Pray for the Dying

by Quintin Jardine

  Hanlon recoiled, with a howl that reminded the chief constable of a small animal in pain, as he replaced the makeshift cover.

  ‘Poor Toni Field and I might have had different policing agendas,’ he said, ‘but we each of us devoted our careers to hunting down the sort of people who would do that sort of thing to another human being. You remember that next time you chair your fucking committee.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the younger man murmured.

  ‘You want to know how I feel?’ Skinner, not ready to let up, challenged. ‘I feel angry, so walk carefully around me, chum.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Hanlon said, patting him on the sleeve as if to mollify him. ‘Surely, the chances are it wasn’t Toni they were after. Everybody outside is saying it’s Aileen that’s been shot . . . our Aileen, we call her in Glasgow. There’s folk in tears out there.

  ‘I thought it was her myself until the First Minister told me otherwise. Only the people in the front row could possibly know what’s really happened and I doubt if any of them do. They all think it’s Aileen because that’s the natural assumption. I think these people made a mistake, and shot the wrong woman.’

  ‘For God’s sake, man!’ Graham barked, beside him. ‘This is Aileen’s husband, don’t you realise that?’

  ‘Yes, of course! Sorry.’ The councillor seemed to collapse into his own confusion.

  Skinner held up a hand. ‘Stop!’ he boomed. ‘Enough. We’ll get to that, and to Dominic’s theory. First things first.’ He turned to McGuire. ‘Mario, did you come through here alone?’

  ‘No, boss,’ the massive DCS answered. ‘Lowell Payne, DCI Payne, our Strathclyde secondee, he’s with me. He’s outside in the foyer; it was sheer chaos when we arrived, with no sign of anybody in command, so I told him to take control out there, calm people down as best he could, and move them out the other exit, so they wouldn’t go past bodies outside.’

  The chief nodded. ‘Well done, mate. My priority was in here when I arrived. With Max Allan not making any sense, all I could do was get hold of a uniformed inspector and tell him to contain the audience within the hall, until we could be sure that there was no further threat outside. Where is everyone?’

  ‘Payne said he would gather them in the foyer and in the smaller theatre. There’s enough back-up lighting for that to be managed safely.’

  ‘Okay, that sounds fine. Now, you shouldn’t really be here at all, but you charged through here like a red-taunted bull as soon as you heard your wife might be in danger. Whatever, your priority will always be her. Get yourself off to the Govan police station, pick her up from there and take her home.’

  ‘What about Aileen?’ McGuire asked.

  ‘She stays there, till someone in authority says otherwise. Find Clyde Houseman and tell him from me that he takes no instructions from anyone below chief officer rank. On your way, now.’

  He turned back to the politicians. ‘Now. You two were working up to say something before Dominic here put his foot in it. What was it?’

  ‘We’ve got a crisis, Bob,’ Graham replied. ‘Strathclyde is in trouble, and that’s putting it mildly. The chief constable is dead, the deputy chief took early retirement a fortnight ago, Max Allan, the senior ACC, has just been taken away in an ambulance with severe chest pains, and the two other ACCs are far too new and inexperienced in post to move into the top job, even on a temporary basis . . . and even without the force facing one of the highest-profile murder investigations it’s ever known, as this will become.’

  Hanlon nodded, vigorously. ‘As you’ve just pointed out to me, Mr Skinner, graphically, this is a major crime, and even if Toni’s killers . . . and the killers of one, maybe two police officers . . . are lying dead in the street outside, the matter isn’t closed.’

  ‘Maybe three, maybe four,’ Skinner murmured.

  The Police Authority chairman blinked. ‘Eh?’

  ‘How did they get the uniforms? We don’t know that. Did they bring them, or did they take them from two other cops we haven’t found yet?’

  ‘My God,’ Hanlon gasped. ‘I hadn’t thought about that.’

  ‘Bob,’ the First Minister intervened. ‘This investigation needs a leader. This whole force needs a leader and it needs him now. We don’t have time for niceties here. I want to appoint you acting chief constable of Strathclyde, pending confirmation by an emergency meeting of Dominic’s authority. That will take place tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Me?’ Skinner gasped. ‘Strathclyde? The force whose very existence I’ve opposed for years? Is there nobody else? What about Andy Martin? He’s head of the Serious Crime and Drug Enforcement Agency. He could do the job.’

