Skinner's trail

somebody killed Nick, then Serge'll kill somebody else. Where did it happen?'

`Where Paul had his Spanish business? Then he's got to be bookie's favourite. Look out for him, will you. He's my mate.'

`Man, we haven't taken our eyes off him in weeks. Have you tried to get a message to him?'

Monklands shook his head. 'No.'

`Good. Don't, otherwise we'll let Serge — if he shows up — walk right through the front door.' He paused. 'What's your theory, Norrie? D'you think you were set up?'

`I haven't a fuckin' clue. My best guess is that you guys got lucky, found out about the buy, and were trying to follow us all the way home, so that you could tie in. . whoever was waiting at the other end.

`That's not a bad guess, except we know who was waiting. What d'you know about Cocozza?'

`Who's fuckin' Cocozza? Wait a minute. Lucan did shout something that I didn't understand when he was kicking my ribs in. It could have been something about someone called Cocozza.'

Skinner paused. 'Okay, if you've never heard of Cocozza, what d'you know about Tony Manson?'

`Only two things for sure. One, that he's dead; and, two, that he bank-rolled Paul when he started his Spanish business.'

A fist of excitement gripped Skinner's stomach, but he managed to keep his reaction from showing on his face.

`I thought Ainscow made a few quid when he sold his estate agency.'

Monklands smiled. 'That's what he let people think. He was a wee bit of a gambler in his early days. That's how he met Tony Manson. He didn't get a hell of a lot when he sold out, the casinos had had a lot before that.'

Did he and Manson keep in touch?'

`Aye, as far as I know. Paul cut out the casinos a while back, but he was partial to a sauna — if you know what I mean. In fact there's a bird in one of Manson's saunas that he fancies. He sees her quite a bit. He's got a stake in a couple of pubs around Stirling. He's never said as much, but I think Manson's got — or rather had — money in them, too.'

Skinner shrugged. 'That's history now. Okay, Norrie, we'll keep an eye out for your mate, as best we can. And when we get Lucan back, we'll try and arrange for him to be in the next cell to you. Would you like that?'

Monklands fingered his swollen eye. 'I'd like never to see that crazy bastard again as long as I live.'

Skinner laughed. ‘I’ll see if I can help there. Meantime, I hope this lawyer of yours is as good as you think. But if you can summon up a few remorseful tears for the judge and jury, that might come in handy too!'

Eighty-six

‘God, Jazz, but you're getting bigger by the day!'

`Bigger every time you see him, you mean,' said Sarah with a sideways glance along the top of the living-room sofa to where he sat holding his smiling son high in his outstretched arms.

`Yes, okay, don't rub it in. I missed you two every moment — most of all sitting on that hilltop.'

She slid along the leather couch and nestled beside him as he lowered the baby to his shoulder. 'Want to tell me about it?'

He shook his head, as much to clear his mind of a sudden vision of Vaudan's dying eyes, as to answer her question. `You're sure Arturo's going to be okay, though?'

`Yes, absolutely. He'll be home by now, maybe even in the care of the fair Veronica. As bullet wounds go, I've done worse while shaving.'

Not Vaudan's though,' she said softly. 'Just as well that kid was a crack shot.' She looked at him: their eyes met, and she knew for certain what she had really known all along. She squeezed his arm. He nodded. They were silent for a time as the room lost the sudden chill that had crept in.

Eventually Bob looked down at her once more. `You rescheduled that dinner party yet?'

'No. There's no chance for weeks. They're going off on holiday next Sunday night.'

`Sometime, though?'

`Yes, sometime.' Skinner nuzzled Jazz. 'How about our other kid? How's she been?'

`I've never seen her happier. She wants to see you.' `What's this? A new guy in her life?'

`That's for Alex to tell you.'

'I tried to call her from the road, in Glasgow, but all I got was the answering machine.'

`Yeah, you would. She isn't in Glasgow. She's staying through here for a while, with a friend.'

Skinner gave his wife a curious look. She held up a hand. `Don't ask. Alex's business.'

`Christ, you women. Samson had no bloody chance, had he?'

Eighty-seven

Okay, troops. It's good to be back together with so many of you.'

Skinner stood in the main briefing room at Fettes Avenue. He smiled around the assembled faces. They included Roy Old, Alison Higgins, Andy Martin, Brian Mackie, Maggie Rose and a number of junior officers from the Drugs and Vice Squad, and from Alison Higgins' divisional team.

He looked at Martin. 'Who's baby-sitting?'

'McGuire's got Cocozza, and McIlhenney’s with Ainscow.'

`Good. I want our most experienced people covering them from now on. I had an interesting visit yesterday. It seems that there might be a new prayer in the game.'

He described in detail his detour to Leicester, his meeting with Norrie Monklands, and the story of Lucan's paranoid rage.

`This guy is not to be pissed about with. He and his late half-brother were peas from the same pod. Killers. Sometimes they hired help, like the German in L'Escala, but Nick was capable of doing the job himself, and we can assume that Lucan is too. So, if this guy is headed up here, then we aren't simply keeping Ainscow and Cocozza under surveillance. We could be keeping them alive.

Roy Old raised a hand. 'Couldn't we just lift them, Bob?'

Skinner shook his head. `That'd be the easy answer. But what grounds do we have? Monklands is too scared to go on the record, so we've nothing, but our assumptions to rely on. Listen, I still want these guys — don't be in any doubt. If it hadn't been for that bloody dog in Leicester, we'd have them right now. We'll keep watching them in the faint hope that they make a wrong move, and that we can save something from that wreckage. They've ridden their luck so far, and as far as Lucan's concerned they can ride it some more. If we see him, we nick him. If not, then we keep Monklands' information to ourselves.'

'Do you think Ainscow knows about Vaudan yet?' asked Andy Martin.

`It's possible. The way he's most likely to find out is by calling his secretary in InterCosta — it's still trading — or if he contacts Gloria Alberni for any reason. If he does, then he'll get the official version, which is that the Guardia Civil went up to question Vaudan about a series of thefts of high-value boats along the Costa Brava, and that he panicked, pulled out a gun and started shooting. Nobody down there, other than my friend Pujol, knows what the real story is.'

Skinner looked around the room. 'All sorts of things could happen in this one yet. I think that our best chance of getting a result is through Cocozza. He's out of his league. He's a wee man who's suddenly got big ambitious. If we can find a reason to put the pressure on him, he might crack and give us the extra witness we need to wrap up Ainscow. So let's just carry on with what we're doing, and see what turns up. Andy, this is a drugs operation, so you carry on co-ordinating operations. Keep me informed if the cork pops out of the bottle.

He glanced across at his personal assistant. 'Come on Maggie. Let's get back to that bloody in-tray.'

The gathering stood up as he did. He preceded Maggie Rose from the room and along the corridor which led to the stairs to the Command Suite. As they turned the corner, they barely avoided collision with a young woman officer who had come rushing down the steps.

She looked up and flushed bright scarlet. 'Sorry, sir. Excuse me, but is Mr Martin still along there.'