'Some of the stuff he got's still on file, and it's rubbish; it's obvious to a blind man that the joumos just took the piss out of him, and took the money as well. Mind you, a couple of the informants are interesting.
Back then they were juniors on local papers, but now they're senior guys, one in newspapers, the other in telly.'
Mcl henney smiled. 'Do they know you know?'
'Too fucking right they do. When I found the file, I went to see them both and gave them back the reports they had sold McGinley. They were both deeply embarrassed, I can tel you. And of course, since they can't 46
be a hundred per cent sure I didn't keep copies . .. although I told them I didn't, and that's the truth ... I now have two bloody good contacts as a result. So that money turned out to be a long-term investment.
'I'll give you their names and contact numbers; you might like to pay them a call when you've settled in.'
'I wil do. Okay, where do we start?'
'I'll brief you on the Special Branch network around the country; you'l know some of the names through your job with the Boss, but I'l give you the inside on them. But first, I've got a bit of private enterprise to do while I'm stil here. You never heard any of this, okay?'
Mcl henney nodded. 'As long as it's not treason, fine.'
McGuire unlocked a door in a pillar of his desk, and took out a drum like object, which his col eague recognised as an old-fashioned Rolodex.
'This thing is the Bible,' he said. 'All sorts of surprising people are in this box. It's been part of this office for donkey's years and soon, my boy, it wil be yours.' He spun it until he found a card, and dial ed the number printed on it.
'DSS,' he whispered, as he waited.
'Ron?' he said at last. 'Mario McGuire. I need a favour. Usual thing; I'll give you a name; I need to know if he's still alive and if so, where he is. How soon? End of the week will be fine.
'Okay? The guy's called Jorge Xavier. . .' He spelled out both forenames '. . . Rose. UK national, Portuguese mother. Last known address, Wellington Street, Leith, in the mid to late 1970s. He'll be early sixties now; too young to be drawing a state pension.
'Good. Thanks.' He paused. 'Oh you saw that, did you? Yes, I'm off soon. DI Neil Mcl henney's going to be my successor. What's he like?'
He glanced across the desk and winked. 'Imagine, if you can, a grizzly bear with haemorrhoids.'
The big inspector gazed at him as he hung up. 'Okay, I never heard any of that. But if it's who I think it is, why do I doubt that, if you find him, you're going to invite him to your place for Christmas?'
McGuire shot him a mournful look, and shook his head slowly. 'What I'm going to do, mate, is make sure that he never turns up at our place
... at any time of year.'
Although it hurt her to be thought of as forbidding, nevertheless only one person ever came through her office door without knocking, and then only under special circumstances. So, when it swung open, she looked up, automatical y expecting to see Bob Skinner on the warpath.
Just as she remembered that he was en route for America, a man in a grey double-breasted suit swept into the room. He was squat, and ruddy faced, with greying crinkly hair, which swept back in a 'v' from his high forehead. She frowned at him, and the short fuse to an explosion started burning inside her, until she saw his smile and realised that there was something familiar about him.
'Hello there, Superintendent,' he boomed, in an unmistakable Glaswegian accent. 'Aye, you've come up in the world since the last time I saw you. Mind? A few years back when we were chasing thon bloke that was chopping people up all over Edinburgh.'
Of course, she remembered. They had never been introduced, but she had seen him with Skinner, after they had cornered their suspect in his suburban vil a. Wil ie Haggerty, the rough-edged detective from Strathclyde; the new ACC whose appointment had surprised everyone when Andy Martin had announced it at his weekly meeting of divisional CID heads, the same gathering at which he had confirmed the open secret of his own impending departure for Tayside.
'Good morning, sir,' she said, formally, rising from her chair.
'Sorry if I disturbed you,' Haggerty continued, beaming. 'They said you were on your own, and I like to make an entrance. Stupid of me, really; just to march into a female officer's room like that. Christ, you could have been adjusting your dress or anything.'
Although she was careful to keep her face straight, she smiled inwardly. There was something unreconstructed about the man, an innate charm that overrode the most outrageous comments and behaviour. More than anyone, he reminded her of her husband. 'Or touching up my makeup?'
she suggested. 'That sort of girlie stuff?'
