‘Oh...’ Steel shrugged. ‘Ah well, I’m prepared to risk it.’
Logan frowned. ‘Hold on: you said it took years getting in with “them”. I thought you told us you joined that agency to get dirt on Fred Marshall? He worked for the same...’ Oh, bloody hell. Logan screwed his eyes closed. Idiot. ‘It’s Whytedug Facilitation whatnots, isn’t it? They’re the ones who organise the Livestock Mart!’
There was a low whistle. ‘Got to hand it to you, Danners: you said he was slow on the uptake.’
Logan stared at Danielle. ‘Why didn’t you report it?’
‘Because you lot wouldn’t have done anything without evidence. And now, thanks to us, you’ve got some.’
‘And you’ll testify to all this in court?’
‘To put a whole bunch of paedos away?’ She took a sip from her gin and tonic. Smiled. ‘You try stopping me.’
‘Good.’ Logan stuck his hand out. ‘Now give me back my phone.’
‘All I’m saying is it’d no’ kill us to stop off for twenty minutes and get some lunch.’
A burger van, parked by the side of the road, went by on the right.
‘I’m no’ talking about a three-course sit-down with wine and petit sodding fours. A baked tattie, a double bacon cheeseburger. Hell, even a Styrofoam thing of lukewarm stovies would be better than nothing!’
Logan checked his phone again. The battery was still showing a red line. ‘Are you sure this charger works?’
‘And before you say anything: no, two vegetarian sausages in a gluten-free bap doesn’t count.’ She shuddered. ‘Who in their right mind barbecues vegetarian sausages? No wonder she got kicked off the force.’
He pulled the plug from the pool car’s cigarette lighter and jammed it in again.
Maybe all that rain had buggered the wiring? Tufty could fix that, couldn’t he? Or rip the data off the memory card and onto a laptop? Something.
Steel pulled into the Whytedug car park. ‘You’re a slave driver, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Oh stop wheengeing.’
‘You’re no’ even meant to be on duty.’
‘Look, I’ll... buy you a fish supper afterwards, OK? Now can we go do this?’
She climbed out and waited for him. ‘A proper fish supper.’ Following him as he limped across the tarmac. ‘And I want onion rings too, as compensation for my emotional distress.’
A police Transit growled into the car park, stopping right outside the front doors.
Logan paused on the way past and knocked on the passenger window.
It buzzed down and he leaned on the sill. ‘Are we all set?’
Sergeant Mitchell grinned and offered him a printout. ‘You want us to go first and Big-Red-Door-Key it?’
‘No, let’s go for the Pop-Up Surprise. I want to be there when it happens.’
‘You’re the boss, Boss.’
Logan slipped the warrant into his pocket then hobbled through the doors and up the stairs into the reception area.
Jerry Whyte’s assistant stepped out from behind his desk with a broad smile, shark’s-fin haircut perfectly lacquered. ‘Inspector McRae, how lovely to see you! I read all about your adventures in the paper last week.’ He put a hand against his Breton-topped chest. ‘What an ordeal! I’m so glad...’
Logan limped straight past him to the doors.
‘No, hold on, I have to buzz you in or—’
‘“Or” what?’ Steel poked a finger in his chest, blocking his way. ‘That a threat, sunshine?’
Logan shoved the doors open and lumbered inside.
Jerry Whyte was on her leather couch, phone to her ear, bare feet up on the coffee table. Haggis the terrier draped across her lap — snoring as she stroked his yellowy fur. ‘No, you tell the ambassador it’s nothing but a tiny setback. My people...’ She looked up. Pulled on an annoyed smile. ‘Sorry, Claus, I have to go... No, something’s come up. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.’ A throaty laugh. ‘Yes... OK, bye.’
She put the phone down as Mr Sharksfin finally managed to work his way past Steel.
‘I’m sorry, Jerry, they barged in!’
A shrug. ‘It’s OK, Harvey. Why don’t you get us some coffee? Flat whites all round? Great.’
He slipped from the room, leaving the three of them alone.
Haggis woke up, stretched. Gazed around the room with rheum-crusted eyes.
She ruffled the fur between his ears. ‘Now, Inspector, what can I do for you this lovely October morning?’
‘We’re here to—’
‘Before we begin,’ she lowered Haggis to the carpet and stood, ‘first I want to say a huge thank you for bringing Ellie Morton home safe and sound. And not just her, but all those other children too!’ Whyte launched into a one-woman round of applause. ‘Absolutely astonishing. I saw it on the news. Stirring stuff. Well done!’
Haggis shuffled his way over and had a good sniff at Logan’s trousers.
She held up a hand. ‘And I know: I promised you guys a case of Glenlivet. Don’t worry, I’m a woman of my word. And we’ve got to think about the reward money. Yes, it was meant to be for “information leading to”, but I think it’s only fair to let you guys nominate a charity for that. OK? OK. Great.’ She raised her voice at the open office door. ‘Harvey? Get my chequebook!’
Whyte settled into the couch again, arms draped along the back. Winked at Logan. ‘Don’t mention it. Happy to help.’
Steel looked at him, raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on then.’
‘Actually, Miss Whyte, we’ve got a present for you.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out Sergeant Mitchell’s sheet of paper. ‘Jerry Whyte, I have a warrant here to search these premises and seize all electronic items for forensic analysis.’ He made a rising gesture. ‘Up we get.’
She stood, frowning. ‘But this is some sort of mistake, right?’
‘Jerry Whyte: I am arresting you under Section One of the Criminal Justice, Scotland, Act 2016 for organising events where children are bought and sold for the purposes of sexual exploitation.’
Her face hardened. ‘Harvey? HARVEY, GET MY LAWYER HERE! GET HIM HERE NOW!’
Deep breath: ‘The reason for your arrest is that I suspect you have committed an offence and I believe that keeping you in custody is necessary and proportionate for the purposes of bringing you before a court or otherwise dealing with you in accordance with the law. Do you understand?’
‘HARVEY!’
‘You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say will be noted and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?’
Haggis stopped sniffing Logan’s trousers and started barking at him instead.
Steel stuck two fingers in her mouth and belted out a deafening whistle. ‘In your own time, boys!’
The ‘boys’ — Sergeant Mitchell and his team — trooped into the room, each one the size of a Rwandan silverback, dressed in combat trousers and big bovver boots.
Haggis squared up to them, barking and growling.
‘I do require you to give me your name, date of birth, place of birth, nationality, and address.’ Logan pulled out his handcuffs. ‘You have the right to have a solicitor informed of your arrest and to have access to a solicitor.’
‘This is not happening.’ Jerry Whyte backed up, till she was stopped by her desk.
‘These rights will be explained to you further on arrival at a police station.’
‘HARVEY!’
Logan shifted in his chair. Didn’t matter how much he wriggled, nothing made it ache any less. He wiped his greasy fingers on another napkin. No point getting it all over DI Bell’s laptop.