‘We were both there,’ said Bob quietly. ‘I was holding him when he died; I had his blood all over me. Brian took down the man who did it; picked him right off the back of a motorbike. Best damn shot I’ve ever seen. He wasn’t emotional then.’
‘That quiet man in a uniform? He did that?’
‘Absolutely: didn’t bat an eyelid. Brian’s the finest shot on this force, with any weapon.’ He looked at her across the low coffee-table in his office. ‘That stuff we talked about last night, about killing and everything; no fantasy, it really does happen. The boys and girls that people like your man Godfrey Rennie regard as statistics, they really do put their lives on the line.’
‘I suppose I knew that,’ Aileen admitted. ‘But being there this morning, listening to Mr Mackie explain that although the Pope had asked for no show of weapons, there would be snipers hidden all over the place, and men with wee gold badges in their lapels to signify that they were armed. .’ She shivered. ‘It brings it right on to my doorstep, the whole global-terrorism thing. As a deputy minister, I wasn’t involved with heavy stuff like that.’
He reached across the corner of his table and squeezed her hand. ‘Get used to it, love,’ he told her, ‘because it’s the reality of my job and, from now on, of yours too.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I have this vision of you, one day, as First Minister of an independent Scotland, as a national head of government. You should start to prepare yourself for that, right now.’
She let out a quiet laugh. ‘God, you’re not a Nat as well, are you?’
‘Nah. I just think it’s inevitable, like night follows day; it has been since they passed the Scotland Act.’
‘That’s not what the people who wrote it intended.’
‘Since when could politicians see beyond the next election?’ he asked her.
‘Is that what you’re trying to do? Make me take the long view?’
‘Exactly. And it’s why I won’t do anything to compromise you. I haven’t known you long, but already I believe in you as much as I believe in myself. You’ve got a destiny, same as I have, only I can see yours more clearly. I won’t let anything or anyone get in the way of it. . especially not me. That’s why the. . encounter. . we had last night has to remain just that.’
Aileen gave the smallest of nods. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m ambitious enough to realise that too. Plus, I wouldn’t want to hurt you.’
‘Or my wife?’ Words once spoken can never be recalled. ‘Sorry, that was a crass thing to come out with.’
‘No, it was honest. Bob, I know enough about married men to tell when they’re only after a leg over on the side. . they’ve got no chance with me, by the way, no chance at all. . and when things are bad at home and they need somewhere to go, even if it’s only to talk. You didn’t have to tell me your marriage was rocky; I’d worked that out for myself. I promise you this, though; I won’t make anything worse.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ he told her. ‘You’re not the Fatal Attraction type. But you’re right. Sarah and I have been in trouble for a few months now, and nothing we try seems to make it any better.’
‘Are you going to keep trying, though?’
‘Right now, I really don’t know. If we don’t, can I tell you?’
Aileen smiled. ‘You’d better.’ She eased herself to her feet. ‘My car should be downstairs by now. I have to get to the office. Will you be around tomorrow at Murrayfield?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m not a player in the operation, although I helped put it together. If I turn up, Willie and Brian might think I don’t trust them. If I’m there, I won’t be high profile, that’s for sure. It’ll be a private visit.’
‘Part of your search for God? Now I’ve told you He’s not up my skirt after all?’
He stood, quickly and supply. ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’ He chuckled, as he walked her to the door. ‘Should we shake hands?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she whispered. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him. He was still gazing at the dark door well after it had closed on her, still aware of her perfume lingering behind her, the ghost of her presence in the room. He gave himself a shake back to reality and returned to his desk, ready to start his morning’s work in earnest.
He buzzed McGurk. ‘Jack, the minister’s gone. Give me a couple of minutes then come along please, and bring the mail with you.’ He switched on his computer, let it boot up, and checked his e-mail. There was nothing in his official mailbox. . there rarely was, since his executive assistant routinely printed out all the incoming messages, other than those from certain listed contacts. . but when he signed on to his personal address, he found one from ‘dmacphail’ asking if he would make that evening’s gathering of his five-a-side football group, the Thursday Legends. . ‘Not a chance tonight, mate,’ he muttered. . two with headlines guaranteeing to increase his penis size, another offering him Viagra online. . ‘So I can cope with the new cock, I suppose,’ he chuckled. . and a fifth, from ‘dr_sarah’. He moved the cursor to open it then changed his mind and deleted all five.
There was a rap on the door; it swung open and McGurk came in with a bundle of documents. ‘Thanks,’ said the DCC. ‘Do you want to talk me through any of that stuff?’
‘Just two items, sir.’ He laid a brown envelope on the desk. ‘That’s from Signor Rossi.’ He placed a bulky package beside it. ‘And that’s from the head of CID; all the paperwork on the Belgian investigation.’ He dropped the rest into the DCC’s in-tray. ‘That’s just the usual stuff, I’d say.’
‘So much for the paperless office,’ Skinner grumbled. He reached out and tapped the pile of material that Pringle had set him. ‘When I get round to this,’ he said, ‘I might ask you to come and help me. I’ll be trying to find something that’s out of shape, something that doesn’t square with the facts as we know them. If you’re helping me, we’ll be twice as likely to spot it; four eyes are always better than two, especially when you don’t know what the hell you’re looking for.’
‘I’ll be there, boss,’ said McGurk. ‘Is that all for now?’
‘Yes, Jack, thanks; and thanks in general too. You’ve settled in very well, in spite of me sometimes. I feel that my back’s being well watched, and that’s what I value most of all in an exec.’ He slapped the fat folder again. ‘I’ll give you a shout when I need you.’
Alone, Skinner picked up the big brown envelope, slid out its contents and examined them. It was a three-page fax with a cover sheet, which showed that it had been sent to Giovanni Rossi from an Italian number. As he had been promised, it was a detailed biography of Gilbert White, Bishop of Rome, latest in a line of succession that stretched back to St Peter. As he read it, Skinner could see in his mind’s eye the last occasion on which he had met him, just over three years earlier at a reception hosted by the former first minister in Bute House, his official residence. In his red robes and cardinal’s hat, he had seemed to fill the room. If his election to the papacy had surprised the rest of the world, it had been seen in Scotland as no more than his due.
The DCC began to read. He found that the paper was written almost in reverse order; the first part dealt with the Pope’s life since his elevation, his pronouncements, his views on major issues facing the Church and the world, and the two formal visits he had made, the first to his old college in Spain, relocated since his time to Salamanca, and the second a dramatic mission to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, in a successful bid to snuff out the last traces of the long-running civil war. It was only when he reached the last page that he found the information he had been after. The young Gilbert White had been educated at St Patrick’s High, Coatbridge, and had studied for the priesthood at the Royal Scots College in Valladolid, Spain, established in the days when Catholicism had been an outlawed religion in Scotland. He had been ordained in Glasgow at the age of twenty-six. In the first year of his priesthood, he had chosen to broaden his education and experience and, through the influence of one of his former tutors, had been granted a two-year attachment as a curate to the great cathedral in Brussels. When that was complete he had returned to Scotland and, apart from a period on the staff of the Pontifical Scots College in Rome, had spent his entire pastoral career there.