The briefcase looked heavy in her right hand. Outside, she made quickly for the car park, where she unlocked the door of a battered green Metro. She heaved the case on to the passenger seat, before jumping in and driving off.
Braided hair flying behind him, Macgregor sprinted over to Mcllhenney's Astra and jumped in, as the older man revved the engine and set off after the girl.
'Registration D436 QQS,' barked Mcllhenney. 'Call it in.'
Using the car telephone rather than radio, Macgregor waited on the line while the number was checked. Eventually he said, 'Got that,' and put the phone back in its magnetic cradle. 'It's his sister, Neil. The bugger's using his own sister on a pick-up. The Metro's registered to Cassandra Macdairmid, date of birth 29 June 1969, listed address 124 Dundonald Road, Partickhill.' ' 'In that case, she's going home,' said Mcllhenney, turning the Astra into Dundonald Road. a
52
Adam Arrow, Mario McGuire and Maggie Rose were all in position in the Chapter One Coffee Shop on the first floor of James Thin, in George Street, well before Cassie Macdairmid climbed the staircase at 11:25 am.
They were seated several tables apart. Wearing a light cotton jacket. Arrow looked for all the world like a tourist, as he sat reading the Saturday Telegraph. His view extended from the top of the stairs and into the second room of the cafeteria. He could see McGuire and Rose at their table through the open doorway which connected the cafe's two rooms. They looked for all the world like a thirty-something Edinburgh couple – which in fact they were – out on a morning's shopping expedition. Maggie's Marks Spencer carrier bag, containing a few purchases made earlier that day, added authenticity.
They recognised Cassie Macdairmid as soon as she entered, not only from the description given by Mcllhenney and Macgregor, but from the heavy black briefcase which she carried in her right aand. It tugged her shoulder down slightly as she moved.
Arrow's eyes were fixed on her back as she passed through the doorway, past McGuire and Rose, who seemed to take no notice of her. She made her way to the service counter, where she bought a Cappuccino and a slab of thick brown cake. With difficulty she carried them, and the briefcase, in the direction of a table, somewhere to the left of McGuire and Rose, but out of Arrow's line of sight.
If being inconspicuous was part of the other messenger's brief, then, thought Arrow, he was inept at it. He wore the loudest black-and-white check woollen jacket that Arrow had ever seen on a man, with bright yellow polyester trousers. His lank jet-black hair, which emphasised his sallow complexion, looked as if it had been cut by a blind man. Apart from the fact that he looked so out of place, it was his briefcase which marked him out immediately as their second target. It was identical to that which Cassie Macdairmid had brought with her from Glasgow.
Arrow studied his Telegraph intently as the man looked quickly round the room, and, clearly having seen nothing to alarm him, moved through towards the service counter. He purchased a Coke, and, holding the bottle, looked round once more. At last, his eyebrows rose briefly in recognition as – Arrow guessed – he caught sight of Cassie Macdairmid. The messenger moved towards her table.
'May I join you?' he heard him asking in a Hispanic accent, just as he disappeared from view. Arrow switched his gaze to McGuire and Rose, ready to take his cue from them.
Five minutes had passed before he saw Maggie Rose make at sudden slight movement in his direction with her left hand. The little soldier stood up and moved towards the wide doorway, just as the man appeared in it. Arrow noticed at once that this time he was holding his briefcase in his left hand, while the other was plunged deep in the voluminous pocket of his jacket. As the two men's eyes met the right hand started to move.
Arrow stepped in, close and fast. With his left hand he grabbed the man's right wrist and immobilised it, just as the gun came into sight. At the same time the hard edge of his right hand smashed across the messenger's windpipe. With a choking sound, the man dropped his briefcase and crumpled to the floor. Arrow ripped the gun from his grasp and let his wrist go. He stepped over the writhing, pop-eyed form and through the doorway.
Maggie Rose was holding Cassie Macdairmid down in her chair by the shoulders. The woman looked terrified. McGuire held the second briefcase. He was about to open it when Arrow called to him.
'No, Mario. Leave that for Major Legge. He should have arrived outside by now. Let's get the public out of here, and fetch him in.'
53
'Gammy' Legge shook his head. 'No damned explosive I've ever seen looks like that.' He stood in the second, inner room of the James Thin coffee-shop, still wearing his heavy black blast armour. 'You can come up now,' he called loudly.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and, a few seconds later, Arrow, Rose and McGuire appeared together in the doorway.
The black briefcase which the man had brought with him lay open on the table. It was full to the brim with fist-sized packages wrapped in brown paper. Legge had slit one open, and held it in the palm of his hand.
'What is it?' asked Arrow.
'Buggered if I know, old son. But it isn't explosive.'
Maggie Rose took the parcel from him. She looked at the powder inside and sniffed.
'You're wrong there. Major,' she said quietly. 'This stuffs explosive all right. It's high-octane and very dirty- looking heroin!'
54
'I am Assistant Chief Constable Robert Skinner, and I don't believe I'm saying this, but. Grant Forrest Macdainnid, I am arresting you on suspicion of being a party to the illegal importation into the United Kingdom of a controlled substance, namely heroin, and of being involved in its illegal sale. You have the right to silence, but I must caution you that if you do say anything, it will be taken down and may be used against you.'
Macdainnid looked from Skinner to Willie Haggerty, and back again, in blank-faced astonishment.
As soon as the call had come through from Maggie Rose, they had gone in, four of them. Mcllhenney and Macgregor made up the quartet, and all but Skinner were carrying firearms. They had; brought a search warrant and, even as Skinner cautioned Macdainnid, the two detective constables were beginning to take his flat apart.
'Seems you didnae reform after all. Grant.' The intensely angry edge to Haggerty's tone was one that Skinner had never heard from him before. There was a passion in it which was totally unexpected in the normally cynical, worldly Glaswegian.
'Ah remember you as a tearaway, wi' yir heavies, and yir dirty wee protection racket. Ah wis one of the team that lifted ye the last time, but ye won't remember that. There were we thinkin' that ye'd seen the light, but ye had us kidded on, all along. You never gave it up, did ye? You jist got dirtier. How did ye get taste be an MP? How did ye get away wi that?'
'Most people in Glasgow are just as thick as you, so it wasn't difficult.' There was contempt in Macdainnid's voice.
Haggerty's fury was ready to erupt. He took a pace towards the man, his heavy fists balled, but Skinner held him back.
'You're the thickhead in this room, pal,' Skinner said. 'With all that's going on just now, you should have known that we'd have been on you like bluebottles on a turd, yet you still got involved in this deal. You must be
