‘My partner, Double D.’
‘He knew about the coke?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then he gets the same deal, if he identifies her. If he refuses, he’s in the slammer. Jesus, you guys: I won’t kid you, Weston, I’d really love to be locking you up. Your club’s going to be closed down; you know that, don’t you?’
‘I’d guessed as much.’
‘Do you appreciate the favour Alex has done you here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, do her one in return. Don’t ever tell anybody of her involvement in this, and don’t ever go near her again. She doesn’t need her career, or her life, sullied by you. There’s a bit of the deal I’m not going for, but you’ll live with it, for I’m not in the mood to take any chances with you. I’m holding you here overnight: in the morning, you’ll be taken to Leith police station where you’ll make a formal statement to Detective Superintendent McIlhenney. After that, you’ll be released on bail. Don’t try and do a runner on us, for you’ll never get far enough away.’
‘I won’t.’ When Raymond Weston looked up he had tears in his eyes. ‘Believe it or not, I do want to clean my life up.’
‘I’m glad to hear it; just hold that thought overnight. Tell us where we can find your partner.’
‘He’ll be at the club in a couple of hours; his full name’s Denis Diamond.’
‘Okay,’ said McGuire. ‘You sit here while I call a custody officer. Neil, show Alex out, will you?’
‘Sure.’
Alex stood, and patted Weston on the shoulder. ‘The bit about not seeing me again, Raymond, that’s not just from him. It comes from me too. I’d appreciate it.’
He nodded. ‘I promise; and thanks. I do know what you’ve done for me here.’
She had stepped into the corridor when McIlhenney turned in the doorway. ‘One more thing, Raymond: who treated your hand?’
The young man looked round at him. ‘My father. He’s a surgeon. Didn’t you know?’
Ninety-two
Nolan Weston made no attempt to hide his irritation. ‘This is very inconvenient, Chief Superintendent,’ he snapped, as McGuire was shown into his room. ‘I was due in theatre at this precise moment, ten o’clock. I’ve had to reschedule and there will be a knock-on effect right through the day. They’re not ingrowing toe-nails either: all of my patients have cancer.’
McGuire looked at him; even though he was seated behind his desk he could tell that the man was as tall as his son. ‘I’m sorry about that, Professor,’ he said, ‘but if I’d had you brought down to my office in Fettes, you’d have been even more inconvenienced.’
‘What the hell do you mean by that?’
‘Last night a colleague and I interviewed your son, Raymond. He was brought to see us by a solicitor. He no longer lives with you, I guess.’
‘Why do you guess that?’
‘Because you’d probably have noticed his absence. He was held in custody overnight. This morning he’s making a formal statement at the Queen Charlotte Street office in which he’ll admit his involvement in the distribution of cocaine in his nightclub. I believe that you intervened on his behalf last time he was involved in a drugs situation. I’m here to warn you not to upset the apple-cart by trying that again. I’ve made enquiries; I know that you were at school with the Crown Agent and talked him into cutting Raymond a deal. I tell you, the Mafia could learn a lot from Edinburgh Academy when it comes to old-boy networking. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, sir?’
‘Yes, I think I do. But if you think that you can bully me out of using everything at my disposal to help my son, you’re underestimating me.’
‘That’s the last thing I’ll do, Professor. You don’t need to pull strings this time anyway. Raymond’s agreed to be a Crown witness in the trial of his supplier, Edward Charnwood. His partner in the club has also agreed to co- operate. As a result neither of them can be prosecuted. So you stay out of this, sir, please.’ Suddenly, McGuire grinned. ‘If you do decide to stick your oar in, be warned: I’ve advised my chief constable of the circumstances of the case and the earlier one. I believe that he was head boy at the school when you were in first year. I think you’ll find that he still has the power to give you lines, or worse.’
The ceiling light reflected for a moment on Weston’s bald head as he leaned forward, staring frostily back at the detective. ‘If you assure me that Raymond is in no jeopardy, I will stay my hand.’
McGuire’s good humour vanished as quickly as it had come. ‘Who or what do you think you are, Professor?’ he snapped. ‘Your son’s the luckiest boy in town. Gary Starr may have maimed him but Eddie Charnwood was planning to put a bullet in his fucking head. And why? Because he couldn’t be content with the money he was making feeding the habits of his club members; no, he had to wring out even more by adulterating the supply he was given. He’s a criminal, and if he wasn’t of use to me at this moment he’d be going away for seven years minimum, and neither you nor any of your pals could prevent it.’
‘Do you have any children, Chief Superintendent?’ Weston shot back.
‘No.’
‘Well, if you had, perhaps you wouldn’t be so judgemental. If you think I would stand by and let him be victimised by the police or brutalised by a thug . . .’ He stopped, abruptly.
‘He isn’t a victim, he’s a fucking predator. He preys on impressionable kids and turns them into addicts. You know, last night he was crying in my office, promising to go straight from now on. I’d love to believe him, but I’ve heard too many people say that to take it at face value. If you want to help him, be more involved with him, help him point his life in the right direction.’
He paused. ‘But you’ve helped him already in this one, haven’t you? You operated on him after Starr cut off his finger, you closed the stump off properly, and you dressed it, and you kept him hidden in your home, while we were looking all over bloody Edinburgh for him.’
‘And what would you have done, in my shoes?’
‘Given your skills,’ McGuire replied, ‘probably the same thing. But I’ll tell you what I wouldn’t have done. I wouldn’t have operated on Gary Starr as well.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘Raymond told you what had happened; he admitted that last night. He said that he told you why Starr had done it too. And he said that you went absolutely crazy.’
‘And wouldn’t you?’ Weston shouted. ‘That boy is my flesh, my blood, my bone, and I love him whatever he does. To see him hurt, violated in that way by a pitiless animal like that little creep . . . What would you have done?’
‘I’ll tell you, man to man. I’d have gone to see him and I’d have beaten the living shit out of him, beaten him to within a centimetre of his life. But what I wouldn’t have done is drugged him, tied him to his kitchen table, cut off his hands before his eyes with the carving knife that’s missing from the set in his kitchen, then let the poor bastard watch his own death flow out of his veins. What sort of a pitiless animal does that? And how the hell, Professor,’ McGuire’s voice rose, ‘did you know that Starr was a little man?’
The surgeon thrust himself to his feet, towering over the still-seated detective. ‘Chief Superintendent,’ he hissed, ‘if you had a shred of evidence to back up that allegation, you would not have come here alone. We both know that. This interview is over.’ He strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Ninety-three
Bob Skinner stood against the boundary wall of the small churchyard, listening as the priest intoned the words of committal, watching as the oaken coffin was lowered into the grave. There were few mourners; most
