He had met Fulton for the first time on a Senior Command Course at the Scottish Police College at Tulliallan, when the big Aberdonian, then an Assistant Chief Constable in the Grampian force, had been one of his toughest inquisitors. A few weeks after that encounter, Fulton’s resignation from the force had been announced. No explanation was offered other than the bald statement that he was ‘taking up another post’.
Only a handful of civil servants, and senior officers, Skinner among them, were allowed to know what Hugh Fulton’s ‘other post’ was. Within his tiny circle his title was ’Security Adviser to the Secretary of State for Scotland.‘ In fact his role was much broader than this, involving all matters that were the subject of ’D’ Notices, and many other situations too sensitive even for that category. Fulton was not seen in public, and reported in Scotland only to the Secretary of State and to the Permanent Under Secretary, the head of the Civil Service in the Scottish Office. Nationally, he reported only to the Prime Minister, the Cabinet Secretary, and to the Director General of the security service, MI5.
‘It’s been a year or two, Bob,’ Fulton’s voice boomed out. ‘I’ve followed your career with a personal interest since that time at Tulliallan.
‘That’s very flattering, and surprising. I thought I blew bits of it.’
‘Everyone did. we set some unsolvable problems to see who came up with the most pragmatic solutions, and kept the damage to a minimum.
‘Now, why do you want to see me? It’s only our college connection that got you through that door you know. You’re the first serving policeman who’s ever been in this room.’
Skinner looked around the small grey office. It was shabbily furnished; its two windows, treated on the outside with a reflective coating, overlooked the conference suite and food hall in the central courtyard of the huge circular block. Skinner sat down in the uncomfortable low-backed tubular chair to which Fulton pointed.
He matched the directness of the man’s approach.
‘I’m probably the first serving Scottish policeman to have the President of bloody Syria land on his patch at only a few days’ notice. I want to talk to you about his security. I want to know from the start that if I need outside help, then I’ll get it. Also, the FO is sending up a clown called Allingham to liaise with my Special Branch. I want it made clear to them and him that we are not running this operation on a committee basis, and that my force is in overall charge of the situation.’
Fulton nodded. ‘The last point has already been made. I know about Allingham. He’s a wanker. He has no connection with the system I work in. His job is to escort diplomats around, and carry messages. I know he got up Proud Jimmy’s nose last time he was here. He’s been warned not to do it again.
‘As far as outside help goes, I’ve already made arrangements for SAS personnel to be made available to you. You’ll want them, I imagine, at the airport, the debating hall and the hotel.’
‘I should think that’s right. It’s an evening debate, or I’d have him flown out straight away. Since we’re going to be stuck with him overnight, I’ll use a small hotel that’ll be easy to protect. The Norton, maybe.’
‘Yes, that’s a sound choice. The soldier boys will contact you within the next few days. Anything you need, you’ve got.’
Skinner stood up. ‘You’ve told me everything I wanted to hear, Hugh. I’ve no need to take up any more of your time.’
But the big Aberdonian did not rise from his chair. He placed both hands palms down on the table.
‘All right, I give in. I’ll ask. What the fuck is going on with this secret investigation of yours?’
Skinner had wanted to find out how far Fulton’s network stretched. That question was answered. Now he wondered how much he knew. He played the game for a little longer.
‘Which investigation do you mean?’
‘Come off it, Bob. You know bloody well. I mean the people you’ve got digging into the affairs of Mortimer and Jameson, and that girl you’ve had under cover in the Advocates’ Library. What’s it all about?’
‘Look, Hugh, as far as I’m concerned those two people you’ve mentioned are the victims in unsolved murder cases. Too fucking right I’ll go through their papers if I think it relevant.’
‘The Crown Office doesn’t agree with you about Jameson. They’ve got her on the books as a suicide.’
‘Bugger the Crown Office. I know bloody well that she was pushed under that train, and so, I’ll bet, do you.’
‘Come on, Bob. You got your Jap, but the politicians wouldn’t let you keep him. What are you trying to do now, flush it out into the open?’
‘I was fed my Jap, but I can’t swallow him as the killer any more. I know he didn’t do it. D’you hear me? I know it. So what I’m doing now is following up unsolved murders on the basis of new evidence.’
‘Then why are you using your head of Special Branch as coordinator?’
‘Confidentiality. Yobatu - the late Yobatu, by the way, if you didn’t know - was framed. My enquiries are being conducted as discreetly as possible because I don’t want the person who did the framing to know that I don’t buy his version any more. Quite frankly, Hugh, I’ve come to you now - and yes, this is the other reason for my visit - because I am now at a stage at which I may need your help in certain areas. There are indications that the international intelligence community may be involved. Is that plain enough for you?’
Fulton lifted his hands from his desk, clasped them across his stomach, and leaned back in his chair.
‘Bob, I knew most of what you were up to before you walked in here. I’ve listened to what you’ve said. Now you listen to me, and take my advice. Drop this thing. You’ve had a result, even if the punters don’t know it. You traced Yobatu, and the killings stopped. What more do you want?’
Skinner leaned across the desk.
‘Hugh, you might have listened, but you didn’t bloody hear me. Yobatu didn’t do it. I have new evidence that points in another direction.’
‘Yes, the money.’ Fulton caught the flicker of Skinner’s eyebrows. ‘Yes, know about that. A retainer, that’s all. Paid by the Syrian government through an intermediary in the Lebanese Embassy to secure the advice of two excellent advocates in Scotland, and in Europe. Paid in secret because that’s the way the Syrians do all their business.’
Skinner decided to test the depth of Fulton’s knowledge. ‘But why those two?’
‘I have no idea, but why not? Two bright young people, ambitious with marriage plans and so maybe prepared to accept an instruction that was a bit unorthodox, even slightly against the rules of the Faculty, for hard, untraceable cash.’
‘What use is an advocate who can’t appear in court?’
‘I told you, they were buying legal advice, that’s all. Bob, hear me again. Drop it. There’s nowhere else to go. That comes from me at this stage, but if necessary it can come from on high. Give it up.
‘Do you know what they say about Bob Skinner? “The game’s got to be played by Skinner’s Rules, right and righteous, all the way.”
‘Bob, sometimes you’ve got to bend in this world. There’s another rule book too, you know. It runs to three words. Know what they are? “Adap and survive.” Understood?’
Skinner’s anger seemed to fill the small room. ‘Hugh, if that was a threat you can shove it. You’ve been cooped up in this big concrete hen house for too long. You’ve forgotten you were ever a copper.
‘I’ve seen these people that are just names to you. Mortimer, our half-cremated wino, poor wee Mrs Rafferty, and young PC Mac Vicar with his blood all over his new tunic and his throat open in the moonlight. I know that the bastard who killed those people is still running about free. I’m not going to stop until he’s locked up, and no one, absolutely no one, is going to get in my way. You’re right, this game is being played to my rules, and Skinner’s rules say that the bad guys pay the price. You can take that message as high up the tree as you like, or dare.’