Authors: Quintin Jardine
Ìn a criminal trial, the Crown would have to prove access to the explosives, but not in an FAI, at least not beyond too reasonable a doubt. They wouldn't need the same level of proof, and although Noble would effectively be on trial posthumously, there would be no opportunity for defence evidence to be introduced. There are only seven jurors, a simple majority verdict is enough, and the Sheriff has wide powers of direction.
He spread his hands wide. 'I ask you, gentlemen. What would you do?'
Martin leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Joe Doherty smiled. Arrow looked glumly along the table.
`Still,' said Skinner breezily, 'that's all guesswork and bullshit. Let's switch on the telly and hear what Pettigrew had to say himself. Dave.'
Donaldson, who was seated closest to the television set, leaned over and picked up its remote unit. He pushed the Start button several times, but no picture appeared.
`Come on, man, we'll miss the bloody thing!'
`Sorry, boss, the battery must be low.' At last, the screen lit up, to show a crowded room.
Sir James Proud was seated at a table, before a blue backcloth. Beside him, a stocky, bushy-bearded man was on his feet.
. . ten days, exhaustive enquiries into the Lammermuirs disaster have been made, led by a team of detectives under the command of the Chief Constable, on my left, working with colleagues in other Forces and agencies.
Òn Saturday, four people were detained in various parts of England and brought to Edinburgh to assist the police with their enquiries. I have now had an opportunity to interview them all. Our investigation is continuing and is reaching a stage at which I expect proceedings to be considered. In the meantime, the four individuals have been released on police bail, until Friday, when they will report to me for further questioning.
`That is all I have to say at this stage. I would caution you all to exercise restraint in your reporting. Any attempt either in Scotland or England to interfere with witnesses in this case will be viewed very seriously by Crown Office.' As Sir James rose to his feet beside him, the Procurator Fiscal picked up his papers and bustled out of the room.
The picture cut back to the newsreader. 'Campaigning began today in several by-elections which have arisen as a result of the Lammermuirs disaster,' she began.
`Turn it off, Dave,' said Skinner. The DCI pressed a switch several times, but without success. A street canvass in Chindersford came on screen, showing the Tory candidate with the newly appointed Defence Secretary at his side. 'Kill the sound, then, if you can,'
said the DCC. Donaldson pushed the mute button. The set fell silent at once.
`What was your Fiscal saying, do you think, Bob?' said Doherty.
Skinner grinned. Ì'm not often wrong, Joe, but I'm right again. He's leading up to taking the Noble option. He'll have the Fab Four up again next Friday, and then he'll announce that no charges have been made, and that he's holding a Fatal Accident Inquiry as soon as possible. That is not a guess, my friend. That is a fucking certainty.'
At the other end of the table, Arrow was frowning. The trouble is, Bob, Maurice didn't fookin' do it.'
`No,' said Martin. 'I still fancy Sawyer.'
`Then while I recuperate, you've got five days to prove it!'
`Who do you fancy, boss?' asked Neil Mcllhenney.
Skinner eyed him curiously. 'I thought you were being unusually quiet, Sergeant. But I don't answer your questions, I throw them at you. So you tell me . . . who do you fancy?'
`Me, sir?' The Sergeant put on his best 'simple detective' expression. 'To be honest with you, and I know I haven't met Sawyer, but I just don't fancy any of them. Apart from the boy Richards, who's just a love-struck eejit, they're all a bunch of shites, but that's all they are. Noble's too easy an option, but so 's Sawyer in a reverse sort of way.
Ìf you're going to shove a red-hot poker up someone's arse you're not going to write to him giving him advance warning. That's why Davey knew he was safe in filing that letter.
If Sawyer hadn't sent it, I'd go for him, but because he did, I don't . . . if you see what I mean.'
`Yes, I see, Neil, and I agree with you. Truth be told, I don't fancy any of them either. You can have as many options as you like in this game, but there's always only one solution.
So until the Fiscal says, "that's it — I'm picking him, or her, or them," we've got to keep on looking.'
He paused. 'If I've learned anything this week, it's that it's possible to sit right on top of something, without even knowing that it's there. Sometimes, with a crime as big-scale as this, the tendency is to look for big-scale solutions. So over the next few days, I think we should set aside all the assumptions that we made at the start, pick up some of those we discarded, and—'
He stopped in mid-sentence and gazed down the table. `Lieutenant Swift, have I lost your attention?' he said evenly.
