The Roots of Evil (Bob Skinner)

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘It had nothing to do with me,’ DuPlessis snapped, gaining confidence. ‘It’s her word against mine, and you don’t sound like you can prove a damn thing.’

  ‘Give me forty-eight hours,’ Haddock retorted, ‘and I will.’

  ‘You better believe that,’ Pollock added. ‘When he does, and when we can tie you to that box, you will be in deep trouble. We, the three of us, have established that the firearm we know to have been in that box was used to kill a serving South African Police officer. The fact that you handled it makes you an accessory to his murder. Twenty-five years without parole, buddy, is not something I would be taking as lightly as you seem to be.’

  ‘Fuck!’ DuPlessis shouted. ‘What are you trying to pull here?’

  ‘I am telling you like it is. There isn’t a single officer in the South African Police Service who has forgotten about Constable Fannie DeWalt, and every one of us is righteously angry that nobody has ever been convicted for his murder. You will help us put that right, Tom DuPlessis.’

  ‘I never knew about the fucking gun! Or anything else! Okay, yes, a couple of years ago Griff contacted me when he was over here on holiday, and told me he had something he wanted to get out of the country and over to Britain before his ex-wife got wind of it. He asked me to get it across on one of the liners. He knew we did that; quite a few people do, but what we take on board is harmless. We don’t move drugs or anything like that.’

  ‘Did Griff tell you what was in the box?’

  ‘He told me it was money, and I didn’t ask any more. He paid me in gold coins, fifteen of them. I gave Dee five.’

  ‘How did you get the box?’ Haddock asked.

  ‘He brought it to me. I think he had it in safe storage, long term. That’s all, I swear. You need me to give evidence to anybody, I will.’ He looked away from the camera, across at Pollock. ‘Is that it? Are you happy now? Can I get out of here? I got to get back to work, man.’

  The major laughed. ‘I tell you what. You give me a record of everything you’ve ever moved out of the country, and the people you’ve moved it for, and I might think about releasing you. As for going back to work, I think you’ll find that after what they’ve found out about you, Oceanic Magic don’t want to see you again.’ He looked off to his right. ‘Officers, take Mr DuPlessis back to his detention cell, and give him a pen and paper, so that he can write as if his life depends upon it, because that might very well be the case.’ As he was being removed, Pollock turned back to Haddock and Singh. ‘Can you guys really prove that Griffin collected that box?’

  ‘I hope so,’ the DI replied. ‘I can promise you we’ll have a bloody good try.’

  Forty-One

  Sauce Haddock wanted nothing more than to step into his car and drive home, his purchase in his pocket and ready for use. He was elated and nervous at the same time, and yet he knew that professionally his day was not over.

  As soon as he had ended the Pretoria video conference, he had called the DCC’s home number from his landline to update him. As he hung up, on impulse he phoned his mentor.

  Skinner’s mood brought him back down to earth. ‘I can’t believe I got it so wrong about a man. I recruited him, I advanced him in the service, and all the time he was a thief and a killer.’

  ‘Me neither, gaffer,’ Haddock admitted. ‘I don’t know whether to feel pleased that we’ve helped the South Africans solve a twelve-year-old crime or gutted that we’ve been betrayed by one of our own. I do know that in terms of the purpose of the investigation, I know fuck all. I can’t tie Coats and Griff together and until I do that I’m not one step closer to finding out who killed them. Now I’ve got the Rogozin murder, and Griff’s apparent involvement, muddying the waters, and on top of that . . .’ He paused as an idea, not previously considered, crossed his mind. ‘As you and Lottie found out yesterday, Grandpa McCullough knew Anatoly Rogozin; he turns up in Scotland, he’s killed and a couple of days later Grandpa disappears. I’m asking myself, did Grandpa know Griff? Is it possible that after their clash over the Rogotron shares Grandpa saw Anatoly as a threat and had Griff take him out?’

  ‘No,’ Skinner said, firmly. ‘I don’t see that for a second. If Cameron had done that he’d have established an unshakeable alibi, and he wouldn’t have drawn attention to himself by disappearing afterwards. To cover that base, though, you might ask Mia where he was on Saturday night.’

