‘They were expecting it. The drummers didn’t expect to live through the afternoon, remember. They thought they’d be blown to bits the moment Father Gibb and the PM got close to them at the inspection of the bands. As for the others, well, for two of them at least, it would have been a mercy killing. Bailey and Cookson, to use the names they took today, they will be sent to America . . . that’s unless Tommy Murtagh vetoes it, only the PM won’t let him. They’ll be tried here for Mawhinney’s murder, I’ll make sure of that, but then, in a few months, they’ll be extradited to the US. There’ll be a huge legal process, but ultimately, after a couple of years of thinking about it, they’ll both be strapped to tables and filled full of lethal injection. The Americans might even televise it. The former mayor of New York said he wants to push the button himself. For me, all that’s a sight more horrible than letting Adam put one behind their ears.’
‘Yet you stopped him?’
‘You know why. It’s up to Father Gibb to stop the rest of it, but I don’t think even he’ll be able to do that.’
Aileen sipped her wine; the table before them was strewn with the remains of the pizza they had bought from the takeaway in Comely Bank.
‘What about the rest of it? Will the old colonel be tried?’
‘No. He’s made a full statement, and he’ll be a witness in the trials of the bus driver and the drummers, and maybe the other two as well . . . that’s unless they all plead guilty, which they might. They’re all proud of themselves, you know.’
‘What did Malou do, exactly?’ she asked him.
‘He sent Hanno, a non-smoker, across to fetch his cigarettes from the bus. You know, he made a point of telling me a few days ago that he smoked old-fashioned Gauloises, the brand Hanno had on him when he died. They were holding his daughter and her kids, and threatening them with death, so that was as close as the old man dared get to crying for help. As for Lebeau, he nominated him; that was all. Roger, the bus driver, told him that he had to get rid of two drummers. He didn’t tell him why, only that if he didn’t there would be three boxes waiting for him in Belgium, each with a head in it. Poor old guy. He says he didn’t know what the replacement drummers were going to do, and he didn’t know about the extra gunpowder on the bus.’
‘Who spiked the toothpaste? Who drove the hit-and-run car?’
‘Bailey . . . when he was Alsina, that is. He was a chemist, so he knew how to handle cyanide. As for the other, they’ll match Hanno’s injuries to the bull-bars on his Pajero, you can bet on that. And that, my dear, is just about the whole story.’
‘Not quite. Why did Malou choose Hanno and Lebeau to die?’
‘Because neither had any family, and also because they were his old army buddies. He tried to make himself look on it as sending men over the top in a war, to face the enemy fire.’
He did not tell her Malou’s last secret. He did not tell her that Hanno and Lebeau, and a third man long dead, had made up the firing squad that had executed Patrice Lumumba, or that young Lieutenant Malou had given the order to fire, or that Malou had confessed his guilt to a young priest, who, fearing for their lives in Africa, had used his bishop’s influence to have them returned to Belgium to safe secure postings in which to see out their army careers. Winters had been prepared to sacrifice the Pope to hide that national disgrace: let him live with it, the Scot told himself.
‘So what did you think of the Holy Father?’ he asked her. ‘Are you still an atheist?’
‘Yes,’ Aileen confessed, ‘I am. But I believe in him.’
‘Me too. He’s a good foundation.’
‘To build what? What will you do now? About your other crisis, I mean.’
He peered into his glass. ‘I have lots of thinking to do,’ he said. ‘The food for some of it was provided last night, by Father Gibb. About my marriage . . . When I checked my e-mails after we got here, there was one from Sarah. She says that our problems are going to take more than a night in Gleneagles to solve. She’s booked a flight to Florida, and a hotel. She’s gone out there this evening; left the kids and a ticket for me with the nanny. She says that if I’m interested in a serious rescue mission, I should join her there.’
‘And will you?’
‘That’s my first big decision.’
She lifted up his hand and kissed it. ‘Do you have to make it tonight?’
In spite of all the worries bearing down on him, Bob Skinner smiled. ‘No,’ he murmured. ‘That’s for tomorrow.’
