anything rash; if you feel your position is untenable, do what Lord Advocates have always done, promote yourself to the Supreme Court bench. I'll support that.'
There was another silence, shorter this time. 'Let me consult a few people about it,' he murmured. 'There is a vacancy, and I could probably persuade the Judicial Appointments Board to approve, but…'
'Think about it; now I really must go.' She hung up and followed McElhone from the room.
The First Minister's office was almost identical to her own. The furnishings were a little grander but that was the only difference the eye could detect. Tommy Murtagh looked even smaller behind his desk; she looked at him as she closed the door behind her, but saw nothing in his eyes that gave away what he was thinking.
'Thank you for taking the time to see me,' he began.
She looked for sarcasm in his tone, but could detect none. 'My time is your time,' she said. As she spoke, she heard the door open again, then close.
She turned: a tall, slim, man had followed her into the room. He looked to be in his fifties, with muddy grey eyes. His only distinguishing feature was a high forehead, accentuated by a receding hairline. 'I want you to meet someone, Aileen,' Murtagh continued. 'Sit down, please, both of you.' He pointed to two chairs that faced his desk. They were exceptionally low-slung; she knew that he liked to look down on his visitors. She would have preferred to stand, but she did as he asked, keen to see what was coming.
'Ms de Marco, I'd like to introduce Mr Greg Jay,' the First Minister announced. 'As you know, when the office of Secretary of State for Scotland disappeared, I inherited Sir John Govan as my security adviser. Sir John's done a good job, but to be frank, he's establishment, very much in the court of the Association of Chief Police Officers, and that isn't always our side. I've decided to replace him with someone from the… dare I say it? … more active side of policing. Mr Jay has just retired, with effect from last Friday, in fact, as detective superintendent in charge of a CID division in Edinburgh; he's been doing this job unofficially for a couple of weeks now, but as of today he's full-time. He comes highly recommended by friends of ours.'
She nodded to Jay as she accepted his handshake. 'Congratulations; I'm pleased to meet you.' She looked back at Murtagh. 'At the same time, I'm a bit surprised that you didn't consult me as Justice Minister before making the appointment. I have relations with the police in my portfolio, after all.'
'This isn't a police post, Aileen. Greg's remit is security, in the broadest sense. Besides, there were reasons for not consulting you.' He paused. 'Before I go into those, let's round off our last conversation. You were a wee bit steamed up last time we spoke. Are you still thinking of resigning?'
She shook her head. 'My friends tell me that would be an overreaction on my part. They've persuaded me that since the decision was yours alone and taken behind my back, nobody's best interests would be served by me quitting.'
Murtagh's oval face broke into a smile; it was framed, oddly, by his red moustache. 'Not even mine?' he murmured.
'If you want rid of me, Tommy, you'll have to fire me.'
'I'll bet you think I wouldn't do that, though. Not given the story that's running in the on-line
'What story's that?' she asked, genuinely surprised. She had rushed to the office, not taking time to read a newspaper.
'I'm sure you know damn fine: the one about the terrorists. Their removal was supposed to be announced in the Sheriff Court this morning, but there's been a leak. The beans are well and truly spilled. You're even quoted.'
'What do you mean I'm quoted?' she demanded.
'Well, maybe not quoted, but you're mentioned. It's all very slanted against government as usual, but this time against the Prime Minister and me in particular. All the stories I've read say that senior police officers are angry and frustrated by the decision, and they say also that it's understood you were not consulted. You can imagine what the opposition parties are saying about it' The little man frowned across the desk, with a hint of menace. 'I'd love to know who the source was.'
'I'll bet you would,' said de Marco, evenly.
'It shouldn't be too hard to find out, though. There were so few people in the loop: Milton, you, me, the Prime Minister, Foreign Secretary, three private secretaries and Greg here. That's all.'
'I haven't spoken to any journalists since last night, Tommy.'
'I'm sure you haven't' Murtagh chuckled. 'You're much too shrewd to do that.' He paused, and she could tell that a grenade was about to be thrown. 'You did speak to other people after our meeting, though. For example, you had a twenty-minute conversation with Mitchell Laidlaw, the chairman of Curie Anthony and Jarvis, the law firm. Just before that you made a short call to a number in Key West, Florida; the Pier House Hotel, I believe. A few hours later, you had an incoming call from the same number.'
The Justice Minister managed, but only just, to control the great gusher of anger that she felt welling up inside her. For the first time she understood why Jay was present at the meeting. 'Am I to understand,' she asked, calmly, 'that you've had your new security advisor tap my telephone?'
Murtagh raised both hands in mock protest. 'Heaven forbid!' he exclaimed. 'It would be almost unthinkable for me to do that to a senior colleague. But Greg and I did discuss your outburst at our Bute House meeting last night and we agreed, given the sensitivity of the whole matter, that it would be best if we kept an eye on your personal calls: until everything was done and dusted, so to speak. That's as far as it's gone, I assure you.'
He smiled again: thin-lipped, smug, humourless. 'That's to say it's as far as it's gone up to now. I could, of course, ask Mr Jay to obtain a copy of the guest list in that hotel. I'm sure that with the help of the American authorities… who now owe us a favour, you'll appreciate… he could even identify the occupant of the room you called.'
'I'm sure he could,' de Marco exclaimed. 'Listen, Tommy, I have my own advisors: not on the public payroll like your man here, but friends, experts in their own fields, who can help me do my job better. If I want to seek their advice, that's my business, not yours.'
Murtagh nodded; for a second his sleek, crinkly hair reflected the light above his head. 'Granted. I appreciate that, and it doesn't worry me; I have my private network too. And,' he conceded, 'I'm not above using them to get things into the media that I can't have directly attributed to me. I know what you and Bob Skinner have been up to: you've put a few personal things on the record. Possibly I'd have done the same thing in your shoes. But you know as I do that this will all be forgotten in a week. I'm sure Mitchell Laidlaw told you that these people were handed over legally.'
She nodded. 'That's not quite how he put it: he said it raised a question about human-rights legislation, but he pointed out that these people were hardly in a position to ask the court to stop the hand-over, and he told me what I knew already, that as soon as they were out of our hands they were beyond rescue since they're under American military jurisdiction in Cuba.'
'Exactly. That was the advice the Attorney General gave the Prime Minister in London.'
'All well and good, but let's go back to something. What do you mean by 'you and Bob Skinner'?'
Murtagh looked at Jay. 'Greg,' he murmured, 'would you leave us now, please?' As the door closed on his security advisor, the First Minister turned back to de Marco. 'I know,' he resumed, slowly, 'that until he left the country for Key West around ten days ago, you and he had been meeting regularly. At the Scottish Arts Club, of which you're a member, at the flat you share with your private secretary, in his office at Fettes, and, just before he went to join his wife on holiday, in the Open Arms Hotel, in Dirleton. To top it off, I also know that his marriage is in trouble, thanks to his wife's recent indiscretion in the USA.'
Her temper snapped at last. 'You little…' she exploded. 'You've been having me tailed!'
'Not in the sense you mean; my information all came after the event, or events, to put it more accurately.'
'And just what conclusions have you drawn from it?'
'It doesn't matter what conclusions I draw from it. What matters is the conclusions that the tabloid press will draw if they ever find out.'
She pushed herself out of the low chair and looked down on him. 'You little snake!' she snapped. 'Are you trying to threaten me? Because if you are, we'll see how long you last with me on the back benches throwing rocks at your administration.'