  ‘Shit!’ Haddock whispered. ‘I don’t need to. He did set up the perfect alibi; it’s me. On Saturday night he and Mia took Cheeky and me to the restaurant in the Caley Hotel. Vito Tremacoldi drove them down from Perthshire; he had a bistro meal in a place across Rutland Street.’

  ‘Do you know when Rogozin arrived in Scotland?’

  ‘Yes, I do now. Rogozin had an address in London. DC Honeyman, our secondee from Glasgow, has him coming into Edinburgh on a flight from London City that afternoon, Saturday, around the same time that Griff was dropping his bag for his trip to South Africa.’

  ‘A trip he never made,’ Skinner pointed out. ‘I take it you’ve . . .’

  ‘Gaffer, we’ve been crawling all over the airport CCTV for Saturday afternoon. Apart from one sighting of Griff at the bag drop there’s nothing.’

  ‘And Coats?’

  ‘A man of fucking mystery; we know where he lived but that’s it.’ As he spoke, his attention was grabbed by Marlon Honeyman’s waving left hand. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I think I’m wanted.’

  He replaced the handset and stepped out of his room, walking across to the DC’s desk. ‘What’s got your attention?’ he asked. ‘What the hell are you doing here anyway?’ he added. ‘There’s no overtime allocated and even Lottie’s taking the day off.’

  ‘I want to get into Inspector Montell’s personal records, sir, and I got sidetracked yesterday.’

  The DI nodded. ‘Thanks. It’s appreciated, and it won’t go unacknowledged. From that hand signal, you’ve found something.’

  ‘I may have. Montell booked a trip to South Africa for last weekend, as we know. That was paid for with a credit card. I got that information from British Airways at the same time as I traced Rogozin, because it’s generally quicker doing it that way than accessing it through the bank. The thing that’s interesting me is that he was booked on the last shuttle, yet he dropped his bag in the afternoon. As it turned out, he missed the flight, but why would he do that, drop his bag so early?’

  ‘Because he knew that Rogozin was coming and he intended to be waiting for him?’ Haddock suggested.

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking.’

  ‘In which case, how did he know, and what was the connection between them?’

  Honeyman smiled. ‘That’s above my pay grade, sir, I’m just a computer nerd. However, leaving that aside, the reason I wanted to talk to you, I found something interesting on his debit card. We have Montell checking in his case at nine minutes past three, we have Rogozin disembarking from his domestic flight at twenty-four minutes past. Then, at three forty-seven Montell makes a payment on his debit card to Lothian Buses. Do you know how much a single ticket costs on the airport bus?’

  ‘Four and a half quid. My partner and I caught it last October.’

  ‘In that case he bought two tickets.’

  Haddock patted the DC on the shoulder. ‘Progress, at last,’ he declared. ‘There are security cameras on all Lothian vehicles. If we can find out where they got off, we may be in business.’

  ‘Very good, sir, but how does it help us find out who killed Montell and Coats?’

  ‘I’ve got no idea, Marlon, but there’s a story unfolding before us. All we can do is read it and hope that in the end it tells us. Now get yourself back to Glasgow. Accessing the bus camera’s a job for tomorrow. You’ve done enough for today, and I’ve got another detecting job to do.’

  Forty-Two

  Edinburgh was back to work on the first Monday of the new year, after the extended break that invariably follows a Tuesday Hogmanay, but Sauce Haddock
was almost oblivious of the traffic as he waited for the lights to change. Cheeky’s pregnancy test had been positive; to be even more certain they had done a second, with the same result.

  They had agreed they would tell nobody until she could make plans at work. She was a senior audit manager with her firm, and her schedule was set out for the full year, with each client having a reporting deadline. He wanted nothing more than to go off on holiday at the first opportunity. The August trip to Madeira that they had booked would have to be cancelled as Cheeky’s pregnancy would be too far advanced to allow air travel. And then there was the housing question. They had been considering moving for a while; they were agreed it should be out of the city, but not about the direction. Thousands of new homes were under construction or planned for East Lothian, but Sauce had a hankering for Fife.

