‘Witness-protection programme?’ asked Alex, mischievously.
‘I couldn’t have put it better,’ the sergeant told her. ‘Hey,’ he added casually, ‘have you heard from your father lately?’
‘No, I haven’t. He and Aileen have been looking forward to a holiday together. I haven’t been calling him, and his silence tells me that it’s gone well. You can brace yourself, though, he’s due back tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I’m not his exec any more, remember?’
‘Maybe not,’ she laughed, ‘but if Mr Weekes isn’t your man, and you haven’t made another arrest by Monday, I reckon you’ll be seeing him pretty soon afterwards. . maybe even before. Damn it,’ she said, ‘you boys have got me at it now.’ She finished her drink. ‘Let’s go, Griff, our taxi should be outside by now. Office summer party,’ she explained. ‘Late-night do. Enjoy the rest of yours.’
McGurk watched them all the way to the door, then turned back to Lisanne. ‘You’re cool,’ he told her. ‘Amazingly so, in fact.’
‘I didn’t embarrass you, did I?’
‘No way. The look on Montell’s face was worth the price of admission. The news would have got out anyway; he works with my boss’s other half.’
He finished his beer, as she finished her vodka. ‘Want another?’ he asked.
‘No, I’ve had enough.’
‘Let’s get you home, then.’
They hailed a taxi out in India Street, as it dropped a fare at one of the grey sandstone terraced houses that McGurk knew would command up to and beyond a million in Edinburgh’s twenty-first-century housing market. They sat in the back, silent most of the way to Gorgie, responding occasionally to the driver’s monologue. The cab was about to turn into Caledonian Crescent, when the detective ordered the driver to stop. ‘Let us out here,’ he said. ‘That’ll be fine.’ He paid the man through the divider window and joined Lisanne on the rough, uneven pavement.
‘Why did we stop here?’ she asked.
‘Call me paranoid. Tell me I’ve been in the police too long, but. .’ His eyes tracked along the line of parked cars: with a combination of effective street lighting and high-summer gloaming, he could see them all clearly, all shining, all empty, save for one, facing the flow of traffic as it sat opposite the doorway that led to Lisanne’s apartment. ‘Look,’ he murmured.
‘Jesus,’ she whispered.
‘Wait here,’ McGurk told her, ‘behind this bin. Stay out of sight until I call you.’
As if it might make him seem smaller, he hunched his shoulders as he walked towards the vehicle, casually at first then picking up his pace. The driver’s door was beside the pavement. Without a word, he pulled it open, reached inside and hauled the occupant from his seat, lifting him off his feet in the same movement and throwing him across the bonnet.
Theo Weekes snarled as he launched himself at the giant detective, only to realise, when a huge fist hit him between the eyes, that he had taken on more than he could handle. His legs buckled, but McGurk caught him before he could fall, propping him against the side of the car.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he moaned.
‘Keeping a promise. You’re going to jail, you bastard.’
‘Aw, McGurk, no. Gie’s a break. I won’t do it again, I promise.’
‘Give me one good reason why I should.’
Weekes stared up at him for what seemed like a minute. ‘I can’t,’ he sighed, at last.
‘Okay,’ the sergeant said. ‘One more chance: let me down and you’re in for the hammering of a lifetime. . and then Saughton Prison. Go home, and stay there. There’ll be a police car driving past your place at least every hour from now on. If I hear you’re missing, I’ll go looking for you myself, and this will be the first place I’ll try. Now, fuck off.’
He stood back, allowing the man to slide behind the steering-wheel. He watched him as he started the engine and drove off, as he took the next turn and disappeared, then waited for a few more seconds before calling out to Lisanne.
‘I had a feeling he’d try that,’ he told her, as she rejoined him.
‘Will he be back?’ she asked, as they crossed the roadway to her door.
‘Not unless he wants his shiny white teeth in a brown-paper bag. I think I put the fear of God into him this time. Still, if you’re not comfortable here, is there anywhere else you could go?’
She turned to face him. ‘Thanks, Jack, but I’m not letting him drive me out of my home.’ She slid her fingers under the lapels of his jacket. ‘Mind you,’ she murmured, ‘I’d feel a lot safer if you came upstairs with me.’
‘For coffee?’
Lisanne smiled. ‘Eventually,’ she replied, ‘if you absolutely insist.’
Sixty-two
The aircraft came in from the east, and Bob Skinner knew that he was home again. The day was fine, the skies were clear and the sun was high in the sky, lending an unaccustomed sparkle to the grey waters of the Firth of Forth. He leaned forward in seat 1B, drinking in the cityscape as the pilot banked to the left.
Aileen pointed through the small window. He followed the direction of her finger to a broad building on the crest of a rise, not far from Arthur’s Seat, and below it, to the boat-shaped structure of the Scottish Parliament’s controversial home.
‘The centres of power,’ she said. ‘It hardly seems real. It looks like Toytown from up here.’
‘It is bloody Toytown,’ Bob murmured, ‘only the games are for reaclass="underline" half a million people laughing or crying, shopping or stealing, fighting or fucking. That’s life, honey. But you’re at the top of the pyramid.’ He leaned closer to her, his voice becoming a whisper. ‘Have I told you lately that it’s a privilege to be sleeping with you?’
She laid her forehead against his and smiled. ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but you should. Not many people have, and I’m thirty-seven years old. I’ll bet you’ve had a woman for every year of your life.’
He started to count on his fingers; at nine he clenched his fists. ‘Divide by five and you’d be close.’
‘Those are just the ones you remember.’
‘No, I’ve got a flawless memory when it comes to nooky. I was widowed for about fifteen years, and in that time I had three relationships.’
‘With anyone I’ve met?’
‘Not as far as I know. One was with a divorcée in Gullane; she moved south ten years ago. One was with a television presenter who hit the big-time and settled in London. One was with a very nice lady who decided to marry somebody else, and got it right too.’
She laid a hand on his heart. ‘Were you wounded, my darling?’
‘I didn’t have any right to be. I never asked her.’
‘That wasn’t my question.’
‘Bloody politicians,’ he grumbled. ‘Too sharp for your own good. I suppose I was, at the time, but I got over it.’
‘That’s comforting to know.’
He blew softly in her ear, making her shiver. ‘Worry not. I keep on telling you: no ghosts in our bed.’
She leaned against him as the Boeing came in to land, squeezing his hand hard in the second before the wheels hit the Tarmac. ‘I don’t have a fear of flying,’ she had told him, in the VIP lounge before the outward journey. ‘I don’t like it, that’s all.’
‘In my book,’ he had told her, ‘anyone who says that he enjoys the experience is either a fool or a liar.’
When he had booked the flights, Bob had not asked for special treatment, but the airline, spotting the First Minister’s name on the passenger list, had provided it nonetheless. They were fast-tracked off the plane and through immigration control; even so, by the time they reached the baggage hall their suitcase was waiting for them.
‘Are you just a wee bit embarrassed?’ Aileen asked, as they walked through the blue channel.
‘Not in the slightest. You’ll never get used to who you are, will you?’
‘That’s just it. I’m plain Aileen de Marco from Glasgow.’