Skinner's ghosts

'Radio KKK, you mean?'

'Oh no, nothing so unsubtle. Radio Free America is more like it, the voice of the militants, those backwoods democrats who only like elected government when it does what they want.'

'Who owns the equity in the Chicago corporation?' asked Martin.

'Another corporation, registered in Houston. It's owned in turn by yet another corporation, registered in LA, which also holds a large chunk of the stock of a satellite television news network. Strip the whole thing away, though, and you wind up with a global holding company which pul s together a part of the corporate holdings of a very interesting guy. He's possibly the richest man in America.'

Doherty paused, as if for effect. 'Does the name Everard Balliol mean anything to you?'

' Somehow I feel it should.' Martin scratched his head, and searched his remarkable memory. 'Yes. I remember him. That Pro-Am golf tournament Bob wound up playing in a while back. The one there was bother with. Everard Balliol was one of the leading amateurs.

'As I recall, he didn't like losing.'

Doherty laughed. 'He wouldn't. Mr Balliol doesn't like losing at anything. It's a common trait with billionaires, they tell me.'

'What's his background?'

'His granddaddy was in oil. Everard diversified in a big way. He's still a major player in the oil business, but on top of that he's into computers, telecommunications, air transport, banking, insurance and a few other things.

'Politically, he's way out on the right wing. There was talk a few years back of him going after the Republican nomination, but when he talked about nuking the Colombian coca fields they decided that they didn't want another Goldwater. For a while, he thought of running as an independent, but he decided that he couldn't win under that flag, so he dropped it.

'Instead, he contents himself with backing right-wing causes. He funds but doesn't own one or two militant publications, and gives them air-time on his stations. Spotlight is a special toy. He uses it in the States to embarrass federal and state governments if he feels that they're backsliding… and he feels that way a lot.

'The international editions run the same way,' Doherty went on.

'Balliol hates every sort of liberalism, anywhere. When your election turned out the way it did, he went bal istic apparently.'

Martin realised that he was frowning, and that it was growing deeper by the second. 'Is this man dangerous, Joe?'

There was a pause, for thought. 'He's dangerous in that he has unlimited resources. He's dangerous in that his political attitudes are shared by a large number of very spooky people, and if he ever gave them serious financial backing, we'd have a real problem.

'But if you mean is he dangerous like homicidal? I doubt it. He's completely ruthless, but I reckon if he really took a dislike to someone he'd prefer to hurt him in a way he'd remember, rather than just by having him made dead. Spotlight is the perfect tool for him. Bob should have let him win that Pro-Am, I think.'

'You could see Bob doing that, could you?'

'Maybe not.' He chuckled at the thought. 'There is one other thing about Bal iol that should interest you. He's a real Scotophile.'

'Oh yes?'

'Yeah,' said the laconic Doherty. 'He claims Scottish descent. In fact he claims to be the descendant of kings. He owns a castle in 191 your fair land, with an estate. Bought it a year or two back. They tell me he's building a private golf course on the land.'

'It isn't Balmoral, is it?'

The American laughed out loud. 'No, but if that ever comes on the market you can bet Everard wil snap it up. His current pile is a place called Erran Mhor, north of somewhere called Fort William, apparently.'

'Does he use it much?'

'He never announces his arrival or departure,' said the American,

'but yes, he does. In fact, he's there right now.'

57

'What about the signature, Bob?' asked Mitchell Laidlaw, holding a photocopy ofMedine's sample, which Cheshire and Ericson had given to Alex. 'Is there any chance that this could be genuine?'

Skinner took the sheet from him and looked at it. 'I'd say it probably is. Almost certainly.'

He shrugged his broad shoulders. 'But so what? Mitch, I attend lots of public functions. Quite often I have to make speeches. To Rotarians, for example, or parent groups at schools. I even chaired a reading once at James Thin in George Street, for the publication of the memoirs of a retired copper.

'Frequently I'm asked for my autograph at these events. I always give it, sometimes without even looking at the person who wants it.

So getting hold of a sample of my signature would not be a difficult thing to do.

'Don't worry too much about that. Even if the handwriting gurus insist that it is genuine, we can stil defend against it.'

He handed the photocopy back to Laidlaw and looked across at Alex. The three-strong defence team had gathered once more in the offices of Curie, Anthony and Jarvis, as soon as Alex had returned from Guernsey.

'It's some comfort to know that Al Cheshire is a straight-downthe-line operator, after all. I was getting the idea that he'd arrived with his mind made up. When I checked him out, I found that every investigation that he's handled within another force has ended in a prosecution.

'Mind you, in nearly every one of those, he was called in only after preliminary enquiries showed strong evidence of corruption.'

'He'd tell you that's the case here, Bob,' said Laidlaw, quietly.

'Aye, and from what Alex has told us he'd be dead right.' Skinner turned to his daughter. 'That was good work you did though, love, picking up the point about the Bank of England notes and rubbing his nose in it. If the money had been in one big lump of sequential y numbered notes, then fair enough. But the fact that it was put together as it was, that helps us.'

'How?' asked Laidlaw.

The policeman smiled. 'I'm not sure yet. It tells us that it was put 193 together, if not outside Scotland, then probably from an external source. Now the fact is that if anyone had bunged me, it would have been someone within my own patch.'

Alex frowned. 'Yes, that's true, Pops, but that person could have had cash in another country. It's hardly the strongest defence to lay before a jury.'

'I agree,' her father replied, 'but if this thing does get to court, at least it's something for old Christabel to argue.' He chuckled, suddenly, glancing at Laidlaw. 'It's a pity old Orlach's dead. If we'd been able to fix it for him to be on the Bench with Christabel defending…'

'Let's look at the courier,' said the solicitor, his crimson, weatherbeaten cheeks indicating that he had spent his morning on the golf course. 'That was a major stroke of luck, surely.'

Beside her boss, Alex nodded vigorously. 'Yes. The man's targeting you in some way through these crimes. He used your private phone number. There's evidence of malice, and a potential identification of him as the courier. Christabel wil make hay with that.'

'If we capture the guy alive, maybe she won't have to. But…'

Skinner shook his head, slightly. 'I'm not so sure. Okay, Medine picked him out from the photofit, and okay, he had my Gul ane number, yet there are two major holes in the argument.'

'What are they?' asked Alex, frowning.

'Wel it's a mistake, for a start, and this is a very smart guy we're after. If the kidnapper had set me up in Guernsey, I don't see him exposing himself by acting as his own courier.'

'Why not, Pops? You've said yourself that you're waiting for him to make a mistake.'

'Not one as big as this, though. He's better than that.' He stood up from the conference table and walked to the window. 'Anyway, all that's subjective. The other hole in the argument's based on fact.