Pray for the Dying

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘He said you were barking mad, a complete loose cannon, and that you were under orders never to speak to the press or let yourself be filmed for TV. He told us a story about you, ten years ago, when you had just made DC, demanding to box in an interdivisional smoker that some of your male CID colleagues had organised, and knocking out your male opponent inside a minute. But he also said you were the best detective on the force and that he put up with you in spite of it all. I like Max, and I rate him, so I’ll take all of that as a recommendation.’

  Mann nodded. ‘Thank you, sir. Actually it was inside thirty seconds. Can I take your statement now . . . yours and the guy I was told you arrived with?’

  The chief grinned again. ‘Mine, sure, in good time. My colleague, no. His name won’t appear in your report and he won’t be a witness at any inquiry.’

  ‘Spook?’

  ‘Spook. That reminds me.’ He turned to Payne. ‘Lowell, there is bound to be at least one CCTV camera covering the Killermont Street entrance. I want you to locate it, them if there are others, and confiscate all the footage from this afternoon. When we have it, it goes nowhere without my say-so.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  As the DCI left, Skinner led Mann away from the floodlight beam and signalled to Dorward that he and his people could begin their work. He stopped at an auditorium doorway, beneath a green exit sign and an emergency lamp.

  ‘Lottie, this is the scenario,’ he said. ‘On the face of it, a contract hit has taken place here. I can tell you there have been rumours in the intelligence community of a terrorist attempt on a British political figure. So, it’s being suggested there’s a possibility Chief Constable Field was mistaken for the real target: my wife, Aileen de Marco, the Scottish Labour leader. Aileen usually wears red to public functions. This evening she didn’t, but Toni Field did.’

  ‘That suggestion’s bollocks,’ she blurted out. ‘Sir.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Why?’

  ‘A couple of reasons. First, and with respect . . .’

  The chief grinned. ‘I didn’t think you had any of that.’

  ‘I do where it’s deserved. I know about you too. And I know about your wife. She’s my constituency MSP, and she’s a big name in Glasgow, even in Scotland. But not beyond. So, killing her, it’s hardly going to strike a major blow for Islam, is it?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Okay. You say this is a contract hit. So, let’s assume that the two guys outside weren’t amateurs, however dead they might be now.’

  ‘Far from it. They were South African mercenaries, both of them.’

  ‘Right. That being the case, they’re going to have seen photographs of their target. Your wife is about five eight and blonde. Toni Field was five feet five with her shoes on and she had brown hair. But even more important, Aileen de Marco is white, and Chief Constable Field was dark-skinned. These people knew exactly who they were here to kill, and they didn’t make a mistake. That’s my professional opinion. Sir.’

  Skinner gazed at the floor, then up, engaging her once again. ‘And mine too, Detective Inspector,’ he murmured. ‘But let’s keep it to ourselves for now. The media can run with whatever theories they like. We won’t confirm or knock down any of them. Tell me,’ he added, ‘what did you think of Toni Field?’

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘I don’t believe you could tell it any other way.’

  ‘On the face of it, she was a role model for all female police officers. In reality, she was a careerist, an opportunist and another few words ending in “ist”, none of them very complimentary.

  ‘I liked DCC Theakston, but she had him out the door as fast as she could. I more than like ACC Allan, he’s the man I’ve always looked up to in the force, and she had her knife out for him as well. She might have been a good police officer herself, but she didn’t know one when she saw one. I have a feeling that you might.’

  ‘I believe I’m looking at one.’ He pushed the door open. ‘Come on. You’re with me.’

  ‘Where? I’m supposed to be in command here.’

  ‘Mmm. True,’ he conceded. ‘Okay, get your team together, and give them dispositions. You need to search the building for anything the shooters left behind. The weapon they used was a Heckler and Koch, standard police issue, so the assumption is, they must have worn uniforms to get in.

