Pray for the Dying

by Quintin Jardine

  Skinner chuckled. ‘In which case, Dan, I’ll value you for as long as I’m here. So, how much of the trail have you two sniffed out?’

  ‘Thanks to you, Chief,’ Mann replied, as soon as she had finished the last sandwich, the one that he had rejected, ‘we now know that the man who rented the Peugeot was the planner of the operation, Beram Cohen, the guy you’ve got in the mortuary through in Edinburgh.

  ‘We’ve established through HMRC that under the name Byron Millbank he’s lived and worked in London for the last six years, for a mail order company called Rondar. It operates one of those teleshopping channels on satellite telly. Three years ago he married a woman called Golda Radnor, the boss’s daughter, we’re guessing, going by the fact that her name’s the company’s reversed, and eighteen months later they had a wee boy, named Leon Jesse. According to the General Register Office, Byron was born in Eastbourne thirty-two years ago, father unknown, mother named Caroline Anne Millbank, died on the last day of the last century.’

  ‘Pity,’ Provan muttered. ‘She missed the fireworks.’

  ‘I doubt if she was ever alive to see them,’ Skinner countered.

  ‘Do you think those records are faked, sir?’ Mann asked.

  He nodded. ‘And clumsily, by somebody with a knowledge of poetic history. I studied it as an option in my degree. Look at the names: Byron Millbank, out of Caroline Anne. Lord Byron the poet, and two of his most famous women, Lady Caroline Lamb and her cousin Annabella, the one he wound up marrying.’

  ‘Where does Millbank come from?’

  ‘That was Annabella’s family name, only it was spelled differently, as I recall.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t know where all that came from. I must be turning into Andy Martin; he’s got a photographic memory for everything. However,’ he continued, ‘there’s a second context, and one that’s more likely to be connected. It used to be a secret, but now one of the most famous buildings in London is Thames House, on Millbank: it’s the MI5 headquarters. Whoever set up Cohen’s identity practically signed their name.’

  ‘Aye, sir, but,’ Provan interposed, ‘how do you know that Cohen’s no’ the alias?’

  ‘I know because I’d never heard of him until Five told me who he was, and told me about his career in the Israeli military and then its secret service. I guess,’ he continued, ‘that Mr Millbank had a driving licence.’

  Mann nodded.

  ‘And a passport?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Neither of them more than six years old?’

  The DI opened the folder she had brought with her, searched through her notes, then looked up. ‘That’s right. Both issued a couple of months before he shows up on the payroll of Rondar, and on the same day.’

  ‘To make absolutely sure,’ Skinner instructed, ‘I want you to go to the DSS and see if his records go any further back with them. My dollar says they don’t. Before then Cohen was in Mossad, until he was caught up in an illegal operation and got thrown out.’

  ‘But what does it mean, sir?’ Dan Provan asked.

  ‘Probably nothing at all, as far as our investigation’s concerned. My reading is that British intelligence did the Israelis a favour by looking after one of theirs. They gave him a legitimate front and if he continued to take on black ops under his old identity, that was all right with them. They told me about one where he had used Smit and Botha; that was American-sponsored, in Somalia. I suppose he was what the spooks call an asset, but now it looks as if he wasn’t fussy who he worked for.’

  The sergeant blew out his cheeks. ‘This is a’ new stuff for us, gaffer. How do we go about investigatin’ MI5, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘You don’t,’ the chief told him. ‘Yes, Byron Millbank, he’ll need to be followed up, but I’ll take care of that. I want you two and your team to focus on Bazza Brown. Am I right in believing that the media haven’t made any connection between his murder and the Field assassination?’

  ‘So far they haven’t. As far as they know, Ronnie Edgar from Townhead’s the SIO on that case, and they’ve only just found out it’s Bazza that’s dead. They’ve been told we’re still tryin’ to identify the victim.’

  ‘Good. From what I’ve heard of Brown’s history, now that we have released his name, the first thing the press will do will speculate that it’s gang wars. That’ll be fine by me. Let them chase that hare as long as they can. Meantime, you need to look at his family and his associates. Do you know them?’