  Graham shook his head. ‘He could, I agree, but everybody knows he’s your protégé, not to mention him being your daughter’s partner. He’d be seen as second choice, and I can’t have that. I need the best man available, and that is you. Please, help me. Your deputy in Edinburgh is more than capable; she can stand in there. Please take the job; in the public interest, Bob, even if it does go against your own beliefs.’

  Skinner stared at him. ‘You’ve really boxed me in, man, haven’t you?’

  ‘It’s not something I’d have chosen to do.’

  ‘No, I believe you. That’s the way it is, nonetheless.’ He sighed. ‘Fuck it!’ he shouted, into the darkness of the empty hall.

  ‘Can I take that as a yes?’ the First Minister whispered.

  Two

  ‘And you’ve agreed?’

  ‘What else could I do, Andy? The Police Authority meets tomorrow to confirm it formally, and it’ll be announced on Monday. But it’s for three months, that’s all. I’ve made that clear.’

  There was a silence on Andy Martin’s end of the line, until he broke it with a soft chuckle. ‘Would that be as clear as you’ve made it to anyone who would listen that you would never take the job under any circumstances?’

  ‘Yes, okay, I have said that,’ Skinner conceded. ‘But,’ he protested, ‘who could have predicted these particular circumstances?’

  ‘Nobody,’ his best friend conceded. ‘That’s why the “any” part of it was a mistake. Now let me make a prediction. However hard it was for you to get into the job, it will be harder for you to get out.’

  ‘Nonsense! I said three months and I meant it. They’ll be glad to see me go, Andy. The politicians will hate me here; remember, most of them are followers of my soon to be ex-wife.’

  ‘Your what?’ Martin exclaimed. ‘Come on, Bob. Alex told me you’d had a row over police unification, but I’d no idea it was that serious. You’ll get over it, surely.’

  ‘No, we won’t. Too much was said, too much truth told. This isn’t like when Sarah and I broke up, or you and Karen. We haven’t drifted away from each other like then, we’ve torn the thing apart. Besides . . .’ He stopped in mid-sentence. ‘No, that’s for another time. I have things to do here. First and foremost, I’ve got a very messy crime scene to manage. Second, I’ve got to face the press.’

  ‘Where are you going to do that?’

  ‘I’ve told the press office to use the City Chambers. Hanlon, the Police Authority chair, is going to fix it. I could have done it on the front steps of the concert hall, but I want to move the media, or as many as I can, away from there, so the people who were in the auditorium can leave as easily as we can manage. They’re having to go that way, into Buchanan Street, since there are still three bodies lying in Killermont Street.’

  ‘I know Hanlon; he’ll want to sit alongside you.’

  ‘You’re right. He’s asked if he could, and not only him. Clive Graham tried it before him. I’ve told them both that they’re not on. This is the assassination of a high-profile public figure we’re dealing with and I’m damned if I’m having anything that sniffs of political posturing alongside it.’

  ‘Hah!’ Martin exclaimed. ‘That’s already happened. I’ve just seen that Joey Morocco guy vox-popped on telly, outside in Buchanan Street. The way he tells the story, the Fir
st Minister’s something of a hero, standing up in the line of fire when the emergency lights came back on. Graham’s going to have to give himself a gallantry medal.’

  ‘Stupidity medal more like.’ Skinner paused. ‘Did Morocco say who the victim is?’

  ‘No, but he did say it isn’t Aileen, or Paula. They are both unhurt, yes?’

  ‘Yes, fine, I’ve spoken to them both, before I had them rushed out of here. Aileen wanted to stay and wave the red flag, of course.’

  ‘Ouch! Bob, can I do anything? Personally, or through the agency?’

  ‘Yes, you can. I’d like you to take Alex to Sarah’s, and stay there with her. I don’t believe for a second there’s any sort of threat to them, but I’m feeling a bit prickly, and I want all my family under one roof and looked after till I can get to them.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll do that. Now, Alex wants to speak.’

