Skinner's festival

7

'What d'you mean?'

'I mean that you are now the only surviving Special Branch head who was in post during Hughie Fulton's time. Since I took over, the commander in every other force has been posted elsewhere. It's happened in stages, but it's happened. McKinstery was the last to be moved.'

'You've done all that?' Martin's voice rose in surprise.

'Let's say that I've persuaded all their Chief Constables that it was a good idea.'

'But why?'

'Remember when we had that carry-on last winter, and big Fulton seemed to know everything that we did?'

Martin nodded.

'At the time, you and I pinned some of the blame for that on Roy Thornton, up at the Court. As it happens we were right, but only up to a point, for there was a hell of a lot he didn't know that Fulton still found out. I wondered at the time who the big bastard's touts were, and itdidn't take me long to find out, once I took over his job. All your opposite numbers in Special Branch were feeding him stuff that even their own bosses – my equivalents – didn't know. In short, they were all in his pocket.

Alee Smith, your predecessor, was at it as well. When Sarah and I started seeing each other, he reported it to Fulton, and big Hughie had her vetted.'

'How did you find that out?'

'The stupid bastard kept a file on me. As soon as he quit, the locks on his office door were changed, and so he didn't get the chance to destroy the file before he left. He's in Ibiza now, retired.

Be just as well for him if he stays there.'

'Why didn't he approach me when I took over?'

'Take that as a compliment. He must have decided that you were incorruptible, as far as I was concerned. I guess that Alee Smith told him that. Actually, Alee did make one brief attempt to talk me into giving his job to someone else, but he changed horses when he saw my mind was made up, and he backed you instead.'

'Who was the someone else?'

'If I told you, it might prejudice your view of a perfectly good copper – who is, incidentally, in the uniformed branch now.'

Skinner paused reflectively. 'Anyway, all Fulton's boys are gone now. They're either back in uniform, on promotion, or they're retired.'

Martin shook his head. 'But I liked Davie MacKinstery. Alee, too for that matter.'

'No need to stop loving them, Andy. The fact that they were Fulton's touts didn't make them bad people. He set the rules and got away with it, thanks to his reputation and his power. I don't condemn anyone for not crossing him. Still, when I took over, I decided that I could never trust anybody who had previously reported to Fulton on that basis. Hence the complete and total clear-out.' Skinner's tone grew heavy. 'One thing stays the same: all the new guys talk to me regularly. The big difference is that none of them keeps secrets from or spies on his bosses in his home force. It's an open system now – as far as it can be in our game.'

Martin stared at the surface of his desk, his brow furrowed.

'Christ, boss. I knew you had clout, but to clear the whole of Special Branch…'

'Forget it, Andy. It's history, and only the Chief Constables know that it's happened. So, for this emergency, it'll be Haggerty in the West, Bill Finlay in Aberdeen, and Peter Buxton in Dundee – as and when we need them.'

He stood up and walked over to the window. 'There are two other people I'm going to include on our team. One's a counterterrorist specialist from the SAS: I guy I met when I was away at that seminar in Yorkshire last month. His name is Arrow, Captain Adam Arrow, and he's got years in Ireland and other places under his belt.'

He paused. Martin looked up at him.

'Not another one of those guys. Bob, please?'

Skinner smiled softly. 'No, son. There'll never be another of them – anywhere. Not while I'm around, at least. Arrow's a good guy. His speciality is counter-terrorism: IRA, UVF, it doesn't matter to him. He loathes them all. He's put a few active service men into early retirement, one way or another. Just recently, he was involved in sorting out something particularly nasty that the Loyalists were planning. Arrow knows something of what happened last winter – but not everything.'

Andy Martin looked at Skinner, and held his eyes. An awkward silence hung in the room, until Martin broke it.

'Bob, I'm your closest colleague, and you've never told even me the whole story of that night. You've changed since then, you know. I tell you this as a friend, that I've noticed a side to you that wasn't there before. Just now and again, it's as if you're somewhere else, in a very scary place. Maybe only people who really know you can see it.'

Skinner had his back to Martin as he replied. It was perhaps as well that the younger man could not see the expression in his grey eyes. 'Andy, I try not to let any of my thoughts show on the outside, but that was something of a night.' Then, suddenly Skinner laughed out loud. 'And I've got a fucking great bullet hole in my leg to remind me!'

The tension broken, Skinner quickly changed the subject.

'Now, the last member of the team. I want to include Sarah. What d'you think? Can I have my own wife on my team?'

Martin looked thoughtful for a second, then looked up and nodded. 'Yes, boss, I'm all for it. She knows how you think, and she's got her Masters in criminal psychology, too. If she can help you, she's helping us all. And since she's still a part-time police surgeon, technically she's an insider as well.'

'Right, Andy,' said Skinner emphatically. "That's our team picked. Now let's get it on the park. The game's started and the other side's a goal up already!'

8

From the privacy of his own office in the command suite. Skinner made six quick fire telephone calls. The first two were to the divisional detective superintendents at the Torphichen Street and St Leonards police stations, who were, respectively, the line officers Maggie Rose and Mario McGuire. He told them that each would be losing his best sergeant for an indefinite period. He expected no questions or protests, and received none. The third call went to a private number.

The phone was answered on the second ring, and a familiar deep voice sounded on the line. 'McGuire.'

'Hi, Mario. ACC here. Are you alone, or is anyone I know there with you?'

'Well as it happens, sir, DS Rose is watching a video in the living-room. Me? I'm in the kitchen as usual.'

'In that case. Sergeant, I've got good news for you, and bad news for Maggie. You heard about this morning's bang in Princes Street?'

McGuire grunted assent.

'Well, I'm setting up a unit to co-ordinate the search for the cowboys who did it. I want my best on it, so you two are in. Get yourselves down to Fettes right away, and meet me in the SB suite.'

Next he dialled the mobile number of Detective Inspector Brian Mackie, his personal assistant. As Mackie answered. Skinner could hear the din of a crowd.

'Where are you, Brian?'

Tynecastle, sir. Kicked off five minutes ago. The Jam Tarts are one down already.'

'So am I. Give the rest a miss and get into the office.'

For his fifth call. Skinner switched to a green scrambled telephone on his desk. Seconds later he was connected to an MI5 duty officer. He identified himself, and asked the woman to call him back in confirmation. When she did so, he asked her to do everything necessary to have Captain Adam Arrow report to him personally at police headquarters in Edinburgh by 10:00 am the next morning.

Finally, he called his own home number in Edinburgh. Sarah and he had just moved into a bungalow off Queensferry Street, even closer to Fettes Avenue than the flat in Stockbridge from which they had recently moved. He assumed that Sarah herself would answer his call, but he was wrong.

'This is 957 0825. Alex Skinner speaking.'

He smiled at the unexpected sound of his daughter's voice.