However you see it, what was done to him was obscene, and can’t go unanswered.’
She nodded. ‘Agreed, sir. From everything we know, the Edinburgh team and the two of us are looking for the same man. But where do we begin? Do we just walk into Eden Higgins’ office and lift him?’
I sipped my coffee; it wasn’t bad. ‘You have cause to question him right now,’ I suggested, ‘but you cannot get this wrong, because he has too much influence. This whole story has an opening paragraph, and so far that is hearsay; it’s a tale told twice, to different people, by the same person, Sauce’s pal Macy Robinson. She’s a journalist, so she’d be the first to tell you that for a story to be reliable you need two sources. The government might think it’s okay to do without corroboration in criminal cases, but I don’t. Somebody needs to talk to the person who makes the decisions within Destry, and verify that Eden knew how Mackail’s business was shafted. Higgins Holdings benefited from it,’ I said. ‘But did he order it?’
‘We’ll do that,’ Sammy Pye volunteered.
I nodded. ‘Okay. Then there’s Hodgson. Lottie, the images on the phone prove to my satisfaction that he was involved in the theft. He was an idiot to think that nobody would suspect him, unless he underestimated his boss. Maybe he believed that a simple denial would be enough. He might have been fired as engineer, but that would have been it. Sadly, he got that wrong, but . . .’
Mann put my question for me. ‘Did Eden Higgins personally hold a naked flame to his foot?’
‘Not only that,’ I added. ‘Was he physically capable of subduing Hodgson? Remember, he’d had his ankle smashed not long before that. I would suggest that while Sammy’s looking at Destry, you divide the labour by arresting, isolating and questioning Walter Hurrell, Eden’s driver, personal assistant, minder, whatever title you choose to give him.’
‘If you say so, sir.’
‘I do, and I say this too. Don’t piss about with Hurrell; I know his background and he’s dangerous. Get a warrant for his arrest from a sheriff; I’ll help you draft the application. When you go for him, go mob handed. Maybe even use armed officers.’
‘Are you saying he might have been Higgins’ hit man?’ Provan asked, licking the last remnant of his gateau from a corner of his mouth.
‘I don’t care for the term,’ I said, ‘but his track record makes him top pick for the job.’ I paused. ‘Now, back to the task of proving all this. We need to establish the link between Higgins and Dean Francey; those two are unlikely bedfellows, to say the least. Where could they have met?’
‘Callum Sullivan.’ All four of us looked at Haddock. ‘Sullivan sold his company to Higgins Holdings for millions,’ he continued, ‘and stayed involved to complete the earn-out and maximise the price. We know that he had a great big party in his great big house in North Berwick, and we know that’s where Dean Francey met Anna Harmony. But we don’t know who else was at the party.’
‘In that case, go and see Sullivan, Sauce,’ I advised him . . . although it probably sounded like an order, ‘and find out.’
There was nothing else to cover, other than the bill. I gave the waiter the universal signal, and dug out a credit card as he approached with the tab and a terminal in hand.
‘How are ye going to do it?’ Provan asked, as I keyed in my PIN.
‘Do what?’
‘Get back in. You’re no different from me. You’ll always have the itch and you’ll always have to scratch it.’
I smiled at him, cheerfully, even though I knew he was right. ‘There are other ways of soothing itches,’ I said. ‘Why would I want to get back in? As you said, the service is heading to hell in a handcart. Your problem is you’re still on board.’
Fifty-Six
One of my cures for skin irritations called me that evening, on FaceTime. I hadn’t expected to hear from Amanda Dennis in person, far less by video link, given that the head of MI5 tends to send messages rather than give them in person, but she and I go back a long way, and each of us knows things about the other that would send your average tabloid newspaper editor into a potentially fatal state of orgasmic delight.
‘My chap Houseman passed on your inquiry, Bob,’ she began without preamble. There was something about