The emptiness of the villa washed over Skinner as soon as he opened the door, bringing with it a pang of sudden loneliness so strong that it carried him back to his youth, and to the days after the death of Myra, his first wife, Alex's mother.
He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes after five o'clock. To free their nostrils of the stench of the prison, he and Pujol had taken time out in Barcelona. They had visited the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's epic, if impossible, cathedral with its melted-icing towers, and its cranes soaring above the most visited building site in the world. Then they had eaten a tapas lunch at one of the pavement tables of a Ramblas bar, where Pujol's green uniform had attracted the deepest respect of the waiters. Finally, with Skinner at the wheel of his white BMW, they had headed northward out of the hilly city, spectacular even in its occasional seediness, with its forests of medium- and high-rise buildings flanking traffic-thronged highways.
But now, back in L'Escala, there was nothing to stave off the blues brought on by the departure of Sarah and Jazz. Bob walked into the living room, and looked at the new fax. Its LCD read-out told him that the answer machine held two messages.
He pushed the replay button. The mechanism whirred for a second or two as the tape rewound. Then there was a whistle, before, suddenly, the room was filled with Sarah's voice. 'Hi, darling. Just a call to say that we're home okay. The plane was fine, and Jazz was great. Alex and Andy were there waiting. I think there's something-'
`Here stepmother, let me say hello.'
Bob smiled as his daughter's effervescent tones cut across Sarah's light New York drawl. 'Hi, Pops. That brother of mine's a wee heartbreaker. You know, maybe I'm biased, but you do real good-looking kids. I've got some good news and some better news. The good news is I got my finals results this morning. The better news is I got a first. So get used to it. Your kid's a lawyer. Now, Pops, don't hang about too long out there.
Get that thing sorted and come home. Sarah's missing you already — and it's only been six hours.'
There was a click and a buzz as the message ended. Then a few seconds later, a whistling sound prefaced the second message. When a voice came on the line, it was that of Brian Mackie. 'Boss, hello. Could you call me back as soon as you get in? I've had feedback from France that you should know about. It's three forty-five BST at the moment.' The message clicked to a halt.
Curious, Skinner pushed the hands-free button on the tele shy;fax console and keyed in 07. Within three seconds, the second tone sounded, and he dialled in a direct-line number.
`Mackie.'
`Brian, Skinner. What's the story?'
`The man Lucan, sir. The associate of your fellow Vaudan that you asked us to tag as from yesterday. He's been on the move today. The French watchers had only just picked him up, when he headed for Nice Airport and caught an early flight to Hamburg.'
‘Yes?’
The French faxed a photo to Germany while the plane was in the air, and the locals in Hamburg got on his tail. He took a taxi to a hotel, had coffee and strudel with the receptionist, then took another taxi, back to the airport and caught the first plane back to Nice.
What d’you think of that?
‘I can think of one or two things, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. What do we know about the girl?’
`Leggy redhead with big knockers, so the German watchers said. Name of Hilda Braun. They stayed clear of her, though.'
`Good. When I go to see her I want it to come as a surprise.'
'You're going to Germany?'
`Yeah. There's fuck all to do here now. All the leads are dead, dried up, or staying silent. But Lucan's visit to this girl — I don't want to get too excited, but that could be a break for us, and I want to interview her. Fix it with the German police. And get yourself booked out, too. If there's any chance that this might wind up as evidence in a Scottish prosecution of Ainscow, then there must be two of us at the interview. Arturo Pujol's serving that purpose here, but I want you in Germany.'
`You're still sure that Ainscow's involved, then?'
`Bloody certain, and I'm not letting up till I prove it. Brian, this is a big scam with one, probably two murders thrown in. Its been set up to accumulate, over a period, a pile of laundered cash. Once I find out what that's going to be used for, and once I can show that Ainscow and Vaudan are acting in concert, then I can pull the whole thing down.
Where's this cash pile lying now, boss?'
`That's a bloody good question, my son. Once we've done the business in Hamburg, we'll try to answer it. And to do that we'll need to go to Amsterdam.'
`Amsterdam?'
`That's right. The vice capital of Europe. Maybe I should take Andy Martin on that instead. That's more his line' There was a silence at the other end of the line.
`No, you make the arrangements and the bookings. Get me on a plane from Barcelona to tie in with your arrival, and then book me back to Edinburgh with you from Amsterdam. Tell Ruth what you want, and ask her to make it happen.'
`Okay, sir, will do.' Mackie paused. 'Wait a minute. What about your car?'
`I'll leave it here in my garage, and get a cheap tourist flight out to pick it up once things have settled down.'
`Okay, I'll get things moving at once,' said the Chief Inspector. 'I'll send you a fax to let you know the arrangements. Can I leave that until tomorrow, though?'
`Sure. But why? You got a date?'
`Aye, sir. With Maggie Rose. She's kicking her heels with you away, so I gave her a stint in Stirling keeping tabs on Ainscow. She called me in around half an hour ago to say that he's on the move. He's heading down the M9. towards Edinburgh. I told her to call in when he stopped, and I'd meet up with her.'
`He's probably heading for Safeway. You can grab a trolley each and tail him through the aisles! Let me know if it's anything more significant. Otherwise I'll see you in Hamburg. `Cheers, boss. I'll be in touch.'
Mackie replaced his receiver, then picked it up again immediately and called Skinner's secretary. He relayed the ACC's instructions and asked her to make travel arrangements. Next he called in the Special Branch typist and dictated a fax to the Interpol contact in Hamburg, advising him of their visit to interview Hilda Braun, and asking that they be met by an
English-speaking officer who could interpret if necessary. `Check the ETA of the flights with Ruth. Once you have them, send it off.' The typist, a middle-aged woman of formidable demeanour, nodded. Even after only a short time in his new post, Mackie knew that there was no need to check her work.
She had barely left the room before his phone rang again.
He picked it up. `DCI Mackie.'
`Brian, it's Maggie Rose. Our man Ainscow's reached his destination. Believe it or not, he's at Tony Manson's sauna in Powderhall. Pulled right up to the door and walked in.'
`Eh! Bit early in the day, isn't it?'
`I don't know. Maybe he really has gone for a sauna.'
`Come on, Maggie. Nobody goes to one of those places for that!'
`You're just a cynic. Anyway, I've got a small complication. Andy Martin and Neil Mcllhenney are parked right across the road from the place. We seem to have crossed wires with another investigation. What do I do if they decide to go in? You remember the boss's orders on Ainscow. "Look, but don't touch."'
`Shit, yes. Listen, have they seen you yet?' 'No'
`Right. Sit tight where you are. I'm on my way.'