  ‘I know the main one; that would be Cecil, his brother,’ Lottie Mann replied. ‘Younger by two years, but they were as inseparable as twins.’

  ‘Cecil?’ Skinner repeated. ‘Basil and Cecil? Not exactly Weegie names.’

  Provan’s eyes twinkled. ‘Remember that old Johnny Cash song, about a boy called Sue? Their old man, Hammy, he had the same idea. He gave them soppy names, and the pair of them grew up as the hardest kids in Govan. The muscle was equally divided, but Bazza got a’ the brains. Ah’ve lifted Cec in my time. He’s no’ likely tae help us.’

  ‘Lift him again; tell him it’s on suspicion of conspiracy to murder Toni Field. If the brothers were that close, we have to go on the assumption that whatever the connection was to Smit and Botha, Cecil was part of it. See how he reacts under questioning. Whether he was involved or not, he’ll be thinking revenge. If you tell him there’s nobody left for him to kill, he might just cooperate.’

  ‘He might, sir. Just don’t build your hopes up, that’s all Ah’m sayin’.’

  ‘Understood. Now, what else do you have to tell me?’

  ‘The satnav in the rental car, sir,’ the DI said. ‘We’ve looked at it and it was used. Since they’ve had it, they’ve been to several locations. One was in Edinburgh, and another in Livingston.’

  ‘The first would be when they first met up with Freddy Welsh, their armourer, when Cohen upped and died on them. The second was when they collected the weapons from Welsh’s store. We know that already. Anything we don’t know?’

  She nodded. ‘We’ve found out where they were living. Their journeys were to and from a hotel out on the south side; it’s called the Forest Grove. It’s a quiet place, family run, with about a dozen bedrooms. They were booked in for a week, Sunday to Saturday, full board, signed in as Millbank, Lightbody and Mallett. Millbank said they were there for a jewellery convention, and that the other two worked for the South African branch of his firm. The owner knew him; he’d stayed there before, a couple of times.’

  ‘Do we have dates?’

  ‘Yes, boss. And yes, we’ve checked for unsolved crimes to match them. There were none, neither in Glasgow, nor anywhere else in Scotland. But there was a watch fair in the SECC each time, so it looks like he was there on legitimate business.’

  ‘Fair enough; good on you, for being thorough. Who paid the bill?’ he asked.

  ‘The man the hotel people knew as Lightbody. He settled up on Saturday lunchtime, then they left. The owner, his name’s MacDonald, remarked to him that he hadn’t seen Mr Millbank for a couple of days, and that his bed hadn’t needed making. Lightbody said that he’d been called away to a meeting in Newcastle and that he’d flown back to London from there. Mr MacDonald thought that was odd, for his daughter had serviced the room the first morning he was gone and his stuff was still in it. Thing about the bill, though, sir, it was settled in cash, old-fashioned folding money.’

  ‘New Bank of England fifties?’

  Mann’s looked at him, surprised. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Our investigation in Edinburgh last week, after we found Cohen’s body, led us to a kosher restaurant in Glasgow. The three guys ate there, and that’s how they paid. Does MacDonald still have the notes?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, sir. They went straight into his bank’s night safe. I’ve got somebody contacting his branch though; they’re probably still there.’

  ‘Good. The notes from the restaurant are in Edinburgh. If we can match them up with these and they are straight from the printer,
we might be able to trace them to the issuing bank and branch.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that have been Millbank’s?’ the DI pointed out.

  Provan shook his head, causing another micro snowstorm. ‘Ah don’t see that. If he’s had two identities, he’s going tae have kept them completely separate.’

  ‘For sure,’ Skinner agreed. ‘It may be that he had a separate Beram Cohen account, or a safe deposit box, but there’s also a chance the cash came from the person who bought the operation. If we can trace its movement in the banking system, you never know.’

  ‘If we can recover them,’ Mann said. ‘I’ll chase it up.’

  ‘Do that, pronto. Anything else from the satnav?’

  ‘Yes, one other journey, but I’m not getting excited about it. On Friday, they went from the hotel to the Easthaven Retail Park, not far from the M8 motorway.’

