Thursday legends - Skinner 10 (31 page)

'Major,
it says on my door.'

'What's
with the tie?'

'My
one aspiration to fookin' toffhess.'

'God,
you've sold out.' Skinner looked back over his shoulder to the Inspector. 'You remember
our Head of SB, Mario McGuire, don't you?'

'Sure,
from way back.' Arrow reached across and shook hands; an astonishingly strong
grip for a man of his size.

'What's
the crisis then, Adam?'

'I'll
show you when we get there; there should be a chopper about here somewhere.' He
looked around the terminal until he spotted a big grey-green helicopter around
a hundred yards away, a pilot standing beside it. 'Come on.'

The
pilot saluted as they approached, speaking quietly to Arrow as he ushered them
up the few built-in steps to the passenger space.

'He
says we're flying back south over the City by-pass, and up into the Pentland
Hills. There's Army ground up there
...'

He
shouted suddenly as the helicopter's engine roared into life. '.
..
as you probably know.'

Something
bit at the back of McGuire's mind; something ominous.

There
was no conversation as the chopper took off, or as they rose and flew over the
Gyle Centre and the impressive, and growing, commercial township known as
Edinburgh Park, towards the dominating hills to the south. Instead the three
men wore big ear-protectors, against the noise.

They
had been flying for less than fifteen minutes when the helicopter began to
circle. Arrow pointed downwards, and shouted something. Skinner could not make
out a word, but he guessed that the pilot was looking for a safe landing area
on the rising hillside. Then he saw a flare, burning on the ground on what
appeared to be a flat area. Sure enough, they began to descend.

As
Skinner and McGuire jumped out, each ducking instinctively under the
decelerating rotor arm, they saw two red-capped soldiers a distance away, where
the hill began to slope, standing beside a green Land Rover.

One
wore sergeant's stripes; the other approached. 'Mr Arrow,' he began. 'Colonel Fielding,
Military Police.' McGuire noted the odd deference; from Colonel to Major. 'Glad
you could get here so quickly; a real bloody mess this is.'

The
soldier ignored the two policemen; Skinner bridled. 'Then maybe you'd tell us
about it, Colonel. I'm Deputy Chief Constable Bob Skinner and this is Detective
Inspector Mario McGuire. What is this and, since we're on military property,
what the hell does it have to do with us?'

Fielding
looked at him. 'I'll show you presently,' he said, coldly. 'Get into the
vehicle. Once I've briefed Mr Arrow, we'll take you to it.'

A
large part of the DCC wanted to point out to the Colonel that in equivalent
ranking terms he was addressing a general; he might have done it too, had Arrow
not stepped in. 'Let's not fanny about, Colonel,' he said quietly. 'Just take
us there, now.'

'Very
good,' the man replied, as stiff as his uniform.

The
Land Rover was even less comfortable than the helicopter, it bounced over the rough
terrain as the sergeant driver made his way round the hillside, then down, then
round once more until he drew carefully to a halt, on an upslope.

Skinner
glanced up as he climbed out; two more military policemen stood at the top of
the crest, carrying carbines, on guard.

'This
way,' Fielding called out, briskly and led them up the slope. 'There,' he said,
as he reached the top, with something like awe in his voice.

Arrow,
Skinner and McGuire stood on the rim of a small clearing. In the centre, on its
back, lay the body of a man. It, and the area around it, was soaked in blood;
the head was thrown back, and the throat gaped open.

The
trio gazed at the sight in silent horror, until McGuire let out a half-gasp,
half-cry of relief.

'What
is it, Mario?' Skinner asked.

'I
thought they were going to show us Andy Martin, Boss.'

He
stepped down into the clearing, leading the other two as they approached the
corpse and walked around it in a wide circle.

'Christ,'
Skinner murmured. 'Is that a finger, bitten off?' No-one answered; no need.
'His throat's been torn out. What the pluperfect fuck did that? Is there a
circus animal on the loose up here? Or are you guys training vampires as
soldiers now? And how does this relate to
...'

'I
can tell you what did it,' Fielding broke in, quietly. 'Just under three hours
ago, a platoon of Scots Guards was on exercise not far from here, when they
heard two gunshots. There was supposed to be no-one else on the hill, so they
investigated.' He pointed to the blood-drenched body. 'They found this. On top
of him, was a man. His hands were tied tight behind his back, and his face and
torso were covered in blood. He was gripping a Colt pistol, and his teeth were
locked tight into this thing's throat.

'He
had killed him, gentlemen, not even with his bare hands; he had killed him like
an animal.'

Skinner
stared at him, numbly, trying to comprehend what he was being told.

'At
first, the soldiers thought they were both dead. Then when they touched the man
on top, he went berserk. He was incoherent, swearing, rambling. They had to
take him forcibly from the body and restrain him a little away. Then they
called for Military Police and medical assistance.

'While
they were waiting, they searched him. He wasn't wearing a jacket, but on a
chain around his neck, they found a police warrant card, identifying him as
Detective Chief Superintendent Andrew Martin.'

In
spite of himself, the DCC felt his throat go dry and his knees go weak. Unseen
by anyone else, Adam Arrow grabbed his elbow, supporting him. 'Where is he
now?' he asked, hoarsely.

'He
was put under heavy sedation by the medics and airlifted to the Hospital Unit
at Glencorse Barracks.'

'What
else did you find here?' McGuire asked.

