Pray for the Dying

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘I agree,’ the journalist murmured. ‘True or not, it was well out of order. But Bob, off the record this time, why did she put herself up there to be shot at? Sorry, that was an unfortunate choice of words in the circumstances.’

  ‘Maybe but I know what you mean. My informed guess would be that her reasons were purely political.’

  ‘Did you know about Labour supporting unification?’

  ‘Of course I did. This is very much between us, chum, but it was the last straw as far as our marriage was concerned.’

  ‘I guessed as much. There’s a piece on the Saltire website that nobody’s noticed yet. It was blown out of the printed edition by the Field shooting, but it’s got your stamp all over it. Everybody knows that paper’s your house journal, with June Crampsey being a retired cop’s daughter.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Skinner murmured, ‘do they indeed? I’ll need to watch that, but I won’t lie to you about my input to that article; you’re right. I was a bit steamed up at the time. But if you’re going to have a girn about me playing favourites, don’t, because I’m doing it just now. Nobody else is getting past the switchboard here and I’m taking no other media calls anywhere else.’

  ‘I appreciate that,’ Fox chuckled. ‘In the spirit of our special relationship, is there anything else you’d like not to tell me? About the Field investigation, for example.’

  ‘Not a fucking word, mate; you’re not that special. However, you might like to call another chum of yours, the First Minister. I reckon Aileen will have put his nose mightily out of joint.’

  ‘Thanks for that, and the rest. Cheers.’

  The chief was unfamiliar with the telephone console on his desk, but he had noticed a red light flashing during the last couple of minutes of his conversation with Fox. As he hung up he discovered what it was for as the bell sounded, almost instantly. He picked up the receiver, expecting to hear the switchboard operator, or Lowell Payne, but it was neither.

  ‘Yes,’ he began.

  ‘Bob,’ a male voice snapped back at him, ‘can’t you keep that bloody wife of yours under control?’

  ‘Hello, Clive,’ he replied. ‘Funny you should call. Your name just came up in conversation.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Your ears must have been burning too. Do you know what Aileen’s done?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did you know?’

  ‘I first became aware of it about ten minutes ago. Clive,’ Skinner asked, ‘what the fuck are you on about? Haven’t you read any newspapers today?’

  ‘No I haven’t. I’m not in the office. I’ve spent the last thirty-six hours incommunicado, comforting my distraught wife. She’s under sedation, Bob. I’m still trying, but failing, to make her believe that I wasn’t the target . . . although the truth is, I’m not a hundred per cent sure of that myself.

  ‘But more than that, it’s not just the thought of me with my brains on the floor that’s got to her, it’s the notion that if she had come with me, and not Toni, she’d have copped it. So you’ll see, Bob, reading the press hasn’t been at the top of my agenda. My political office has only just emailed me the unification press release Labour have put out.’

  ‘And that’s all they’ve sent you?’

  ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Then you should shake up all your press people, in the party and in government. Somebody should have told you that two hours ago my dear wife and I announced that we’ve split. They should also have told you to check out today’s Daily News. You’re going to have fun with that come next First Minister’s Questions at Holyrood, I promise you.’

  He heard the First Minster draw a deep breath, then let it out slowly. ‘Then I apologise, Bob,’ he said, quietly. ‘The government people are supposed to brief me constantly on what’s happening in the media, partly to ensure that I don’t make any embarrassing phone calls like this one. I told them, firmly, to leave me alone, but when the troops are afraid to override your orders when necessary, that makes you a bad general.’

  ‘Or an authoritarian bully,’ Skinner murmured.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. You can tell Mrs Graham to calm down. We have absolute proof that Toni was the target. They were set up and waiting for her.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  Skinner snorted. ‘I appreciate that you’re a politician, but even you must know what “absolute” means.’

  ‘But how did they know she’d be there?’ the First Minister asked, sounding more than a little puzzled.

  ‘When did you invite her to accompany you?’

  ‘Two weeks ago.’

