Maggie Rose looked Skinner in the eye. 'Why me, boss? You could send Brian Mackie. After all, international liaison's part of his Special Branch brief now. You're not just giving me a perk, are you?'
`Hah!' Skinner laughed; a sudden, short, snorting laugh. `No, I am not! Since when did I hand out sweeties? Anyway, you haven't been in this post long enough to have earned a freebie. There's a good reason for your going, rather than Brian. Even though things have changed for the SB, he still has to be kept anonymous. And that's the last thing I want on this investigation. I want to generate as much publicity for this as I can. I've already told Alan Royston to call a press conference as soon as he can, for first thing this morning, and then I'm going to tell all. You'll be with me at the top table. I'm going to announce that we're anxious to interview the victim's husband, and that we know he's in Spain. Then I'm going to introduce you as the detective responsible for liaison with the Spanish bobbies — Skinner's personal emissary and all that stuff. Fancy being a media superstar, Maggie?'
Not a lot, sir. Much more up Mario's street. Why don't you send him?'
`Apart from the fact that he's not senior enough, he's a bull. You're a diplomat. This isn't just PR for home consumption. I want the story to follow you out there. I want the Spanish to realise that this isn't just another domestic murderer we're after. This is a man who has made a career out of violence. I want the Scottish media pressuring the Spanish for results, so that I know they're giving us their best efforts. Your job out there will be to brief the Guardia Civil, and to join them in pursuing certain lines of inquiry. You'll really be leading them, in that you'll be making sure that those lines of inquiry are followed up.'
He pointed to his desk. 'Take the picture book out with you, and all the reports: scene-of-crime, forensic, postmortem. Contact Edinburgh University this morning and arrange to
have them all translated into Spanish. How good is yours, by the way?'
`Quite good. I've been doing it at the Colegio Espanol for years. How did you know about that?'
`It's on your file.' Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise. `You don't think you'd be where you are now without some vetting, do you?' said Skinner. 'That's yet another reason why I'm sending you rather than anyone else. I want you to be involved in this as actively as you can.
Rose nodded. 'What special lines of inquiry did you mean, sir?'
`Two really. I want you to check out that place Cocozza told us about, the one that Manson was thinking about putting his dough into. Check there for any sightings of the big man, but while you're at it, find out all you can about the place, and about the types who own it. The other thing you should do is check up on the bank account Cocozza told us about, in the Banco Central in Alicante. See whether it's been activated.'
`One thing, boss. You haven't mentioned Manson at all. Do I take the pics and reports of his murder too?'
Skinner shook his head. 'No. Leave that out.'
Will you be telling the press that we want to talk to Plenderleith about Manson as well?'
`No.'
'Why not?'
`I don't want to do that for now. When someone like Manson gets knocked off — not that gangland killings are ten a penny in Edinburgh, but we've had a few — people get nervous until it's cleared up. The criminal community doesn't like uncertainty. When a power vacuum develops, people react in two ways. Some get scared: often important people in the network who had nothing to do with it, but wonder whether they might be the next target. Others get brave: the wee folk with a grudge, who might have been shat on by the dear departed or his team. Whatever the reason, they begin to tell us things anonymously or right out in the open, things we'd never hear in normal times. Eventually a new top dog emerges and everything goes back to normal, but until that happens we've got the whip hand.
`Since Manson was knocked off, Andy Martin's squad has had tip-offs about three of his dealers from disgruntled punters. They're all locked up now. We might not get convictions against any of them, but at least they're all blown. They're out of business, and the network's damaged.'
`Who'll be top dog after Manson?'
'I don't know, but neither does anyone else yet, and that's to our good. There'll be one eventually, you can be sure, but until he can show himself, the vacuum's still there. If we let it be known that Tony only got killed because he was shagging someone's wife, it'll be filled in a week. The network will close up.'
`But why should it? Without Manson, might it not just fall apart?'
Not a chance, Maggie. The trade is bigger than Manson. It isn't driven by the dealers alone. It's driven first by the exporters, then the importers, then the dealers. Always three key links in the chain. Whether the supply comes from Sicily, Corsica, Eastern Europe, or wherever, there's a natural market for the product in every developed country. If the chain loses a link somewhere, it always finds another.'
He paused and looked across the desk at his assistant. 'So that's the main reason why I don't want to finger big Lennie for Manson's murder right now. With a break in the chain, there's always a chance that the other two players will show themselves, trying to plug the gap. If we can nail them, then we can break the whole thing up.'
The main reason, boss? What's the other?'
`Och, I don't know. There probably isn't one. It's just that — well, you know me: I like all the bits to fit. And there's still a piece of this jigsaw that doesn't quite mesh.'
`What do you mean?'
Skinner hesitated. As he opened his mouth to reply, there was a heavy knock on the door. 'Come!' he shouted.
A second later, Roy Old's head showed round the door. 'I've just had a call from Alison Higgins, sir. Cocozza's story about Manson's visit checked out all the way. He did go to see big Lennie last week. They were watched. They were even videoed. It was all quite cordial. The officers on duty that day said that big Lennie seemed like a dog with two cocks — oh, sorry Maggie.'
`Lucky bitch!' interjected Rose, dead-pan.
Old grinned self-consciously, as he advanced into the room, closing the door behind him. 'That is, he seemed pleased as Punch by a visit from the big boss. Began with a hug and ended with a handshake.
Skinner pushed himself up from his chair. 'Right. Tough that it seems to leave us with nothing to pin on that wee shit Cocozza. We'll have to spring him. Maggie, give Alison Higgins the word, will you, please. While you're doing that, I'll observe the niceties and call Jose Pompo, the Spanish Consul. It'll give you added clout if I fix up your trip through him. And then get the translation job under way. But make sure you're ready for the press conference at nine-thirty.'
That's earlier than usual, isn't it?' said Roy Old.
`Maybe so,' said Skinner, beaming. But the hacks can dance to my tune for a change. I've got a wife and son to collect from the Simpson by ten-thirty, and nothing — not even the assembled Edinburgh media corps in all its glory — will make me late for that!'
Fifteen
‘You fancy your new room, wee man, don't you?'
The baby's eyes were wide open as Bob cradled him in the crook of his arm. They seemed to follow the movement of the brightly coloured — mobile suspended above his cradle, as it swung in a slow circle in response to Sarah's touch. That, and the American-style satin-lined cradle, had been her choice. Bob had picked the nursery-rhyme motif of the wallpaper. A huge stuffed panda, which he had bought in John Lewis that morning, en route for the Simpson, filled a high-backed rocking-chair by the dormer window.