She could have sworn that his face turned a slightly deeper shade of 48
red. 'That's me sorted, eh,' he chuckled. 'Oh, by the way, don't be
"sirring" me, when there's no troops around. The name's Willie.'
'And mine's Maggie, in the same circumstances.' She allowed her smile to break loose, as she settled back into her chair. 'So, Willie, why the surprise visit?'
'Just getting to know everyone,' he answered, taking the seat opposite her. 'The senior officers' dining room's all very well, but by and large it's only the headquarters brass that goes there. And that's no' where a police force is really run.'
Rose understood at once why Bob Skinner had such a liking for the man. 'Your predecessor held a similar view,' she commented.
'So how come he pissed everyone off so fast?'
'Who says he did? Mr Chase was promoted.'
'Promoted my. . .' Haggerty snorted. 'It's al right, Maggie; when he was moved into the inspectorate after only a few months, every copper in Scotland got the message. So, between us, what was his problem?'
She hesitated. 'I'm not privy to what goes on in the command corridor,'
she began, cautiously, considering her words. 'But I do know there was resentment in the divisions over the way he went about things. He didn't just drop in for a chat in civvies, he turned up in ful uniform and staged snap inspections. Okay, an ACC Operations has the right to do that, but when he started using Inspector Good, his exec, in his place, that annoyed quite a few people.'
'Ahh,' Haggerty murmured. 'That explains it.' He glanced at Rose.
'I've been told I can have an exec,' he said, 'but the Chief was very careful to specify sergeant rank. Tell me . .. you've done that job for Bob, I know . . . d'you think I should appoint someone?'
'Depends how you work,' she answered. 'If you have a personal assistant, you have to keep him, or her, occupied. Ted Chase appointed Jack Good as a sort of status symbol, because Mr Skinner has Neil, but very soon he had to invent things for him to do, and that's where a lot of the trouble started.'
'Mmm. That's what I was thinking. Maybe I should hold fire for a while.'
'Maybe you should.' She looked him in the eye. 'So, Willie, is that the real reason why you dropped in on me? Just to ask me that? I mean, you could have spoken to Neil, right there in your office. He'd have given you the same answer. Nah, there's more to it than that.'
He gave her an innocent look. 'Like I said to you when I came in; I'm just getting to know the divisional offices and the people in them.'
'Sure you are. But why me? I'm CID. You're ACC Operations; you're not in my chain of command. I report to the Head of CID and through him to the DCC.'
'Maybe I just heard so much about the great Maggie Rose I wanted to meet you for myself
'Flattery and bullshit smell exactly the same. I don't fall for either.'
Haggerty laughed out loud. 'Big Bob wisnae kidding about you, right enough. You don't mess about. I did want to meet you though, that much was true. I wanted to size you up, get to know you, like.'
'Why?'
'Because I'm on the lookout for a potential divisional commander.
No names, no blame and al that, but there's one that's past his sell-by date, and I've decided that I'm going to paint him a rosy picture of life after the polls. You interested in filling his slot?'
Maggie shook her head. 'I want the Head of CID job when Clan Pringle retires.'
'Even if it means kicking your husband into touch? You and he are on the same rung. In CID, there's only one move up. Are you saying to me you'd tramp on his fingers if you had to?'
Her eyes dropped from his and she shook her head. 'No, of course not.'
'It might come to that, though, if you set your heart on that job.
Anyhow, that's only a chief super post too, and it's a while off. And also, what's so great about it? Do you no' fancy my job?'
'ACC?'
'Why not? These are volatile days, Maggie; unpredictable too. It might come up sooner than Pringle's.'
She looked back up at him. 'The truth is, I've never seen myself as a contender for chief officer rank. I've come through CID fast, but that's because I'm good at it. I'm under no il usions that I'm cut out for anything else.'
'Well, hen, other people seem to be. But the thing is, if you decide yourself you want to get there, it would be in your best interests to broaden your experience.'
'You've been sent to tel me this, haven't you.' It was a statement, not a question.
He shot her such a look of mock offence that for a second or two she took him seriously. 'Nobody sends Willie Haggerty,' he exclaimed.
