob to be there; their top man insists on it, in fact.'

'Special Branch?'

'Of course not: they'd have called you direct. No, they're from MI5, the Security Service.'

'No point asking what it's about?'

'None. As per usual they won't tell us till we're all in a room that's been swept for listening devices.'