Okay, troops. It's good to be back together with so many of you.'
Skinner stood in the main briefing room at Fettes Avenue. He smiled around the assembled faces. They included Roy Old, Alison Higgins, Andy Martin, Brian Mackie, Maggie Rose and a number of junior officers from the Drugs and Vice Squad, and from Alison Higgins' divisional team.
He looked at Martin. 'Who's baby-sitting?'
'McGuire's got Cocozza, and McIlhenney’s with Ainscow.'
`Good. I want our most experienced people covering them from now on. I had an interesting visit yesterday. It seems that there might be a new prayer in the game.'
He described in detail his detour to Leicester, his meeting with Norrie Monklands, and the story of Lucan's paranoid rage.
`This guy is not to be pissed about with. He and his late half-brother were peas from the same pod. Killers. Sometimes they hired help, like the German in L'Escala, but Nick was capable of doing the job himself, and we can assume that Lucan is too. So, if this guy is headed up here, then we aren't simply keeping Ainscow and Cocozza under surveillance. We could be keeping them alive.
Roy Old raised a hand. 'Couldn't we just lift them, Bob?'
Skinner shook his head. `That'd be the easy answer. But what grounds do we have? Monklands is too scared to go on the record, so we've nothing, but our assumptions to rely on. Listen, I still want these guys — don't be in any doubt. If it hadn't been for that bloody dog in Leicester, we'd have them right now. We'll keep watching them in the faint hope that they make a wrong move, and that we can save something from that wreckage. They've ridden their luck so far, and as far as Lucan's concerned they can ride it some more. If we see him, we nick him. If not, then we keep Monklands' information to ourselves.'
'Do you think Ainscow knows about Vaudan yet?' asked Andy Martin.
`It's possible. The way he's most likely to find out is by calling his secretary in InterCosta — it's still trading — or if he contacts Gloria Alberni for any reason. If he does, then he'll get the official version, which is that the Guardia Civil went up to question Vaudan about a series of thefts of high-value boats along the Costa Brava, and that he panicked, pulled out a gun and started shooting. Nobody down there, other than my friend Pujol, knows what the real story is.'
Skinner looked around the room. 'All sorts of things could happen in this one yet. I think that our best chance of getting a result is through Cocozza. He's out of his league. He's a wee man who's suddenly got big ambitious. If we can find a reason to put the pressure on him, he might crack and give us the extra witness we need to wrap up Ainscow. So let's just carry on with what we're doing, and see what turns up. Andy, this is a drugs operation, so you carry on co-ordinating operations. Keep me informed if the cork pops out of the bottle.
He glanced across at his personal assistant. 'Come on Maggie. Let's get back to that bloody in-tray.'
The gathering stood up as he did. He preceded Maggie Rose from the room and along the corridor which led to the stairs to the Command Suite. As they turned the corner, they barely avoided collision with a young woman officer who had come rushing down the steps.
She looked up and flushed bright scarlet. 'Sorry, sir. Excuse me, but is Mr Martin still along there.'
Skinner nodded. 'Yes, he is. And he can only get out this way, so you've got him cornered. You can take it a bit easier from now on.
Back in his office, Skinner and Rose sat on either side of the desk and began to work their way through the great pile of folders, reports and correspondence that had accumulated in Skinner's short absence. They were only on the third item, a report from the Borders division on a recent increase in cattle-rustling, when there was a heavy knock on the door.
`Yes!'
The door swung open and Andy Martin came into the room. A slight frown line creased his forehead.
`Could be the cork's out the bottle already, boss. I've just spoken to Neil Mcllhenney. It looks as if Ainscow's disappeared'
`What! How the hell did that happen?'
`Sounds like the night-shift. Neil took over at half-eight as usual. Ainscow's car was still in the driveway, so he didn't think anything of the curtains being closed. But then the postwoman turned up with a parcel that was too big for the letter-box. She rang the bell for two or three minutes, but there was no answer. So Neil called Ainscow's telephone, meaning to say "Wrong number" if the call was picked up. Still no reply. So he went in. He hadn't heard about Lucan, remember. He just didn't fancy the feel of things. Anyway, he went round and tried the back door. It was unlocked, so he went in and searched the house. There was no sign of Ainscow, but in the main bedroom the shirt drawer and wardrobe were lying open, as if someone had packed some kit in a hurry. The bed hadn't been slept in.
`He went back outside and looked in the garden. There's a back gate from the property that we didn't know about, which leads to a lane. It looked as if the gate wasn't used very much, because leaves and stuff had gathered around it. They were scraped back, as if the gate had been opened recently. Neil looked at the lane. It leads down to the main street, and right there is a twenty-four-hour taxi office. He checked. A man with a small suitcase walked in last night around ten thirty and took a taxi to Stirling station. There are still four trains after then, including one that feeds a London overnight service, with seating accommodation. So he could be anywhere!'
Skinner stared at Martin, stone-faced. 'Magic. A back gate and we didn't know about it!'
`Boss, it was overgrown.'
`So bloody what. We're policemen Andy, not spectators.' He slapped his hand, palm down, on the table.
'What d'you think might have happened? Did he call L'Escala and get the wrong story about Vaudan?'
'I told you, no one knows the truth there except Arturo. Anyway, he'll still be recovering. No, there's a likelier explanation.' Skinner pressed his hands-free intercom. 'Ruth, get me the Leicester remand centre. I want to speak to the guy who was in charge, yesterday afternoon and last night, of the floor Monklands is on.'
Skinner, Martin and Rose sat in heavy silence for just under three minutes. When the phone sounded, Skinner snatched it up on the first ring. 'Yes.'
`Senior Officer Morgan is on the line, sir.'
`Thanks.'
Ruth switched the call through.
`Mr Morgan, you had Norman Monklands under your care yesterday. Did he make a phone-call?'
The voice on the other end had a heavy Welsh accent, 'Yes, sir, I'm afraid he did. I know he was supposed to be denied access to the pay-phone but, with it being Sunday and all, I had a couple of probationers on duty with me. One of them made a mistake, and let him make a call. I gave the lad a bollocking when I found out, mind you.'
`What time did he make this call?'
`Oh, t'would be about nine thirty in the evening.' `I don't suppose your lad checked the number.'
– 'No, sir. Well, we can't, see.'
`Right. Have someone check with BT now, and get the number that he called, just to confirm our suspicions.'
`Very good, sir.'
Skinner hung up. 'That's the answer. Norrie Monklands couldn't stop himself. He had to warn his mate about Lucan. Christ, we'll be lucky if we ever see Ainscow again.'
Martin looked crestfallen. 'I'm sorry, boss. I've blown it. I'll take the flak.
Skinner shook his head. 'Not alone, you won't. I'm to blame too. I should have put the fear of Jehovah into Monklands about what would happen to him if he made a call. And to make double certain, I should have repeated my instruction to the remand unit that he was to be kept away from the phone.'
He stood up. Only three things to do, Andy. Tell Neil to make sure that he hasn't left a trace of his presence in Ainscow's house, keep watching it — front and back — in case he comes back after a couple of days; and keep tabs on Cocozza everywhere he goes. I want a report on every step that wee man takes.'