The dishevelled reporter gulped, fear showing in his eyes. 'I've no idea who he is,' he protested. 'No, I didn't give him Skinner's number!
No, I didn't get it from him!'
'How did you get it, then? No more bul shit, friend. You are in very dangerous waters, and way out of your depth.'
Noel Salmon slumped back in his seat. 'It was in the second message,' he whispered.
'What second message?'
'I got it last week. It was anonymous, like the other one.'
Andy Martin fixed his green eyes on the man. 'So how do you know that it didn't come from the man we've just heard on that tape?'
he asked, in an even tone.
His quarry looked down at the scratched tabletop. 'I don't,' he muttered helplessly.
'No, you don't, do you? Not if you're telling the truth, you don't.
For if we believed that you were lying to us, in any way, we'd have to look at the possibility that you were this man's accomplice.'
'Wait a minute ...'
'So prove yourself to us. Let us see the second letter.'
'I can't,' said Salmon, plaintively. 'That was what I flushed down the toilet.'
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The detective whistled. 'I see. You are in deep shit, aren't you?'
'Appropriate, in the circumstances,' said McGuire, beside him.
'Help yourself, then,' offered Martin. 'Tell us what was in the letter.'
Salmon turned his face away from them, towards the wal of the windowless interview room, his fingers twisting, intertwined, in an unconscious show of indecision.
'Come on, Noel,' said the Head ofCID.
Salmon turned back to face them, nodding slightly as if he had reached a decision. He looked up in the silence which filled the room and opened his mouth as if to speak.
There was a knock on the brown-painted door. The handle turned.
The door swung open, revealing the bulky frame ofNeil Mcl henney.
A tall, dark-haired man stood behind him.
'What the hell is it?' snapped Andy Martin, in a rare display of annoyance.
'I'm sorry, sir,' said the Sergeant, 'but I had no choice.' He nodded over his shoulder, towards the man who followed him into the room.
'This is Mr Alee Linden. He's a solicitor, retained by the Spotlight to represent Salmon. He demanded that I bring him in here.'
The Chief Superintendent sighed heavily in his exasperation, and nodded, standing up as he did so and reaching out to switch off the tape recorder. 'You're right, Neil, you didn't have a choice. Thank you. Interview suspended.'
He turned to the lawyer, as Mcllhenney withdrew. 'I don't think we've met, Mr Linden.'
The man shook his head. 'No. I'm senior partner of Herd and Phillips, in Glasgow.' Martin recognised the name of the biggest criminal law firm in Scotland. 'I was instructed by Mr Salmon's employers immediately after they heard of his arrest on a radio news bulletin. They are naturally concerned that he is being persecuted because of the story in today's issue of their magazine. So am I.
'I understand from your Sergeant,' said Linden, brusquely, 'that you are questioning my client over his possession of an unlisted telephone number.'
'That, and his possession of a quantity of cocaine.'
The solicitor frowned. 'I wasn't aware of that. You'l do me the courtesy of allowing me a few minutes alone with my client?'
'Of course. Give us a cal when you're ready.' The two detectives stepped outside, into the corridor, where Mcllhenney waited. 'What do you think, sir?' asked McGuire.
'I think he'll piss all over us,' said Martin glumly. 'Fuck me, Neil, if you'd only stopped to tie your shoelace before you knocked on that door. We had Salmon by the stones right then.'
The sergeant looked crestfal en. 'Christ, boss, but I'm sorry.'
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'Ach, never you mind, big fel a, you weren't to know.'
They stood silent in the corridor for almost ten minutes, before the door opened, and Linden's face appeared. 'Gentlemen, we're ready for you now.' Martin and McGuire re-entered the room, and resumed their seats across the table from Salmon and his new adviser.
'I'll come straight to the point,' said the solicitor. 'On the matter of the cocaine, my client maintains that it was introduced to his premises without his knowledge by his lady-friend. On the matter of the telephone number, it is not an offence simply to possess such information, and you have no evidence whatsoever that it was obtained corruptly. Also, my client denies any knowledge of, or cooperation with, the person who made the second telephone call to Mr Skinner.'