  ‘Tell your people to find those, and then find out whether they’re authentic. If so, we need to establish whose they were, because we’re looking for those owners. Beyond that the work here’s for Dorward and his people. Once you’ve got your people moving, I have to do a press conference, and I want you with me.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Absolutely. I think Max was wrong to hide you away. You’re a gem, Lottie; the Glasgow press deserve you. Just mind the language, okay?’

  Three

  ‘Can I get you coffee?’ the Lord Provost of Glasgow asked.

  Bob Skinner smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he replied, ‘but given that it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday evening, if we accepted you’d either have to make it yourself or nip out to Starbucks. No, the use of your office for this short meeting is generosity enough. Now, if you’ll . . .’

  Dominic Hanlon took the hint. ‘Come on, Willie,’ he murmured. ‘This is operational; it’s not for us.’

  ‘Oh. Oh, aye.’ The two councillors withdrew.

  The Lord Provost was still wearing his heavy gold chain of office. Skinner wondered if he slept in it.

  ‘Right,’ he said, as the door closed. ‘We’ll keep this brief, but I wanted a round-up before we all left.’ He looked to his right, at Lottie Mann, and to his left, at Lowell Payne, who had joined them as the press briefing had closed.

  The conference had been a frenzied affair. It had been chaired by the Strathclyde force’s PR manager, but most of the questions had been directed at Skinner, once his presence had been explained.

  ‘Can you confirm the identity of the victims, sir?’ the BBC national news correspondent had asked. She was new in the country, and new to him, sent up from London to make her name, he suspected.

  ‘Sorry, no,’ he had replied, ‘for the usual next-of-kin reasons, not operational. However,’ he had added, halting the renewed clamour, ‘I can tell you that the First Minister is unharmed, as is the Scottish Labour leader, Aileen de Marco, who was also present.’

  ‘Joey Morocco says the victim inside the hall was female, and that she was sitting next to the First Minister.’

  ‘Joey Morocco was there. I wasn’t. I’m not going to argue with him.’

  ‘Why isn’t the First Minister here?’

  ‘Because he was advised not to be.’

  ‘By you, sir?’

  ‘By his own protection staff.’

  ‘Does that mean there’s a continuing threat?’

  ‘It means they’re being suitably cautious.’

  ‘There are two men lying in Killermont Street, apparently dead. It’s been suggested that they were the killers. Can you comment?’

  ‘Yes they were, and they are both as dead as they appear to be.’ Skinner had winced inwardly at the brutality of that reply, but nobody had picked up on it. ‘As is the police officer they murdered as they left the hall,’ he had continued. ‘His colleague is in surgery as we speak.’

  ‘Are you looking for anybody else?’

  ‘You’re asking the wrong person. I’m here by accident, remember. That’s a question for Detective Inspector Mann of Strathclyde. She’s the officer in charge of the investigation.’

  Lottie Mann had handled herself well. She had given nothing away, but she had made it clear that the multiple killings at the concert hall would be investigated from origins to aftermath, like any other homicide.

  The one awkward question had been put by a Sun reporter, with whom Mann had history, after arresting him for infiltrating a crime scene.

  ‘Aren’t you rather junior to be running an investigation as important as this one?’

 
; She had nailed him with a cold stare. ‘That’s for others to decide. I was senior officer on duty tonight and took command at the scene, as I would have in any circumstances.’

  ‘By the way, you did fine in there, Lottie,’ Skinner told her, in the Lord Provost’s small room. ‘You did fine at the scene as well; took command, took no shit from anybody, and that’s how it’s supposed to be.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, sir,’ she confessed, as subdued as he had seen her in their brief acquaintance, ‘I was in a bit of a panic when I heard that ACC Allan had been taken away. I hope he’s all right.’

  ‘He is,’ Payne reassured her, ‘reasonably so. I called the Royal on my way down here. They gave him an ECG in the ambulance, and there’s no sign of a heart attack. They’re going to keep him in, though; apparently his blood pressure’s through the roof and he’s in shock.’

  ‘How about the wounded man?’ the chief asked. ‘What’s his name, by the way?’

  ‘PC Auger. Still in surgery, but the word is that he’ll survive. He was shot in the chest, but the bullet missed his heart and major arteries. It did nick a lung, though, and lodge in his spine.’

