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He scrolled on and dialled when he reached Bruce’s number. As usual there were clicks and beeps, before an electronic voice simply said, ‘Leave a message.’
Max stood and looked at the large turrets of Tulliallan Castle for a moment, before pocketing his phone and heading off, back to the office.
There was work to do.
48
THE OFFICE WASbuzzing when Max walked back in, with Ross, Janie and Barney all crowded around Norma’s screens.
‘Where’ve you been, you idle sugg,’ said Ross, not taking his eyes from one of the screens.
‘Sugg?’ said Max, walking over and joining them.
‘Man, you’ve really spent too long with bloody cockneys, you’ve forgotten your roots. Old Scots word meaning you’re a lazy bugger and you’re missing important evidence that my inspired leadership and foresight have led to being recovered that proves Drippy is at the centre of this.’ Ross nodded at the screen, which showed a large, open-plan visits room at a prison. Prisoners all wearing red tabards were sitting at tables, mostly women and children opposite them.
Janie groaned with exasperation. ‘It’s Droopy, Ross. Phil at the prison has been scanning through recent visit records at Shotts and Saughton. This is the visits hall at Saughton. Look at the big gorilla sat in the middle of the hall with the yellow tabard, and shaven nappa.’ She tapped the screen.
Max moved closer and took in the powerful-looking man, sitting back in the chair, his long arms almost touching the floor, and he had to admit that there was something of a silverback about him. He was opposite a smaller man, wearing a dark cap with hair poking out from the back and sides and thick-framed, slightly tinted glasses, and sporting a heavy beard.
‘Looks like Galbraith to me. Who’s the beardie he’s talking to?’
A metallic voice came out of the speaker and Max immediately recognised the rough Glaswegian voice as being that of Phil, the DC from the prison liaison team. ‘That’s the interesting part. Hi by the way, Max.’
Norma clicked her mouse and Phil’s face appeared in a small box at the top of the screen.
‘Hey, Phil. So, who is it?’ said Max.
‘Well, the visiting order said it was someone called Tom McDaid. He produced a driving licence in that name. Here’s a scan of it.’ The screen switched from the visits room to a blown-up image of Tom McDaid’s driving licence. ‘Look closely at the picture.’
Max studied the stubbled face, thick, tousled dark hair and glasses. He wasn’t that surprised to see the heavily lidded eyes and jowly cheeks. ‘Hello, Droopy. I guess that explains what we were all wondering. Shit, he’s got some balls going into a jail with a fake ID, decent though it looks. Going in and talking direct to Galbraith, he must have had solid intel and seriously good connections.’
‘I guess he didn’t want to use an intermediary, and the phones are risky. Cons are all convinced that they’re listened in on, even though they rarely are,’ said Phil with a shrug.
‘I’m sensing there’s more?’ said Max.
‘Aye, there is. Check out this next still taken from Shotts prison visits the very next day. This one’s taken at reception when he booked in. His back was to the camera in the visits hall, but the VO makes it clear that he did visit Almir Duka.’ Phil vanished from the screen, and a crystal-clear image appeared, seemingly taken in the reception area where visitors book in before going through to the visits hall. Once again, it was clearly Droopy, but this time just sporting a heavy moustache, and with his hair neatly cut and styled. He looked different from the photograph taken at Saughton, but there was no mistaking the same heavy features, and downturned, sad-looking eyes.
‘Another ID used, looks genuine to me,’ said Phil as a scan of a passport biodata page appeared on the screen in the name of MatthewSimons. ‘Interestingly, these visits were conducted on consecutive days, so he totally changed his appearance in that time. As the Shotts photo is the most recent, we can be fairly sure that’s an accurate representation of how he looks now, unless he’s wearing a wig.’
‘Christ, this is something else. Droopy has managed to stay off law-enforcement radar for this long, and yet he has the connections to be able to get two cons at two different nicks to kill a fellow inmate. Who has that level of clout?’ said Ross.
No one answered him, and there was a heavy silence in the room, only disturbed by the slight hiss from the speakers.
‘Janie, I hope there’s a solid plan to safely get Frankie to the debrief location,’ said Ross, not taking his eyes off the screen.
‘There is. Very solid, trust me, and the risk management plan is in your inbox already,’ said Janie.
Ross just nodded, grimly.
‘I hate to add to the plates that you’re spinning but there’s something else,’ said Phil.
‘Go on,’ said Max.
‘These visits were over four weeks ago.’
‘What?’ said Ross, incredulously.
‘Aye. I know. Droopy solicited these hits weeks ago, well before Hardie approached his lawyer,’ said Phil. ‘But why, for Christ’s sake? I mean why now, after all this time, does the decision get taken to murder Hardie and the others. Did the person behind it suddenly have more to lose? Or did they realise that Davie was gonna grass?’