The Yorkshireman, who had been staring at the silent television, jumped in his seat.
Ì'm sorry, sir,' he said. 'It's just that . . .' he pointed back at the screen '. . . I know that bloke.'
NINETY
‘I’ll tell you something, Andy,' said Skinner. 'You've only got one fault left as a detective.
You're too open-minded.’
Ì've got a great team around me. You've all got your own strengths, and together you're unbeatable. But you know, of all of you, the one who thinks most like me is your pal Mcllhenney. He's not nearly as quick a thinker as you, or as analytical, but he's a devious bastard. That's what he and I have got in common.
`He knows when to set logic aside and say "Bugger it, what's the real story here?".
Basically, he's got a criminal mind. I think the best detectives probably have. So you take him on to your personal staff and use him, shamelessly, as your personal sounding board .
. . along with me, of course.'
It was early evening, and they were in Skinner's hospital room. At the Ward Sister's insistence he had rested for a few hours after returning from his Boardroom meeting. In fact, he had been exhausted, and had not put up a moment's resistance. Now he sat up in bed, connected with the outside world by the mobile phone which he had persuaded Sarah to allow him. It sat on the bedside cabinet.
`So, has Adam finished that check you asked him for?' asked Martin, coming to business at last.
The DCC nodded. 'He called in half an hour ago. There's a report on the shelf, there. Have a look.'
Martin picked up the paper and read through it. He whistled as he finished and put it down. 'Bloody hell,' he said. 'Could we have been heading up the wrong street all the time?'
Ìf you were, I'll take most of the blame. I set it all in motion. I overlooked something pretty obvious. Let's hold our horses, though. That's a coincidence, but it's no greater than your missile engineer in Cumbria having those materials in his workshop. We need a few more pieces in place before we get too ex—' He was interrupted by the harsh tone of his mobile phone. Martin, who was closer to it, reached across, picked it up from its charger and took the call.
`Yes?' he said cautiously. His tone changed at once. 'Of course, sir. Here he is.' He handed the instrument across the bed. 'It's the Secretary of State, calling from the Scottish Office,'
he whispered.
`Thanks. Good evening, sir.' Skinner held the receiver to his ear, and listened for a few seconds. 'There's no doubt about that? You're one short?' He paused. 'Oh yes, sir, it's significant. Very significant. All I need now is one more fact to fit, and I think we might have the answer. Yes, I'll keep you in touch. Goodbye.'
He reached across and behind himself and dropped the phone back into its cradle. 'Another piece. Once we hear from our star witness, it could be that we'll have the whole bloody jigsaw. You did bring that tape recorder, didn't you?' Martin nodded, dipped a hand into his pocket, and produced a tiny electric notebook.
`Come on, Maggie, where are you?'
They had been sitting in virtual silence for five minutes, before the door opened and Maggie Rose's red head appeared. `Hello, boss,' she said, with a smile. 'I've brought that witness you asked to see. Come away in,' she said to a figure behind her as she threw the door wide.
Mark McGrath stepped into the room. He was wearing his Police Cadet cap.
`Hello, young man,' said Skinner. 'It's a bit strange seeing me here, isn't it?'
`Yes, Mr Bob. Are you all right now?'
Ì'm getting there, son, thanks very much. Andy, lift our guest up and let him sit on the bed.'
He pulled himself upright, adjusting the pillows at his back.
`Mark,' he began, 'your Auntie Alison told me, and I think I've probably heard for myself too, that you've got a terrific memory. You remember just about everything you see and hear.'
`That's right,' said the boy, puffing out his chest proudly.
`That's good, because we want you to do some remembering for us. I want you to talk into this wee tape recorder here, and tell us everything about the morning of the accident, from the moment that you and your daddy got ready to leave your house in London, to the moment that you got on the plane. Will you do that?'
The child nodded, solemnly. Martin switched on the recorder. 'Anytime you like, Mark.'
`We were at the flat in Dolphin Square,' he began. 'I had honey-coated Sugar Loops for breakfast. Mummy and Daddy had toast.'
`Can you remember what you all talked about?'
