I think we should put them to use. Without compromising the secrecy of this investigation, let's see if we can try to establish where Latifi and his friends are most likely to be hiding.'
'We'll try,' said Haggerty. 'Not all the Kosovar refugees went home after 1999; that'll be a good place to start.'
'Yes, but gently. We want to find them, not just to move them on.' He paused. 'There's one other thing: the fifth man, the guy who met them. I know we've got little to go on, but let's start by guessing that he's the 'Petrit' the Dutchman heard them speak about. Let's see if we can find anyone of that name in this area.'
He turned to the two chief inspectors. 'Neil, Bandit, I don't discount Amanda's original hypothesis, that these are highly illegal people and that their visit here may well be drug-related. So keep an eye on the clubs, and be sensitive to any signs of new players on the scene.'
'Personnel?' asked McIlhenney.
'What do you need? We don't want to start speculation that something might be up.'
'I'd like to bring Mavis in on it,' said Mackenzie. 'She's already speculating why we had to spring Sean and Jingle Bell.'
'You trust her to maintain secrecy?'
'Absolutely.'
'Then brief her. Anyone else?'
'Alice Cowan?' McIlhenney murmured.
Skinner nodded. 'I thought you'd ask for her. Sure, you can have her; she's proved herself in Special Branch by now. Will that be enough?'
'On top of our normal operations,' Mackenzie replied, 'it will.'
'What about Sean?' asked Dennis. 'He's available to you.'
'We can't put him into another club,' Skinner told her. 'He's already been there, and very visibly too. I think it's best if he's at Willie's disposal for now.' He looked at Green. 'Are you okay with that?'
'Fine by me, sir.'
'Good.' The DCC stood up, picking up his envelope from the desk. 'Go on then, plunge into the haystack and find these five bent needles.'
He left the conference room and walked along the corridor, back to his office. Once inside he switched on the red 'busy' light outside the door, retrieved a number from his palm top and dialled it, using his secure phone.
'Hello, Bob,' said a familiar voice. 'And what fooking crisis has fallen on your old grey head this time?'
'Less of the old, you cheeky little bastard,' Skinner grunted. 'And what makes you think there's a crisis? Can't I call an old mate for a chat?'
'You've never called me just for a chat in your fooking life, so what's up?
Major Adam Arrow held a senior and sensitive post within the Ministry of Defence, in its great grey headquarters in the heart of Whitehall. The two men had been in some dangerous situations together; indeed, they had survived one of them by the skin of their teeth. The little soldier maintained an amiable front, but behind it he was disciplined, resourceful, reliable and absolutely deadly.
'Maybe nothing,' the DCC told him. 'I've had a visit from the spooks, that's all. They want me to run an op for them.'
'Five?'
Yes. Amanda Dennis and one of her boys, overseen by a guy named Rudolph Sewell. I've never met him before.'
'I'm not surprised: until recently he's been in the background… even by their standards… but he's highly rated and his star is on the rise. He's the next DG, or so they say.'
'Who says?'
'The creatures who prowl the murky corridors in which I walk, mate. You could join us, you know.'
The remark took Skinner by surprise. 'What do you mean?' he asked, warily.
'I mean what I said. You're rated down here, Bob. You've worked with Five, and have a reputation there; the DG would have you in his team in a minute, and pretty near the top too. I wouldn't be surprised if he created another assistant post for you, at the same level as Sewell, or maybe even above him.'
'He's never said anything to me about it.'
'That's not the way it works. You have to make the right noises.'
'What? Put in a job application, you mean?'
'No. Just pick up the phone and tell him you'd like to step into the darkness.'
Skinner drew a deep breath. 'But I wouldn't, Adam. My life's dark enough as it is. Right now, I'd welcome a little more light'
'Winter blues.' Arrow chuckled. 'Anyhow, what can I do for you?'
'Right now? Nothing. Just tell me what you know about Albanians.'
There was a pause, as the soldier considered the question. 'Very little,' he answered, eventually, 'beyond the stereotype: they're virtually lawless, clannish, very big on blood feuds and into illegality in a big way. Why? Are you thinking about employing one?'
'No, we're having a visit from some, I'm told.'
'They'll be moving dope, then,' said Arrow, firmly.
'That's what Five think.'
'And they'll be right.'
'Would it take four of them to do it?' asked Skinner.
His friend laughed. 'They'll be moving a lot of dope.'
Twenty-two
Stevie Steele was poring through the papers on his desk when he heard his door open. He glanced up, expecting to see the massive, shirt-sleeved figure of Tarvil Singh filling the frame, but instead he saw a much smaller, slighter form, in uniform.
'Not interrupting, am I?' Maggie Rose asked, as she closed the door behind her.
'No.' He grinned. 'But you're a chief superintendent: you can interrupt me any time you like.'
'Does that never get to you, me outranking you?'
'It will,' he replied, cheerfully, 'when you start wearing your uniform in bed, but until then, no, not a bit. Would it get to you if I was the chief super and you were the DI?'
'No.'
'Well, stop getting sexist on me. What can I do for you, ma'am?'
'I was wondering how the response to George's appeal had gone, that's all.'
The smile left Steele's face. 'Poor,' he told her. 'Piss-poor, in fact. We'd one extremely nasty call saying that he was a copper so who cares, and a few from well-meaning people who couldn't tell us any more than we know already. Otherwise there's been nothing. And since it's in the nature of these things that all the response comes in the immediate aftermath of the telly appearance, I think we have arrived, very quickly, at the dead end we feared.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'First off, recommend to the Fiscal that he release the body for burial; second we're going to submit our report and let him decide whether he wants a formal fatal-accident inquiry.'
'Which he won't.'
Stevie shrugged his shoulders. 'I doubt it very much.'
'Why don't I think you're entirely happy with that?'
He smiled at her once more. 'You know me that well already? Maybe it's just that I knew the boy and know his parents, but my nose is twitching, that's all.'
'You know, you sounded just like Bob Skinner when you said that.'
'I'll take that as a compliment. Speaking of the DCC,' he asked cautiously, 'is he back from his break?'
'Yesterday. Jack McGurk called me this morning, looking for George Regan's home address; he said that his