  ‘You could leave the police,’ she had suggested, deadpan over dinner, ‘go and work for Grandpa.’

  He had dropped his fork. ‘Are you serious?’

  She had flashed him the happiest smile he had ever seen, then laughed out loud. ‘No. I’d sooner you became a monk.’

  ‘We’re a bit late for that.’

  His grin became a frown as a horn blast came from the car behind, for a second too long to be acceptable. He drove off slowly; on the other side of the crossing he flashed a concealed blue light but decided to do no more than that. ‘Your lucky morning, pal,’ he murmured as he beamed once more, into the rearview mirror.

  He was still smiling as he walked into the CID suite, until he saw that the deputy chief constable was waiting for him in his office. He had not been expecting a visit from McGuire and hoped that it did not signal a problem, but he relaxed when he stepped out to join him. ‘You lot,’ he announced in a voice loud enough to carry round the crowded room, ‘are moving out of here for a while. The DCI’s office is a joke and the rest of you are all crammed in. DI Haddock, you’re moving into that virtually redundant meeting room, until DCI Pye comes back. The cubicle’s getting knocked down and the layout re-planned. The joiners will be in as soon as this investigation winds down. Sauce, come with me please.’

  He led Haddock into what was to become his new accommodation. ‘Close the door, will you? What I said there about Sammy coming back, that was for their benefit. I think we both know the truth. I should tell you also that you’ll be seeing less of me, for a while at least. The chief’s going to be taking a period of sick leave and I’ll be standing in for her. That means I won’t be getting involved on the ground, and certainly not at the ridiculous level of micro-management that you’ve just seen. ACC Lowell Payne will be taking on more tasks in addition to the counter-terrorism and organised crime briefs. He’ll be your go-to boss from now on, well, for a while at least. Do you know him?’

  ‘No, we’ve never met.’

  ‘You’ll get on,’ McGuire assured him. ‘He’s not one of those ramrod-straight guys. You won’t be snapping to attention all the time. He’s also from the west: it concerns me that this force has been a bit Edinburgh-centric in its early years; that’s something that both Mrs Steele and I are looking to correct. As an aside, he’s Alex Skinner’s uncle, married to her mum’s sister; I doubt he would be if the big man didn’t rate him. You can expect to see him within a couple of days, but he won’t sit on your shoulder.’

  ‘Is this thing starting to fall apart, sir?’ Haddock ventured. ‘First Sammy, Griff and what we’re finding out about him, and now the chief?’

  The DCC frowned and for a moment Haddock thought he had gone too far. He was relieved when he sighed. ‘There is the potential for it, Sauce, that I will admit; but I’m damned if I’ll let it happen. Sammy’s problem, that has nothing to do with the job. Mrs Steele’s, well, maybe that has; she’s been diagnosed with stress and depression although that’s for senior officers’ ears only. It won’t be made public; the media department won’t be told the detail, only that it’s medical and she’s entitled to the same privacy as anyone else. But aside from all that,’ he continued, ‘I only really came in here before heading for the Chateau d’If, as I like to call our headquarters, to tell you that Dorward rang me last night to advise me that his guys put in an extra shift yesterday. A bullet was couriered up to Gartcosh from Manchester; Arthur’s senior ballistic man examined it microscopically and compared it with the one dug out of the Howgate victim. It’s a match. What exactly does that mean? I didn’t like to sour Dorward’s triumph by telling him I didn’t fucking know.’

  ‘It means I should have spoken to you myself over the weekend, sir,’ Haddock confessed. ‘Remember Bob Skinner and I catching Terry Coats with an air hostess, and the story he spun?’

  ‘Yes. I even remember her name. Aisha, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right, Aisha Karman. We went looking for her, only to find that she went missing a couple of months back, somewhere between the Mersey and Manchester. She turned up as soon as I sent her picture down there, unidentified in a mortuary drawer. You’ve just confirmed my hunch, that she was killed by Griff Montell’s gun.’