  ‘Yeah, well, one day later Toni posted the engagement on bloody Twitter, and on the Strathclyde force website. She set herself up.’

  ‘But who’d want to kill her? I know she was abrasive, but . . .’

  ‘I’ve got a team of talented people trying to find that out,’ the chief replied, ‘and I imagine that right now they’re waiting in my assistant’s office.’

  ‘Then I won’t delay you further. Again, I’m sorry I went off at half cock.’

  ‘No worries. For what it’s worth, I reckon I know why Aileen broke ranks on unification. You might not realise it, if you’ve been cloistered since Saturday, but you’ve become something of a media hero, thanks to Joey Morocco’s eyewitness account. He’s seen a few things up close in the last couple of days, has our Joey. With the election coming up, Aileen couldn’t let that go uncountered. It’s the way she thinks.’

  ‘I suppose it is, and I might even understand it. It won’t do her any good though. I’ve seen our private polls: Labour will be crushed, and her career will be over.’

  Bob laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it, Clive. She has a plan for every contingency. She’s like Gloria Gaynor: she will survive. Get on with you now. Go and give your wife the good news.’

  Twenty-Seven

  ‘Will I survive this, Alf?’ Aileen asked, leaning forward across the table, with a goblet of red wine warming in her cupped hands.

  ‘I’ll treat that as rhetorical,’ the chief officer replied. ‘You’ve just locked up the female vote within the party; as for the men, they were eating out of your hand anyway.’

  ‘But tomorrow’s coverage will be all about me dropping the bomb on that twat Hatton, and not about the policy initiative I announced.’

  ‘Aileen, you and I both know that is bollocks; the announcement doesn’t matter. We don’t make policy any more, the SNP do.’

  ‘But they need us to get unification through fast,’ she countered.

  ‘No, they don’t. You and Clive Graham agreed to rush it through before the election so that it doesn’t become an issue that the Tories could score with, but the Lib Dems are for it as well, and even in a minority situation their votes would see the bill through. That’s if he tables it at all. The poll’s in a few weeks, and you’ve just removed police structure as an issue anyway by announcing that we’re for it.’

  ‘You’re saying that if I’ve pissed him off with my challenge he might walk away from our agreement.’

  ‘Indeed I am.’ He glanced around the basement restaurant to which they had retreated, checking that they were still alone and that no journalists had followed them there. ‘But so what? It’s irrelevant alongside the campaign that’s ahead of us. With everything that’s happened, are you sure you’re ready for it?’

  She looked him in the eye. ‘How long have you known me, Alf?’

  He scratched his chin. ‘Twenty years?’ he ventured.

  ‘Exactly, since our young socialist days. And in all that time have you ever known me not to be up for a battle?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But you’ve never been in circumstances like these before. You’ve had a horrendous forty-eight hours.’

  ‘Horrendous in what way? My marriage has broken up. That happens to more than ten thousand of my fellow Scots every year, and probably as many again who end cohabiting relationships. And although the statement Bob made me agree to was bla
nd and consensual, the idiot woman Hatton just succeeded in portraying me as the partner who’s been wronged. Don’t you imagine that was in my mind when I staged my walk-out?’

  ‘Are you saying that wasn’t spontaneous?’

  She hesitated. ‘No, I’m not, but even before I reached the door I could see the positives in it. Can’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he admitted.

  ‘Exactly. So, my other personal disaster: what of that? My body was all over today’s Daily News, and by now it’ll have gone viral on the internet. But I’ve read the story, there and in all the other papers. Not one has said that Joey was actually in the room, because no way can they prove it, so their lawyers wouldn’t let them. Neither of us will ever admit that he was, so what am I, Alf? A victim of the paparazzi, that’s what, and that’s how the party has to spin it. Understood?’

  ‘Understood,’ he agreed, ‘but you didn’t have to spell it out. Our communications people have been doing that since the story broke, both here and in London. You probably don’t know this, but the shadow Culture Secretary in Westminster is going to demand that the government legislates to make invasion of privacy a go-to-jail offence. They won’t do that, of course, because it can’t afford to piss off the News, but they’ll make sympathetic noises.’

