Pamela’s big eyes widened expressively. ‘Making it a family business, eh.’
He chuckled. ‘Yes, and to cap it my wife’s a police surgeon. That’s how we met.’ As he said the words, a pang of sadness ran through him, as he recalled the ecstatic early days of his relationship with Sarah, and the laughter left his face.
‘To answer your question, as far as parenthood’s concerned, I can recommend it. As for marriage, right now I’m not so sure.’
‘Do you think the two necessarily go together?’ she asked, matching his change of mood.
‘I brought Alex up as a single parent,’ he replied. ‘I did my best, but she missed out on a lot. Right now, in fact, she’s finding out just how much.’
She frowned again, but before she could ask him what he had meant, his mobile phone rang. He took it from the pocket of his soft, brown leather jacket, and pressed the receive button.
Brian Mackie’s voice sounded in his ear. ‘Can we see you, sir? Urgently. We’ve got something to report.’
‘Sure,’ said Skinner. ‘It’s half one now. My office at two fifteen. Okay.’
He picked up a hint of disappointment in the Chief Inspector’s, ‘Very good, sir.’
The DCC grinned. ‘I know you, Thin Man,’ he said into the phone. ‘You were hoping to be at Tynecastle by then, weren’t you?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Okay, then. Look, Pamela and I are up in the Botanics coffee shop, and it’s quiet as a church. It’s only two minutes away, so get yourselves up here now.’ He ended the call and laid the phone on the table.
‘More local knowledge, Pamela,’ he said. ‘DCI Mackie is an incurable Hearts fan. But then he can’t help it. He’s from Edinburgh.’
They sat and waited, admiring the garden outside, which was edging gradually into its spring colours. After less than five minutes, they saw the slim figure of Mackie and the heavier frame of Detective Inspector Mario McGuire as they strode up the slope towards them. They moved outside to meet them, towards one of the patio tables, well out of earshot of the few other diners.
As Skinner introduced his new assistant, they arranged themselves around the table. ‘Right, Brian,’ said the DCC. ‘What’s so urgent?’
Impending football matches or not, Mackie was always brisk and businesslike. ‘We did the check you asked for, boss. It isn’t complete yet, but a plum fell out of the tree that we thought you ought to know about. I’ll let Mario explain.’
McGuire nodded. ‘I had just started the check, boss, when I was called by my oppo in Birmingham. They’ve been keeping a very close watch on a gang of Brummies with interests in protection, prostitution and gambling. In fact, they’ve got a man planted on the inside. These people aren’t part of the Magic Circle that Jackie’s in, but they’re pretty heavy, nonetheless.
‘Three months ago, the team’s accountant vanished, and a hell of a lot of money went with him. By the simple means of torturing his wife, they managed to trace the guy, to a place in Spain called Palafrugell. They placed a contract on him, through Dougie Terry, and two guys were sent out to take care of the matter.
‘They duly did. The accountant was found stabbed to death in the apartment he was renting. Terry’s guys brought back the cash, but they brought it up to Edinburgh. Then the Comedian called Birmingham and told them that his boss had said that the fee on offer for the job, forty grand, was too low, since the guy had pinched four hundred thousand, not the two hundred the Brummies had claimed.’
Skinner shook his head, gravely. ‘You can’t trust these Midlanders, can you. Go on.’
‘He said,’ continued McGuire, ‘that since they had been pikers, they could have back the two hundred thou. He told them that Jackie was going to keep half, that their dough was in the left luggage at Waverley Station, and that the key was in the post.’
The big DI grinned. ‘It turns out, sir, that these people aren’t just cheats. They don’t have a sense of humour, either. This morning two guys with shooters, and a driver, left Birmingham in a blue Ford Scorpio, registration M 22 FQD, with instructions to visit Jackie Charles at home at midnight tonight and ensure that he and his missus have a double funeral.’
The DCC looked at McGuire, then across at Mackie. ‘Did you say a plum, Brian? This is a bloody pineapple. If we can manage to nab these guys and get them to talk, we’ll have something to lay at Jackie’s door at last. You can go to Tynecastle, Thin Man, you too, Mario, if you want . . .’ McGuire, a Hibs fan, made an expression of distaste. ‘. . . But report to Andy Martin at Fettes at eight o’clock.
‘Before you go though, arrange for armed people in plain clothes to watch Jackie’s house from now on, in case these Brummies can’t tell the time.
‘But tell them to be discreet. I don’t want Charles to have the faintest idea that something’s up, until the visiting team appears, and we have them in the bag.’
40
‘I want these people taken completely by surprise, gentlemen. ’ Andy Martin tapped the street map of Edinburgh spread out on the conference table in the Head of CID’s office.
Dave Donaldson leaned across to follow his pointing finger. Alongside him stood Skinner, with Pamela Masters, who was doing her best not to be overawed.
‘The entrance to Jackie’s house is here,’ said Martin. ‘The visitors are coming from the south, so it’s odds that they’ll approach from the east, from the city end of Ravelston Dykes Road.
‘I want a car here, waiting in this gateway just beyond Jackie’s place, and another in position in Murrayfield Road. You, Dave, plus Mackie, McGuire and McIlhenney, will be across the road, out of sight in the bushes. I will be hidden in Jackie’s garden, with night-glasses, at a point from which I can see the approach of the car, whichever direction it comes from.
‘We’ll have spotters parked here,’ he tapped the map twice, ‘and here too, just in case we’re wrong about the direction of the approach. Their job will be to give the alert as soon as the Birmingham car appears.’
He leaned back. ‘The road narrows at the entrance to Jackie’s place. As soon as the target vehicle gets into that area, our two cars will move out, on my command, and block it in, front and rear. They’ll have high-powered wide-beam floodlights, two mounted on each vehicle. As soon as the Brummies are blocked in, we’ll hit their car with light, blinding them but letting us see what we’re doing.
‘We will all be carrying, and wearing protective gear, and there will be armed officers in the two police cars. I want a very heavy show of force, to discourage any thought by these guys of shooting their way out.
‘It’s very important that we take these men alive. However, if anyone inside that car points a gun at any officer, then he goes down, no question. If the others are hit in the process, that’ll be just too bad.’ He looked across the table.
‘You clear about all that, Dave?’
Donaldson nodded. ‘It’s understood. Do you want me to brief Mackie and McGuire?’
‘No, I’ll do that when they report at eight. Meanwhile you ensure that the people in the support cars are our very best shots. I don’t want any Wild West stuff.’
‘Okay, I’ll get on with that now. I’ll see you back here at eight.’
‘Fine.’
Donaldson nodded to Skinner, with an informal salute, and left the room.
‘Ever seen him under fire?’ the DCC asked, after the door had closed.
‘No,’ said Martin, ‘but he’s well qualified. When he was a DS he took on two armed bank robbers in bad light, and bluffed them into dropping their weapons by aiming a truncheon at them.’
‘Mmm. Yes, I recall that. Still, when you have your team meeting tonight, you’d be well-advised to order that if it comes to shooting, everyone follows Mackie’s lead, or yours. You two are the best shots we’ve got and you don’t hesitate, either of you. Make sure that you and he are on either side of the vehicle so that between you you can see everything that’s going on inside.