As Medine turned the paper over, Alex started in surprise. It was the photofit of Mark McGrath's kidnapper. The Channel Islander nodded at once. 'Yes. This could have been him. I'm not saying that it was, mind you, but in terms of general appearance, yes, that's in the bal park.
'Apart from the glasses, of course.' He looked up. 'Oh. Didn't I say? The man wore glasses.'
52
'So you do have open minds after all?'
Alex smiled at Ericson as the car moved off. 'Course we do,' said Cheshire. 'It's unthinkable to me that another deputy chief would take a bung from anyone, but in this task, you have to entertain the unthinkable.
'You have, as your dad would be the first to tell you, to look at all the possibilities. Having studied everything about DCC Skinner, we just happened to have that photofit with us. When Medine gave us that description, Ronnie sparked on it right away. Incidental y, I was going to ask him to describe the courier, before we left.
'Pity about those bloody glasses, though?'
He smiled at Alex, suddenly. 'Al right young lady. We've given you something, now pay us back. Why were you going on about that money?'
She hesitated, but final y grinned. 'Okay, guv,' she said, 'I'll cough.
Those Bank of England notes. If this so-called bung originated from Scotland… and where else would it?… and it was put together over a period, like Medine said, not in a single wodge of cash, it's very unlikely, to say the least, that there wouldn't be any Scottish banknotes in it. Most of the notes in circulation in Scotland are issued by our own clearing banks, the Bank of Scotland, the Royal Bank, and the Clydesdale. Medine obviously doesn't know that.' She looked from Cheshire to Ericson. 'Neither, equally obviously, do you.'
"louche, sir,' said the Chief Superintendent to his boss. 'Nice one, Alex.'
The Deputy Chief nodded. 'Yes, it is. But I won't lie to you, lass.
Things stil look dodgy for your dad. First and foremost, there's his signature. We'll have to check that, but I could tell when you looked at it that you thought it was genuine.'
'It took me by surprise,' she protested, 'but it could still be a good forgery. It must be.'
'Time, and the calligraphy experts will tell. Of course, if it is a phoney, then the whole al egation is a fit-up. But if not…' He gave her a meaningful look.
'Anyway, on top of that there's the confirmatory telephone call, to his unlisted number in Gul ane. And that receipt: I've got a feeling 178 in my water that it has to be kicking around somewhere.
'You going to let us look for it, or do I get a warrant?'
She nodded. 'I'l ask Pops, but he'l say yes. As for the telephone number, the McGrath kidnapper has that.'
Cheshire looked at her in genuine surprise. 'My fiance lets me in on some secrets, you know,' she said. 'The first contact from the man was in a telephone call to my dad's unlisted number in Gullane.
Andy's people are still tearing British Telecom apart looking for the person who sold it to him.'
The Deputy Chief frowned. 'If I was in my nasty bastard mode,' he muttered, 'I'd say that maybe your dad gave it him. That maybe the link between them's stronger than we think. That maybe this man's after a king-size ransom, and that your dad's got reasons for making sure he gets it. Maybe the hundred grand was a down-payment from him.'
He saw a look of horror cross her face. 'Of course, that's just my nasty bastard imagination running away with me,' he said, 'but he is facing a divorce petition from your stepmother, and since his assets are mostly in property or long-term investments, maybe another nasty bastard, in the Crown Office, say, might think that he did need some cash in a hurry… maybe a bit more than a hundred grand.'
He stopped. 'That's what I real y hate about this job,' he said, gloomily. 'It's not just about looking under stones. It's about real y rummaging around under 'em, for the most horrible things you could ever imagine.'
53
'How are we doing, Andy?' asked Skinner from the door of Martin's office. He had just returned from Edinburgh Airport, where he had put Pam on the 11 a.m. flight to London, bound for M15 with the original of Mark McGrath's horrific taped message.
'Just about there. Strathclyde cal ed back a couple of minutes ago.
I'm only waiting for Fife.'
'The buggers over there are probably al on the golf course,' the DCC growled. But he had barely spoken before the telephone rang.
'None?' he heard Martin say. 'You sure? Yes, okay, that's fine.
Thanks.'
He hung up and looked across at Skinner. 'They only have five MPs. One's a bachelor, another's newly married, a third's getting on a bit, and so on; end result zero. So no additions to my list.'
He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk. 'Seventy-two Scottish MPs, and only nine of them with children under twelve.
Twenty-five others have teenagers, but let's discount them, for now at least.'
He handed the list to Skinner, who barely glanced at it. 'How do we go about this?' he mused. 'It's pure speculation on our part. If we act on it, and give them all protection, it'll cost a fortune, and probably start a parliamentary panic.'
'I agree,' said Martin, 'but given the threat on that tape, it's speculation we can't ignore. Look, why don't we ask Special Branch offices to make quiet contact with all the names on our list, to advise them to keep their kids under constant observation, and to offer them protection if they want it?'
'Good idea. Let's play it that way. You brief Mario McGuire and have him make the calls.' He turned to the list once more. 'Let's see who's here, then.'
He had only just begun to read, and Martin was reaching for his telephone, when it rang. Frowning with momentary annoyance, the Chief Superintendent picked it up.
'Mario,' he said, surprised. 'I was just going to call you.' He fell silent as a look of pure horror crossed his face. 'Oh no,' Skinner heard him gasp. 'Get down there, now,' he snapped. 'The boss and I will meet you there.'
He slammed the phone back into its cradle. 'Let's have it then,' said the DCC quietly
'See that speculation of ours?' the younger man replied, hunching his shoulders and clasping his hands together. 'I think it's suddenly turned into fact. There's just been a shooting in Abercromby Place.
The victim is a Mrs Anderson.
'Mario thinks that it's the Secretary of State's wife.'
54
Abercromby Place is little more than a connecting road, linking Dublin Street and Dundas Street. With few private residences, and much of its town-house office space vacant and available for let, its main value to the city is as a place for shoppers to park.
When Martin and Skinner swung out of Dundas Street, they found the road partially blocked by a police car slewed sideways. The two constables on duty recognised the detectives at once, and waved them through, although one sneaked a second, surprised glance at the suspended DCC.
They drove on but had gone barely any distance before, at a point where the road curved, they came upon two more police cars, an ambulance, and a knot of half a dozen uniformed officers, with men in plain clothes mingled among them.
As they jumped from the car, Mario McGuire saw them and waved them through the crowd.
'Are all these bystanders necessary?' Skinner barked.
'I'm waiting for someone senior from Division to take command, sir,' said McGuire.
'Will we do, d'you think?' said Martin, curtly. 'Senior officer forward,' he cal ed. A uniformed inspector stepped up. 'Get this lot organised and searching. I want spent cartridge cases, and anything else that's lying around.'
He turned back to McGuire. 'Any witnesses?'