Let It Bleed

arrived, and he broke one into three. ‘Now, the Scottish Office has responsibility for most functions of government in Scotland, excepting defence, foreign policy, and social security. We’ve a small outpost in Whitehall, but most of us are based here, either in St Andrew’s House or New St Andrew’s House.’

‘St Andrew’s House being …?’

‘It’s on Regent Road. You know, it looks like the Reichstag.’

‘Oh, the power station.’

McAllister conceded the image. ‘That’s where the Secretary of State and his advisors do their work. The rest of us are relegated to the neo-brutalism of New St Andrew’s House — until Victoria Quay is ready.’ Two bowls of thin-looking tomato soup arrived. ‘The Secretary of State’s retinue consists of the likes of the Lord Advocate and the Solicitor-General: they’re both ministers of the Crown, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Plus a minister of State and three pusses.’

‘Pusses?’

McAllister wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. ‘Don’t tell anyone I called them that: Parliamentary Under-Secretaries of State.’

‘I thought you said there was only one?’

McAllister shook his head. ‘Don’t confuse Parliamentary with Permanent: the Permanent Under-Secretary is the only one who’s a civil servant. He’s the only one who is — ’

‘Permanent?’

McAllister nodded. He took some soup and chewed on his roll, preparing for another onslaught. The wine had arrived, and he poured a glass of white for himself. Rebus opted for red.

‘Now,’ McAllister said, ‘we come to the departments.’ He counted them off on his fingers: ‘SOID, SOED, SOEnD, SOHHD, SOAFD, and — shamefully prosaic — Central Services.’

Rebus smiled. ‘Mr McAllister, I think you’re purposely trying to bamboozle me.’

McAllister looked shocked. ‘No, I assure you …’

‘Look, what I really want is a rundown on the SDA and Scottish Enterprise.’

‘We’ll get to them, don’t worry.’ The waiter came to take their bowls. ‘Bit peppery today,’ McAllister told him; not a complaint, a simple matter of interpretation.

The civil servant was halfway through his next dissertation before Rebus realised they’d moved on to the topics he was interested in.

‘… so he was at SOHHD until the LECs came along. The SDA and HIDB became SE and HIE and the poor man, who’d been responsible for RDGs and RSA found himself — ’

‘Keep going, you might just drift back into English.’

McAllister produced another snorted laugh. ‘Maybe I don’t have enough dealings with the public. I’m used to people who understand the codes.’

‘Well, I don’t understand the codes, so humour me.’

McAllister took a deep breath. ‘The SDA,’ he began, ‘was set up by Wilson in 1975, some say to appease the rising nationalism of that time. It had a budget of?200 million — which was not inconsiderable for the time — and took over from three old existing bodies, including the SIEC — the Scottish Industrial Estates Corporation. The SIEC brought with it twenty-five million square metres of factory space.’

‘Sounds like a lot.’

‘A hellish lot, a lot to keep occupied. The SDA got busy. It’s been estimated there were as many as five thousand projects under its aegis at any one time. And remember, the SDA didn’t cover the whole of Scotland — there was the Highlands and Islands Development Board, too. In fact, HIDB was by far the elder of the two.’ The pasta starters arrived. McAllister sprinkled parmesan cheese over his and got to work with his fork. ‘Then someone had the bright idea of getting rid of the SDA.’ He shook his head. ‘Do you know the old saying, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it? The SDA was in good fettle. It had been investigated by several bodies and committees and given a clean bill of health. It did get into trouble over the Glasgow Garden Festival, and over a deal with a building contractor called Quinlon, but by then the blueprint for Scottish Enterprise had already been set up.

‘On the first of April — note the date — 1991, the SDA and HIDB became Scottish Enterprise and Highlands and Islands Enterprise. Basically, the changes were twofold: the new agencies took on the Scottish remit of the Training Agency and, more importantly, the central role of the SDA became more devolved.’

‘How so?’ Rebus wasn’t touching the wine; he needed all his wits about him.

‘Authority was devolved to a network of private-sector-led local enterprise companies, LECs for short.’

‘Like Lothian and Edinburgh Enterprise Limited?’

‘Yes, LEEL’s one.’

‘Is there any Scottish Office control?’

‘Oh yes, Scottish Enterprise is sponsored by SOID.’

‘The Scottish Office Industry Department?’ McAllister gave a round of silent applause. ‘Which leads us,’ Rebus said, ‘to funding.’

‘Oh, I could talk all afternoon about funding, it’s my specialty.’

‘So what’s Scottish Enterprise’s annual budget?’

McAllister puffed out his cheeks. ‘Around four hundred and fifty million.’

Rebus swallowed the last of his pasta. ‘Forgive me, that sounds like a lot.’

‘Well, the money has to be split: it covers Enterprise, environment, youth and adult training, plus admin costs.’

‘Well, put like that I can see it represents excellent value for money.’

McAllister nearly choked with laughter. ‘You sound just like a civil servant!’

‘I was being ironic. Tell me, Mr McAllister, why did you agree to meet me?’

The question took McAllister by surprise. He took time forming his answer. ‘I’ve never met a police officer before,’ he said. ‘I suppose I was curious. Besides, it’s nice to meet someone who’s actually interested in what we do, no matter what his motives. You know, only about one in three voters in this country even knows there’s such a thing as the Scottish Office. One in three!’ He sat back and opened his arms. ‘And we’ve got a budget of millions!’

‘Tell me,’ Rebus said quietly, ‘any word of any … impropriety?’

‘At Scottish Enterprise?’

Rebus nodded.

‘No, none at all.’

‘What about the SDA?’

One waiter removed their bowls, another set down the main course and accompanying vegetables. McAllister tucked in. He swallowed the first mouthful before answering Rebus’s question.

‘If there had been, Inspector, it would be dead and buried by now. When the SDA became Scottish Enterprise, the accounting procedures were changed: new set-up, new set of books. Like wiping the slate clean.’

‘So what would have happened if any impropriety had been found?’

McAllister made a sweeping motion with his fork. ‘Under the carpet with it.’

Rebus pondered this: wiping the slate clean, under the carpet … The district council was about to disappear, just as the SDA had done.

‘You know, Mr McAllister, you don’t seem very curious about why I want to know about the SDA and Scottish Enterprise.’

McAllister chewed on that. ‘I suppose you’ll tell me if and when you’re ready. Until then, I don’t see that it’s any of my business. I’m not the curious sort, Inspector. In my line of work, that’s seen as a strength.’

After a while Rebus asked: ‘Who appoints the boards?’

‘At SE and HIE, the Secretary of State.’ McAllister poured the last of the wine into his glass. ‘Not on his own, of course. He’d be advised by the Permanent Secretary. That, after all is the job of the Permanent Secretary: to advise. Though he implements too, of course.’ McAllister glanced at his watch, then signalled for the waiter. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he said to Rebus, ‘but I think I might skip pud.’ And he patted his ample stomach. When the waiter approached, McAllister ordered espresso.