He paused. 'I have advised my client that he should answer no further questions. Obviously, it is up to you to decide how to proceed on the matter of the cocaine, but in the meantime, I insist that Mr Salmon be released.'
Andy Martin glanced at the journalist, who sat relaxed, beaming back at him, al his arrogance and cockiness restored. In his mind he weighed the options of the situation, realising that, with his solicitor by his side, Salmon would not budge from his story. He knew that he had no practical choice.
'Okay, Mr Linden,' he sighed, at last. 'You can have him. A report wil be submitted to the Procurator Fiscal. It'l be for him to decide whether your client will be charged with possession.
'In the meantime, I suggest that you advise him to be very careful of the people with whom he associates, and to be wary of any further anonymous information he might receive. Now please, take him away, so that we can have this place fumigated.'
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'Don't take it to heart, Andy. You did wel do get anything out of the wee shit. I know Alee Linden. He's an honest operator, but very sharp.
If he'd turned up earlier you'd have got sod al .'
Martin's face twisted into a grimace. 'I know that, Bob, but I was so nearly there. He knows more than he told us. Plus, he's got something else up his sleeve, I'm sure. And he was that close to spil ing it, when that bloody lawyer turned up.
'When he made the arrest, Mario offered him the chance to cal someone, but he turned it down. We reckoned he was wetting himself so badly about the cocaine, he wasn't thinking too straight.'
'So how did Linden know about it, and where to find him?' asked Skinner.
'Sheer bad luck. Salmon's boss was trying to find him. One of the people he called was John Hunter. Old John laughed, and told him where he was. The Spotlight guy called his Scottish lawyer, who happens to be Linden.'
'Damn it,' said the DCC. 'And Linden happened to be available and not on the golf course. Life's a bugger at times.
'Here, you don't think it was Big Joanne's stuff, do you?'
'Not a chance. It was Salmon's, okay, but he's right. It'l be his word against hers. The Fiscal won't proceed against him. He's off every single hook, and free to carry on persecuting you.'
Skinner reached across the wooden garden table and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. 'Fuck him, Andy. He's not worth the bother. Let's concentrate on the main event; not on my self-inflicted troubles, but on finding poor wee, stolen Mark McGrath, and the evil bastard who took him.
'You say Salmon told you that my number was included in the second anonymous letter he received?'
'Right.'
'Did you believe him? I mean, he can't produce either letter. He could be lying.'
Andy Martin shook his head, taking a bite from one of the thick ham sandwiches which Skinner and Pamela had prepared. 'I believed him,' he said, after devouring the mouthful. 'The second phone cal on your tape knocked the feet from under him. He knew that it looked 72
bad for him. Just at that moment, he'd have shopped his granny to get off the hook.'
Bob stood up from the table, sandwich in hand, and began to pace, backwards and forwards across the slabbed area of his cottage garden.
'So what have we got?' he began. 'A mystery informant slipping Salmon damaging information about me, and giving him my phone number as well, so that he can real y wind me up by cal ing me at home to
rub it in.
'A second man with my unlisted number, who calls me, specifically
- not the Press Association, or the tel y, or even our headquarters, but me - to tell me, in person, that he has Mark.' He stopped his pacing and looked back towards the table, first at Pamela, then at Martin. 'What are the chances, do you think, given the connection of the number, that our kil er is also Noel Salmon's anonymous source?'
'Pretty good, I'd have thought,' said Pamela.
'Could be,' said Martin. 'But in a sense that's irrelevant. The best lead we have is the number itself. If we can find out how our man came by it then we're close to finding him.'
Skinner chuckled. 'Unless he broke into Fettes to get it! That's been done before.' He sat down once more. 'No, but you're right.
Have a blitz on Telecom, and on our own telecommunications room.
Don't ruffle any feathers, but if there's anyone there who might be making a bit of extra cash by selling restricted numbers, find out.'
