'Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,' he began. 'Late yesterday evening, at his home, Deputy Chief Constable Bob Skinner received a telephone call from a man. The caller did not identify himself. He said simply that he had the child and that he was alive. Then he ended the call.
'Our telecommunications experts have been unable to trace the phone from which the call was made, so we have no way of identifying the cal er, or of knowing for sure whether the message was genuine. However, we are proceeding on the basis that the anonymous man was indeed the kidnapper. If we take his statement at face value, then Mark McGrath is alive.'
As he paused, a forest of hands shot up. As always, he took John Hunter, the senior journalist, first.
'Andy, did he say anything else?' asked the veteran.
'He said that we would hear from him again, that's all.'
'He made no ransom demand then?'
Martin shook his head. 'None at al. The call lasted seconds, and that's al there was to it.'
From the side of the room a woman, brandishing a television microphone, broke in. 'Did Mr Skinner take the cal himself, or was it Ms Masters?'
The detective frowned at her, but answered. 'He took it himself.
And his recollection is quite clear. A record was made there and then.'
'Do you have any clue at all about where the cal came from?' cal ed a man from the back of the room.
'Not much, I'm afraid. We do know it didn't come from a mobile, and we know that it wasn't international. But other than that, it could have been made from any telephone in the UK.'
'Are you expecting a ransom demand, eventual y?' asked John Hunter.
The Head of CID raised his eyebrows. 'It's a possibility. If the man had a reason other than money for abducting the child, there's no indication of it.'
'D'you think you'l find the wee boy alive, Andy?' Hunter sounded weary, as if he had been at too many briefings such as this.
'We can only hope, John. We can only hope. Meantime, every police force in the country is taking part in the search. There are no available resources unused. If this man has any compassion, or any sense, for that matter, he'll simply release Mark. If he doesn't, he'll be hunted down like a rabid animal.'
He looked round the room. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I don't think there's anything I can add, so if you'l excuse me…'
The woman with the television mike raised her hand. 'Mr Martin, can you tell us if there are any developments on Mr Skinner's situation?'
The blond detective took a deep breath, and clenched his teeth.
'As you must know, the Chief Constable issued a statement last night, deprecating the conduct of the Spotlight, and saying that the DCC's private life was his own business.'
'Well,' she persisted, 'do you or he have any response to the statement issued subsequently by several members of the Police Board saying that they intend to bring the matter up at the next meeting, and to move that Mr Skinner be disciplined?'
'Sorry, lady,' said Martin, evenly and emphatically. 'Mr Royston wil deal with your questions from now on. I have to be off. I have business in another part of the building.'
As he strode towards the door, he caught the eye of John Hunter, and nodded, so quickly and unobtrusively that no-one else saw. The old man rose and fol owed him from the room. Quickly, before any other reporters emerged, Martin ushered him up the short flight of stairs which led to the command corridor.
'I thought you might like to know, old pal,' the detective said, as the door clicked shut behind them. 'We've got Noel Salmon in custody, under investigation for corruption. Also, when we lifted him, the sil y wee bugger had in his possession something which I'm sure that tests will prove to be cocaine.'
Hunter whistled. 'What a shame, eh? What's the corruption about?'
'Bob had another cal last night on his unlisted phone number, as well as the one from the kidnapper. It was from Noel Salmon. We want to know how he got the number. Specifical y, whether he bunged anyone to give it to him. And we want to know whether he gave it to anyone else.'
The old reporter was quick on the uptake. 'Jesus wept!' he whispered. 'You don't think…'
18
Joanne Virtue looked up as the door of the interview room opened.
In a corner stood a female officer in uniform, staring fixedly at the wall opposite. As Detective Chief Superintendent Martin entered, with Inspector McGuire fol owing behind, she stiffened and came to attention.
'You can leave us. Constable,' said the Head ofCID, quietly. The woman nodded and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
'Hello, Jo,' the blond detective began, with a smile. 'Don't take this personal y, but I'd hoped I wouldn't see you again.'
The prostitute snorted as he sat down. 'Nobody's forcin' yis taste see me, Mr Martin,' she said, in a heavy Glasgow accent, stil hard at the edges despite her years in Edinburgh. 'There's nothin' ah can tell yis about that fella.'
'Let's just see about that. When did you meet him?'
'Last night, in a boozer off Constitution Street.'
'You'd never met him before?'
She shook her head firmly. 'Okay,' said Martin, believing her. He had known the big blonde whore since he was a beat constable, and had a policeman's grudging respect for her as a basical y honest working woman.
'What was he doing when you bumped into him?' he asked.
'Waving his wad around. Ah got talkin' taste him and he waved some of it in ma direction.'
'Didn't you think it was a bit risky, going to his place?' asked McGuire.
'Naw. Nae danger. Ah've been on the game long enough taste ken the dodgy ones. Wee whit's his name's hermless.'
The Inspector looked her in the eye. 'Did you do any coke?'
She glanced from McGuire to Martin. 'Don't be daft,' she said.
'Ah'm a tart, no a dope fiend.'
'Did you see Salmon using?' asked the chief superintendent.
Joanne nodded. 'Aye. We were hardly in the door before he got out his wee poke and cut himself a line.' She snorted. 'Just as well ah didnae fancy ony. The stingy wee bastard never even offered!'
McGuire leaned across the table. 'Did he tell you anything about himself?'
'Did he no just! He said he wis a reporter, wi' a big international magazine.'
'Anything else? Anything about his work?'
She looked at the detectives, a little cautiously. 'Aye,' she said at last. 'He kept goin' on about this big story he was workin' on. He said it was about your boss, Mr Skinner, and that once it was all out he'd be out of a job, and more.'
'Give me that exactly, Joanne,' said Martin. 'The actual words he used.'
'That's whit he said, Mr Martin. 'He'l be out of a job, and more.'
And he smiled when he said it, real nasty like. Usual y ah don't chat taste the punters, not at all. Ah'm there for copulation, no' conversation.
But even so, ah asked him what he meant. He wouldnae tell me though. 'Buy my paper for the next couple of weeks and find out.'
That wis all he'd say.'
'Did he let slip anything else?'
The Big Easy leaned back in her chair, knitting her brows. 'He did say that once it was al done, his source would be very happy.'
'His source. No name?'
She shook her head. 'Naw. And he only said it the once.'
