due course.’
Stallings frowned. A waiter approached, but Skinner waved him away. ‘Sir, what makes you so sure that Boras is involved in something covert?’
The big Scot grinned. ‘Do you think I’ve got a spook complex?’ he said quietly. ‘Becky, I am a bloody spook. Up in Edinburgh I have a Special Branch unit reporting directly to me. I have served time as security adviser to the government in Scotland, and I have done a few other things that I can’t tell you about.
‘If you want specifics, very well, let’s look at Aeron, Boras’s so-called security consultant. It was there on Saturday, as you know first-hand, and today it’s gone. That business had to be a front, with legitimate clients, I’m sure, but involved also in intelligence work and covert activity.
‘It was blown yesterday, in the aftermath of what happened in Wooler. If you look, you’ll probably find the man you and Stevie and Ray met in that office on Saturday sitting at home right now, and he’ll tell you that Spicer, his boss, came to see him on Sunday, gave him a big severance cheque and told him that he was out of a job, him and all the other operatives. But you try and find Spicer now. Not a chance.
‘Here’s some more evidence: when Boras first learned about Ballester, three years ago, he reported him to Aeron. They identified him and what happened next? The guy was hopelessly compromised by that story on the so-called assassination of the People’s Princess, fed names and everything, which he published; that was a classic security service sting.’
‘A lot of people still believe that happened,’ Stallings pointed out.
‘Then they’re daft. Princess Di and her friend had just flown into Paris on his father’s jet. If anyone had wanted to kill them it would have been far easier to arrange for that to crash. It would have been accepted as an accident too.’ He chuckled darkly. ‘Tell me: how many Buddy Holly conspiracy theories have you heard?’
The inspector held up her hands in a gesture of mock surrender. ‘I give in,’ she exclaimed.
But Skinner was no longer looking at her. Instead he was gazing over her shoulder, towards the circular entrance area. ‘That’s just as well,’ he said, ‘because once again Magic Bob has been proved right. That person I mentioned a minute ago, that someone who knew me, and who might contact me; I wasn’t expecting this one in particular, but she’s just come in, and she’s just given me a very meaningful look. I’m sorry, folks, but I’m not going to be able to eat with you. Mario, look after Becky; I’ll see you later.’
He rose from the table and walked away. McGuire and Stallings looked after him, and beyond, towards the entrance area. It was empty. He did not look back as he stepped out of the restaurant and into the street. Through the glass door, they saw him lay his hands on the shoulders of a middle-aged woman, and kiss her lightly on the cheek.
Seventy-one
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ said Skinner, quietly, as the woman linked her arm through his and they walked away down King Street, like old friends reunited, as indeed they were. ‘You’ve changed since the last time I saw you.’
‘Do you mean,’ she asked, ‘that I look better or worse? Do you mean that I look younger and refreshed, or that I’m ageing under the burden on my shoulders, the one you placed there when you turned down my job? Before you reply, the second answers to each question are correct.’
‘No, they’re not. You look about five years younger than you did. Your hair’s longer, you’re dressed differently, and you’re walking taller than you did.’
‘That’s just the heels,’ she replied. ‘As for the rest, I’ve changed the dress code, found a new hairdresser and . . . it’s amazing what a little makeup can do.’
‘Oh, yes? And what did you spray in your eyes to make them sparkle?’
Amanda Dennis smiled. ‘There’s no fooling you detectives. Very well, I admit it. I have a new interest in my life, apart from the job. He’s the father of one of my son’s friends . . . Oh, shit, let me abandon all subterfuge, he’s the older brother of one of my son’s friends.’
‘How long has this been going on?’
‘About three months.’
‘Good for you, Mandy. Does he know what you do?’
‘My son’s been describing me as a civil servant for years and getting away with it, because we do still remain largely anonymous within our department, but these days, when you rise to the top job, even if it’s only on an acting basis, you become visible. So I told him, before he looked me up on the Internet and found out for himself.’
‘And he came though his vetting with flying colours, I take it.’
‘Before our first dinner date. It’s nice to go out with someone who has nothing to do with the department,’ she confessed. ‘It’s the first time I have since I joined.’
‘What does he do?’ As Skinner asked the question he was aware that they were walking towards a black Vauxhall, parked on a yellow line.
‘He’s a jeweller. This is us,’ she said, her tone suddenly brisker. ‘Your dinner’s postponed, I’m afraid. I’d like a chat back at the office. Did you tell your colleagues where you were going when you left them?’
‘Why? Am I not coming back?’
‘Don’t be silly. I meant are they expecting you?’
‘Not any time soon. But they understood what was happening this afternoon, in Boras’s building. They know my departure is related.’ He paused, as the car pulled away from the kerb. ‘So you’re not denying it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘How did you know where we were? Have you been tailing us since Heathrow?’
‘No. We traced you through Stallings’s office,’ Dennis replied, as they turned into the Strand, heading for Trafalgar Square.
‘God, this place is never quiet,’ Skinner exclaimed as the car cruised along Whitehall.
‘You get used to it.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Is that why you turned the job down?’
‘No, I turned it down because it didn’t suit a guy with three young children and a high-profile relationship.’
‘Plus, you knew you’d be too hard for our Establishment to handle.’
He grinned. ‘There is that.’
They reached their destination in less than ten minutes. The car stopped in front of Thames House, the headquarters of MI5, the security service, and Dennis led the way inside. Skinner knew the building well: he had spent some time there, brought in to conduct an internal investigation. He said nothing as the lift rose up to the director general’s floor, as the doors opened and as he followed his escort into her office. They sat at a small conference table, and once again, she was all business, the woman he had always known.
He took the box from his pocket, laid it on the table, activated it and watched it vibrate. Dennis shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘they’re all ours.’
He was about to remark that that made a change, but he held it back: some wounds were still recent and raw.
‘I’m sorry I had to bring you back here,’ the acting director general began. ‘What I have to tell you is too sensitive for my driver to overhear.’
‘I know.’
She allowed him a small smile. ‘Indeed. Well, Bob, as you see, your grandstanding performance with Boras has paid off. You had barely left the building before I had a visitation from two people who knew of our acquaintance and of your recent history with Five. They’ve asked me to explain things.’
‘They don’t have to. I don’t care about the detail, I just want to get my hands on the man who killed my officer. He and Boras could have hung Ballester up by the nuts and I wouldn’t care; they could have taken out Spicer and his mate after the event and I wouldn’t care. But there’s a widow up in Edinburgh, and I do care about her, oh, God, do I care.’
‘Nevertheless, let me tell you about Boras.’
