“What did he say?” she asked.
“Bobby reckons we might be better off warning the coast guard.”
“That’s him crossed off my dinner list.”
She listened as Rebus relayed her message to Hogan. Then: “Okay, Siobhan, that’s us at the car park. Got to go deliver the news to Claverhouse.”
“Any chance of you keeping your composure?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be cool, calm and collected.”
“Really?”
“Just as soon as I’ve rubbed his nose in the shit.”
She smiled, ended the call. Decided she might as well switch her phone off. Wouldn’t be making calls at five thousand feet… Glanced at the dashboard clock and saw that she was going to be early. Didn’t suppose Doug Brimson would mind. She tried to shake her head clear of everything she’d heard.
Lee Herdman didn’t kill those kids.
John Rebus didn’t torch Martin Fairstone’s house.
She felt bad about having suspected Rebus, but it was his own fault… always so secretive. And Herdman, too, with his secret life, his daily fears. The media would be forced to eat humble pie and would turn their fury on the easiest target available: Jack Bell.
Which almost counted as a happy ending…
As she arrived at the airfield gates, a car was just leaving. Brimson got out of the passenger side, offered a cautious smile as he undid the lock, pulled the gate open. Waited there as the car drove through, passing Siobhan at speed, a scowling face in its front seat. Brimson beckoned for Siobhan to drive in. She did so, then waited while the gate was locked again. Brimson opened the passenger-side door, got in.
“Wasn’t expecting you quite yet,” he said.
Siobhan eased her foot from the clutch. “Sorry about that,” she said quietly, staring through the windshield. “Who was your visitor?”
Brimson screwed up his face. “Just someone interested in flying lessons.”
“Didn’t seem the type somehow.”
“You mean the shirt?” Brimson laughed. “Bit loud, wasn’t it?”
“A bit.” They’d arrived at the office, Siobhan pulling on the hand brake. Brimson got out. She stayed where she was, watching him. He came around to her side of the car, opened the door, as if this was what she’d been waiting for. Avoiding eye contact.
“There’s some paperwork,” he was saying. “Liability waiver… stuff like that.” He made towards the open doorway.
“Did your customer have a name?” she asked, following him in.
“Jackson… Jobson… something like that.” He’d entered his office, falling into his chair, hands sifting through paperwork. Siobhan kept on her feet.
“It’ll be on the paperwork,” she said.
“What?”
“If he was here for lessons, I assume you’ve got his details?”
“Oh… yes… here somewhere.” He shuffled the sheets of paper. “Time I got a secretary,” he said, attempting a grin.
“His name’s Peacock Johnson,” Siobhan said quietly.
“Is it?”
“And he wasn’t here for flying lessons. Did he want you to fly him out of the country?”
“You know him, then?”
“I know he’s a wanted man, responsible for the death of a petty criminal named Martin Fairstone. And now Peacock’s panicking because he can’t find his trusted lieutenant and probably knows we’ve got him.”
“All of which comes as news to me.”
“But you know who Johnson is… and what he is.”
“No, I told you… he just wanted flying lessons.” Brimson’s hands were busier than ever, sorting through the paperwork.
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Siobhan said. “We’ve tied up the Port Edgar case. Lee Herdman didn’t kill those kids; it was the MSP’s son.”
“What?” Brimson didn’t seem to be taking the news in.
“James Bell did it, then turned the gun on himself, after Lee had committed suicide.”
“Really?”
“Doug, are you looking for anything in particular, or trying to dig your way out of here through the desk?”
He looked up at her and grinned.
“I was telling you,” she went on, “that Lee didn’t kill those two boys.”
“Right.”
“Which means the only puzzle left is the drugs found on his boat. I’m assuming you knew about the yacht he kept moored shoreside?”
He could no longer hold her gaze. “Why would I know anything about that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Look, Siobhan…” Brimson made a show of checking his watch. “Maybe we can leave the paperwork. Wouldn’t do to miss our slot…”
She ignored this. “The yacht looked good because Lee sailed to Europe, but now we know he was selling diamonds.”
“And buying drugs at the same time?”
She shook her head. “You knew about his boat, and probably knew he went to the Continent.” She’d taken a step towards the desk. “It’s the corporate flights, isn’t it, Doug? Your own little trips to the Continent, taking businessmen to meetings and on jollies… that’s how you bring the drugs in.”
“It’s all going to hell,” he said, almost too calmly. He’d leaned back in the chair, hands smoothing his hair, eyes staring ceilingwards. “I told that stupid bastard never to come here.”
“You mean Peacock?”
He nodded slowly.
“Why plant the drugs?” Siobhan asked.
“Why not?” He gave another burst of laughter. “Lee was dead. Way I saw it, it would focus attention on him.”
“Taking the heat off you?” She decided to sit down. “Thing was, there was no heat on you.”
“Charlotte thought there was. You lot were sniffing into every nook and cranny, talking to Teri, talking to me…”
“Charlotte Cotter’s involved?”
Brimson looked at her as though she were stupid. “It’s a cash business… all needs to be laundered.”
“Through the tanning salons?” Siobhan nodded, letting him know she understood. Brimson and Teri’s mother: business partners.
“Lee wasn’t squeaky clean, you know,” Brimson was saying. “He was the one who introduced me to Peacock Johnson in the first place.”
“Lee knew Peacock Johnson? Is that where the guns came from?”
“That’s one thing I was going to give you, only I couldn’t see how…”
“What thing?”
“Johnson had these decommissioned guns, needed someone to put the firing pins back, that sort of thing.”
“And Lee Herdman did it?” She thought of the well-stocked workshop at the boatyard. Yes, a simple enough job, with the tools and the know-how. Herdman had had both.
Brimson was quiet for a moment. “We could still go for that flight; shame to miss the slot.”
“I’ve not brought my passport.” She reached out a hand towards his phone. “I need to make a call now, Doug.”
“I’d cleared our path, you know… cleared it with the flight tower. I was going to show you so much…” She’d risen to her feet, lifted the receiver.
“Maybe another time, eh?”
The two of them knowing there would be no other time. Brimson’s palms were flat against the desktop. Siobhan was holding the receiver to her ear, halfway through punching in the numbers. “I’m sorry, Doug,” she said.
“Me too, Siobhan. Believe me, I’m as sorry as hell.”
He pushed up from the desk, lunged across it, sending all the paperwork flying as he came. She dropped the phone and took a step back, colliding with the chair behind her, tripping over it and hitting the floor, hands outstretched to cushion the blow.
Doug Brimson’s whole weight landing on her, pinning her down, punching all the breath from her chest.
“Got to fly, Siobhan,” he snarled, gripping her by the wrists. “Got to fly…”
26
Happy, Bobby?” Rebus asked. “Deliriously so,” Bobby Hogan replied. They were entering the bar on South Queensferry’s waterfront. The meeting at the school could hardly have been better timed. They’d managed to interrupt a meeting between Claverhouse and Assistant Chief Constable Colin Carswell, Hogan taking a deep breath before stating that everything Claverhouse was saying was nonsense before going on to explain why.
At the end of the meeting, Claverhouse had walked out without any comment, leaving his colleague Ormiston to shake Hogan’s hand, telling him he deserved the credit.