'I'm not so naive, Sergeant.'
Mcl henney laughed. 'I know that, all right. You're not infal ible either though. If you were you wouldn't be wearing that fucking awful suit right now. Daks is your preference, isn't it.'
'Yes,' countered Charles, evenly, 'and Hugo Boss: just for the odd bit of variety you understand. I've got a wardrobe ful of them, waiting for me. Dior shirts, too.'
'You might find it easier to put them on when you get out,' growled McGuire.
'Why?'
'You might not have to pul them over your head. Because you might not have a rucking head by then.'
Jackie Charles looked at the silent guards, standing by the door of the prison interview room. 'Are you threatening me, Inspector?'
McGuire flashed his best Latin smile. 'Not at al. I was just hinting at something you might have forgotten.
'Suppose this bright idea of yours actually works, and a jury believes that you bribed our boss. He'l go down, undoubtedly: seven or eight years, probably, while you, as a Crown witness, will be immune from prosecution.
'The Scottish prison network isn't al that big. The odds against big Bob being sent here aren't al that great. Suppose you two wind up in the same nick. Have you considered what he might do to you?'
The first flicker of doubt showed through Charles' confident veneer. 'Why would he do that? He solicited the bribe. He only has himself to blame.'
Mcl henney grunted. 'I know big Bob a bit better than you, Jackie.
He might not see it that way. And the Inspector's right, you know.
He's got a real nasty streak to him. Christ, if he could put big Lenny 237
Plenderleith in hospital, what's he going to do to you?'
'Let's just go over this story of yours one more time,' said McGuire.
Charles sighed. 'Really!'
'Humour us. Just one more time.'
'Oh, very well. But just once more and that's it. Your great Skinner approached me last year. We go way back, you know. Bob and I. He thought, rightly, as it turned, out that one of your guys might be on the take. I made enquiries about some things that my wife and Dougie Terry were doing, and found that he was right. Into the bargain, I found out that I was in some trouble.
'So I went back to Bob, and I gave him the name of your bad apple. I also suggested, very obliquely, that there might be something in it for him, if he could limit my personal damage.' He looked at McGuire and Mcl henney, his eyes wide and innocent. 'To my surprise, he came back to me and said that his terms were a hundred thousand cash, payable in accordance with instructions in a sealed envelope. He told me that it contained the address of a bank, and a copy of his signature and personal details.
'In return, he said that charges against me would be limited to tax offences, and that I would do a year, eighteen months at the most.'
'And you agreed to pay this backhander?' asked Mcl henney.
'Yes. I decided that it was a worthwhile investment. So I gave the envelope, unopened, to Douglas and told him to make it work. Two days later, he came back to me and told me that the arrangements had been made, and gave me the name of the bank to which the money had been sent.'
'Why did you decide to shop him now?'
Charles smiled, grimly. 'When I heard about the publicity over Bob's private life, it occurred to me that his feet of clay had been exposed. So I decided to drop a word.
'I didn't intend that it should get back to me, of course. I thought that evidence of the payment would be enough.'
McGuire leaned forward, forearms on the table. 'How did you get that word to the Lord Advocate?' he asked. 'We know you didn't phone his office from here; that would have been picked up.'
Charles hesitated, for the first time, taken aback by the question.
'I found someone from Edinburgh who was being released first thing next day,' he replied at last, 'and gave him an anonymous note addressed to the Crown Office.'
'Handwritten? Suggesting that someone should look at the JZG
Bank in Guernsey?'
'That's right.'
'What was the name of the man who dropped the note for you?'
Charles shrugged. 'I can't remember. He was just another inmate.'
'His name wasn't Salmon, was it?' asked Mcllhenney. 'Noel Salmon?'
The prisoner hesitated again. 'Yes,' he said, final y, 'that was it.'
The two policemen looked at each other, smiling. 'Interview suspended,' said McGuire, reaching across to switch off the tape recorder on the table. 'Jackie,' he grinned, 'you've blown it. Twice.
Noel Salmon delivered the message all right, but he was never in here. He should have been, but he wasn't.
'He didn't deliver it to the Crown Office, either, but to the Secretary of State, and because his boss told him to, not you. You're a liar, Charles, and if you go into the witness box to tell that fairy story about Bob Skinner, we'll destroy you with what's on that tape.
'There aren't too many perjury trials, but when they happen, the judges are always tough. We can also charge you right now, through that tape, with giving false information to the police.'
McGuire's smile vanished completely. His eyes hardened, as he leaned forward, and focused on the man across the table. 'This is a once-only offer, Jackie. You may withdraw the statement you gave Cheshire and Ericson, and you withdraw it right now. You may admit that you have no knowledge of and had no involvement in the opening of the Guernsey bank account.
'You can do that right now, and no action wil be taken against you. Persist, and I doubt if those suits will still fit, by the time you get out. They'll certainly be well out of fashion. Now, which is it to be?'
Charles looked at him for around ten seconds, unwavering. Then, without warning, his eyes dropped, he sighed and he nodded.
McGuire reached across and switched in the tape once more.
'Interview resumed. Detective Inspector McGuire and Detective Sergeant Mcl henney present in Perth Prison, with John Jackson Charles.'
72
For all her natural confidence and self-belief, and for all her involvement in her father's defence team, Alex still felt slightly overawed when she was summoned to the office of the head of the partnership. The cal, from Mitchell Laidlaw's secretary, came just after 4.30 p.m.
The unexpected presence of Christabel Innes Dawson QC did nothing to calm the nerves tugging at her stomach.
'You sent for me, Mr Laidlaw?' she asked.
'Yes, Alex, Miss Dawson thought it would be good for you to sit in on our consultation. I'm sorry, I really should have advised you that she was coming in to see us.'
'I enjoy the odd touch of opulence,' the old lady rumbled.
'Honestly, I only wish I could take al the people who go on about fatcat advocates and parade them through offices like this one.' She glanced at Skinner's daughter.
'D'you intend to come to the Bar, young lady?'
'I've given it some thought.'
'Hmm. Then look around you, and give it some more. Damned hard work, damned little recognition. Of course, I suppose in these times you would have the opportunity to become a judge, if you were good enough. That path was closed to me.' She looked more than a little angry at the recol ection, giving Alex a sudden picture of a tiny gimlet-eyed figure in an ermine-trimmed red robe, glaring down at the court.
'Well,' she said, fearlessly, 'I for one am glad that you'll be in the well of the court and on our side, when my dad's case is called.'
The old lady smiled. 'Thank you for that compliment, miss. But you real y should say "if", not "when". We've just had a very surprising cal.'
Laidlaw nodded. 'That's right. From the Procurator Fiscal, no less.
It seems that John Jackson Charles has withdrawn the statement which he gave Cheshire and Ericson.'