  ‘Indeed?’ the chief said. ‘Why are you writing that off?’

  ‘Because it seems they went there to shop and to eat, that’s all. We found receipts in the car for two shirts, and a pack of underwear from a clothes shop, and for two pizzas, ice cream and coffee from Frankie and Benny. The next journey programmed was the second last, the one to Livingston; the last being from their hotel to the car park next to the concert hall, where we found the car.’

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right; sounds like a refuelling stop, no more.’ He frowned. ‘Forensics. What have they given us?’

  ‘They say that Bazza was shot in the car. They dug a bullet out of the upholstery, and found blood spatters. Other than that, they’ve given us nothing we didn’t have before.’

  ‘Post-mortem report? What about that? Has Brown been formally identified? I don’t want as much as a scratch in him until that’s done. If we ever do put anyone in the dock for this, he can’t be allowed to walk out on a technicality.’

  ‘That’s done,’ she said. ‘His wife did it first thing this mornin’. Pathology’s not holding us up but still I’m not pleased about it. Either Dan or I will have to be there as a witness. That’s going to use up the rest of the day for whoever it is, with there being two of them.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘Yes, there’s Bazza, and there’s the one on Chief Constable Field.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Yes, I’d hoped that could be done yesterday, but it turns out it wasn’t.’

  ‘Bugger that,’ the chief grumbled. ‘What was the problem?’

  ‘The chief pathologist was away on what he said was “family business”, then this morning the so-and-so went and called in sick. I don’t fancy his deputy, not since his evidence cost me a nailed-on conviction in the High Court last year. I said I wasn’t having him do them, so they’ve called somebody through from the Edinburgh University pathology department.’

  ‘Professor Hutchinson?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, sir. I asked for him but he wasn’t available either. Instead they’ve sent us his number two. A woman, they said. I hope she’s up to the job.’

  Skinner’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, she is, Inspector, she is. I can vouch for her. As for you being there,’ he continued, ‘your priority has to be keeping the investigation up to speed.’

  ‘Fair enough, sir. I never mind not going to post-mortems. Do you want me to send a couple of detective cons along instead?’

  ‘No, Lottie, you leave that to me to sort out. The autopsies may be only formalities, but given that my predecessor’s going to be on the table, our representative has to be appropriate in rank. Luckily, I know the very man for the job.’

  Twenty-Nine

  Every so often, in the office where he spent most of his time, Detective Chief Superintendent Neil McIlhenney would find himself daydreaming. When he awakened it was always with a start as he looked out of his window. He was still well away from being used to life in the Metropolitan Police Service, and he wondered if he ever would.

  When a move south, on promotion, had been offered to him he had taken no time at all to accept. There had been more involved than his own future. Louise, his wife, had taken time out of her acting career to have a family, but he had known there would come a time when she would want to go back to work, and London was where she was known and where the opportunities arose.

  As she had put it, she was beyond the ‘age of romance’, in that lead roles in major movies were no longer being offered, but it had always been her intention to go back to the stage when she passed forty, as she had a few years earlier. They had been in London for only a few weeks, yet she was in rehearsal for a major role in a West End play and the arts sections of the broadsheets were trumpeting her return.

  The sound of his mobile put an end to his contemplation; he looked at the screen and smiled when he saw who was calling.

  ‘Good morning, Chief Constable,’ he said. ‘I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’ his former boss challenged. ‘We have lunch breaks in Strathclyde too. I take it you’ve heard what’s happened.’

  ‘How could I not, even if I hadn’t had my best mate call me on Saturday night, as soon as he got Paula back to Edinburgh? He was crying, Bob; Mario. Can you believe that? He started to tell me what had happened and then he broke down, sobbing like a baby. Was Paula really that close to the victim?’

  ‘Their heads couldn’t have been any more than three feet apart when Toni Field’s was blown open,’ Skinner told him.

  He shivered. ‘God, it doesn’t bear thinking about. How is she?’

