a semblance of calm. 'Gala Millor, wasn't it?'
'Aye,' Rashid nodded, stifling a yawn.
'Thought Gala d'Or might've been more up your street, young lad like you,' Lorimer joked. 'More nightlife, eh?' he smiled conspiratorially.
'How come you ended up in a quiet place like that, then?'
Rashid turned away once again, the shrug meaning that he wasn't going to answer that particular question.
'Of course, you've got family over there, haven't you?' Lorimer said, slapping his knee as if the thought had just come back into his head.
'Aye. My uncle's got a business and I've been giving him a hand over the summer,' Rashid replied with a sigh.
'Nice way to spend a gap year,' Lorimer continued. 'Lucky you, having family there. You'll be able to go whenever you fancy, I suppose?'
'S'pose,' Rashid echoed.
They were entering the approach to the city now, signs from the overhead gantries advising drivers to keep a safe distance from other vehicles, rows of red tail lights twinkling ahead out of the inky blue darkness.
'Funny running into Billy Brogan like that,' Lorimer mused.
Rashid gave him a sharp look but the policeman's face seemed so completely innocent of guile that the boy nodded. 'Aye, it was.
Could've knocked me down with a feather, like, when I saw him walking along the market. Know what I mean?'
Lorimer smiled but said nothing, giving the boy a chance to elaborate on his story. 'My dad had been trying to phone him for ages and getting no reply so I called him and told him I'd clocked Brogan on his holidays,' he added with just a hint of smugness.
'Funny how a chance encounter can have such far-reaching consequences,' Lorimer murmured.
'How d'you mean?' The boy's eyes were wary.
'Well, there you are minding your own… sorry, your uncle's… business and along comes the very person your father had been looking for.'
'Yeah, coincidence, yeah,' Rashid agreed.
'Then someone else decides that it wasn't such a good idea of your dad's to tell us where to find Brogan,' Lorimer said. His tone was light but there was a steeliness of authority in his voice that made Rashid shift uneasily in his seat.
'It wasn't my fault that happened!' the boy protested. 'I just wanted to tell Dad where he could find Brogan so's he could tell…' he stopped suddenly, mouth still open wide.
'So he could tell someone else?' Lorimer asked.
The boy nodded unhappily into his hands.
'I think we should carry on this conversation on a more official basis, Rashid,' Lorimer told him. 'There's quite a lot we'd like to know about what Brogan's been up to lately.'
The Hundi paced up and down, glancing from time to time at the large watch on his left wrist. The man was late in calling in and the Hundi was not used to being kept waiting, especially for those who were numbered (in his payroll. It wouldn't do, he told himself, turning his well-shod foot on the thick Persian carpet, it wouldn't do at all. Smith, or whatever his real name was, should have been in touch hours ago and his lack of contact was making the Hundi clench and unclench his fists as he made yet another circuit of the room.
Their friend, Amit, had become more and more nervous since the woman's disappearance, thinking no doubt that she had suffered a similar fate to that of Sahid Jaffrey. No amount of reassurances from Dhesi or indeed from the Hundi himself, had helped but perhaps the company of Dhesi's niece, newly arrived from Lahore, might help to distract the wealthy businessman. Amit was one of their own now, Dhesi had insisted, and it was important that he make a good marriage, settle down and become part of their growing community Nalini was just the tonic for a lonely man adrift in a strange land.
The Hundi grinned. He remembered the girl's luxuriant hair caught up in a net of tiny sparkling jewels, her lovely doe eyes lowered demurely as Dhesi had made the introductions. There were no parents left to arrange a marriage to a suitable man, just Uncle Dhesi with his generous dowry and his good friend, the Hundi, who would see that Nalini's future was secured. It would be a good marriage and serve to bind Amit even closer to his new friends.
But first Marianne had to be found. He looked at his watch again, shaking his wrist impatiently as though somehow it was the fault of the Rolex that Mr Smith had failed to keep his telephone appointment. The furrow on the man's brow deepened. Smith was a professional, anyone could see that. So why was he so late in calling in the latest news about his assignment: an assignment that would sever the tie between Amit and Marianne for good.
Rashid was tired beyond anything he had ever felt before. The emotions that had surfaced during the journey and the unexpected trip downtown to these police headquarters had taken their toll and now all the boy wanted was to go home, see his mum and fall into bed, hopefully to a dreamless sleep. Informing that tall policeman with the kind voice all about Brogan hadn't been what Rashid intended at all. But those hypnotic blue eyes seemed to be telling him that the policeman already knew much more than he was letting on so it had all come tumbling out. He cursed himself softly as the tears began to flow. Maybe playing at informant was something that ran in this family. What was the point of hiding it any more, anyway? Dad was dead and, when he'd spoken to her on the phone, his mum had sounded so different from the bustling little woman she'd been when he'd left home just a few months ago.
What could anyone do to him to make life worse?
Lorimer's blue eyes seemed kindled with a pale fire as he read over Rashid's statement. Now they were getting somewhere!
The DCI looked up, hearing a small knock on his door.
Tathy. Still here? Come in,' Lorimer beckoned the detective constable to a seat opposite his desk.
'Anything I can do for you or would you like to see this?'
Lorimer grinned making his face suddenly younger and less careworn.
'It's young Jaffrey's account of Billy Brogan's recent activities,' he continued.
'Right!' Fathy leaned towards his boss, his own face lighting up, infected by the mood of renewed optimism. 'I was going to… but it doesn't matter. May I..
Lorimer handed over the sheets of paper and folded his arms, watching to see the younger officer's reaction.
Fathy looked up, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. 'Brogan was dealing with big, big money,' he said at last. And young Jaffrey reckons he's scarpered off to the continent owing… how much?' he looked at the paper again as though unable to believe his eyes. 'That's not possible, surely?'
Lorimer nodded. 'We think Brogan's been acting for certain members of the Asian community as a conduit for the proceeds of some VAT fraud. And yes, these figures are probably correct.
We're talking huge sums, here.' He leaned forward again, steepling his fingers against his chin. 'Brogan buys and sells drugs in quantity. We've suspected for a long time that much of the heroin coming into the city was down to a middleman like him but till now Brogan was thought of as fairly small beer, a dealer in hashish, mainly.'
'Rashid Jaffrey says he was responsible for all of the drugs coming into Pollokshields. How would he know that?' Fathy asked.
'He's probably exaggerating. I can't see one man having such a grip on the supply. But go on, read what Jaffrey tells us about why Brogan left in such a hurry.'
Fathy bent his head obediently and skimmed the rest of the young man's statement. He handed it back to Lorimer in silence.
'Galbraith and Sandiman were owed money, as well as members of the Asian community that young Jaffrey has refused to name,' Lorimer said. 'According to the boy, Brogan siphoned off all of the profits of his trade into some scheme that went wrong.
You can see how he was either genuinely hazy on the details or he's keeping something back. I'm inclined to think he really doesn't know what happened to Brogan's money.'