The Head of CID looked at his chief, as Pam Masters carried the empty plate back into the kitchen. 'Don't worry. It's already under way. If there's a bad apple in there, anywhere, I'l crush the last drop of juice out of him ... or her, if it comes to that.'
'I'm sure you wil , Andy, I'm sure.
'Meanwhile, there are people down in London who are listening to that tape as careful y as they can. Not to the Salmon bit, but to the kidnapper's cal , analysing every fragment of sound on it, seeing if there's anything in the background that they can locate.'
'What are the chances?'
'To be truthful, not very good. I've listened to my copy time and time again, but I can only hear the guy's voice. Mind you, our London friends are working with the original, and can amplify sound to levels that only a very sharp-eared dog could pick up. If there's anything there, they'll find it.'
He stopped and looked towards the cottage. 'You did tellAlex you were coming out here again this afternoon, didn't you?' he asked, suddenly.
Andy nodded. 'She said she had some work that needed doing.'
'On a Sunday? Christ, she's only just started with that law firm.
They can't have her working weekends already, surely?'
'No, I think it was housework.'
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Bob raised his eyebrows and stared across the table. 'Alex?
Housework?' He pointed upwards to aV-shaped formation of geese, flying westwards. 'What d'you think those are, Andy? Pigs?'
He shook his head. 'No, my daughter just didn't want to come.
Alex doesn't approve ofPam and me, does she?'
'Bob, that's between you and her.' Andy hesitated. 'But if I were you, I'd just let it lie for a while. She's said she'l support you, and she wil , but she's very fond of Sarah, and she was gutted when you two separated. She won't give you any more grief, but it'd be best if you let her come to terms with things in her own time.'
The older man stared at the sky again, back towards the geese as they wheeled round towards Aberiady Nature reserve, their nesting ground. 'Aye, you're right,' he murmured at last. 'The last thing I need is to fall out with our kid as well.'
Suddenly he glanced back across the table. 'And what about you, Andy? What about you? Do you approve of my new relationship?
After all, you've got a double interest, personal and professional.'
Abruptly, Martin stood up from the table. 'Let's go for a walk,' he said.
Skinner shook his head. 'I don't want to leave Pam. Not after Leona, and everything that's happened. Not with a madman on the loose.'
His friend smiled. 'Don't worry. You have very discreet protection.'
The DCC looked at him, surprised. 'I didn't ask for...'
'Well you bloody should have. My operational decision. End of story.'
'I'm stil not sure. There might be photographers out there.'
'Fuck 'em if there are. Let's go for a walk.'
'Yeah. Al right then.' With a last show of reluctance, Skinner rose also and took a few paces across to the open back door of the cottage.
'Pam,' he called, 'Andy and I are off for a strol . Back in half an hour or so. Remember. Keep the door shut, and let the machine answer the phone.'
There were no photographers in sight outside the cottage. As he closed the gate behind him and stepped between Andy's silver Mondeo and his own BMW, Bob glanced across the Goose Green.
At its lower end, near the back entrance to the Golf Inn hotel, a single car was parked; a nondescript, grey Escort, with a figure in the front passenger seat seemingly reading a newspaper.
'I've got another officer positioned round in the paddock,' said Martin quietly, catching the look. 'Between them they cover al approaches to the cottage.'
'Yes, that's enough. What are their orders if they see someone approaching the house?'
'They're to radio in and alert you, rather than tackling the suspect 74
and risking him getting away. Unless Pam's there alone, of course.
Then they'd go in.'
'What, you mean your game is to let him come at me?' asked Skinner, a grim edge to his voice.
'Yes,' said his colleague, with a quick grin, 'to give us the best chance of catching him. Not that I think it wil happen, but if it does, try to leave the guy in one piece. Please.'
They strol ed out of the green taking a narrow pathway beside the Episcopalian church, which led them through the golf club car park to the slopes of Gullane Hill. They trudged in silence up the steep road towards its summit, until at last they stood on a grassy knol which overlooked the club's three courses, and all of the wide Forth estuary.