`Mummy and Daddy talked about her going to the dentist. She had lost a big filling the night before and had a 'mergency appointment in the morning. Daddy and I talked about Celtic. Then Victoria . . . she was Daddy's secretary . . . arrived, with the Red Box.' He gave the words great weight, as if he were pronouncing the capitals.
Ànd after that?'
Àfter that the buzzer rang. Victoria picked it up and said that it was the Government car to take us to the airport. Then she and Daddy and I all went downstairs. Only it wasn't . .
NINETY-ONE
‘Well, my friend,' said Skinner to Martin, as the door closed behind Maggie Rose and little Mark. 'In all my years I don't think I have ever heard a better or more reliable witness.
That's it. The whole story. Markie even gave us a motive, only thankfully he didn't realise what he was saying. There's a public meeting tonight, I believe, in the Assembly Hall at Stewart's - Melville. Our murderer will be there for sure, rather than at home. So, right away, send Mackie, McGuire and young Sammy to search those premises. They'll know what they're looking for.'
`What about a warrant?'
`They can call in on Sheriff Sinclair on the way there. He lives in Arboretum Road. •
Ìf he isn't at home . . . ?'
`Then find him, Andy — him or any other bloody Sheriff. I want that place searched tonight, and if the troops uncover anything, I want to know right away. Once that's in motion you take Mcllhenney, and Adam Arrow, go along to Stewart's - Melville, and as soon as Leona's meeting is over, make the arrest. But take all precautions, and be very, very careful.
`From what we've heard today, and seen earlier, Marshall Elliot is a very dangerous man.'
NINETY-TWO
‘You see, girls, it was the wrong box.' Skinner sat in an armchair in his room, playing happily with his gurgling son. 'We found Roly McGrath's Red Box at the crash scene in the Lammermuirs, and when we found what was left of the other one, we assumed that it must have been Colin Davey's. Only it wasn't.
Ì tell you, he's some chap, is wee Mark McGrath.' He lifted Jazz high above his head. 'I hope this one turns out like him. He's as bright as a button, and he has a tremendous memory for even the smallest detail. Listen to this.' He picked up Andy Martin's electric notebook, which was lying on the bed, and switched it on. Sarah and Alex sat in silence as the clear, piping voice rang out.
`. . . Only it wasn't the lady from the Government Car service. It was Uncle Marsh, with his big Rover 820 SDi.'
`That's very good, Mark, knowing the model,' said Skinner. Ì know the number too. L 511
QFT,' he recited. 'I always remember things like that.'
`You weren't expecting Uncle Marsh, then?' asked Martin.
`No. Daddy said to him, "What are you doing here?" and he said, "I was in London for a meeting at Central Office, so I thought I'd surprise you, and take you to the airport myself." He took the Red Box from Victoria and he put it in the boot of the Rover.
Victoria got in the car, in the back seat. Then he asked Daddy where Mummy was, and Daddy told him about her toothache.' The child interrupted his torrent of words to take a deep, gasping breath.
Ì was getting in the car when I heard him say something else to Daddy. He said, "You . .
." He called Daddy a Bad Word. "You
something
. I know about you and Margie." That's my Auntie Margie,' he interposed confidentially. 'He said, "I know all about you two, you little
something
, and I'm going to finish you. It's not just that you had her," he said. What does that mean, Mr Bob?'
`Never mind, Mark. Just go on, exactly as you remember it.'
Àll right. Uncle Marsh said, ". . . but what you've done to her." He said that, then my Daddy pushed him away.'
`You're sure he said all that, Mark? You haven't made any of it up?'
Ì never make things up, Mr Bob. I just remember them.' The little voice sounded offended.
Ì'm sorry, Mark. Go on. What did Daddy say to Uncle Marsh?'
`He didn't say anything. He saw Mr Davey . . . he lives in Dolphin Square, too . . . and he shouted across to him. He was getting into his car. Daddy asked if he was going to Heathrow, and Mr Davey said he was. So Daddy said to him to send his car away, and come with us. Mr Davey said, "Are you sure you've got room?" and Daddy said, "Of course. Mark can sit on Victoria's knee. He'll like that." So Mr Davey and the other man came with us.'
Did the other man have a Red Box like Victoria's?'
`Yes, Uncle Marsh took it from him and put it in the boot with ours.'
`Who was in the front seat beside Uncle Marsh on the way to the airport?'