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Instead of answering, Norma turned her screen around so it was facing the rest of the office. A black-and-white photograph of a boy and a girl, both aged about eleven, was displayed, seemingly a school portrait. They smiled widely at the camera, wearing matching white shirts and striped school ties. The girl was clearly Mairi Malone, whereas the boy had a round, sad-looking face with nothing of the beaming smile the girl wore. His eyes were heavy and hooded, sloping downwards at the corners, his cheeks soft and flaccid.
There was complete silence in the room, only punctuated by the ticking of the radiators.
‘Shit,’ said Max, eventually.
‘Shit indeed,’ said Norma.
‘Where’s the picture from?’ said Janie.
‘Facebook. It just says, “me and Gordy, St Brides School, Primary 7 school pic. Can you even believe we’re twins?”’
‘That’s not conclusive, he just looks a miserable fucker,’ said Ross.
‘True but look at the third comment down under the picture.’
Everyone moved closer to the screen, and at the entry that Norma’spainted nail was pointed at.‘I wonder why he was called Droopy, lol x ’
‘Okay, that’s a bit more conclusive,’ said Max.
‘Aye, and how about this?’ said Norma as the image switched to a faded colour photo of the same man, now an adult but with the same hangdog face and sad eyes, dressed in military fatigues and sporting a maroon beret with the badge of the parachute regiment. ‘Proud of my bro’was the comment under the photograph.
‘Shit, he was airborne,’ said Ross.
‘Not always,’ said Norma as she swiped to the next picture from the Facebook account. A picture of the same man, no doubt about it, but on this occasion, he was wearing plain olive-green fatigues and a white-topped cap, and cradling an assault rifle. Again, there was no smile, and just the same jowly, fleshy face and heavily hooded eyes.
‘What’s with the weird cap?’ said Norma.
Max spoke, his voice low, his eyes fixed on the screen. ‘It’s called a képi, or to be more accurate, le képi blanc. The headdress of the French Foreign Legion.’
46
THE CONFERENCE ROOMwas silent when Ross and Max burst in. Chief Constable Chris Macdonald was at the head of the table, sitting alongside DCC Louise Campbell, who glared at them as they entered the room. Opposite were two men, both smartly dressed, one with a shorn head, a shadow of stubble and horn-rimmed glasses. The other was smaller, with tightly curled black hair that was so dark it just had to be the product of Grecian 2000 or Just for Men. His face was soft and doughy, and a distinct double chin hung down like a wattle. Both men surveyed Max and Ross with an element of disdain, and one looked pointedly at his watch.
There was also a tough and stocky man sitting at the other end of the table, in shirtsleeves which were rolled up showing wiry and knotted-looking forearms. His face was tanned and lined and he looked ex-military.
DCS Miles Wakefield sat at the side of the room, trying not to laugh at the dishevelled pair. Ross’s tie was slack, and a button on his shirt was unfastened, revealing pasty white flesh beneath.
‘Ross and Max, I’m glad you could both join us. Eventually,’ said Macdonald, with a trace of levity.
‘Sorry, sir. It’s all been happening in our wee office,’ said Ross, slightly out of breath.
‘May I introduce Finn Townsend, Crown Agent, and Mark Jacobs, Advocate Depute from the Crown Office. Finn has oversight of the deal with Frankie Hardie and is reporting to the Lord Advocate onany immunity and sentence adjustments, and Mark would lead in any prosecutions arising from this case, and is to be the primary source of legal advice at this stage, okay?’
‘Aye, boss. Nae bother,’ said Ross, nodding at Mark Jacobs, who nodded back, his shaven head reflecting the harsh overhead light.
‘We also have Mal Crookston from the NCA PPU team who is liaising directly with your team on the safe transportation and security of Hardie.’
Crookston nodded and smiled, showing white, even teeth. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ross.’
‘Of course, you know DCC Campbell and DCS Wakefield. Miles is, of course, here as he has oversight of the murders of David Hardie and Leo Hamilton as well as the suspicious death of Beata Dabrowski. He will monitor for the purposes of ensuring that the MIT investigation isn’t hampered, and can also disseminate any new lines of inquiry to DCI Davies. I don’t want them hamstrung by our need for a covert approach in the debrief of Frankie Hardie, I hope that’s clear?’
‘Crystal, sir. Once we’ve Frankie safe, via Mal’s team and debriefed, we can get the evidence out, but he’s going to want to know what’s in it for him.’
‘That’s why we’re here. Heard a lot about your team, DI Fraser,’ said Townsend, nodding. His wattle trembled as his head moved and Ross had to work hard not to grin.
‘All good I hope,’ said Ross, sitting at the table. He reached for the coffee flask and poured two mugs, but mistimed it, and a big splodge of scalding black liquid splashed on the polished wooden table. Ross reached for his grubby handkerchief and mopped up the mess with an apologetic grin.
‘Mostly. Some significant successes, I understand,’ said Townsend.
