08 - Murmuring the Judges Page 3

  ‘What was he like as a witness in your case?’

  His partner wrinkled her nose, as she considered her answer. ‘He was okay, I suppose. He just gave a straightforward opinion as the pursuer’s GP that during the course of the dispute, he had suffered from stress, anxiety, depression and raised blood pressure, requiring continuous medication.

  ‘He didn’t say anything that we could argue with. I reckon he did Grimley’s case quite a bit of good.’

  Andy stood straight once more, still with dishes in hand, and looked at her. ‘It sounds to me, from what you’re saying, like you’re going to lose.’

  She frowned and nodded. ‘The truth is that we expect to. We’d have gone to arbitration, but the other side wouldn’t accept anything short of a full Supreme Court hearing. So now it’s a matter of how much the judge decides the claim is really worth. Our guess is one and a half million, but you never know. Grimley could wind up getting the whole five.’

  Her fiancé chuckled. ‘Just like winning the lottery. What’s he like, this Grimley bloke?’

  ‘A bit rough-hewn, I’d say. And sort of fly with it; a bit of a chancer. He’s got shifty little eyes, and he doesn’t like looking at people directly. I don’t like him much.’

  ‘Are we likely to have known him?’

  ‘Does he have a criminal record, d’you mean? Not as far as we know. He’s certainly never declared any convictions. He made the money to buy Merryston House in the pub trade in Glasgow though, in a part of the South Side where you wouldn’t go after dark, but we can’t found any defence just on that.’

  ‘No,’ said Andy, ‘but still . . .’

  He slid the plates into the dishwasher and closed its door with a bang. ‘Anyway, enough of Mr Grimley, and of the Hole in the Wall Gang. Shop talk’s over for the evening.’ He reached out and drew her to him, with a smile. ‘Now let’s do our best to rid ourselves of the tensions of a stressful day.’

  5

  ‘When DCS Martin says first thing in the morning, he really means it, doesn’t he.’ Maggie Rose glanced at the clock on the wall of the briefing room at Police Headquarters in Fettes Avenue. It showed fifteen minutes after eight a.m.

  She and Detective Superintendent Mackie were seated at a long conference table with ten other officers, CID commanders and deputies from the other five Divisions of the force. All of the others had helped themselves to coffee from Thermos jugs on a tray by the long window, but Rose had taken a glass of water, her preference at that time of day. She glanced around, conscious of the fact, as she always was at such meetings, that she was the only woman in the room.

  The officer seated on her right leaned over towards her. ‘What’s this about, Mags? Any idea?’

  She looked round at him. Detective Superintendent Dan Pringle was bleary-eyed. There were nicks on his chin, as if he had shaved with a shaky hand, and even his heavy black moustache had a tired look about it. ‘Can’t say for sure,’ she replied, ‘but we reckon . . .’

  She stopped in mid-sentence as the door swung open, and the blond figure of the Head of CID strode into the room, accompanied by the fresh-faced young Detective Constable Sammy Pye, of his personal staff, and by the familiar bulk of Detective Sergeant Neil McIlhenney, DCC Bob Skinner’s executive assistant.

  ‘Morning all,’ called Andy Martin, his tight-cropped hair shining under the neon light as he stood at the head of the table, flanked by his two companions. ‘Everyone got coffee? Good. I’d have laid on bacon rolls as well, but the canteen can’t handle big numbers this early.’

  He took off his navy blue blazer and hung it across the back of his chair, then lowered himself into it. ‘Okay, if you’re all sitting comfortably then I’ll begin.’ He nodded to his right, then to his left. ‘Sammy’s here to take a note of this meeting. Neil, as you all know, is Mr Skinner’s Vicar on Earth.’

  There was laughter round the table, as McIlhenney genuflected quickly. Martin stilled it by holding up a hand. ‘How many of you are wondering what this gathering is about?’ he asked.

  Around the table, eight hands rose, some of them hesitantly.