The two friends sat side by side on a memorial chair, gazing out to sea.
'Well, Andy,' said Bob at last, breathing only slightly heavily from the climb, 'what about it? What do you think of my indiscretion?
Give it to me straight.'
Martin hunched his broad shoulders, within his roomy sports jacket. 'If you insist. But first, tell me again how it came about. I don't mean the situation between you and Sarah: I know that arose out of your extreme views on questions of trust. I mean the thing between you and Pam.'
Bob leaned against the back of the bench seat. 'Like I said,' he began, 'it just happened. I was lonely, so was Pamela. We were thrown together by the job, and we were attracted to each other. Pam's divorced, I'm separated. When I realised how it was heading I transferred her out of my office . ..' he paused for a second,'. . . and into my bed.'
'How do you feel about each other?'
'Fond covers it, I think. Somehow, Pam seems to feel ... safe.
She doesn't ask or threaten. D'you understand what I mean?'
'I think so. A once-bitten, twice-shy career woman. I can see why you'd feel safe with her.'
'Mmm,' Bob grunted. 'So come on, out with it.'
Andy drew in a deep breath of the fresh afternoon air, looking out at the grey sea, beneath the blue sky. 'Remember when I was younger
- not that long ago. I was a serial shagger, and no mistake. You used to tell me I had had more women than cooked breakfasts, and you were right.
'I always had to have a girlfriend because that was part of me, but as soon as I started to feel safe with them, I ran a mile in the opposite direction. Safety, in my view, is no basis for a relationship. Mere contentment shouldn't be enough.'
He glanced round, towards Skinner. 'Bob, you were never like I 75
used to be, nor wil you ever be. You couldn't philander to save your life. When you met Sarah, I was pleased for you. After more than fifteen years of widowhood you'd final y found a woman who was made for you. And I was as jealous as hel . Al of a sudden my own life seemed hollow, and I wanted so much to be like you.
'As you'll remember, that led me into one disastrous situation, before I realised that the only woman for me was right before my eyes. I just hadn't noticed that she'd grown up.'
He laughed, but sadly, without humour. 'So look at us now, you and me. My dream's come true. I've
become like you were. I'm in love, settled and happy for the rest of my life. You? You're stumbling about like a lost soul.
'You talk about feeling safe, my old friend. Well, I think that's cobblers. I think you're on the fucking rebound, that's what. And I should know. It used to happen to me al the time. I rebounded from one to the next so often that I felt like a human pinball machine.
'You ask me what I think? Well here it is. I've nothing against Pam. She seems like a nice woman, and a couple of years back I'd probably have fancied her myself. But I love Sarah, and I think it's fucking tragic that you and she, between you, are in the process of tearing apart one of the best marriages I've ever seen.
'I don't often presume to speak forAlex, Bob, but I'l tell you that if you asked her, she would tell you that she feels exactly the same way.'
Skinner sat motionless on the bench, staring out across the wide Firth, over to the Fife coast, towards the string of one-time fishing vil ages, transformed by fashion and affluence into holiday resorts.
He sat there for minutes before responding, still without looking round.
'You're my best pal, Andy. Truth be told, one of the very few real friends I've ever had. I value your opinion, and I'm sorry that Sarah and I have caused you distress. You're right about our marriage; it seemed perfect. But remember that it's possible to shatter even a diamond into smithereens.
'However, as for Pam and me, we're sort of tied together now, by the Spotlight thing, and by this kil er's possible focus on me. I do care for her too, make no mistake.
'I couldn't just abandon her, even if I wanted to. I accept what you say, about my being on the rebound. Sure, I know that I let my cock do my thinking for me. I suppose I just needed to be told, and only you could do that. But it's happened, and things may have gone beyond redemption now, between me and Sarah.'
He looked around, at last. 'Right, that was your personal view.
How do you see it professionally?'
Martin frowned. 'You sure you want to hear?'
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s
'Aye, Chief Superintendent. I can take it. Fire away.'
Quintin Jardine - Skinner Skinner 07 Page 9
