Sir James Proud stepped up to the microphone that the communications team had set up. ‘I’d like to thank you all,’ he began. ‘Before we go any further I’d just like to do that. It’s a privilege to command people like you; I don’t have too many chances to tell you that, so I thought I’d take this one.’ Skinner smiled; Proud Jimmy could lay it on when he wanted. ‘I would like also to welcome,’ he turned to his left and nodded to Aileen de Marco, ‘the newly appointed Justice Minister, who expressed her wish to come along this morning to lend you her support,’ he turned to his right and nodded again, ‘and Signor Rossi, of the Vatican logistics department.’
He paused, and looked around his force. ‘In all my career,’ he continued, ‘this is, in my opinion, the most important event the city has ever seen. However, I want to get one thing out of the way at once. I recognise that Roman Catholicism is a minority faith in this country of ours. I appreciate also that there are sincerely held beliefs in Scotland that run contrary to its teachings. I’m not talking about bigotry, for I would like to think that I do not have a single bigot under my command. I’m talking about members of recognised churches, holding legitimate beliefs. I may also be talking to them. What I want to say is this, as diplomatically as I can. If there is any person in this room who feels, for whatever reason, that he or she might not be able to give one hundred per cent concentration to our task today, I’d like them to seek out their line commander after this briefing and ask to be excused duty. Similarly, if there’s anyone out there who’s not feeling up to snuff this morning, for whatever reason, I want them to do the same thing. Don’t walk out now; I don’t want anyone to feel self-conscious or stigmatised. If you’ve got a problem with this duty, do as I suggest, as quietly as you like.’
The chief’s eyes scanned the assembly once more. ‘Now that’s off my chest,’ he concluded, ‘I’m going to hand over to ACC Haggerty, the commander of uniformed operations within the Edinburgh divisions.’ He stepped back, and yielded the mike.
‘Good news, bad news,’ the pugnacious Glaswegian barked. ‘First, the weather forecast for the next two days says it’s going to be fine and sunny. Second, by the time this is over you’re all going to be bloody tired. We’ve got six events to cover, three today and two tomorrow, culminating in the rally at Murrayfield.’
The ACC ran through the detail of the timetable from the arrival of the Prime Minister at Edinburgh airport, half an hour before that of the Pope, to their departure from the same point twenty-four hours later, then handed over to Brian Mackie.
The tall, slim chief superintendent removed his ill-fitting cap, laid it on his chair and moved over to three boards on easels at the side of the platform. They showed a route map, a ground plan of the airport and a plan of Murrayfield stadium, as it would be set up for the centrepiece event.
‘I want to begin,’ he glanced across at Skinner in the corner, ‘by emphasising that this briefing is confidential and that if certain things that I am going to tell you appear in the media, I will personally hunt down the person who leaked them and subject them to cruel and unusual punishment, something far worse than duty at Tynecastle. If the phrase “nuts for breakfast” means anything to you, bear it in mind.’
The assembly laughed. A young constable in the third row raised his hand. ‘Does that apply to the minister too, sir?’ he called out.
Mackie froze him with a glare. ‘If you think I’m joking, son, ask my senior colleagues how often I do that.’ He looked round the hall. ‘Any other comedians here?’ There was dead silence. ‘That’s as well for, as the chief said, this is as responsible a task as we’ve ever faced. Okay, this is where I start to get confidential. I can tell you that there are no specific intelligence reports of a threat against the person of the Pope. However, the man who’s greeting him at the airport and accompanying him throughout the visit is one of the world’s top half-dozen terrorist targets. At this point, if he wasn’t struck dumb, our funny friend in row three might ask why he’s coming. The answer to that is that he’s the head of the government of this country and he feels that it’s his duty. He feels that if he doesn’t show here, the terrorists will have won. So whether individually we agree with that or not, as a force we have a responsibility to protect him. .’ he paused and looked around once more ‘. . with our lives if necessary, just like young Barry Macgregor.’
76
There had been no word of the ‘people’ who the soldier policeman had promised would visit. As he had undertaken to do Steele had sent a JPEG image of Aurelia Middlemass’s security image to Dubai. He had also given Mary Chambers a detailed account of his conversation with the general.
‘That all sounds a shade heavy,’ she had pronounced, putting his own view into words. ‘I’ll talk to Dan Pringle about it, and I know for sure what he’ll do. This one will be passed straight up the line, so when your contact’s friends do get in touch, you’d better be ready to bring the DCC in on the act, and have all your loose ends tied off.’
‘There are no loose ends. Don’t worry, I’ll have a full report ready for him.’
He had spent the rest of the day preparing it, waiting all the time for the phone to ring. When it had not, he had told the night staff when he left that he was to be advised of any call, whatever the hour. Of course, he had told Maggie of the development; she had been as keen as him to learn who the visitors might be.
The mystery remained unsolved. Steele sat at his desk, reviewing Arthur Dorward’s report of the search of Aurelia Middlemass’s home, under warrant from the Sheriff. The team had found clothes, male and female, in the wardrobes, bank statements, utility bills in Aurelia’s name, and fingerprints in abundance. There were no clues to where they might have gone, but there was a clear indication of how they had been living. The young inspector found it intriguing.
The house had three bedrooms, but one was completely unfurnished. The largest of the three was en suite and in its bathroom the searchers found Aurelia’s fingerprints on the taps, toilet handle and mirror, and hair in the bath and basin that matched strands found on her clothes and on the pillows of the room’s double bed. But there was no sign of Alsina: his prints, hair and other traces were found in the main bathroom and in the second bedroom. His clothing was hanging in its wardrobe and his shoes were on a stand.
As always, Dorward’s team had been thorough. They had checked the sheets on both beds for any traces of bodily fluids, but had found only a trace of menstrual blood on those taken from the main bedroom. There was no indication anywhere that Alsina and Aurelia had been living as man and wife.
He was pondering this when his phone rang. He snapped to attention and snatched it up.
‘Front desk here, sir,’ said a woman officer. ‘There’s a gentleman to see you.’
‘Is there a free interview room?’ he asked at once, imagining that the general’s envoy might not like being paraded through the CID suite.
‘Number two.’
‘Okay, Briony, show him in there and I’ll be down. Did he give a name, by the way?’
‘Yes, sir. He said his name was Whetstone, Murphy Whetstone; he’s a great big lad.’
‘Shit,’ Steele exclaimed involuntarily. ‘That’s not who I was expecting. Scrub the interview room; bring him up here instead.’
A few heads turned, as the exceptionally tall young man was led through the CID room. ‘Hello, Murphy,’ the inspector greeted him, curiosity overcoming his earlier frustration. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I guess it’s the way I was brought up.’