  ‘Is that right?’ said the DCS, softly. ‘Then I’m disappointed. I suggest to all of you guys that you pay more attention to what’s going on outside your own Divisions, if only by reading the Evening News every day.

  ‘If you had done, then you’d know that over the last three months there have been three major armed robberies in this force’s territory, two of them from banks and one from a building society. Total funds liberated, one million, two hundred and seventy-three thousand pounds. Oh yes, and thirty-four pence. Total funds recovered, twenty-two thousand six hundred and seventy pounds.Total number of arrests, one . . . Nathan Bennett, who was stupid enough to drop his credit card at the scene of the first raid.

  ‘These robberies have been spread around our area, at random, and without any obvious time pattern. The first was in Dalkeith, three months ago, as I said, where the Bank of Scotland was held up. The second of the subsequent crimes took place last week in Edinburgh, and the third was in Colinton on Monday.

  ‘In case you’re wondering, there have been no similar robberies in other force areas during this period. I’ve checked. For the moment at least, these people are concentrating on the Edinburgh area.’

  He paused. ‘Questions or observations?’

  ‘Need there be a connection?’ asked Pringle.

  ‘You’ve had two on your territory, Dan, one of them right in the middle of George Street,’ Martin retorted as quick as a flash. ‘You tell me whether they’re connected.’

  The gruff detective nodded. ‘I’d say that those two were. The physical descriptions don’t tally, but in each case there were three robbers, all of them armed with shotguns, and in each case they made the staff hand over the video tapes from the security system. However, I can’t say that all three are linked.’

  ‘I can,’ said the Head of CID, with emphasis. ‘I’ve been looking at the big picture . . . which is, after all, my job.

  ‘Let’s consider the common factors. There have been three men on the team at each robbery; enough to get the job done, but not so many that they’re getting in each other’s way. In each case they’ve worn different types of face masks.

  ‘Witnesses have said that every man has been armed with a sawn-off shotgun. They have all said that they were left in no doubt that they would be used if necessary. Fortunately, they haven’t been . . . so far, at least.

  ‘In the first robbery the camera surveillance system was disabled with a paint-spray. In the other two the video tape was taken from the recorder.

  ‘In each case, the strong-room has been open or available, never locked on a time-switch. Some banks have very helpful notices advising robbers that safes can only be opened by two members of staff. I’m not quite sure what that achieves, other than it puts two people in added danger, rather than one.

  ‘In each case the means of escape has been efficient and appropriate to the surroundings. For example, in Dalkeith they simply used the public car park across from the bank. In George Street, they stole a taxi and left it parked outside the building society with its hazard lights flashing. In Colinton, the target bank has its own car park. They drove into that just like ordinary customers.’

  He looked at his colleagues. ‘Am I convincing you?’ From around the table came an assortment of grunts, and nodded heads.

  ‘That’s good. Now let’s look a bit further. Each of these robberies has been very carefully planned, and every one has gone like clockwork. So who’s been doing the planning? Is it one of the team? More than that, has it been the same team every time?’

  Martin smiled. ‘We know the answer to that one, since Nathan Bennett was nicked on the first raid, three months ago. The second and third raids have both taken place within the last seven days, still with three men in the team, so there’s been someone on hand to take his place.

  ‘Now let’s take up Dan’s point. He said that the physical des
criptions from the two robberies on his patch didn’t tally. That’s true. To back that up, we do have a fragment of video footage from the first hold-up, taken before the system was disabled. I’ve had a good look at it, and I’ve compared the guys it shows with the witness statements from the other two crimes.

  ‘In the first robbery, the tape shows a tall curly-haired man, who appears to be left-handed. That tallies with descriptions given after the third robbery, but not the second. The third man on the Dalkeith job was stocky and bald. That matches a witness statement from the second crime, but not the third.

  ‘From that it seems that the teams were definitely different every time, and that no individual was involved in all three crimes. Going by the statements and the tape, that is. Counting Bennett, it looks as if we’re dealing with a group of at least five gunmen.’

  He paused and took a deep breath, allowing his colleagues to consider what he had said.