'Only
that pistol. There were two discharged rounds in the magazine and four live
bullets scattered around, one of them at the dead man's feet, almost hidden
from sight.

'Now,'
the MP colonel continued, his tone conciliatory for the first time, 'can you
gentlemen tell me who this is and what's happened here?'

'I
can,' said the Head of Special Branch. 'This man here was one Lawrence
Scotland, who's been under my department's surveillance for years. He was once
a professional assassin, involved in Ireland on the Loyalist side, with several
known kills to his name, but he had been inactive for some time.

'Last
night Mr Martin went, alone, to pick him up for interview in relation to a
current murder investigation. Scotland wasn't assessed as a real suspect, or as
a risk, but he had had dealings in the past with the dead man.' He looked at
the MP.

'Tell
me something. The two spent cartridges in the gun; were they in successive
chambers, side by side?'

Fielding
walked across the clearing; none of them had noticed the gun lying there; he
picked it up, and broke the breech. 'No. There's an empty chamber between
them.'

'Aye,
I thought so. This is what happened. I must have been wrong in my assessment of
Scotland. He must have been involved in that murder after all. When DCS Martin turned
up to interview him, he took him prisoner and brought him up here to kill him.

'Only
he decided to have a bit of fun first; play a game of Russian Roulette. He
underestimated his man though. While Andy Martin's breathing, he's dangerous.
Scotland made a mistake somewhere along the line and DCS Martin, hands tied and
all, just tore right through him.'

The
MP frowned. 'But why would he bring him up here to kill him?'

'Sorry,
Colonel,' Skinner intervened, his composure recovered. 'That part of the story's
for Mr Arrow's ears only. Adam, I want you to take me to see Andy, right away.'

'Sure.
We'll take the chopper there now.'

'But
what about this?' Fielding protested, pointing at the ravaged body. 'What do I
do with him?'

'Get
a shovel,' the DCC snapped. 'I want him buried up here. Your people, and the
soldiers who found them, I want them all told that they've been hallucinating.
This never happened. Lawrence Scotland goes on our missing-persons list, only
we won't be looking for him.'

The
MP turned to Arrow. 'Do it,' said the little man, in a flat, clipped tone. 'I
will speak personally to all the men involved. If they want to have army
careers, indeed if they want to have futures at all, they will do what I tell
them.'

The
Colonel made a mistake. He frowned. 'I don't know
...'
he began.

Arrow
stepped up close to him; very close. 'Listen,' he whispered. 'If that man there
asked me to bury
you
up here, I'd start digging. So: do as you're
told.'

44

'Look,
are you guys going about this systematically?' Karen Neville asked the
Operations Inspector.

'Of
course we are, Sergeant. But have you any idea how many white Mondeos there are
in our area, let alone how many white motor vehicles? I will find this car for
you, but I won't give you any guarantee as to how long it will take me.

'Now.
I don't care whose bloody office you're in, stop being so bloody pushy and back
off. Or I will call my boss, and have him call ACC Elder, and have him lean on
your boss
...
I think he still
outranks him. Or am I wrong?'

'He
doesn't outrank Bob Skinner though. Do you want to talk to him?'

The
phone at the other end of the line was slammed down.

'Karen,'
said Sammy Pye. 'I think you should calm down. You losing it is not going to
help us find him.'

'Plodding
so-and-sos like him aren't going to help us either,' she shot back.

Pye
stood and walked across to her desk; he sat in the edge and took her hand.
'Listen, Sarge,' the young Detective Constable murmured gently. 'You're giving
away too much here. At the moment only we know that Mr Martin's missing; but
pretty soon others are going to twig, and here you are sending the message loud
and clear to everyone you speak to that this thing goes way beyond the
professional with you.

'If
that gets back to the DCS when he does turn up, that
could
be very embarrassing for him - and problematical for you, because you know he
won't like it.'

She
gave his hand a quick squeeze. 'You're right, I'm sorry. I'll tell you what,
you do all the talking from now on.'

The
phone on her desk rang. Pye grinned and shook his head, as she picked it up
automatically.

'Karen,'
a steady voice said. 'This is Neil. Tell me why you are antagonising the entire
ops room with this vehicle search of yours? I have just had a mate of mine on
the blower yelling at me, insisting that I kick your shapely bottom.'

'You
know why I'm doing it,' she answered.

She
heard Mcllhenney's light, sad, laugh. 'Yes, love, I know. I couldn't tell him
that though. Anyway, you are to stop it; cease; desist. This doesn't come from
Ops; this comes from the Big Man himself. The DCS has turned up and he's safe.'

She
slumped back into her chair, vision blurred with sudden tears.

'But
there is to be no discussion of it,' the Inspector went on. 'In fact, after the
waves you've made, best that you and Sammy just get out of everyone's way. Go
and interview pigeons in the Botanies for the rest of the day.

'You'll
be told where Andy is, maybe even get to see him, when Mr Skinner is good and
ready. Till then, just be patient
...
and be relieved.'

45

Glencorse
Barracks and its hospital wing were probably Victorian, Skinner guessed, but
the equipment was high-tech.

Andy
Martin lay on a modern hospital bed, his upper body raised slightly and
supported by pillows. He was either asleep or unconscious; the former, Skinner
hoped. Sensors were stuck to his bare chest, leading to a cardiac monitor, on a
shelf. The DCC was relieved to see that his heartbeat was strong, slow and
regular.