Craig Robertson - Snapshot

‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending at such short notice. I am going to read a prepared statement then take questions but I must warn you in advance that there are operating issues that I cannot and will not discuss. I’m sure you understand that and I thank you in advance for your co-operation in this matter.’

Shirley paused and Winter could imagine him glaring at the press and daring them to disagree.

‘At 20.30 hours this evening, officers received a 999 call from Causewayside Street in the Tollcross area, just off London Road. On arrival outside the premises of Eastern Salvage, they found the body of a man they identified as Alastair Riddle, the owner of the scrapyard. He had been shot in the head at point-blank range and was already dead when officers reached the scene.’

Winter could hear a flurry of background noise breaking out and Shirley paused until there was silence again.

‘Mr Riddle was twenty-five years old and a known associate of members of Glasgow’s criminal fraternity and had close connections with Malcolm Quinn. Owing to the specific characteristics of Mr Riddle’s injuries and the nature of his business, we are – subject to full and proper forensic examinations – linking his death with the others under the remit of Operation Nightjar.

‘The investigation into the other killings are ongoing and a matter of the utmost priority for Strathclyde Police. We are working round the clock to apprehend the person or persons responsible for these killings and will not rest until they are in custody. We are determined this will be done as quickly as is possible.

‘Now I’ll take questions.’

‘Who found the body, Chief Superintendent?’

‘Two local men heard the shot and they were first on the scene. I am not prepared to release their names at this stage.’

‘Will they be available for interview later?’

‘I doubt it. We’ll let you know if that situation changes.’

‘Can you reassure the public that you have firm leads in this case?’

‘I can reassure them that everything that can be done is being done. We have several leads and every one of these is being fully explored. I cannot say that an arrest is imminent but I can say that we are closer to an arrest than at any other time during this investigation.’

‘Can you tell us what information leads you to say that?’

‘No.’

‘Can you tell us the nature of this information?’

‘No.’

‘Chief Superintendent, the Dark Angel case has attracted worldwide publicity. Is this something that Strathclyde Police are comfortable with?’

‘The Nightjar investigation has now involved the deaths of fourteen individuals and that is something we are not comfortable with. The extent of the publicity these killings has received is perhaps inevitable but it is not something that affects this force one way or the other.’

‘Chief Superintendent, are you happy that drug dealers and crime bosses are being shot? Many members of the public say they are not unhappy with what the Dark Angel is doing.’

There was nothing but dead air coming from his car radio. Eventually Shirley responded icily.

‘Thank you for attending, ladies and gentlemen. This press conference is now at an end.’

The station cut back to the studio where the presenter segued slickly into ‘Psycho Killer’ by Talking Heads. Winter switched it off.

He sat looking out of the car window and drumming his fingers. He gave it five long minutes until he couldn’t stand it any more and called Rachel back. Straight to voicemail. Winter swore at the phone then paused, waiting till he could leave a message.

‘It’s me. Call me back as soon as you can.’

Ten minutes passed that seemed to last an hour. He called again and again but only got the answering service.

He fingered through the contacts book looking for another number even though he knew it off by heart. As usual, it picked up on the third ring.

‘Hullo?’

‘Uncle Danny? It’s Tony.’

‘I know who it is,’ he growled back at him. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is this time?’

‘Danny, it’s complicated…’

‘Fuck off, Tony. Let me rephrase, you are going to tell me what it is this time. What kind of trouble are you in?’

‘It’s not me.’

‘So is it the guy in the Special Boat Service or is it your mate the cop who’s been shot? Or is it to do with the latest guy that’s been shot and just been on the news?’

It stunned him into silence.

‘I did this for a living, son.’

‘I need your help, Danny.’

‘I’d kinda gathered that. Okay, what do you need?’

‘There’s a friend that I… my girlfriend. I need you to look after her.’

Danny paused, taking the information in.

‘Okay, so who is she?’

She wasn’t going to like this but it was too late for that.

‘She’s a cop. A detective sergeant.’

‘I need her name, Tony.’

‘Rachel Narey. DS Rachel Narey.’

Danny laughed lightly.

‘I know her. You’ve done well there.’

Despite everything, Winter laughed too.

‘Cheers, Danny. You can tell her that yourself. I want you to pick her up from Pitt Street. You still know enough people in there that you can get past the front desk, don’t you?’

‘Course I do. And where do you want me to take this girlfriend of yours?’

‘Somewhere safe. She won’t want to go with you and she’ll not be happy when you tell her who you are. Danny, I want you to not take no for an answer.’

‘Okay. You going to tell me why?’

‘We need to get her safe because she might be next. I know that this Dark Angel guy knows where she lives and I think he might be looking to shoot her.’

A long pause.

‘Why would he want to do that, Tony?’

‘She’s not on the take, Uncle Danny. I’m as sure about that as I can be. But one of her informants had her name in his mobile and the cunt that’s doing all the killings has that phone.’

‘Tony, you should be going to the cops with this. I know Alex Shirley, he’s sound. You can talk to him.’

‘No. I can’t. I can’t go to anyone in Strathclyde with this.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because… because I’ve fucked up and I need to sort it.’

‘That’s not good enough, Tony. People are dying here. It can’t be about your pride being hurt.’

‘It’s more than that. I owe it to people. Give me two days and keep Rachel safe. If I’ve not sorted it by then, I’ll go to Alex Shirley. I promise.’

‘No need to promise,’ Danny growled at him. ’If you haven’t done it by then, I’ll drag you there myself.’

It was well after dark o’clock and Winter knew it was no time to be going visiting but then again it was no time to be standing on ceremony.

Just minutes after phoning Danny, he was driving up the High Street past the cathedral, his head full of Rachel and Addison, safe houses and hospital beds. He could still hear Danny’s warning, knowing he was right and only managing to shut him out when the lights at the Royal turned green and the road before him swung right and down the hill onto Alexander Parade. It felt like he’d been in Dennistoun more often than he’d been in his own flat the last few days and he was beginning to get sick of the place.

Maybe Mrs McKendrick would be out or in bed but his guess was that she was in her flat, peering into the bottom of a glass of brandy or gin and wondering how the hell it all happened. She’d be up half the night, doped up on Prozac and booze and too tired to sleep. Whether she wanted a visitor to share her misery was another matter but he had to find out.

Winter parked on the other side of the road and looked up. Sure enough, there was a light on in the McKendricks’ flat, a dim light like that given off by a table lamp. He crossed the road and pressed the buzzer, hoping that it wouldn’t simply scare her. Stepping back, he saw the curtains twitch as a shadow looked down onto the street. It didn’t pay to let someone know you were in at that time of night without checking them out first. Rosaleen couldn’t have been happy with what she’d seen because there was no voice through the intercom and he had to buzz again. Another minute passed and finally a crackle and she spoke, her voice weary and slightly slurred.