‘The Peruvian marching powder?’
Diamond didn’t know the expression and not a word of it was understandable to him. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Cocaine.’
‘Got you. The stuff I brought in yesterday. Has it been analysed yet?’
Tate nodded and kept his mouth shut. Probably he felt he’d said too much already.
It was ridiculous to Diamond that the drugs unit couldn’t fully confide in CID, and the reticence wasn’t entirely down to Tate’s personality. He’d come up against this brick wall before. Everyone in the policing of drug offenders would talk of ongoing operations requiring secrecy, as if no other section worked on the basis of confidence. As Diamond saw it, all sections of the police were on the same side. This would not be simple. ‘How was the quality?’
‘Better than most.’
‘Pure cocaine?’
‘You don’t get pure cocaine here. It’s twenty to twenty-five percent at best.’
‘Not crack, anyway?’
‘Aye.’
‘Did your guys tell you who it came from?’
‘The laddie who put on the fireworks show, I was told.’
‘Correct.’
‘And now you’re going to ask me who his dealer was. I can’t tell you.’
‘I didn’t expect it from you, Don. But you can point me in the right direction.’
Tate pulled a face as if someone was trying to throttle him. ‘Sensitive information.’
Unmoved, Diamond told him, ‘I won’t share your precious secrets with anyone outside my team. We’re professionals, same as you.’
‘We have several ongoing enquiries.’
‘Is there ever a time when you don’t? That’s how you work.’
‘Aye, but I can’t have the work of many months compromised by your lot pulling in people under surveillance by my teams.’
‘This was murder, Don. I’ll pull in whoever I believe has information.’
‘You have your job.’ Tate glared. ‘I have mine.’
‘And you’re about to give me the tired old line about a conflict of interests. I’m looking for some cooperation here. Have you ever stopped to look at the name of this building when you come in each day? It’s Concorde House. Not a lot of concord in here this morning.’
‘Whose fault is that?’ Tate said.
Diamond rolled his eyes. ‘I brought the cocaine straight to your team. Don’t you owe me something in return?’
‘It may seem a big deal to you, Peter, but having a user ID’d is no help to us when he’s already dead. We’re interested in the big boys.’
‘So am I, ultimately. The boys who order the shooting of dopers they want eliminated.’ Diamond had known it would be like this but being forewarned hadn’t made him any less irritated. ‘For now, I’ll settle for the name of his supplier. You don’t want me making wholesale arrests, you say. Better name someone, so I can get the job done with minimal damage to your stings.’
Tate gave him a level look. ‘Nice try.’
‘What do you suggest, then — that I get out on the streets and run it my way, putting the fear of God into all the coke-heads we can find so that they cough up the names of these people you’re unwilling to identify?’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘Try me.’
‘Perry Morgan wasn’t on our radar. I’d tell you if he was. So how could I know who supplied him?’
‘You said it was good quality cocaine.’
A nod.
‘And you saw the wraps. Plain white paper. Was there any indication from the way it was folded who might have made them?’
‘We had a look.’
‘Got any prints?’
‘From what?’
‘Give me a break, Don. The wraps, folds, bindles or whatever the current term is. You don’t have to be obtuse as well as tight-lipped.’
‘Nothing definite was found.’
‘But you have your suspicions? You’re not going to let a chance like this go begging.’
Tate sneered. ‘And you’re not going to stop trying, are you?’
‘Why would I? The signs are that Morgan was addicted and using a large part of his income to keep stocking up. He must have become a nuisance or a threat to his killer. Is there anyone in your sights who would resort to murder?’
‘That would be unusual.’
‘But not unknown?’
‘The barons are into other crimes.’ Sensing he was on safer ground, Don Tate expanded a little. ‘Money-laundering more than anything. That’s how we get on to many of them in the first place. They have cash-flow problems, but not the sort you and I would have. They have to find ways of hiding their dirty money in offshore accounts or in businesses that routinely handle large amounts of cash.’
‘I understand that. One way of disposing of hot cash is to pay a gunman to take out someone you don’t like.’
‘In which case,’ Tate said, looking away, out of the window, ‘first find your gunman.’
‘There were no witnesses.’
‘Ballistics?’
‘May identify the weapon. Not the man. If I don’t get names from you, Don, I’m serious about taking to the streets.’
‘You’d set us back months of patient work if you do. And you’d get nothing. The guy you want doesn’t do street dealing.’
This sounded awfully like confirmation that a particular individual was in the frame, teased out of the wily Scot through sheer persistence. Long experience of questioning tight-lipped criminals might be about to pay off. ‘So you do have someone in mind.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t if you could avoid it, but you just did. He doesn’t do street dealing, so he must be selling at a higher level to better-off celebrities and the like. Am I right?’
Rattled, Tate pointed a finger and said, ‘Lay off, Peter.’ He rolled the final ‘r’ like a motorbike revving up.
‘Touched a raw nerve, did I?’ Diamond said. ‘If you won’t tell me, there are big-name people in this city who can. I see it in your eyes, Don. And your white knuckles. Where shall I go looking for these snow birds — the racecourse, the Pump Room, the theatre, or can you suggest a top hotel?’
‘You could blow an entire operation.’
‘Sorry,’ Diamond said with irony. ‘You can’t say I didn’t inform you first.’ He got up from the chair. ‘I must get started.’
Tate gave him a murderous look. ‘The wraps would appear to have been made by a dealer we already have under surveillance. He folds them in a particular way we recognise. He will have bought the cocaine from someone higher up the chain who imported it, someone outside our authority. We’re working closely with the National Crime Agency.’
The mention of the all-powerful NCA was supposed to spook Diamond. It didn’t.
‘Name?’
Tate flapped his hand in derision.
‘I’m asking for the name of the local man.’
‘He’s small time, not likely to possess a firearm or think of hiring a gunman. We don’t regard him as dangerous in that sense.’
‘So you can safely tell me who he is.’
‘I canna.’
There is an old proverb about using a sprat to catch a mackerel. This was the moment Diamond reversed the process.
‘Someone else will.’
‘Who do you mean?’
‘Don, we both know who I mean. His distributor.’
If Tate had been tasered he couldn’t have twitched more. ‘You don’t...’
‘But I do. Albanian and dangerous.’
A moment of silence before a rare smile dawned. ‘Albanian? Who are you kidding? Newburn doesn’t buy from an Albanian.’
Diamond smiled back. He’d caught his sprat.
‘Thanks. And where do I find Newburn?’
Don Tate sighed heavily. ‘He’s a gallery owner.’
‘Which gallery?’
‘Upmarket.’
‘I’m sure. But what’s it called?’
‘I told you — Upmarket.’