Autographs In The Rain Part 7

'It says that there was no evidence to back up my report, and goes on to suggest that I'm a f.u.c.king nut case. Well maybe I am, but someone discharged a shotgun in my direction, for sure. If I'd caught him, I'd have asked him if he had fired a blank, but probably not until after I'd killed him.

'What would I like you to do? I'd like you to send me a.s.sistant Commissioner Plumpton's head on a plate. Failing that, I'd like an immediate letter to Jimmy withdrawing that report and a personal letter from the man apologising for doubting the word of a fellow officer. If his signature's in32.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.

blood, I'll accept it with good grace.'

He paused, then smiled, broadly this time. 'Aye, okay, I'll do without the blood. But thanks for the rest. I appreciate it. So will Louise. Aye, she was there; you understand why I got her off the scene right away? Sure, for the best.

'And mine to Eleanor. So long.'

Skinner's smile disappeared as he replaced the receiver and looked across at Chase. 'There you are, Ted. I'm off the hook, and so are you. I'll keep that nonsense and give it to Jimmy himself. Have you spoken to anyone else about it?'

'No,' the ACC replied. 'Not even Crossley.'

'Fine. That's how it'll stay, then.'

'The reference to someone called Louise. What was that about?'

'My business, if it's all the same to you. The Commissioner knew about it, because his car dropped me off in Shaftesbury Avenue after the closing session of the conference.'

'Okay, if you say so. But Bob, what about the incident itself? Aren't you concerned that someone shot at you . . . even if it was a blank?'

'Sure I'm concerned. But there's nothing I can do about it, not unless and until the guy comes back for another go. It could have been anything, Ted. The conference was publicised; the chances are that some clown with a grudge against authority read about it in the Evening Standard and decided to stage a stunt, make a point, whatever.'

'Can you remember anything about him?'

The DCC snorted. 'Well seen no one's ever shot at you, mate. When it happens, all you can see is the f.u.c.king gun.'

'No, no one ever has, I'm glad to say. But then I'm not your sort of policeman.'

'No, you're not, are you? You'll never be like me, nor I like you; which is just as well for the sake of good order. We need traditionalists in the force, guys like you and Jimmy, who've at home in a uniform, as well as door-kickers-in like me and Mcllhenney.'

'And Martin, I suppose,' Chase interjected.

'No, no. Andy's inherently a manager. He's better than I was as Head of CID. He lets the divisional heads do their job; I was always out there leading the charge. I still am on occasion; I can't help it.'

Skinner wandered back to the sofas and sat down, picking up his lukewarm coffee. 'You still after my job, then?' he asked casually.'Bob,' the ACC protested, 'it's not that. I believe in that paper I wrote.

It's honest, at least give me that.'

'Sure. And you have ambitions; give me that.'

'I can't deny it. What's wrong with that?'

'Not a b.l.o.o.d.y thing. I have some of those too; I just keep them close.

No, that's not what worries me about you. To be frank, I think you're a zealot. Zeal and ambition can be a terrifying combination, especially in senior policemen ... oh, aye, and generals.' He took a sip from his mug.

'Ever heard of Matthew Hopkins?'

'No. Policeman?'

'No.'

'General then?'

'Sort of. Three hundred and fifty years ago he styled himself the Witch Finder General. He ran a personal crusade in England against witchcraft; he went from village to village uncovering so-called necromancers. Torture was forbidden even then, so he tended to use so-called bloodless methods, sleep deprivation, mainly ... you could say he was ahead of his time ... to extract confessions from his victims. Up to four hundred innocent people were hanged because of him, in only a few years.

'Actually, Hopkins did it for money, but it was his zeal that let him get away with it. He commanded authority.'

'But . . .' Chase spluttered, comically. In spite of himself, Skinner laughed.

'It's okay, I'm not saying you're another Hopkins. But you seem to me to have the zealot's belief in The Way Things Should Be. I don't see any bending in you, no compromise.'

'I don't compromise my beliefs.'

'No, but are you tolerant of those of others? I don't think so.'

'Does that matter, if you're right?'

Skinner threw back his head.' "Extremism in the defence of Liberty is no vice!"' he quoted. 'Barry Goldwater said that in 1964; happily the electorate didn't agree with him, and he didn't become President of the United States.

It's not so well remembered that he also said, in the same speech, that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue. As a philosophy, that's even more dangerous to civil liberties.

'Know what his campaign slogan was? In your heart you know he's right.

'You see, I believe that at heart you're a Goldwater Republican, Ted,34.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.

and I won't have one of them running this force, either as Chief, or Deputy, not never, not nohow.'

'Can you prevent it?'

'I think so. I have my own const.i.tuency, and it's pretty powerful. As perhaps you've just seen.'

The DCC stood once more. 'Now, with all that clear, maybe you and I can just accept that we have fundamental differences in our beliefs, and use the contrast between us if we can to help us work together in the best interests of this force and the people it serves.'Sammy Pye watched the door close on the last of the divisional commanders, then switched on his computer, to begin typing up his meeting note. The session had gone on for longer than usual, thanks mainly to the extended brainstorming over the missing fish.

He had just booted up Microsoft Word and opened a customised template when the phone rang. 'DS Pye,' he announced, still feeling a p.r.i.c.kle of pride at his new rank.

'Sam, thank goodness you're there.'

One of the things he loved about Ruth was her a.s.suredness. Naturally, she had been upset when he had gone out to the car in c.u.mbernauld to break the bad news about her uncle. There had been tears when he had told her; there had been anger when he had prevented her from going into the bathroom; there had been self-recrimination when he had told her that the old man appeared to have been dead for some time. But it all had pa.s.sed over, and the self-possessed woman had rea.s.serted herself quickly, staying calm as the duty doctor and the police had arrived, even as the paramedics took the body off to the mortuary.

Now, he picked up the tension in her tone at once.

'What's up, love?' he asked.

'It's the police. They're being difficult; they won't let me make arrangements for Uncle John's funeral.'

'Eh? Why the h.e.l.l not?'

'That's just it. They won't tell me. I don't like it, Sam. They won't tell me anything. There's even worse than that, too. I went to c.u.mbernauld this morning, to Uncle John's house, to start looking through his papers. There were police there, and they wouldn't let me in.

'Honestly, the way they're acting, it's as if they suspected me of something.'

Pye frowned so hard that he felt the muscles bunch in his forehead.

'Where are you right now?'36.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.'I'm in what pa.s.ses for a Town Centre in c.u.mbernauld. I'm going to go up to Dullatur Golf Club to see if I can find any of Uncle John's cronies there. Maybe they can tell me something about him . . . when was the last time they saw him, whether he'd been complaining of feeling unwell; that sort of stuff.'