  ‘Most people, put in her situation, would be under sedation right now. Clive Graham’s wife still is, and she wasn’t even there. Maybe at another time Paula would be too, but at the moment she’s completely focused on the baby, so, once she was sure he was okay in there, she was fine. I was with them yesterday morning and saw no sign of a delayed reaction. She’s still on course to deliver in a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Yes,’ McIlhenney said. ‘That’s something else I won’t be around for, but I’ll get up to meet wee Eamon as soon as I can. You know Mario’s calling him after his father, don’t you?’ He paused. ‘It’s not plain sailing for me, you know, being down here. To move or not to move, it was my choice; Lou didn’t put any pressure on me. If I’d said no, we’d have got by, but I want what’s best for all of us, Lauren, Spence and wee Louis, and this is it. That said, I miss you lot and not being around for Mario when he really needed me, that was tough.’

  ‘I can imagine. But I admire you nonetheless, for making the move. I have to admit, you’re so Edinburgh that I didn’t think you’d have the balls.’

  ‘Thanks, pal.’ The DCS chuckled. ‘By the way, does Joey Morocco still have his? He had a small part in one of Lou’s movies a few years back. She says he had a reputation for nose candy and shagging anything female and alive, the latter probably being optional.’

  ‘Fu—’ Skinner snorted. ‘You are one of the few guys in the world who could say that and get away with it. Yes he has, maybe more by luck than judgement. Aileen and I are history, but what you saw in the papers probably happened because of that, rather than the other way round. I’ve got no beef with Morocco, but there’s a freelance photographer here in Glasgow who should leave town sharpish.’

  ‘That sounds as if you’re planning to be there for longer than the three months Mario told me about. I called him back yesterday,’ he explained, ‘just to make sure he was all right.’

  ‘Ach, Neil, I’m not planning anything. This whole thing . . . it’s so bizarre, so bloody terrible, and with the Aileen situation too, I haven’t had time to gather my thoughts. I just don’t know any more. What I do know is that I’m at the head of the highest profile investigation of my career, and I’m going to consider nothing else until it’s done. Speaking of which . . . you were right. This isn’t a social call.’

  ‘Some things never change. Go on, Chief, let me hear it.’

  ‘Okay, but you’re not due anywhere soon, are you? It’s best that I fill you in from the start,
and it’ll take a while.’

  ‘No, I’m clear for an hour. I was just about to go for lunch, but I can do without that.’

  ‘Thanks. Knowing how you like your chuck, I appreciate that.’

  He ran through the events of the previous few days, from the discovery of a body in a shallow grave in Edinburgh, through the chain of events that led to the assassination of Chief Constable Antonia Field, then gave McIlhenney the story of the investigation as it stood.

  The chief superintendent stayed silent throughout, but when Skinner was finished, he asked, ‘Am I right in thinking that you’ve run all these checks on your planner, this man Cohen, alias Byron Millbank, without any reference to my outfit?’

  ‘You’re spot on, chum. I chose not to involve the Met until I absolutely had to, and that time is now. Make no mistake, this is a Strathclyde operation, but I am going to need to interview people in London, and I will need assistance. I propose to phone your commissioner and ask for it, but what I do not want is for the job to be handed to anyone who might have been personally acquainted with Toni Field. I know she had an affair with a DAC, but I don’t have a name.’

  ‘Couldn’t you ask the Security Service for help? I know you’re well in with them.’

  ‘I could but I don’t want to. Their paws are all over Beram Cohen’s false identity.’

  ‘Forgive me for asking the obvious, but couldn’t Beram Cohen be the false name? They told you about him, after all.’

  ‘No, because there’s no trace of Millbank any further back than half a dozen years.’

  ‘Right, box ticked. So, boss . . . listen to me; old habits and all that . . . cut to the chase. Why are you calling me? As if I can’t guess.’

  ‘I’ll spell it out anyway,’ Skinner told him. ‘When I call my esteemed colleague, I want to ask him to lend me someone I know and who knows the way I work. But I don’t want you press-ganged. Do you want to take this on, and can you?’

  ‘Of course I want to,’ McIlhenney replied. ‘Can I, though? I’m heading up a covert policing team down here. I have officers operating under cover, deep and dangerous in some cases. I don’t run them all directly, but I have to be available for them, and their handlers, at all times.’