enjoying the dynamic.
‘Apairt fae the big man,’ Scott said, drawing the attention of both of his colleagues.
‘The big man?’ asked Donald.
‘Aye, ye know – JC.’ Scott sat back in his chair. ‘Jesus, ye know?’
‘Perhaps you missed your calling, Brian. Maybe you’d have made Archbishop of Canterbury if you had taken the cloth,’ Donald said.
‘Aye, well.’ Scott was not to be outdone. ‘Mebbe we’ll need tae gie him a call, see if he can perform wan o’ they exorcisms.’
Donald snorted in derision and was about to speak when a knock sounded at the door. After Donald barked aperfunctory ‘Yes?’, DC Dunn walked in, pausing near the door, where she smoothed some unseen creases in the front of her dark blue skirt.
‘Just to let you know, sir, sirs ’, she began, plainly nervous around Donald, ‘the presentation is ready.’ She nodded her head obligingly and Daley thought for one awful moment that she might curtsy, but Donald dismissed her in the same offhand manner in which he bade her enter and she left hurriedly.
‘I felt it would be beneficial if we were to look back in time,’ Donald said, picking up papers from his desk. ‘Try and find some way that this – if it is him – could have happened. Come with me.’
They trooped from the office, Donald taking the lead. Behind him, Scott shrugged at Daley and raised a two-fingered salute behind the superintendent’s back.
‘And you can stop that insubordination immediately, Brian,’ Donald said, not bothering to turn around and sweeping open the door of the audiovisual room. ‘In fact, I want a word with you, DS Scott – in private.’ He looked at Daley, who excused himself, and led Scott into a nearby empty room.
Daley, not trying to hear what was being said, couldn’t help being surprised at the bile expressed by the superintendent. It was clear that, despite Scott’s careless attitude, he was most certainly not flavour of the month with his boss.
9
DC Dunn was in the room, leaning over the computer that controlled all things audiovisual. Donald placed his arm around her shoulder, speaking to her in hushed tones as though what was about to be revealed was a state secret. Daley was sure he saw the young woman flinch as Donald’s hand snaked over her back. How many times had he seen these manoeuvres from his boss?
Donald turned away from Dunn and indicated that his detectives take a seat. ‘I think it important that we fully rebrief ourselves with what happened six years ago,’ he said grandly, as though addressing a packed auditorium. He looked to Dunn. ‘I take it you’re finished? Just tell me which button to press, then kindly absent yourself.’
‘Press any button to start, and the same to stop,’ the flushed DC replied, clearly uncomfortable in her superintendent’s presence.
‘Great!’ Donald exclaimed. ‘Off you pop now.’ He leaned over the keyboard, glasses perched on the end of his nose, as DC Dunn made a hasty exit.
‘Off ye pop,’ Scott whispered as she was leaving. ‘It’s like fuckin’ Downton Abbey .’
‘An excellent programme,’ Donald replied. ‘But less ofyour sarcasm, DS Scott. If I recall, we still have to sort out the little matter of your yearly assessment which, I can assure you, does not make for pleasant reading.’ He paused, mind now back on the complexities of the computer. He pressed a button and the huge screen flickered into life. ‘I’ve put this together by way of an aide-memoire, so to speak,’ he said and took a seat between Daley and Scott.
The familiar face of a well-known Scottish newsreader appeared on the screen, looking noticeably younger than when Daley had seen her a few nights previously, when he had been watching TV with Liz.
She began to speak: ‘Infamous gangland figure James ‘JayMac’ Machie was sentenced to five life terms in prison at Glasgow High Court earlier today. He and almost fifty members of the Machie organised crime family
‘Apairt fae the big man,’ Scott said, drawing the attention of both of his colleagues.
‘The big man?’ asked Donald.
‘Aye, ye know – JC.’ Scott sat back in his chair. ‘Jesus, ye know?’
‘Perhaps you missed your calling, Brian. Maybe you’d have made Archbishop of Canterbury if you had taken the cloth,’ Donald said.
‘Aye, well.’ Scott was not to be outdone. ‘Mebbe we’ll need tae gie him a call, see if he can perform wan o’ they exorcisms.’
Donald snorted in derision and was about to speak when a knock sounded at the door. After Donald barked aperfunctory ‘Yes?’, DC Dunn walked in, pausing near the door, where she smoothed some unseen creases in the front of her dark blue skirt.
‘Just to let you know, sir, sirs ’, she began, plainly nervous around Donald, ‘the presentation is ready.’ She nodded her head obligingly and Daley thought for one awful moment that she might curtsy, but Donald dismissed her in the same offhand manner in which he bade her enter and she left hurriedly.
‘I felt it would be beneficial if we were to look back in time,’ Donald said, picking up papers from his desk. ‘Try and find some way that this – if it is him – could have happened. Come with me.’
They trooped from the office, Donald taking the lead. Behind him, Scott shrugged at Daley and raised a two-fingered salute behind the superintendent’s back.
‘And you can stop that insubordination immediately, Brian,’ Donald said, not bothering to turn around and sweeping open the door of the audiovisual room. ‘In fact, I want a word with you, DS Scott – in private.’ He looked at Daley, who excused himself, and led Scott into a nearby empty room.
Daley, not trying to hear what was being said, couldn’t help being surprised at the bile expressed by the superintendent. It was clear that, despite Scott’s careless attitude, he was most certainly not flavour of the month with his boss.
9
DC Dunn was in the room, leaning over the computer that controlled all things audiovisual. Donald placed his arm around her shoulder, speaking to her in hushed tones as though what was about to be revealed was a state secret. Daley was sure he saw the young woman flinch as Donald’s hand snaked over her back. How many times had he seen these manoeuvres from his boss?
Donald turned away from Dunn and indicated that his detectives take a seat. ‘I think it important that we fully rebrief ourselves with what happened six years ago,’ he said grandly, as though addressing a packed auditorium. He looked to Dunn. ‘I take it you’re finished? Just tell me which button to press, then kindly absent yourself.’
‘Press any button to start, and the same to stop,’ the flushed DC replied, clearly uncomfortable in her superintendent’s presence.
‘Great!’ Donald exclaimed. ‘Off you pop now.’ He leaned over the keyboard, glasses perched on the end of his nose, as DC Dunn made a hasty exit.
‘Off ye pop,’ Scott whispered as she was leaving. ‘It’s like fuckin’ Downton Abbey .’
‘An excellent programme,’ Donald replied. ‘But less ofyour sarcasm, DS Scott. If I recall, we still have to sort out the little matter of your yearly assessment which, I can assure you, does not make for pleasant reading.’ He paused, mind now back on the complexities of the computer. He pressed a button and the huge screen flickered into life. ‘I’ve put this together by way of an aide-memoire, so to speak,’ he said and took a seat between Daley and Scott.
The familiar face of a well-known Scottish newsreader appeared on the screen, looking noticeably younger than when Daley had seen her a few nights previously, when he had been watching TV with Liz.
She began to speak: ‘Infamous gangland figure James ‘JayMac’ Machie was sentenced to five life terms in prison at Glasgow High Court earlier today. He and almost fifty members of the Machie organised crime family
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