  ‘And his colleague?’

  ‘Sergeant Sproule. His body’s been taken to the mortuary.’

  ‘Who’s seeing next of kin?’

  ‘Chief Superintendent Mayfield,’ Payne told him. ‘She’s divisional commander.’

  ‘Okay. And Toni’s next of kin? Was she married? I don’t know,’ Skinner confessed. ‘She and I never got round to discussing our private lives.’

  ‘I don’t know either, sir. Sorry.’

  ‘No reason why you should, but raise the head of Human Resources, wherever he is, and find out. Whoever her nearest and dearest is needs to be told, and fast.’

  ‘Yes, they do,’ Lottie Mann said, ‘because the whole bloody world will soon know she was there if it doesn’t already. Chief Constable Field was a big Twitter fan. She posted every professional thing she did on it. No way she won’t have tweeted that she was chumming the First Minister to a charity gig.’ She scowled. ‘I’d ban that fucking thing if I could.’

  Skinner whistled. ‘Thank God you didn’t say that to the press.’ He smiled. ‘Max Allan would never let either of us forget it. Lowell,’ he continued, ‘do you know where the other ACCs are?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I thought you’d need to know that. Bridie Gorman’s on holiday, in Argyll, I’m told, but ACC Thomas turned up at the concert hall just after you’d left. He was for taking command, but I told him that he’d better speak to Councillor Hanlon down at the City Chambers. He did, and when he’d done that, he went off in what I can best describe as the huff.’

  ‘Oh shit,’ the chief constable sighed. ‘That I did not need. I know Michael Thomas through the chiefs’ association. He was very much in the Toni Field camp on unification of the forces. In fact, at our last meeting, when things got a bit heated, I told him to shut the fuck up unless he had something original to say.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t worry, though, Lowell. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hold it against you when I’m gone in three months.’ He paused. ‘Till then, don’t worry about him. You might still be only a DCI in rank, but working directly for me as acting chief, you’ll be taking orders from nobody else. Now, have you located the CCTV footage?’

  ‘Yes, sir. There was only one camera, and I’m getting the footage. CCTV monitoring in the city is run by a joint body that’s responsible for community safety. Councillor Hanlon and ACC Gorman are on the board, and in a situation like this one, we get what we want. In fact, they were expecting a call from us. Their manager said the monitor person crapped himself when he saw what happened.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘What do you want me to do with it?’

  ‘I want you to keep it close to you. I want to see it on Monday, and obviously Lottie has to have access as senior investigating officer, but, Inspector, you and you alone are to view the footage.’

  She frowned. ‘What am I going to see there?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know for sure, but if I’m right, I’ll be in shot . . . Christ,’ he chuckled, ‘what have I just said? . . . and so will someone else, with me. If that’s so, he is absolutely off limits.’ He paused. ‘Lottie, I hope you didn’t have a big date tonight . . .’

  ‘Only with my husband and son,’ she said. ‘We were going for a Chinese.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry about that, but I need you to go back up to the concert hall, resume command, and make sure that everything in this operation is done exactly by the book. By now they’ll have found shell casings, probably in one of the lighting booths overlooking the stage, and those two discarded police uniforms. Let’s just pray they don’t have bullet holes in them.’ He gave her a card. ‘That’s my mobile number. Keep me in touch.’

  She smiled. Until then Skinner had not been certain that she knew how. ‘Yes, boss. But . . . I’m only a lowly DI. There’s a whole raft of ambitious guys above me on the CID food chain, including my two line managers. What do I do when one of them turns up and says he’s taking over?’

  ‘One, you ask him why it’s taken him so long to get there. Two, you tell him he’d better have a bloody good answer to that question for the acting chief constable, first thing on Monday morning. Thing is, Lottie, Max Allan was the ACC responsible for criminal investigation. He won’t be around for a while, and in his absence CID will go straight to me. To be frank, even if he was, that’s how it would be. It’s the way I work. Questions?’