  ‘I’ll bet they will. The last thing they want is Clive Graham with an absolute majority.’ She smiled. ‘Do you still think I’m not up for a fight?’

  Old grinned back at her. ‘No, and I never did. So, why did you ask me if you’d survive?’

  ‘I only meant within the party, man. What’s the feeling in our shadow cabinet and on the back benches? Are they scared by what’s happened? Is my sleekit deputy Mr Felix Brahms likely to seize the day and challenge me for the leadership?’

  ‘As far as I can tell, there won’t be a revolt. You certainly needn’t worry about Felix. I spoke to him last night. Yes, he was making opportunistic noises, but I put a stop to that.’

  She frowned. ‘How?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘Yes, I bloody do. Out with it.’

  He looked around again; a waiter was approaching with an order pad, but he waved him away. ‘A friend of mine in Special Branch up in Aberdeen, the Brahms fiefdom, dropped me a word about him. They were worried about him being a security risk as shadow Justice Secretary.

  ‘He’s been having it off with a woman, a well-known local slapper called Mandy Madigan, whose brother Stuart is currently remanded in custody charged with the murder of a business rival, that business being prostitution and money-lending.’

  ‘What a creepy bastard!’ Aileen exclaimed. ‘I like his wife, too. What are we going to do about it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he replied, firmly. ‘You’ve put a hint of sex into the campaign; that’s just about okay, given the way that you and Bob have dealt with it. We do not need any more sleaze, though. When Brahms called me about your situation, I had a sharp word with him, told him what I knew. He swears he didn’t know about her family background, and he’s going to put an end to it. The Grampian cops will keep the affair to themselves, but he’d better be a choirboy from now on.’

  ‘My God,’ she chuckled. ‘You’re making me feel like the singing nun by comparison. Well, maybe not quite, shagging a movie star and all, but still.’ She paused. ‘Poor Joey; he called me this morning, on his way to the airport. He’s quite upset, worried that he might have done for my career. I must call him once he gets to Los Angeles, and tell him he’s probably put my approval rating up a few points.’

  ‘Any chance of him supporting you in the campaign?’

  ‘Hell no, he’s a Tory. I know, before you say it, I seem to be making a habit of sleeping with the enemy. At least I’m not going to marry this one!’

  ‘Is Bob going to make trouble down the line?’

  ‘For me, no. I’ve got a funny feeling that I’ve done him a favour by cutting him loose. Not politically, either. He’s got nothing to gain from it.’ She frowned, suddenly. ‘That said, I must ring him and apologise for what I said at the press conference. He’ll have heard by now, for sure, from one of his inner media circle, Foxie, or June Crampsey. I don’t want to fall out with him any more than I have done.’

  ‘Why should that bother you?’ the chief executive asked. ‘You don’t think you can win him over on unification, do you? He made his views pretty clear in the Saltire at the weekend.’

  ‘Did he? That passed me by, not that I care. It’ll go through regardless. And once it’s there, who knows what he’ll do. I’m quite convinced that if Toni Field was still alive he’d go for it. He’s a cop first, second and third; it’s all he knows, and most of what he cares about, apart from his kids.

  ‘He’s also a pragmatist. If that’s right, that he said his piece in the press, all he was doing was getting at me. He knows he won’t win. Deep down he also knows that if Field had been there to go for the police commissioner job, he’d have done whatever was needed to stop her, and that would have meant putting himself forward.’

  ‘Christ, you’re making it sound as if he was behind the shooting.’

  Aileen smiled, but her eyes stayed serious. ‘He’s shown himself capable of pulling the trigger, on Saturday and more than once before that in his career. But no, I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘Now she’s dead, what will he do?’