  Skinner could picture his elder daughter snatching the phone from her partner’s hand. ‘Dad!’ Her voice had the same breathless tone as Sarah’s, a little earlier.

  ‘Be cool, kid,’ he told her. ‘The panic’s over; there’s no hostage situation or anything like that. Andy will tell you as much as he can. I have things to do and then I have to go to the Royal Infirmary. We have a cop there fighting for his life and I have to see how he’s doing. Go now. I’ll see you when I can.’

  He ended the call and walked back towards the pool of light in front of the stage. The First Minister had been escorted away by his protection officers, and Councillor Hanlon had gone to the Glasgow council headquarters, to have them made ready for the media briefing to come. But Skinner was not standing guard alone.

  ‘I’ve just spoken to your niece,’ he said to Detective Chief Inspector Lowell Payne. ‘I didn’t tell her you were involved, though, in case she phoned Jean. There’s enough anxiety in my family without spreading it to yours.’

  There was a personal link between the two men, one that had nothing to do with the job. Ten years after the death of Skinner’s first wife, Myra, Alex’s mother, Payne had married her sister.

  ‘Thanks, Bob. I appreciate that.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. Listen, Lowell, this job I’ve taken on, temporary or not, I have to be on top of it from the start. That means I need to get up to speed very quickly on the basics of the force, areas where my knowledge may be lacking: its structure, its strengths and its weaknesses, as perceived within the force.

  ‘I’m going to need somebody close to me, to advise me and instruct me where necessary, a sound, experienced guy. You’ve got twenty-five years plus in the job, all of it in Strathclyde. Will you be my aide, for as long as I need one? Officially, mind; you’ll come off CID for the duration and operate as my liaison across the force. You up for it?’

  The DCI seemed to hesitate. ‘Are you not worried there might be talk, about you and me being sort of related?’

  ‘No, and anyway, we’re not. My daughter being your niece does not make you part of my family, or me part of yours.’

  ‘In that case the answer’s yes.’

  ‘Good. Now, what’s happening outside?’

  ‘Everybody’s calm, and they’re leaving. They’re all potential witnesses, I know, but there’s no need to ask them all for contact details, since they’re all on a central database. They all booked through the internet, so they all had to leave their details.’

  ‘Good man. Not that we’ll need to go back to any of them. None of them can answer any of the questions we need to ask.’

  ‘Those being?’

  ‘Who sent the hit team, and why?’

  Payne frowned. ‘Why? Does there have to be a why these days, when terrorism is involved, and politicians are the target?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. It’s our job to look for it.’

  ‘And mine to help you.’

  Skinner turned. He had recognised the voice, from many similar scenes over many years. The man who faced him was clad in a crime-scene tunic, complete with a paper hat that failed to contain the red hair that escaped from it. Looking at him the chief wondered if he would have recognised him in ordinary clothes, or, God forbid, in uniform.

  ‘Arthur,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re looking as out of water as I feel. What the hell are you doing in Glasgow?’

  ‘You should know, boss,’ Detective Inspector Dorward replied. ‘You approved the set-up. Ever since forensic services were pulled together into a central unit, we’ve gone anywhere we’re needed and more than that, we’ve had a national duty rota at weekends. I drew this straw. And bloody busy I’ve been. I’d not long left a very messy scene in Leith when I got the call to come through here.’ He paused. ‘But I could ask you the same question. Why are you here?’

  ‘I was following a line of inquiry. It led me here.’

  Dorward raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh aye,’ he drawled. ‘I know what that means. So far I’ve counted four bodies on the ground. Any of them down to you?’

  ‘Just the one.’

  Dorward nodded towards the figure under the jacket. ‘Not her, though?’

  ‘Definitely not. Now don’t push your luck any further, Arthur.’

  ‘Fair enough, Chief; in return, you get your big feet off my crime scene.’ He looked at Payne. ‘And you.’ He paused. ‘Here, weren’t you at Leith?’

  The Strathclyde DCI nodded.

  ‘Then what the fuck’s going on here? What’s the connection?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Skinner told him. ‘This is what matters. For openers, we need you to recover the bullets that killed our victim here, for comparison with the ones that were recovered from the two bodies in Leith.’

  ‘Are you saying they’ll be the same?’

  Skinner nodded.