  Payne and Mann shook their heads.

  ‘Good. You know where to get me if you have to. Get on with what you have to do. I’m off to stick my head in the lioness’s mouth.’

  Four

  ‘You really are a fucking fascist at heart, Bob, aren’t you?’ she hissed.

  ‘If that’s how you want to see me,’ he retorted, ‘then honestly, I don’t give a damn. I got you out of there because there was a belief that you, not Toni Field, was the target of those people. And you know what? If they had shot Paula instead, who was sat between the two of you, Toni would have done exactly the same as I did. She’d have got you out of there, and fast.’

  ‘I should have stayed in the building,’ she insisted.

  ‘Why? You’re not First Minister any more, Clive Graham is. You were a fucking liability in there, Aileen, somebody else to worry about. I couldn’t have that. Plus,’ he hesitated for a second, ‘you happen to be my wife. I didn’t bend any rules to protect you, but believe me, if I’d had to, I would have.’

  ‘That’s irrelevant,’ Aileen de Marco shouted. ‘I should have stayed there. It was my duty; I’m the constituency MSP. I should have been there but instead I’m hiding in this bloody fortress like some kid who’s afraid of the dark.’

  ‘No, you were hidden, if you want to put it that way, because there was a chance you might still have been at risk.’

  ‘Does that chance still exist?’

  ‘I don’t believe so,’ he replied, ‘although I can’t be certain.’

  ‘But I’m free to leave here?’

  ‘To be honest, you always were. Don’t tell me that hadn’t occurred to you. But you stayed here. Aileen, you’re allowed to be scared! A woman has just been shot dead, a few feet away from you. You may not have noticed this, but her blood is spattered on your dress. The assistant chief constable is in hospital suffering from shock. I am strung out my fucking self! So what’s your problem?’

  ‘I was detained, man, against my will. Can’t you see that? I’m a politician, and as such I can’t be seen to be showing weakness in the face of these terrorists.’

  He threw up his hands. ‘Okay, Joan of Arc, go. There isn’t a locked door between you and the street, and I will arrange for a car to take you wherever you want to go, even if it’s back to our place in Gullane.’

  ‘Hah!’ she spat. ‘The only time I’ll be back there is to collect my clothes. I’ve got somewhere to go tonight, don’t you worry, and I w
ill not have a police guard outside the door either.’

  Skinner stood. ‘You bloody will. You may leave here, but you will have protection, wherever you are. That’s Clive Graham speaking, not me. He’s ordered it, and I’ve had arrangements made. For the next couple of days at least, you will have personal security officers looking after you. That is not for debate, but don’t worry, discretion is included in their training.’

  It had been a casual remark, meaning nothing, but she flushed as he said it and he realised that he had touched a nerve.

  ‘I don’t want to know, Aileen,’ he murmured.

  ‘As if I care,’ she snorted. ‘Isn’t life bloody ironic? You and I go to war because I’m for police unification and you’re against it, yet here you are in command of a force that covers half of Scotland.’

  ‘Temporary command,’ he pointed out.

  ‘So you say, but I know you better than that. You may not have volunteered for this job, but now you’re in it, you won’t want to let it go. Up to now you’ve chosen your own pond, and been its biggest fish. Now one’s been chosen for you, by fate, but your nature will still be the same. Once you get your feet under that desk in Pitt Street, Fettes will never be quite big enough for you again. That’s how it will be because that’s how you are, like it or not!’

  Five

  ‘You might have told me you were goin’ to be on the telly, Mum,’ Jake Mann mumbled, as he disposed of the last of his cereal. ‘I’d have told all my pals to watch.’

  ‘I didn’t have much notice of it, Jakey,’ Lottie replied. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that, given the subject.’

  ‘You should have combed your hair.’

  She raised an eyebrow and glared at the nine-year-old. ‘Maybe, but my hairdresser wasn’t available at the time. I could have done with a bit of lippie as well, but the make-up room was in use.’

  ‘You were good, though,’ Jake said, reaching for his orange juice.

  ‘Good?’ she boomed.