  ‘This is what I think,’ he went on, breaking, finally, the silence which hung over the table. ‘These three robberies were all planned by the same man. However, I don’t believe it likely that he took part in them himself.

  ‘Remember the money that was recovered when Brian arrested Nathan Bennett? It was one sixth of the total stolen. Three men in each team, each playing an equal part, yet the split is half to them, and half going somewhere else. Even if the guys on the substitute’s Bench are getting a share too, that still leaves someone else.’

  ‘Could there be more than five in the team?’ asked Pringle.

  ‘Unlikely, or we’d have seen more than that by now, and I think, the second and third robberies would have followed more quickly. One possibility is that the ring-leader took some time to find a replacement for Nathan Bennett, and maybe to train him as well. Another is that after the balls-up on the first raid, he had another look at his planning. A third is that he held off until he was sure that Bennett wasn’t going to shop anyone.’

  He looked at Maggie Rose. ‘If you had that sort of set-up, if you were identifying and planning each job would you risk it all by taking part in the robbery?’

  The Chief Inspector shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t see the need,’ she replied. ‘What you’re saying then, sir, is that we’re dealing with a logistics man who has a squad of robbers, interchangeable and well trained in what they do. Maybe there were only three at the time of the first raid. Maybe they learned from Bennett being nicked, and recruited two new men.

  ‘Certainly it means now that if we do get lucky and lift one of the team, as we did with Bennett, the damage isn’t fatal, and the operation can proceed. Even if we get super-lucky and catch the whole team, there’s still one trained man left, and the Boss.’

  ‘That’s right, Mags,’ Martin agreed. ‘Does that remind you of anyone?’

  ‘Jackie Charles,’ she shot back at once, ‘but he’s in the jail, and his associates are either dead or doing time with him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said the Head of CID. ‘Jackie Charles was organised crime in Edinburgh. When we put him away, we were all dead chuffed with ourselves. I reckon we were a bit premature there. We created a vacuum, and it looks very much as if, in line with the laws of nature, someone’s come along to fill it.’

  He looked along the table once more. ‘Anyone disagree with that? Come on, don’t be afraid to say if you think I’m going over the top.’ Detectives shuffled uneasily in their seats, and glanced from one to the other. Andy Martin knew that there were those among them who were jealous of his rapid promotion, and that he had given them a chance to undermine him.

  Eventually, as was usually the case, Dan Pringle, the senior man among the Divisional heads, elected himself spokesman. ‘I’d say that we’ve got no choice but to proceed on the basis that your reading is correct, sir. The problem is, how do we proceed?’

  The Chief Superintendent nodded acknowledgement of the point. ‘Remember what we did when the Boss was stabbed,’ he fired back, ‘and we were after the drug dealer whose people did it?’ Without waiting for a response, he answered his own question. ‘We crapped on this whole city from a great height until we got what we wanted. We raided the saunas, hassled the money-lenders, picked up even the meanest pill-pushers: we more or less pulled people in for farting in the street.

  ‘Well, we’re going to do the same thing again now. I want you all to crack down as hard as you can on every source of criminal intelligence in your areas. Lean on everybody, even your most private sources.

  ‘Ask everyone what they know about these robberies. Ask them if they know of anyone in their circles who’s been spending too much money lately. I want a name, any bloody name, as long as it leads to an arrest. Just one will be enough, for starters at least. I don’t believe that we’ll pick up this whole squad in one go.

  ‘Of course it would be great if we were given a lead to a robbery that’s still in the planning stage, but don’t let’s harbour too many hopes of that. These crimes have been too well put together for there to have been any leaks.’

  Martin paused, and smiled. ‘So go forth from here, all of you, pound your mean streets and see what news they yield.

  ‘Those of you who haven’t had robberies on your patch should identify likely targets. I’m having a meeting this morning with all the banks’ security people, but I’d like your input on that too as quickly as possible. Let’s never forget that the first job of the police is the protection of people and property.

  ‘I want everyone fully committed to this. Even you, John.’

