The Deep Dark Sleep

interest.’

‘Such as?’

‘Special Branch.’ It was Jock Ferguson who answered. ‘What took place between you and our mystery dead man was text book SOE or commando stuff. It’s even been suggested that he was some kind of intelligence man.’

‘British Intelligence have taken to assassination attempts on Her Majesty’s loyal subjects? I doubt it. And if they did, it would have been done more discreetly than that.’

‘Well, it was professional enough for it to look like something specialist,’ said McNab. ‘And that means Special Branch are treading on my patch. And I don’t like anyone treading on my patch.’

‘But I take it you’ve told them that we all know what the link is? Gentleman Joe Strachan. That guy began by trying to warn me off the Strachan case, then he tried to remove me personally and permanently. This isn’t anything to do with the Empire robbery any more … it’s to do with whatever happened after the robbery. During the war.’

‘I still can’t buy that story about Strachan being an officer,’ said McNab. ‘And God knows I want to believe it wasn’t him we found at the bottom of the Clyde. But it just doesn’t make sense. He was a criminal on the run. And wanted for a policeman’s murder.’

‘That’s all true. But Isa and Violet seem convinced that their father was a war hero of some kind, while the official records show he was a deserter, an officer impersonator and paybook fraudster. But there are rumours that he traded off a spot in front of a firing squad for dangerous reconnaissance patrols. He also seemed to have regular contact with someone from his army days called Henry Williamson, who doesn’t seem to be connected to anything criminal in Glasgow.’

‘What are you getting at?’ asked McNab.

‘I really don’t know. There’s something nagging at me about it all. Let’s face it, there have been more than a few times we’ve seen the words with military precision used in headlines about robberies since the war. The one thing compulsory army service did was give your average crook the kind of discipline and training to make them all the more efficient at carrying out hold-ups.’

‘Hold on a minute …’ Ferguson laughed. ‘Last week we had a raid on a diamond merchant in the Argyle Arcades: one man with a fake pistol. He was caught because he thought the jeweller had activated some kind of automated dead-bolt on the door. What really happened was he kept pulling the door instead of pushing it. This despite the fact that there was a big brass doorplate engraved with the word PUSH. We’re not up to our eyes in master criminals or commando raiders yet, Lennox.’

‘All right,’ I said. ‘But you do know what I’m talking about. My point is that what if Strachan was ahead of the game … what if he came out of the First War with skills, and maybe contacts who could have helped him plan better, more efficient robberies and other crimes.’

‘Leading up to the Triple Crown and culminating with the Empire Exhibition robbery?’ asked McNab.

‘Well, that’s the other thing. What if the Empire Exhibition robbery wasn’t the end but still the means to an end?’

‘I don’t get you.’

‘What if Strachan had something even bigger and better planned? Listen, here’s the way we’ve always seen it: Strachan puts together three huge robberies with an eye to becoming the sole King of Glasgow, but a copper is killed and things become too hot for Strachan, so he takes the cash and a powder and drops permanently out of sight, yes? Then a tangle of bones dressed in his clothes and with his monogrammed cigarette case is hauled up from the bottom of the Clyde, so all that changes. Now we have a fall-out amongst thieves, which is what you lot were putting together, where one or maybe all of Strachan’s accomplices realise their untilnow genius boss has put a rope around all of their necks. So this one or all of the gang kill Strachan, take his share and dump him in the river.’

‘It makes sense,’ said McNab defensively. Thinking is something policemen find hard work and hate it when their labours are picked apart.

‘Sure it makes sense,’ I said. ‘And it still might be the case, but we’ve got this witness who swears it was Strachan he saw in Nineteen forty-two, at Lochailort, and in an army major’s uniform.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Jock Ferguson. ‘I still think that’s shite.’

‘Well, just for a moment, pretend it isn’t. Let’s say that that really was Strachan, and he was there, fully accredited, as an army major. How could that come to be?’

‘It couldn’t,’ said McNab.

‘Now play along, Superintendent. Let’s take Strachan’s presence as an absolute fact. How could he have achieved that?’

‘Well …’ Ferguson pulled on the word thoughtfully. ‘We know that he had experience of passing himself off as an officer. And doing it very well.’

‘Which means it’s entirely conceivable that he was seen dressed as a major …’

‘But Lochailort was one of the most secure military installations in the country. It would take more than a uniform, a plum in your mouth and an authoritative demeanour to get in there.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Which is where the whole thing falls down,’ said Ferguson.

‘Let’s go back to the Triple Crown robberies. What if they were only a means to an end? From what I’ve been able to find out, Strachan would disappear for months on end. Just drop out of sight. What if he had spent months, years, establishing another identity elsewhere? Maybe more than one. What if his plan had been to use the proceeds from the Triple Crown robberies to fund something else, somewhere else?’

‘Like what?’ asked McNab.

‘Maybe just a different life somewhere else. The quality of life he imagined he deserved. Or maybe the proceeds were to be reinvested in another job: something even bigger than the Exhibition robbery … a mail train or gold bullion or the Crown bloody Jewels, I don’t know. But then, two things happen. One, things don’t go to plan during the Exhibition robbery and a copper is killed, so if Strachan’s plan was to use the money to become Glasgow King Pin, then it’s a complete wash-out. Two, Hitler invades Poland and everything is turned on its head. The whole of the country is on a war footing and pulling any big jobs becomes ten times more difficult. But I suspect something else happened. I’m not sure what, but I suspect that maybe Strachan’s officer act was part of whatever identity he set up for himself and somehow fantasy and reality fused and he ended up roped into some real unit.’

‘Have you heard of Fairy Tale Frankie Wilson?’ asked McNab, dully. I shook my head. ‘Inspector Ferguson here has come across him, haven’t you, Jock? He’s a compulsive little bastard. A compulsive thief and a compulsive liar. We call him Fairy Tale Frankie because he can’t keep it simple. When he’s trying to lie his way out of something, he keeps tripping up over his own lies, so he keeps inventing new, more outrageous lies to cover up. Before you know it his lie about why he had a jemmy in his pocket becomes a full-scale epic with a cast of characters that would send MGM into bankruptcy. But you just have to keep on listening, because it’s so bloody entertaining. I have to tell you, Lennox, even Fairy Tale Frankie couldn’t come up with anything as ridiculous as you’re suggesting.’

‘You could be right.’ I shrugged. ‘But we’re not dealing with the usual Glasgow criminal type here. And you can’t deny that that was no ordinary thug who jumped me in my office.’ I shook my head irritably as other thoughts crammed in. ‘Why are there no photographs of Strachan, anywhere? I’m telling you, he was planning his disappearance for a long, long time. This is no fairy tale, Superintendent. This is a whole new ball of wax.’

After McNab left, I smoked a couple of cigarettes with Jock Ferguson and talked the thing to death some more. We were interrupted by Dr ‘Sonny’, who gave me the all clear to go. Archie was waiting for me downstairs and shook hands with Jock Ferguson when we arrived.

‘Look after him.’ Ferguson managed to make it sound like an order.

‘I’ll keep him away from windows,’ said Archie dolefully.

I said goodbye to Ferguson, latching on, as casually as I could manage, something that I had been relieved had not yet raised its head.