'Sit down,' he told her. 'I have something to tell you.'
Omar scrolled down until he came to the page he wanted. He read the information then sat back, frowning. Had he read that correctly? Leaning closer to the computer screen once more, he read the lines that told him of certain familial relationships. A few minutes passed while he typed in other names and dates, then his mouth fell open as he realised just what he had uncovered.
He wanted to call her, say 'Hey, Irvine, see what I've just found' but something stopped him. It was vital that this went straight to Lorimer and to no other officer first. Omar Adel Fathy was not going to be upstaged if he could help it. He recalled several times in his last post when other officers had claimed the glory for work that he had done. Well it wasn't going to happen here.
He printed off the necessary sheets and slipped out of his seat, heading along the corridor to the DCI's room.
'Come in,' Lorimer called out, his eyes not on the door but on the document in his hands. This ballistics report was making interesting reading.
'Sir.'
Lorimer looked up. It was the handsome Egyptian who was making such a stir in the department. The DCI had eventually started to notice that all the single women (and several of the married ones) were paying the young man a lot of attention. list like thae Arabian nights,' wee Sadie from the canteen had snorted, her gravelly voice testament to a lifelong nicotine habit.
'This place is becoming a right har-eem,' she had added for Lorimer's benefit. Nivver seen sae mony o' your plain clothes lot in skirts! Mind you he's a nice looking laddie and his manners wid pit maist o' this lot taste shame,' she'd growled, head nodding towards a group of male officers gathered at a nearby table.
Lorimer had chuckled at Sadie's words. The canteen lady could always be depended upon to tell things just as they were, neither glossing over nor embellishing the facts.
He gave the young officer a curious look. There was something he recognised in the man's expression; an eagerness that reminded him of his younger self.
'Okay, what have you found?' he asked, swinging his chair back, one hand indicating the chair at the other side of his desk.
'It's about William Brogan, sir,' Fathy told him. 'I think you ought to see this,' he continued, handing the sheets of printed paper across to the SIO.
They were all assembled once more in the incident room but this time there was a definite sense of anticipation.
Irvine looked across quizzically at Fathy. He was deliberately avoiding her eye and there was an air of suppressed excitement about him. Oho, what have you been up to, pal, she thought.
'Right,' Lorimer began. 'We've had a bit of a breakthrough, thanks to Detective Constable Fathy,' he nodded in the young man's direction, causing a stir of murmuring from the others.
Omar felt prickles of sweat on his forehead from the warmth of the room. He was the new boy being singled out for praise; whoever had put that notice in his locker wouldn't like that one little bit. Was someone watching him at this very moment, hostile eyes boring into the back of his head? Omar itched to turn around but forced himself to concentrate on the SIO at the front of the room.
'Is this about Brogan?' DS Wilson wanted to know 'Funny you should ask that. I was just going to tell you all a little story about Mr William Brogan,' Lorimer smiled. 'DC Fathy has discovered that our Billy's sister is a lady we already want to question in connection with an ongoing case.' He paused to make the moment a little more dramatic, sweeping his gaze over the assembled officers.
'Marianne Brogan was Kenneth Scott's ex-wife,' he told them, nodding at the exclamations from all corners of the room. 'And I now have some rather interesting stuff here from forensics,' he said, waving a sheaf of papers in the air.
'Ballistics reports confirm that the weapon used to kill Kenneth Scott was the same one that shot Galbraith and Sandiman.' He let both pieces of news sink in, then raised a hand to quieten everyone down.
'The bullet that Doctor Fergusson retrieved from Scott's head showed a wipe mark at its nose cone, so we can be pretty sure that means a silencer was used. Same bullet type but no wipe marks on the ones that killed Sandiman and Galbraith.' Lorimer watched their faces. 'I'll distribute copies of the ballistics report for you all,' he continued. 'Just want to draw your attention to the part that refers to marks caused by the extractor claw and ejector post. Seems to indicate a good match.' He nodded at the papers.
'I want each officer to spend what time they can afford catching up with the finer details. But not right now.' He fixed his blue gaze on the men and women assembled around him.
'Now more than ever it is imperative that we locate Brogan and his sister,' he said. 'I want every one of Brogan's known haunts investigated.'
Omar opened the locker carefully, feeling the hinges grind against the metal hasps. But when he looked inside there was nothing to see, just his kit and a plastic lunch box. No racist notes, no reminders of his ethnic origin or anything that might make him reconsider his decision to become a police officer.
'Okay, Fathy?' The tall, lanky figure of DS Cameron loomed behind him and Omar felt a friendly touch on his shoulder.
'Good work that, finding out the sister was Scott's ex. We could've been running round in circles for ages without that particular snippet of information,' he smiled.
Omar Fathy ducked his head as if in embarrassment. The detective sergeant's lilting voice sounded so genuine, so why was every sinew in his body stiffening in suspicion? The man from Lewis was a nice guy. They had Asians up there who spoke the Gaelic like natives. So why would Cameron target the young Egyptian? 'You all right?'
Omar looked round to see an expression of real concern in the man's eyes.
'Yes, thanks. Just worried someone might think I'm overstepping the mark, you know?'
Cameron gave him another tap on his shoulder. 'Nobody will.
Lorimer takes notice of everyone's contribution. There's no pecking order with him,' he grinned. 'He might be a DCI but he's not forgotten what it's like for the foot soldiers. Besides,' his grin widened, 'he's not averse to getting his hands dirty, if you know what I mean.'
Omar frowned. `Och, I often think he'd rather be out and about with us than stuck in his office with all that admin,' he continued, shrugging.
'But sometimes he just does that anyway. Drives the Super nuts of course.' Cameron laughed. 'You should see Lorimer questioning a suspect. There's no one can hold a candle to him in the interview room, I promise you.' And, winking at the detective constable, Cameron moved on towards the door.
Omar stood perfectly still. If what Cameron said was true, then more than ever he believed that Lorimer was the man who would listen to his story and take it seriously.
CHAPTER 15
Lorimer listened to the liquid notes of the thrush. How any bird could sing its heart out like that in the middle of this city, was something akin to a miracle. It was a sound he associated with the countryside, reminding him of deep, green swards of grass under shady stands of trees. But why this fellow had chosen to compete with the constant din of Glasgow's traffic was anyone's guess. He had heard the bird several times now, from its perch on top of a lamp post just outside his window. For a moment the detective forgot all about the bodies lying in Glasgow City mortuary and the ever-growing files upon his desk. It was the thrush's total innocence that moved him, its unconcern for anything except filling the whole of its small body with that song.