  His bright eyes flashed along the line of detectives to Superintendent John McGrigor, CID Commander in the Borders Division. ‘We can’t afford to assume that these people will stick to urban areas.You might say that there’s nothing on your patch worth stealing, but even so, I’d like you to have a word with all the bank managers in your area. Don’t scare them shitless, but put them on alert, and make sure that they let you know whenever they’re holding unusually large sums of money.’

  McGrigor, a big, beefy, red-faced countryman, nodded. ‘Will do, sir. This is the time of year when there tends to be more cash sloshin’ aboot down there. The hotels are full, and the fruit farmers are selling off their produce. Can I ask one thing, though?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Well,’ the bulky detective began, ‘you said we were needing a name. Surely we’ve already got one; this boy Bennett. Can we no’ get anything out of him?’

  Martin glanced at Superintendent Mackie, who leaned forward, looking down the table at his colleague. ‘Bennett’s pleading Not Guilty, John. His defence is that he dropped his credit card in the bank earlier, and that the money we found on him came from gambling. On-course bookies, he says, and of course he can’t remember who they were.’

  ‘That’s a pile o’ shite,’ said McGrigor. ‘Sorry Mags,’ he added.

  ‘Don’t fucking mention it,’ DCI Rose said quietly. Even the studious Brian Mackie laughed at her reproof, knowing how much his deputy disliked being patronised in any way by male colleagues.

  ‘I know that, John,’ he went on, ‘but that’s his story. I’ve interrogated him for hours, so has Maggie, so have two of my most intimidating sergeants. Still he sticks to it. In my view, the man is scared.’

  ‘Or he’s expecting his family to be looked after when he’s inside?’ suggested Dan Pringle.

  ‘He doesn’t have a family. No, my impression is that Bennett believes that if he talks he’ll be killed.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll have a chat with him,’ said Martin from the head of the table. ‘I can do that, now that his trial’s been aborted.’

  ‘When will it begin again?’ asked McGrigor.

  ‘As soon as they can dig up a judge,’ the Head of CID replied.

  ‘An unfortunate remark in the circumstances, sir.’ Neil McIlhenney’s growl took everyone by surprise, including Martin, who grinned at the big man on his left. He liked the sergeant, not least for his irreverence.

  ‘Maybe so. Still, I’m pretty sure that�
�s how old Archergait would have wanted to go. In harness, so to speak.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ muttered McIlhenney.

  ‘Enough of the judge jokes!’ cried the DCS. ‘Okay, lady and gentlemen, let’s get to it. The Boss is due back on Monday; that’s four days from now. I’d like some sort of a result by then.’

  He stood up, signalling that the meeting was over. Moving over towards Mackie, he took him by the elbow and drew him into a corner of the room. ‘Can I have a word about an unrelated matter, Thin Man,’ he said quietly. ‘I know you haven’t been on your patch for too long, but does the name Bernard Grimley mean anything to you? He used to own a hotel out Lauder way.’

  The Superintendent knitted his brows. ‘I can’t recall having heard of him, Andy. Should I have?’

  ‘Probably not. I’m just flying a kite. Alex’s firm are appearing against him in a case in the Court of Session, and she thinks they’re on a hiding. From what she said, Grimley’s a bit shifty, and I just wondered . . .’

  ‘I understand,’ said Mackie. ‘I’ll ask the lads back at Haddington if they know of him.’

  ‘Thanks. You might have a quick word with the criminal intelligence people in Strathclyde as well. He used to have a pub in the South Side of Glasgow.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Good man. Don’t spend too much time on it though. Putting a stop to these robberies is absolute top priority. I’m certain that there’s one ruthless, clever bastard behind all of them. What makes me really angry is that he thinks he’s cleverer than us. I want to be there when he finds out that he was wrong!’

  6

  Martin looked around the low coffee table in the Deputy Chief Constable’s office. The astute McIlhenney had suggested that they use Skinner’s room for the meeting with the bank security chiefs, since two of their number were retired Assistant Chiefs, who would appreciate the courtesy of an invitation into the Command Corridor.