'Don't be fucking dense. Now, what is it, this story of yours?'
Jenny Pollock took a deep breath and then dived in. 'I believe,' she began, 'that the Gantry Group is in the first stages of a major housing project to the north west of Glasgow.'
'That's right. It's called New Bearsden, and I'd say that major was an understatement.'
'It's the biggest development of its type that you've ever undertaken, yes?'
'And then some.'
'Can you tell me something about the house types?'
'It's a mix, from apartments aimed at singles, to substantial family houses on large plots. Believe it or not there's a shortage of high-amenity housing in that area.'
'I believe it; I live there myself. In fact I've been to the Gantry sales office to have a look at what you'll be doing. I don't think I'll be going back, though, in the light of what we'll be running tomorrow.'
'And what's that?' I was still trying to sound bored, but it was proving difficult.
'I have information that several notorious alleged criminals have bought some of the biggest and most expensive houses on key parts of the estate. Let me try some names on you: Mark Ravens, Jock Perry and Kevin Corn well. Have you heard of them?'
Word for word, Phil Culshaw's strange half-warning replayed itself in my head. I decided to lie. 'No, should I?'
'You should read the Record more often, Oz.'
'Jenny, if I could read it less than not at all, I would.'
'Very funny.' To her credit, she laughed. 'All those guys, as I'm sure you know, are alleged to be among the ring-leaders of organised crime in Scotland. They're popularly known, in the tabloids and on the street, as the Three Bears. Between them they control virtually the whole of the greater Glasgow area, including Paisley. Their activities include protection, through bogus security firms, reselling stolen goods, including cigarettes and alcohol in huge quantities, money laundering and, naturally, the drugs business.'
Of course I'd heard of those guys. Mark Ravens had actually tried to sell his 'security' services to the Global Wrestling Alliance, until a meeting with Everett Davis and Jerry Gradi had convinced him that on this occasion at least he should think small. The Three Bears were serious enough, though, and in their own playgrounds they had been known to do some nasty things.
'All three of them, I'm told,' the reporter continued, 'have bought little palaces on the New Bearsden estate. Furthermore, I've also had information that several of their associates are buying in there as well' 'And what have you been told might be behind this?' I asked her.
'It's only a hint,' she said, 'but… Remember the stories a while back about Northern Irish guys trying to muscle into the drugs business in Scotland.'
'Vaguely.'
'Well the word is they haven't gone away, and that the Three Bears have decided to get together for added security. The story we're going to run tomorrow is that they're planning to turn Gantry's New Bearsden estate into a sort of Glaswegian mafia compound. I want to ask your wife two questions, that's all. Did she know about these purchases, and what's she planning to do about them?'
'I'll answer those questions for her,' I said. 'I'm still not letting you speak to her. So, first; she doesn't know a thing about this story of yours, and second; she plans to find out whether it's true, or just the usual load of mince. You can phrase the last bit any way you like, Jenny.'
She chuckled down the line. 'I'll say she's launching an internal investigation first thing tomorrow, if that's all right.'
'Fine, for it won't be a lie. Where did you get all this stuff anyway?'
'I can't tell you that, Oz.'
'I know where you didn't get it. It didn't come from Ravens, Perry or Cornwell; those guys don't talk to the press, and they don't hire media relations advisers either… although if they did, I've a fair idea who'd pitch for their business.' I took a chance. 'It's not them, so it's gossip from someone out to harm the Gantry Group. If I dropped the name Natalie Morgan in your ear, what would you say?'
There was a pause, only a couple of seconds, but to me it was very significant. 'I wouldn't say anything, because I couldn't. If I betrayed an informant's confidence, even under oath in the witness box, I'd never work in journalism again. I'll tell you this, though, Oz. I honestly do not know the source of this story… the informant and the source are not necessarily one and the same… but if I was you, on the basis of what I've told you, I'd say that Susie has to have a mole in her company.'
Twenty-Three.
That's what she said too, once I'd related everything that Jenny Pollock had told me… Monarch of the Bloody Glen had only five minutes to go when I came back into the drawing room, so I let her watch it to the end before giving her the bad news.
'I hate firing people, Oz,' she murmured, 'but when I find out who's passed this information to that Morgan cow, their feet won't touch the ground.'
'We don't know for sure it's her who's the informant,' I reminded her.
'Jenny Pollock didn't say that it was. It's possible that someone in the sales office spotted the three names, put two and two together, made four and then a few more, and called the Record off his own bat.'
'True,' she conceded, 'but whatever happened there's going to be heads rolling. These three guys are the biggest hoods in Glasgow. They're bloody celebrities, almost. If this is true… you never know, it might be all balls… someone should have spotted the three sales and tied them together. I'm going to start right at the top of the project team; Des Lancaster's jacket's on a shaky nail, I'll tell you.'
'You'd better start with your chairman,' I suggested. 'I don't think that Pollock will phone Fisher, but you never know. In any event, you can't let him learn about it from the tabloids.'
Reluctantly, she agreed with me, and looked out Sir Graeme's home phone number. I sat beside her as she told him what would be making next morning's headlines, in case he wanted to speak to me. He didn't, though; clearly he still preferred to think of me as a non-person. All he did was shout a lot, so much that Susie held the phone away from her ear.
'If you wish,' she said. She murmured a couple of things I couldn't hear, then exclaimed, 'You don't have to spell out the consequences to me, Graeme. I'm well aware of them, and I have my own thoughts on that aspect too.' She slammed the phone back into its cradle.
'He wants to conduct the investigation himself,' she told me, 'with Gillian Harvey as a witness. I don't mind that, when I think about it.
It's probably better that the interrogation's done by someone who doesn't know the people involved.'
'What was the last bit about?'
'The share price. New Bearsden's a huge project, Oz, it represents a massive financial commitment on our part, but it's been a gamble I've been happy to take, because there was no way I could see it being a loser. But if this story drives the buyers away, it will mean big trouble. We might have to down scale the project, cancel contracts under penalty, God knows what.'
'It couldn't bust the business, could it?'
'No, but it could put us back to square one, and make us vulnerable.
That's why Ms Morgan has to be behind it.'
I couldn't argue with that.
By the time that Jay dropped me at Glasgow Airport to catch the sparrow-fart London shuttle, en route for Shepperton Studios, the Record was on the streets. Worse, all the other papers had picked it up for their last editions and BBC was running it on the morning news as well.
The follow-up phone calls had started a few seconds after the first copies of the Record had found their way into the hands of its competitors. Naturally, we were prepared for them; Alison Goodchild had been briefed… as I had expected, I had tracked her down with Ricky Ross; their strange, on-off relationship had survived for longer than either of them had anticipated… and had programmed our phone to divert all calls to her number.