  ‘And if they’re not?’

  ‘Then we’re all going to find out how deep shit can get. Go to work, Arthur.’

  ‘Errr . . .’ a deep contralto voice exclaimed from the relative darkness beyond the floodlights, ‘can we just hold on a minute here?’

  Its owner stepped into the bright light. She was tall, around six feet, and wore, over an open-necked white shirt, a dark suit that did nothing to disguise the width of her shoulders. Her hair was dark, swept back from a high forehead, her eyes were a deep shade of blue, but her nose was her dominant feature. A warrant card was clipped to the right lapel of her jacket.

  She eyed Skinner, up and down, no flicker of recognition on her face. ‘So who the hell are you, to be giving orders at my crime scene?’ she asked, slowly.

  The chief constable took his own ID from a pocket and displayed it. She looked at it, then shrugged.

  ‘That doesn’t answer my question,’ the woman retorted. ‘That says Edinburgh. Okay, the earth might have moved for me last night, but not that much. As far as I know, this is still Strathclyde.’

  Payne took half a pace forward. ‘Cool it, Lottie. This is Chief Constable Bob Skinner, and you know who I am.’

  She frowned at him. ‘Sure, I know who you are. You’re a DCI and you’re in strategy. I’m serious crimes, which this as sure as hell is, from what I was told and what I saw outside. That puts me in command of this crime scene.’ She nodded sideways, in Skinner’s general direction. ‘As for our friend here . . .’

  ‘Sir,’ Payne sighed, ‘I must apologise to you, on behalf of the Strathclyde force. My colleague here, DI Charlotte Mann, she’s got a reputation for being blunt, and sometimes she takes it to the point of rudeness. Lottie, get off your high horse. We know what’s happened here . . .’

  ‘I don’t,’ she snapped back. ‘I know there’s a dead cop outside in Killermont Street, and two other gunshot victims, but I don’t know how they got there. I don’t know who’s under that jacket . . .’

  ‘You’d better take a look, then,’ Skinner told her.

  ‘You speak when you’re spoken to . . . sir. And don’t be trying to tell me my job.’ She stepped across to the body.

  ‘Be careful over there,’ the blue-suited Dorward warned, but
she ignored him as she lifted the jacket from the prone form.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ she exclaimed as she observed the shattered head. She peered a little closer, then looked over her shoulder, at Payne. ‘Lowell,’ she murmured ‘is this . . . ?’

  He nodded.

  ‘And the two men outside?’

  He nodded again. ‘The shooters.’

  ‘So you see, Inspector,’ Skinner said. ‘We do know what’s happened here.’

  The DI glared at him. ‘You might, chum, but the procurator fiscal doesn’t, and it’s my job to investigate these incidents and report to her. So you can shove your Edinburgh warrant card as far as it’ll go. It means nothing to me. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just another witness, and for all I know you might even be a suspect. My team should all be here within the next few minutes. Do not go anywhere; they will be wanting to interview you.’

  ‘Aw, Jesus!’ Payne laughed, out loud. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He glanced at Skinner. ‘May I, sir?’

  ‘You’d better,’ the chief conceded. He moved aside, letting the DCI step up to his CID colleague and whisper, urgently and fiercely in her ear, then catching her eye as she looked towards him, nodding gently, in answer to her surprise.

  She walked towards him. ‘They didn’t waste any time filling the chair,’ she said.

  ‘They . . . they being the First Minister and the Police Authority chair . . . felt that they didn’t have a choice. I was asked and I accepted: end of story. It’ll be formalised on Monday, but as of now you take orders from me and anyone else I tell you to.’ He paused. ‘Now, Inspector, tell me. How are your traffic management skills?’

  Lottie Mann held his gaze, unflinching. ‘The traffic will do what I fucking tell it, sir,’ she replied, ‘if it knows what’s good for it. But wouldn’t that be a bit of a waste?’

  Skinner’s eyes softened, then he smiled. ‘Yes, it would,’ he agreed, ‘and one I don’t plan to have happen. I know about you, Lottie. ACC Allan told us all about you, at a chief officers’ dinner a while back.’

  For the first time, her expression grew a little less fierce. ‘What did he say?’ she asked.