Get that thing sorted and come home. Sarah's missing you already — and it's only been six hours.'
There was a click and a buzz as the message ended. Then a few seconds later, a whistling sound prefaced the second message. When a voice came on the line, it was that of Brian Mackie. 'Boss, hello. Could you call me back as soon as you get in? I've had feedback from France that you should know about. It's three forty-five BST at the moment.' The message clicked to a halt.
Curious, Skinner pushed the hands-free button on the tele shy;fax console and keyed in 07. Within three seconds, the second tone sounded, and he dialled in a direct-line number.
`Mackie.'
`Brian, Skinner. What's the story?'
`The man Lucan, sir. The associate of your fellow Vaudan that you asked us to tag as from yesterday. He's been on the move today. The French watchers had only just picked him up, when he headed for Nice Airport and caught an early flight to Hamburg.'
‘Yes?’
The French faxed a photo to Germany while the plane was in the air, and the locals in Hamburg got on his tail. He took a taxi to a hotel, had coffee and strudel with the receptionist, then took another taxi, back to the airport and caught the first plane back to Nice.
What d’you think of that?
‘I can think of one or two things, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. What do we know about the girl?’
`Leggy redhead with big knockers, so the German watchers said. Name of Hilda Braun. They stayed clear of her, though.'
`Good. When I go to see her I want it to come as a surprise.'
'You're going to Germany?'
`Yeah. There's fuck all to do here now. All the leads are dead, dried up, or staying silent. But Lucan's visit to this girl — I don't want to get too excited, but that could be a break for us, and I want to interview her. Fix it with the German police. And get yourself booked out, too. If there's any chance that this might wind up as evidence in a Scottish prosecution of Ainscow, then there must be two of us at the interview. Arturo Pujol's serving that purpose here, but I want you in Germany.'
`You're still sure that Ainscow's involved, then?'
`Bloody certain, and I'm not letting up till I prove it. Brian, this is a big scam with one, probably two murders thrown in. Its been set up to accumulate, over a period, a pile of laundered cash. Once I find out what that's going to be used for, and once I can show that Ainscow and Vaudan are acting in concert, then I can pull the whole thing down.
Where's this cash pile lying now, boss?'
`That's a bloody good question, my son. Once we've done the business in Hamburg, we'll try to answer it. And to do that we'll need to go to Amsterdam.'
`Amsterdam?'
`That's right. The vice capital of Europe. Maybe I should take Andy Martin on that instead. That's more his line' There was a silence at the other end of the line.
`No, you make the arrangements and the bookings. Get me on a plane from Barcelona to tie in with your arrival, and then book me back to Edinburgh with you from Amsterdam. Tell Ruth what you want, and ask her to make it happen.'
`Okay, sir, will do.' Mackie paused. 'Wait a minute. What about your car?'
`I'll leave it here in my garage, and get a cheap tourist flight out to pick it up once things have settled down.'
`Okay, I'll get things moving at once,' said the Chief Inspector. 'I'll send you a fax to let you know the arrangements. Can I leave that until tomorrow, though?'
`Sure. But why? You got a date?'
`Aye, sir. With Maggie Rose. She's kicking her heels with you away, so I gave her a stint in Stirling keeping tabs on Ainscow. She called me in around half an hour ago to say that he's on the move. He's heading down the M9. towards Edinburgh. I told her to call in when he stopped, and I'd meet up with her.'
`He's probably heading for Safeway. You can grab a trolley each and tail him through the aisles! Let me know if it's anything more significant. Otherwise I'll see you in Hamburg. `Cheers, boss. I'll be in touch.'
Mackie replaced his receiver, then picked it up again immediately and called Skinner's secretary. He relayed the ACC's instructions and asked her to make travel arrangements. Next he called in the Special Branch typist and dictated a fax to the Interpol contact in Hamburg, advising him of their visit to interview Hilda Braun, and asking that they be met by an
English-speaking officer who could interpret if necessary. `Check the ETA of the flights with Ruth. Once you have them, send it off.' The typist, a middle-aged woman of formidable demeanour, nodded. Even after only a short time in his new post, Mackie knew that there was no need to check her work.
She had barely left the room before his phone rang again.
He picked it up. `DCI Mackie.'
`Brian, it's Maggie Rose. Our man Ainscow's reached his destination. Believe it or not, he's at Tony Manson's sauna in Powderhall. Pulled right up to the door and walked in.'
`Eh! Bit early in the day, isn't it?'
`I don't know. Maybe he really has gone for a sauna.'
`Come on, Maggie. Nobody goes to one of those places for that!'
`You're just a cynic. Anyway, I've got a small complication. Andy Martin and Neil Mcllhenney are parked right across the road from the place. We seem to have crossed wires with another investigation. What do I do if they decide to go in? You remember the boss's orders on Ainscow. "Look, but don't touch."'
`Shit, yes. Listen, have they seen you yet?' 'No'
`Right. Sit tight where you are. I'm on my way.'
Fifty-seven
‘Like a fucking CID convention,' Mackie muttered to himself as he pulled his car into a parking space in Powderhall Road, around a hundred yards away from the red-painted shop front of the Hot Spot sauna and massage parlour.
As he looked along the street, he could see a flash of Andy Martin's blond head and the bulk of Mcllhenney in the front seats of an anonymous blue Sierra. They were parked around twenty yards beyond the Hot Spot, with a clear view of the entrance. Fifty yards further on, Mackie recognised a red Metro GTi, and saw the outline of a figure in the driver's seat.
Mackie was almost level with the Sierra before Martin spotted his approach. He looked up, surprised, but reached round at once and opened the rear door. Glancing around to make sure that he was unobserved, Mackie slid quickly into the back seat.
`What are you doing here?' Martin asked sharply.
`Sorry, sir,' said Mackie, 'but we've got a wee situation. You weren't thinking about raiding that place, were you?'
`No,' said Martin, shaking his head. 'We're just keeping it under observation for now. It seems that Tony Manson hasn't left a will. In the absence, wee Cocozza's appointed himself administrator of the estate. We've had no word of any drugs action for a while but, as far as we can see, Cocozza's still running the girls in the saunas. I want to put a stop to that, so we're building up a photograph album of his punters. Once we've got enough, I'm going to give him a straight choice: pack it in or I go to the Law Society. I tell you, we've got some crackers already. Bankers, lawyers, accountants, even a certain deputy Fiscal. The professions are well represented at the Hot Spot saunas, that's for sure. But today. . today could be very interesting indeed. Cocozza's in there himself, and four other guys have gone in while we've been watching. Once of them we recognised.'
`Tall, well built, smooth-looking guy, late thirties, went in about fifteen minutes ago. Yes?'
`Him? No. Never seen him before in my life. No, I was talking about Eddie Gilhooley. You've heard of him, haven't you? The Godfather of Glasgow. Tony Manson's opposite number through in the west. A premier-league drug baron, if ever there was one. So who's this other guy? And what's your problem?'