prime minister rather than that of a mere chief constable, HM Naval Base Clyde would not exist.
Naturally, given what they were guarding, the MoD police at both gates, inner and outer, were armed. They had been told to expect me; the only credential that I had to present was my driving licence, that got me through each point, although my car was inspected at the second stage and I was given a pat-down search.
Once that was done, the officers at the second gate gave me clear directions to a building at the southern end of the massive base; they called it HMS Neptune. The people there weren’t armed, but they were still pretty straight edged. I was greeted by a petty officer and escorted to a room with a view of the loch, where a uniformed man was waiting. He was so sharp he looked as if he could have cut steel.
‘I’m Tim Boyne,’ he said. ‘Captain Boyne, Lieutenant Gates’s CO. I’m also his friend, and I’m concerned for him. I was asked to keep him on base without explanation, and I’ve done that. I gather you have some sort of connection with the Security Service, Mr Skinner. Perhaps you have the authority to tell me what this is all about.’
‘I have a very loose connection with MI5,’ I advised him. ‘It was the only way I could get in here, to see Lieutenant Gates privately. An easy alternative would have been his arrest as soon as he left this place, but there are circumstances that make that undesirable.’
‘Arrest David?’ Boyne exclaimed. ‘Why?’
‘This man’s your friend,’ I countered. ‘Do you want to keep him in a career?’
‘Of course, but . . .’
‘So do I,’ I said. That was true; it was the real reason, beyond Gates’s personal security, why I’d had him held before he stepped, officially, onshore. I knew what he’d done, and I knew why he’d done it. I knew also what had been done to him, and I reckoned that was punishment enough.
‘I need to have a private meeting with Lieutenant Gates,’ I continued. ‘We’re going to discuss certain matters, and then I’m going to have to give him some very bad news. I don’t want our conversation to be eavesdropped, not even by you, Captain, and I sure as hell don’t want it recorded. Are we clear on that?’
The submariner nodded. ‘We are. Am I ever going to know what this is about?’
‘Only the bad part, I’m afraid,’ I replied. ‘I’d guess he might need to share that with you when we’re done.’
‘Then let’s get on with it. I’ll fetch David and leave you together. There are no hidden microphones in this room, I promise.’
He left, and didn’t return; instead, when the door reopened, David Gates stepped into the room, unaccompanied. I knew it was him; there had been a passport image in the investigation folder. Dark, lean, but shorter than I expected; he couldn’t have been more than five feet six.
‘Mr Skinner?’ he began, tentatively. It occurred to me that he was still uncertain how to play the game, back foot or front, cautiously or assertively. In his shoes, held on the base overnight without reason being offered, I’d have taken the latter approach.
I nodded, ushering him to a couple of seats beside the window.
‘What do I call you?’ he asked. ‘Is it plain Mister, Chief Constable, or what?’ He’d recognised me too; damn that media profile.
‘Anything you like,’ I said. ‘Call me Ishmael.’
He smiled. ‘I’m a submariner, not a whaler. But I did love Moby Dick. What’s this about, Mr Skinner?’’
‘Did you enjoy your lunch?’ I asked.
His face screwed up in bewilderment. ‘What lunch?’
‘Your lunch in the Rocks, in Dunbar, with Jock Hodgson and Hector Mackail.’
‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You really are a spook.’
‘No I’m not,’ I assured him. ‘I’m not even a cop any longer. I know about your lunch because of some good work by real police officers, and I know this through my own instincts and experience. You and Mackail stole the Princess Alison, Eden Higgins’ five-million-pound motor cruiser, from its boathouse just along the road. You did it out of revenge, to get even for your pal Hector being bilked out of his business by Higgins Holdings, and maybe for your wife’s indirect loss for the same reason.’
He tried for an impassive expression as he stared at me, but fell well short.
‘We’re not going to bother with ritual denials, Lieutenant, are we?’ I murmured. ‘No, there would be no point, because