possession of an unlisted telephone number.'
'That, and his possession of a quantity of cocaine.'
The solicitor frowned. 'I wasn't aware of that. You'l do me the courtesy of allowing me a few minutes alone with my client?'
'Of course. Give us a cal when you're ready.' The two detectives stepped outside, into the corridor, where Mcllhenney waited. 'What do you think, sir?' asked McGuire.
'I think he'll piss all over us,' said Martin glumly. 'Fuck me, Neil, if you'd only stopped to tie your shoelace before you knocked on that door. We had Salmon by the stones right then.'
The sergeant looked crestfal en. 'Christ, boss, but I'm sorry.'
'Ach, never you mind, big fel a, you weren't to know.'
They stood silent in the corridor for almost ten minutes, before the door opened, and Linden's face appeared. 'Gentlemen, we're ready for you now.' Martin and McGuire re-entered the room, and resumed their seats across the table from Salmon and his new adviser.
'I'll come straight to the point,' said the solicitor. 'On the matter of the cocaine, my client maintains that it was introduced to his premises without his knowledge by his lady-friend. On the matter of the telephone number, it is not an offence simply to possess such information, and you have no evidence whatsoever that it was obtained corruptly. Also, my client denies any knowledge of, or cooperation with, the person who made the second telephone call to Mr Skinner.'
He paused. 'I have advised my client that he should answer no further questions. Obviously, it is up to you to decide how to proceed on the matter of the cocaine, but in the meantime, I insist that Mr Salmon be released.'
Andy Martin glanced at the journalist, who sat relaxed, beaming back at him, al his arrogance and cockiness restored. In his mind he weighed the options of the situation, realising that, with his solicitor by his side, Salmon would not budge from his story. He knew that he had no practical choice.
'Okay, Mr Linden,' he sighed, at last. 'You can have him. A report wil be submitted to the Procurator Fiscal. It'l be for him to decide whether your client will be charged with possession.
'In the meantime, I suggest that you advise him to be very careful of the people with whom he associates, and to be wary of any further anonymous information he might receive. Now please, take him away, so that we can have this place fumigated.'
20
'Don't take it to heart, Andy. You did wel do get anything out of the wee shit. I know Alee Linden. He's an honest operator, but very sharp.
If he'd turned up earlier you'd have got sod al.'
Martin's face twisted into a grimace. 'I know that, Bob, but I was so nearly there. He knows more than he told us. Plus, he's got something else up his sleeve, I'm sure. And he was that close to spil ing it, when that bloody lawyer turned up.
'When he made the arrest, Mario offered him the chance to cal someone, but he turned it down. We reckoned he was wetting himself so badly about the cocaine, he wasn't thinking too straight.'
'So how did Linden know about it, and where to find him?' asked Skinner.
'Sheer bad luck. Salmon's boss was trying to find him. One of the people he called was John Hunter. Old John laughed, and told him where he was. The Spotlight guy called his Scottish lawyer, who happens to be Linden.'
'Damn it,' said the DCC. 'And Linden happened to be available and not on the golf course. Life's a bugger at times.
'Here, you don't think it was Big Joanne's stuff, do you?'
'Not a chance. It was Salmon's, okay, but he's right. It'l be his word against hers. The Fiscal won't proceed against him. He's off every single hook, and free to carry on persecuting you.'
Skinner reached across the wooden garden table and slapped his friend lightly on the shoulder. 'Fuck him, Andy. He's not worth the bother. Let's concentrate on the main event; not on my self-inflicted troubles, but on finding poor wee, stolen Mark McGrath, and the evil bastard who took him.
'You say Salmon told you that my number was included in the second anonymous letter he received?'
'Right.'
'Did you believe him? I mean, he can't produce either letter. He could be lying.'
Andy Martin shook his head, taking a bite from one of the thick ham sandwiches which Skinner and Pamela had prepared. 'I believed him,' he said, after devouring the mouthful. 'The second phone cal on your tape knocked the feet from under him. He knew that it looked 72 bad for him. Just at that moment, he'd have shopped his granny to get off the hook.'
Bob stood up from the table, sandwich in hand, and began to pace, backwards and forwards across the slabbed area of his cottage garden.
'So what have we got?' he began. 'A mystery informant slipping Salmon damaging information about me, and giving him my phone number as well, so that he can real y wind me up by cal ing me at home to rub it in.
'A second man with my unlisted number, who calls me, specifically
– not the Press Association, or the tel y, or even our headquarters, but me – to tell me, in person, that he has Mark.' He stopped his pacing and looked back towards the table, first at Pamela, then at Martin. 'What are the chances, do you think, given the connection of the number, that our kil er is also Noel Salmon's anonymous source?'
'Pretty good, I'd have thought,' said Pamela.
'Could be,' said Martin. 'But in a sense that's irrelevant. The best lead we have is the number itself. If we can find out how our man came by it then we're close to finding him.'
Skinner chuckled. 'Unless he broke into Fettes to get it! That's been done before.' He sat down once more. 'No, but you're right.
Have a blitz on Telecom, and on our own telecommunications room.
Don't ruffle any feathers, but if there's anyone there who might be making a bit of extra cash by selling restricted numbers, find out.'
The Head of CID looked at his chief, as Pam Masters carried the empty plate back into the kitchen. 'Don't worry. It's already under way. If there's a bad apple in there, anywhere, I'l crush the last drop of juice out of him… or her, if it comes to that.'
'I'm sure you wil, Andy, I'm sure.
'Meanwhile, there are people down in London who are listening to that tape as careful y as they can. Not to the Salmon bit, but to the kidnapper's cal, analysing every fragment of sound on it, seeing if there's anything in the background that they can locate.'
'What are the chances?'
'To be truthful, not very good. I've listened to my copy time and time again, but I can only hear the guy's voice. Mind you, our London friends are working with the original, and can amplify sound to levels that only a very sharp-eared dog could pick up. If there's anything there, they'll find it.'
He stopped and looked towards the cottage. 'You did tellAlex you were coming out here again this afternoon, didn't you?' he asked, suddenly.
Andy nodded. 'She said she had some work that needed doing.'
'On a Sunday? Christ, she's only just started with that law firm.
They can't have her working weekends already, surely?'
'No, I think it was housework.'
Bob raised his eyebrows and stared across the table. 'Alex?
Housework?' He pointed upwards to aV-shaped formation of geese, flying westwards. 'What d'you think those are, Andy? Pigs?'
