McGuire, Rose and Mcllhenney were standing a little way off, with the three other riders from the troupe, and one other: a muscular, short-haired girl who wore a vest with 'Le Cirque Tour' emblazoned on its front. Skinner waved them over.
The three riders cringed when they saw their dead colleague, but the girl merely whistled and shook her head. 'You guys don't miss, eh,' she said in a chirpy East London accent- "This is Alison, sir,' said Maggie Rose. 'The three lads are all French. All the English they speak between them couldn't buy you a bag of chips, but Alison's one of the troupe too. She's a mechanic, and she knew this fellow.'
'Hey, steady on. I know he called himself Ricky, but that's about it.'
Skinner looked at the pass which he had taken from the back pocket of the dead man's jeans. It was made out in the name of Richard Smith.
'How long had he been with you?' he asked the girl.
'He joined us in France a month ago. Said he was a Scottie and wanted to work his way home. Didn't want much in wages – only his fare paying. The manager said he had a reference from a man in Marseilles. He was a mechanic, too, and good with the bikes.
Mind you, he wasn't a regular in the troupe. Shouldn't have been riding today, only…'
'Only what?' said Skinner impatiently, as the girl's story tailed off momentarily – as if she was working something out in her mind.
'Only Paul, the fourth of our regular bikers, got mugged in Leith last night. Three geezers jumped him, apparently. He's in hospital now. They banged him up and broke his arm. 'Ere, you don't think…?'
'Fine Alison. Just you leave the thinking to us. Any ideas you have, you keep them to yourself. Is that understood?'
'Sure, boss. Anything you say.'
'OK, now will you please give a statement to DS Rose here, give her also your address, and then take your pals home. From the look of them there's no show tonight.'
61
'Her story checked out, then?'
'The mugging? Aye. The boy Paul was French too, but he spoke English. Apparently he was making his way home last night after the show, when three guys in suits came up to him, took him up a close, and gave him a doing.'
Skinner and Proud sat facing each other, over two large whiskies in the Chiefs room at Fettes Avenue. It was still only 6:45 pm, but each looked tired and drained. Removed from the scene of the crime, a second wave of sadness had washed over them both at the loss of their colleague.
Then in suits?' said the Chief Constable. 'That doesn't sound much like Leith.'
'No, it doesn't. Strangest thing of all, the boy said there was a woman with them, and she seemed to be giving the orders.'
'It wasn't this Typhoid Mary woman, was it?'
'No. This one was dark-haired, and she was under five-six.
'I'm already pulling in all of our likely candidates to undertake a contract thumping, but I don't hold out any great hopes that any of them will fit the bill. These will either have been members of the team or out-of-town heavies brought in for this job alone, and so virtually untraceable. They were very professional. Apparently one of them said to the boy, "Sorry, mate, but it's in a good cause." Then he broke his arm with a mason's hammer.
According to Paul. when the guy spoke to him, the woman said "Silence". And again, according to him, she said it in French. But since he's French himself, and he was having his arm broken at the time, I'm discounting that one.'
'What about the late Mr Ricky Smith? Do we have anything on him?'
'Yes. He has a French connection, too. Their police have dug out their file for us. According to his prints, his name wasn't Richard Smith at all. It was Raymond Mahoney, age twenty-six, birthplace Glasgow. Time-served mechanic. Lived in France since
he was twenty. Bad boy, Raymond, or so they think: believed to have been involved in the gang scene in Marseilles. They had him marked down as a driver mostly, but he was known to have been in the vicinity of two or three shootings. The closest they came to doing him for anything was when he was picked up as one of a team in a freelance armed robbery. But then one of the police witnesses was killed on duty, and the other had a fit of amnesia financially induced, they reckoned, so nothing came of it.
Technically he's got a clean sheet, but they won't miss him now,3 he's gone.'
Proud freshened up then" drinks from a bottle of Highland Park. 'What're you doing about the-press?'
'Royston's got a statement ready to go out, as soon as I've been to visit Barry's dad. He's a widower, and he's been away golfing with a pal. They're due back at eight according to the pal's wife.
I'll catch him them.'
'No, you won't,' said Proud. 'I'll see that's taken care of.
You've done enough.'
'Come on. Jimmy, he was my man.'
'My man, too. I was planning to see Mr Macgregor myself, but Eddie McGuinness insisted. He feels that he has to take on at least some of the tough tasks personally. A solid man is our Eddie.'
'So I'm beginning to realise,' said Skinner thoughtfully.
The Chief Constable took a sip from his glass, savoured the smoky taste, and swallowed it. 'So what do these bastards do next, Bob?'
'I'm trying to think like them, Jimmy. Looking at the pattern so far, I'd say it's got to be the Fireworks Concert, a week on Thursday. They know we won't let them near any more celebs, and the Fireworks are the last big event in the Festival. It's even on telly this year. They might stick in a couple of wee surprises between now and then, but I'll bet that's the next thing they'll go for.'
'Let's cancel it then.'
'I've already suggested that to Ballantyne, but there's no way he'll agree. He's got brave again.'
'Well, we'll just have to police it so tightly they'll have to use aircraft to hit it. Tomorrow you and I will go and see Mr bloody Ballantyne. It's time you had some back-up when you're dealing with him."
62
The inevitable communique was delivered to the Queen Street office of the BBC at 9:00 am on the following day. For the first time it was addressed to the media, rather than to the Secretary of State.
The News Editor, Radio, never a man to turn down a scoop, took a snap decision. He sent copies at once to St Andrew's House and to Skinner's office, then ordered that the morning's music programme should be interrupted and the text of the letter broadcast.
Skinner therefore heard it on the radio before he received his copy. He was alerted at once by the excitement in the newsreader's voice.
'The following message has just been received by the BBC.
Because of its use of a special code-word, we believe it to be genuine. It reads as follows:
"From the Fightersor an Independent Scotland.
"Communique.
"It is with regret that we report the death of a fine young Scottish patriot, Raymond Mahoney, on an active service mission in Edinburgh yesterday. We regret too that a further demonstration of our resolve has proved necessary. However the intransigence of Scotland's colonial governor, the Secretary of State, left us no choice.
"As before, our target was selected with a view to focusing international attention on our struggle for freedom. We note with some satisfaction that one member of the enemy's security forces also fell yesterday. If the occupying government continues to deny Scotland its right to freedom, he will not be the last.
"The first phase of our struggle is over. We have claimed the attention, and we believe the support, of the nations of the world. From now on we will seek to strike at the heart of the tyranny, wherever the opportunity arises. Our fight for an independent Scotland will not end with the Edinburgh Festival. It will go on until the occupying government yields, or until the last of its members is cut down. The Secretary of State and his puppet-masters in London are legitimate targets. They must realise that their police cannot protect them for ever." 'That is the end of this newsflash,' said the newsreadt breathlessly. 'Now back to the studio, and to Eddie.'