  ‘But how would he . . . ? If she was Coats’s bird . . .’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping to find out. I still haven’t put Coats and Montell together; I haven’t proved a physical link between them, but this gets me right on the edge of it.’

  ‘Then crack on, Acting Chief Inspector. It would be good if you could tie that up by the time ACC Payne makes contact. I’ll be seeing you.’

  Haddock looked at the door for several seconds after it closed behind the deputy chief. He felt his earlier elation drain from him, as he was seized by a disturbing feeling that an era was coming to an end. Maggie Steele had been a considerable early influence on his career; she had been his mentor just as much as had Bob Skinner in more recent times, and he was deeply concerned by her situation. His gut feeling was that she would not be back, and that another command regime had hit the wall, leaving an uncertain future for everyone in the police service. Bringing himself back to the present, he looked around the room that McGuire had decreed would become the Serious Crimes commander’s office, and took an executive decision.

  ‘Tarvil,’ he called out, stepping back into the suite, ‘I’m not waiting for the joiners, I’m moving in there now. Help me move my kit.’

  ‘Okay,’ the DS replied. He looked across the suite at two detective constables who were trying to appear as inconspicuous as they could. ‘Joe, Tyson. Move the DI’s desk, his computer and his other stuff from the chicken coop into the big room. You call that delegation, Sauce,’ he said. ‘You’ll never be as good at it as me.’ He picked up his phone and hit the zero button. ‘DS Singh, Serious Crimes East, Fettes. From now on all calls to the DCI’s extension should go to the one in the squad conference room. That’s right, from now until further notice. Got that? Good.’ He turned back to Haddock. ‘Can I move into yours in the meantime, until they knock it down?’ he asked.

  ‘No chance. You’d suffocate in there. Jackie,’ he called to Wright, ‘do you want it for as long as it’s there? You’d benefit most from the quiet.’

  The DC stared at him. ‘Seriously? Yes, please.’

  ‘Get moving, then. Tarvil, I’ll be in there; they can move around me. Since you’ll have time on your hands, I need you to follow up on the dates we got from the guy DuPlessis yesterday.’

  ‘What are you going to be doing?’

  ‘Being the boss, big fella, being the boss. I think you call it delegating.’ He smiled. ‘I might never be as good as you, but you’re going to lose about ten kilos watching me try.’ He heard laughter behind him as he returned to his new office.

  ‘Where do you want the desk, sir?’ one of the DCs asked him from the doorway.

  ‘Beside the phone point, back to the window. I don’t want to be looking at fucking Gormenghast all day.’

  He took a seat at the far end of the table and called Cheeky on his mobile. ‘Hi, how are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You’re no
t sick or anything?’

  He heard her laugh. ‘I don’t think I’m at that stage yet.’

  ‘Have you told your boss yet?’

  ‘Sauce,’ she said, ‘in terms of the whole process, we’ve barely wiped the sweat off our foreheads. I’ll tell her when I think the moment’s right, but I’ll decide when that is. You’re not going to phone me every morning, are you?’

  ‘I’ll try not to. Will we go looking at houses at the weekend?’

  ‘Do you expect your investigation to be finished by then?’

  The question brought him back to reality. ‘That’s a point. It’s going all right just now though; I ticked another box this morning. I’ll let you go, but just one more thing. When your grandpa resurfaces, do you want to tell him yourself or do you want me there?’

  She laughed. ‘I’ll tell you what. Let’s hold off on that until I’m wide enough for you to hide behind me.’

  ‘I’m expecting him to be hiding behind me from Mia. See you later, love.’

  As he ended the call his mind turned to another matter. He and Cheeky had discussed marriage a few weeks before. They had decided that while it was definitely in their future, there was no rush, as they had no plans to start a family for a couple of years. ‘Maybe Grandpa will have a view on that too,’ he whispered to the empty room.

  Forcing himself back to the business of the day, he retrieved the number of Inspector Jamie Ellis from his phone memory and called her. ‘DI Haddock,’ she answered in a cheery accent that reminded him of Coronation Street. ‘Did my package arrive?’