'Oh sorry. Let me put it another way; someone's suggested it to you.'
The grin was back in an instant. 'Wel . Now you mention it. Bob 50
Skinner might have said something along those lines. Oh aye, and the Chief might have agreed with him an' all.' He looked at her, wholly serious for the first time. 'I'm not saying that this is going to happen tomorrow, but it pays to be ready. Al kidding aside, I've been doing my homework since I got here, as well as listening to what Bob and Sir James tell me. You got me in one, this wee chat's a sort of informal interview, and it's confirmed what they say.'
She looked at him with raised eyebrows. 'You're easy to please.'
'I make up my mind about people on the spot. It's the old CID thing; evidence is nice, but trust your instincts. In this case I've got both. So please, Maggie; think about it. And if it's just a matter of worrying about no' looking nice in the uniform shirt ...'
Her laugh interrupted him. 'Another girlie thing?'
Once more, he flushed slightly. 'See me? See political correctness?
We're strangers to each other. Let me put it another way, if you're one of the many detectives who've got out of the way of wearing the blue serge, you're like me. I keep it to the minimum and I let others do the same.'
'Another reason why you and Mr Skinner get on,' Rose remarked. She took a deep breath. 'Okay, I'm duly flattered; and I wil think about it, if for no other reason than that it'l get me out of the same loop as Mario.'
'Pleased to hear it,' the ACC said. 'You've made my day.' It was his turn to pause. 'In that case, to help you make an informed decision, I want you to sit in for Manny for a week or so. There's a situation in Strathclyde that's needing investigation by senior officers from outside forces. I've been asked to provide one and I've nominated him.
'I briefed him on it yesterday; that was why he was late back. He's off through there as of now, and I want you to take temporary charge of the division. Before you ask, I've cleared it with Andy Martin and Clan Pringle. I'm not asking you to do the job actively in the way Manny does; delegate as much as you can, just take the command decisions, and keep me in touch as necessary. You game for that?'
She scratched her chin. 'Well,' she answered, thoughtfully, 'we seem to be winning the battle against crime for the moment, so ... I'm game.'
'You've been on the command corridor long enough to know what I'm talking about,' said McGuire.
'Sure,' Mcllhenney agreed. 'Special Branch still keeps an eye on the bogeymen; it's just that the accents have changed.'
'Come on, man, that's too simplistic, even for you. The end of the Cold War changed what we do, sure, but less so than people think. The Irish problem didn't go away . . . stil hasn't . . . there are other international terrorist threats, as the folk in Lockerbie know too well, and there are the general nuisances we watch just in case. But on top of all that we've got a role to play alongside the mainstream police in tracking major or organised crime, and in gathering information on unusual domestic situations, when they might threaten the national interest.
'Those fuel demonstrations were a good case in point. The first time the government was caught with its drawers round its ankles, and the word went out that it wasn't to happen again.'
'I know about that,' Mcl henney chuckled. 'I saw some of the correspondence that came our way at the time.'
'Aye, of course you did. I reckon that was a real sea change in our remit . . . which has always been, in effect, "Do what you're fucking told but don't let anyone find out about it." For the first time, it got us involved in keeping tabs on ordinary people, folk who aren't political, or organised in any meaningful way. They weren't threatening the country as such, just the government, yet we were brought into the act. 'I don't think I like that.'
'It's a good time for you to be going, then.'
'You approve of it?'
'No, but the answer lies in the bal ot box . ..'
McGuire threw him a glance askance. 'Do you actual y believe that?'
'No, but fortunately it also lies in the hands of people like you and me and Big Bob, using our common sense.'
52
'Don't let the people in the Home Office or up the Mound hear you say that.'
'Worry not, pal. I'l be a conscientious Spock; I'll just do it my way, like the Boss told me to. Right; let's get into these files.'
McGuire was reaching for his keys when his direct line telephone rang. He glanced at the panel on the instrument before he picked it up.
'Hello, Ron,' he said. 'You real y should block your number, you know, especially when you're phoning people like me ... not that it would do any good.' He waited. 'Yes? Excellent. I'm impressed. Hang on, let me grab a pen.'