  ‘My guess is that he will go for it, and I’ve told him as much. He spent years telling himself he didn’t want to be chief in Edinburgh. Since he was talked into it, he’s been saying the same about Strathclyde, but I sensed a change in him when his refusal to put his name forward last time left the field clear for Toni Field, and he saw what a political operator she was. He said something to me once about power only being dangerous if it was in the wrong hands. He could have been talking about her.’

  ‘And his are the right hands, are they?’

  ‘He’d never say so. He’d leave it to the politicians he dislikes so much, and the media he uses so skilfully, to do that. But he believes it all right. He hides it well, but Robert Morgan Skinner has a massive ego, tied to an absolute belief in his own rectitude. And when it comes to power, he’s the equivalent of an alcoholic; one taste and he’s hooked. Mind you, he’d tell you the same thing about me, and he’d be right too.’

  She sipped her wine. ‘I want to stay on good terms with him,’ she continued, ‘because I will need to be. Whatever the polls say, and however badly our colleagues in London have fucked things up for all of us, I intend to be First Minister after the election and, as such, we will have to co-exist.’

  Old nodded. ‘I can see that.’

  ‘But,’ she added, ‘there’s something else. I want to stay as close to his investigation as I can, because I want to know who killed Toni Field just as much as everyone else does. Who’d want her dead?’ she asked. ‘She hadn’t been in Scotland long enough to have upset the criminal fraternity that badly. Yes, she may have hacked off someone dangerous in her earlier career. But can you recall another case of a senior British cop being assassinated by organised crime? I can’t. However, like I said earlier, the late Toni was an intensely political animal. Who knows who she’s crossed in that area. Make no mistake, politics can get you killed, and if there is any whiff of that, I want to know about it.’

  Twenty-Eight

  ‘I’m fine, Bob, honestly. I lost it for a second or two in there, but that’s enough when the red lights are on the cameras. I’m simply calling to apologise for what I said about you. It was unforgivable; if you want, I’ll put out a statement through my press office retracting it and saying that I was provoked.’

  ‘Let it be, Aileen. I’m not worried about it. What you said is bloody true, anyway, so I won’t ask you to lie for me.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I appreciate that. You couldn’t do something about that Hatton woman, could you?’

  ‘No need. She’s done it to herself. I’ve just taken yet another call from her editor, made n
o doubt on the advice of his lawyer. This time he was grovelling over what she called me. He’s ordered her back to London this afternoon, even offered to sack her if I insisted on it. I said I didn’t want that, but that he should tell her, so she can see that I have a magnanimous side after all.’

  ‘But if she ever comes back to Glasgow, she’d better not have any drugs in her handbag?’

  He laughed. ‘You said that, I didn’t. Now, I must go; I’ve got people outside waiting to brief me on the Toni Field investigation, and I cannot get off the fucking phone.’

  ‘Then I won’t keep you. How’s it going, by the way? I gather from Alf . . . I’m with him just now; we’re hiding out in the Postman’s Knock, the bistro down the road . . . that they’ve determined that she was the target.’

  ‘That’s right. My turn to apologise; you should have heard that from us, not him. I’ll know more when I’ve seen the team, but we have several lines of inquiry. Not least, we want to know what the hell a dead Glasgow gangster was doing in the boot of the shooters’ getaway car.’

  ‘My God!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Indeed, and you should be pleased to hear it. Lottie Mann was going to break that news at her press briefing. It should deflect some of the coverage of yours. By the way, you’d better call Clive Graham. He practically blew the wax out of my ears a few minutes ago, in the ludicrously mistaken belief that I’ve got any influence over you.’

  ‘Oh, sorry again,’ Aileen said. ‘I was planning to do that anyway. Bob, will you keep me up to date on the inquiry?’

  ‘Eh?’ he exclaimed. ‘Why should I do that?’

  ‘Well,’ she murmured, ‘I do have a personal interest in knowing why I’ve had to throw away a very expensive evening dress.’

  ‘There is that,’ he admitted. ‘Yes, I suppose we could. I’ll be briefing the First Minister, so I could persuade myself that I should do the same for the leader of the Opposition, given that the election’s coming up.’