Their friend, Amit, had become more and more nervous since the woman's disappearance, thinking no doubt that she had suffered a similar fate to that of Sahid Jaffrey. No amount of reassurances from Dhesi or indeed from the Hundi himself, had helped but perhaps the company of Dhesi's niece, newly arrived from Lahore, might help to distract the wealthy businessman. Amit was one of their own now, Dhesi had insisted, and it was important that he make a good marriage, settle down and become part of their growing community Nalini was just the tonic for a lonely man adrift in a strange land.
The Hundi grinned. He remembered the girl's luxuriant hair caught up in a net of tiny sparkling jewels, her lovely doe eyes lowered demurely as Dhesi had made the introductions. There were no parents left to arrange a marriage to a suitable man, just Uncle Dhesi with his generous dowry and his good friend, the Hundi, who would see that Nalini's future was secured. It would be a good marriage and serve to bind Amit even closer to his new friends.
But first Marianne had to be found. He looked at his watch again, shaking his wrist impatiently as though somehow it was the fault of the Rolex that Mr Smith had failed to keep his telephone appointment. The furrow on the man's brow deepened. Smith was a professional, anyone could see that. So why was he so late in calling in the latest news about his assignment: an assignment that would sever the tie between Amit and Marianne for good.
Rashid was tired beyond anything he had ever felt before. The emotions that had surfaced during the journey and the unexpected trip downtown to these police headquarters had taken their toll and now all the boy wanted was to go home, see his mum and fall into bed, hopefully to a dreamless sleep. Informing that tall policeman with the kind voice all about Brogan hadn't been what Rashid intended at all. But those hypnotic blue eyes seemed to be telling him that the policeman already knew much more than he was letting on so it had all come tumbling out. He cursed himself softly as the tears began to flow. Maybe playing at informant was something that ran in this family. What was the point of hiding it any more, anyway? Dad was dead and, when he'd spoken to her on the phone, his mum had sounded so different from the bustling little woman she'd been when he'd left home just a few months ago.
What could anyone do to him to make life worse?
Lorimer's blue eyes seemed kindled with a pale fire as he read over Rashid's statement. Now they were getting somewhere!
The DCI looked up, hearing a small knock on his door.
Tathy. Still here? Come in,' Lorimer beckoned the detective constable to a seat opposite his desk.
'Anything I can do for you or would you like to see this?'
Lorimer grinned making his face suddenly younger and less careworn.
'It's young Jaffrey's account of Billy Brogan's recent activities,' he continued.
'Right!' Fathy leaned towards his boss, his own face lighting up, infected by the mood of renewed optimism. 'I was going to… but it doesn't matter. May I..
Lorimer handed over the sheets of paper and folded his arms, watching to see the younger officer's reaction.
Fathy looked up, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. 'Brogan was dealing with big, big money,' he said at last. And young Jaffrey reckons he's scarpered off to the continent owing… how much?' he looked at the paper again as though unable to believe his eyes. 'That's not possible, surely?'
Lorimer nodded. 'We think Brogan's been acting for certain members of the Asian community as a conduit for the proceeds of some VAT fraud. And yes, these figures are probably correct.
We're talking huge sums, here.' He leaned forward again, steepling his fingers against his chin. 'Brogan buys and sells drugs in quantity. We've suspected for a long time that much of the heroin coming into the city was down to a middleman like him but till now Brogan was thought of as fairly small beer, a dealer in hashish, mainly.'
'Rashid Jaffrey says he was responsible for all of the drugs coming into Pollokshields. How would he know that?' Fathy asked.
'He's probably exaggerating. I can't see one man having such a grip on the supply. But go on, read what Jaffrey tells us about why Brogan left in such a hurry.'
Fathy bent his head obediently and skimmed the rest of the young man's statement. He handed it back to Lorimer in silence.
'Galbraith and Sandiman were owed money, as well as members of the Asian community that young Jaffrey has refused to name,' Lorimer said. 'According to the boy, Brogan siphoned off all of the profits of his trade into some scheme that went wrong.
You can see how he was either genuinely hazy on the details or he's keeping something back. I'm inclined to think he really doesn't know what happened to Brogan's money.'
'So Brogan skips to avoid paying his debts.. `.. and just happens to have the bad luck to run into young Rashid when he's over in Mallorca.'
'But where does that leave us with Galbraith and Sandiman?'
Lorimer nodded and gave a sigh. 'Aye, that's one thing we know now Given the timing it's pretty certain that Brogan couldn't have killed them. And it probably means he didn't pull the trigger that killed Scott.'
'So, what…?' Fathy spread his hands in a questioning gesture.
'What it means,' Lorimer said slowly, 'is that we're looking for a professional hit man. Assuming Brogan was the killer, given his experience from his ex-army days, may have thrown us off on completely the wrong direction.'
'So, hunting for Marianne Brogan was all a waste of time?'
Disappointment sounded in the young man's voice.
'No, I don't think that at all,' Lorimer countered. 'She may well hold the key to her ex-husband's death. And to her brother's present whereabouts. Electing to vanish as effectively as she has shows that she has plenty to hide,' he nodded. 'And so continuing to locate her is still one of our top priorities.'
Fathy listened, noting his boss's words. It was almost as though Lorimer were rehearsing what to say to his own superior, choosing his words for maximum effect.
'Anyway,' Lorimer said suddenly, 'what did you want to see me about?'
Fathy smiled a tired smile and shrugged. 'Nothing that can't wait, sir. Thanks.'
The Hundi tipped back his head and swallowed the last of the whisky then set down the heavy crystal glass. He was sitting on the pale beige leather settee that was squashed to one side under the man's bulk, a deep frown creasing his forehead.
There had been no phone call. And now the Asian was beginning to wonder whose side this man called Smith was really on.
CHAPTER 34
"I'm worried,' Solly said, turning away from the window, the brightness from the setting sun's last rays making him blink owlishly behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.
'It's that girl, Marianne, isn't it?' asked Rosie, shifting her position on the easy chair. Despite the cushions wedged at her back the discomfort from the Braxton Hicks had continued all afternoon.
Her mouth twisted in a small grimace; nobody told you about the minutiae of pregnancy, did they? Until you read up on the baby manuals, it was all a bit of a mystery, even for a qualified medic like herself.
Solly stood with his back to the window, his face now in shadow. Sometimes, Rosie thought, he was too concerned about the frailties of human suffering for his own good. She smiled at him, a sudden tenderness welling up inside her. He was so generous and kind to her, caring for her every need. And he'd be a splendid father – anyone could see that. She reached out a hand and Solly came over to where she sat, cuddling in at her side, his fingers lacing in her own.