Then you'd better call Scott Rolland for me. Tell him that Pam'll take the Falkirk job, before he changes his mind and withdraws the offer.'
'Okay. Look Bob, I can't think of anything to say, except good luck.'
'Thanks, mate, but I don't need luck. I'm innocent, remember.'
He hung up and turned to face Mitchell Laidlaw. The chambers of Curie, Anthony and Jarvis were in one of Edinburgh's newest and grandest office developments, with a fine outlook across the Castle Rock and up to Princes Street. Laidlaw's room enjoyed the best of it.
It was furnished comfortably rather than opulently, but left visitors in no doubt that they were in the nerve centre of one of the country's leading professional firms.
'So, Mitch,' said Skinner. 'I know your firm doesn't get involved in criminal work as a rule, but nonetheless, wil you take me on?'
'Of course we wil. Bob,' nodded the ruddy-faced lawyer, looking more rotund than ever in his high-backed leather chair. 'From what you've told me this isn't really a criminal inquiry anyway. It's a sort of a half-breed, set up by the Secretary of State rather than the Lord Advocate, even if it does report to him.'
'I take it that Anderson has the power to do that?' the policeman asked.
Laidlaw smiled broadly across at Alex, who sat by the side of his twin-pillared partner's desk. 'What do you think, Ms Skinner?' he asked.
Alex flushed slightly, thought for a few moments, then launched into her reply. 'Basically,' she said, 'the Secretary of State can do what he bloody well likes unless statute or the courts tell him differently.
'From what we know of the way this investigation's been set up, I'd say that you could probably chal enge its validity before just about any Scottish judge and win the day. But what would that achieve?
You would be seen as trying to frustrate investigation of the complaint against you, and at the end of the day, Anderson would simply turn the papers over to the Lord Advocate and back off himself.
'So any court victory would be Pyrrhic. It would result in you becoming the subject of a ful -scale criminal investigation, and possibly even liable to arrest at a fairly early stage. That's what I think.'
'Couldn't have put it better myself,' said Laidlaw. 'Of course, if you could establish malice against you by Anderson, there might be grounds for another form of action. Is there a chance of that?'
Skinner shook his head. 'I can't say so, honestly. Andersen's just covering his arse, playing to his back-benchers.' He snorted. 'If there's any malice in evidence, it's borne by me towards him.'
Laidlaw spluttered. 'Let's not repeat that outside this room.' He swung round in his chair and leaned across the desk. 'Right, Bob.
I'l handle this matter personal y, with an assistant.'
The policeman nodded, and pointed towards his daughter. 'Yes,' he said, 'and she's sat there. I promised Archie that I wouldn't go 149 near any potential witnesses myself. But I want them to know who they're dealing with.'
'Pops,' Alex intervened. 'Are you sure about this?'
Mitch Laidlaw raised a hand. 'If he isn't, I am. I don't see anything wrong with a bit of personal involvement in these circumstances.
Also, if this does require detailed investigation by us… well something of your father must have rubbed off on you!
'One other thing,' he said. 'It may be helpful if we engage counsel at some point. Do you have any preferences, Bob?'
Skinner rocked his head back and stared for a while at the dappled ceiling, as if racking his brains. At last he looked back across the desk. 'You might think her daft, but of all the people currently available, the best criminal silk who ever cross-examined me is dear old Christabel Innes Dawson, QC.
'I often thought that if I was really in the shit, there's no-one at the Bar I'd rather have on my side. Wel I am now, she's stil listed as a practising member, and she stil has all her marbles.'
Laidlaw smiled. 'I've never instructed her,' he said, 'but I remember seeing her in action, when I was a student. A terrifying sight in ful cry, as I recal. If you want her, I'l have a word with her clerk today, to put down a warning marker.
'But meanwhile, let's the three of us have some lunch, before we head up to the Crown Office, to find out just what sort of battle the old lady is going to have to fight.'
46
Pamela sat open-mouthed, facing Andy Martin across his desk. 'I can't believe it. Surely this must be a set-up. But how would the Spotlight manage to fake evidence so well that it convinced the Secretary of State?'
'Beats me, Sarge,' said the Chief Superintendent. 'Noel Salmon didn't do it all on his own, that's for sure. He could barely forge a betting slip, far less set up a phoney account in an offshore bank.' A light came into his eyes as he said the words. 'That's a thought, isn't it? I think it's time we stopped bothering about the monkey, and found out more about the organ-grinder.
'Pamela, do you want to help Bob?'
She looked at him with sudden outrage. 'Of course I do.'
'Sorry, that was a sil y thing to say,' he acknowledged. 'What I want you to do, then, is dig up Companies House and get hold of the registration details for Spotlight in the UK. After that I want you to cal a man in Washington. He owes Bob a couple of favours. It's time we called one in.'
He reached into his desk drawer and produced a smal notebook.
He flipped through it until he found the page he was looking for, then picked up a pen and scribbled on a scrap of paper. When he was finished he replaced the notebook, locked the drawer, and pushed the paper across the desk to Pamela.
'That's a direct number to a desk on Capitol Hil. Once you've used it, burn it. The man's name is Joe Doherty, and he's a top gun on the US National Security Council. Tell him that Bob needs help, and why. Then ask him if he can get for us detailed information on the ownership of Spotlight, and on how it operates, international y.
Anything that he thinks is relevant.
'Ask him to call me personally, as soon as he has something for us.' He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past midday. 'Go on, then, and get started. By the time you've checked the UK company listings, Joe should be in his office.
'Incidental y, you don't need to say anything to Bob about this.
He regards Joe Doherty as his own personal snout.'
Pamela stood up to leave looking shocked and slightly bewildered. For all his personal loyalties to Sarah, Andy felt a pang 151 of sympathy for her. 'Hey,' he said, standing up. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. 'Try not to worry too much. This is nothing; at worst this is just some evil sod playing sil y buggers. Bob's been in far worse scrapes than this and come through them.
'I often think that he's been in more trouble than even I know about.
'There was one time he was shot in the leg. He told Alex and me that he had been careless and that his own pistol had gone off accidental y. But that same night, a man disappeared right off the face of the earth… as far as I know, at any rate.
'I asked about him afterwards, out of curiosity. All I got was silence, and sincere advice through the Special Branch network to mind my own business.'
She looked up at him. 'You're not saying that Bob…'
'I'm not saying anything, other than don't be too concerned about him. He's like a cat, with quite a few of his nine lives left.'
'You know what I like about you, Chief Superintendent,' Pamela said, with a smile. 'You only see one Bob Skinner, and he can do no wrong.'
Martin grinned back. 'I wouldn't go that far. These contact lenses of mine have a green tint, not rose-coloured. Now, on you go. I'l come out with you. I want to see young Sammy.' He ushered her out of his office and towards her own desk in the corner of the CID