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  ‘And?’

  ‘Impressive. The resources they have committed to the drug war is beyond anything that we can manage.’

  ‘No, I mean what was the thing you heard?’

  ‘Oh. Well, they busted an operation in South Florida where the bad guys had used prostitutes as mules. The drugs came ashore, got transported to a car dealership and from there went to Miami on public transport. They sent the prostitutes down to the dealership from Miami on the bus and they took the stuff back in plain bags on the bus again.’

  ‘Not very high tech.’

  ‘That’s the point. Makes it difficult to track.’

  ‘So you think maybe our guys took a leaf out of the Americans’ book, that Lewski and Murray are mules?’

  ‘Maybe. Was the only thing I could come up with.’

  ‘Would explain her attitude. Not wanting to speak to us.’

  Armstrong slowed the car. ‘Here we are,’ he said, pointing at an area of waste ground opposite an industrial park.

  The Scenes of Crime team were there and had erected a portable white tent around the body. The area had been cordoned off with tape and uniformed officers patrolled the perimeter while the forensic technicians scoured the area on their hands and knees looking for evidence.

  Armstrong stopped his car at the edge of the ground where a crowd of locals had gathered to see what was going on. It was more interesting than anything on daytime TV.

  ‘You coming?’ he asked, unclipping his seatbelt.

  ‘Why not.’

  They walked together across the grass and showed their badges to get inside the cordon. Irvine saw a man standing at the entrance to the tent and recognised him as Paul Warren, the SCDEA Director General.

  ‘Kenny,’ Warren said as they approached. ‘And DC Irvine. What brings you here?’

  ‘I’m tagging along with Kenny. We were discussing Joanna Lewski.’

  ‘Right. You’ll want to see this, Kenny.’

  Warren turned and pulled aside the entrance flap to the tent. The three of them stepped inside.

  A man dressed in a grey suit and a pale blue shirt lay on his back, all colour drained from him — his skin an unnatural, waxy grey. Irvine stared at the multiple stab wounds on his abdomen and neck, the ground around him drenched in blood.

  ‘That’s him all right,’ Armstrong said. ‘What do we know so far?’

  Warren was about to answer when Irvine looked at the man’s face and inhaled sharply, bringing a hand up to her injured eye.

  ‘What?’ Armstrong said, turning to her.

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The man who attacked me at Joanna Lewski’s flat.’

  13

  They stood by Armstrong’s car, looking at the tent in the middle of the waste ground.

  ‘You’re certain it was him?’ Warren asked Irvine.

  ‘Yes. I mean, I only saw his face briefly but it’s definitely him.’

  ‘Where does this take us, Kenny?’

  Armstrong stared at the tent before looking at Warren.

  ‘Russell Hall was Frank Parker’s enforcer for a few years before Parker put him in charge of the drug business that he runs out of his clubs. We’ve been looking at putting a case together now for the last eighteen months.’

  ‘What’s the connection with Joanna Lewski?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I can think is that Hall met her, maybe in one of the clubs, and that either he was using her as a mule to bring drugs into the city from wherever they came into the UK or he was using drugs to buy sex from her.’

  ‘Could be both,’ Irvine added.

  Armstrong nodded.

  ‘So we think this whole thing goes back to Parker?’ Warren asked. ‘Maybe he even had Hall killed because of the screw-up with Lewski. That would be beautiful. If we could hang a murder on him…’ He smiled and shook his head.

  ‘I think I should go see Parker now,’ Armstrong said.

  ‘Why now? We should wait till we have it all tied up. Then we go in with the rams and take his door down.’

  ‘We don’t have anything like enough evidence for that. And I don’t think we’ll get it any time soon either. I’d prefer that we go talk to him now.’

  ‘Risky.’

  ‘I could take the lead,’ Irvine said. ‘Explain that I’m investigating Lewski’s murder and we think this guy Hall might be connected to it. We know that he works for Parker so…’

  ‘I can sit in the background and stay quiet,’ Armstrong said. ‘If he doesn’t think it’s linked to the drug investigation, he might be a little less on guard.’

  ‘Might work,’ Warren said. ‘Do it.’

  They drove back towards the city centre, that sense of excitement building when a case is starting to take shape.

  ‘Where do we find Parker?’ Irvine asked.

  Armstrong looked at his watch.

  ‘He usually has lunch at one of his own places so we’ll try there first.’

  ‘Does he know you? I mean, that you’re with the SCDEA?’

  ‘He knows me all right.’

  It sounded to Irvine as though there was something more to Armstrong’s comment than being on opposite sides of the law. It sounded personal. She decided not to push it for now.

  Armstrong drove to the Merchant City area and parked at a meter opposite an expensive-looking restaurant. There were some professional types sitting at the tables by the window: sharp suits and good haircuts.

  ‘That it?’ Irvine asked as they got out of the car.

  ‘This is the flagship place. Opened six months ago. His favourite place for lunch.’

  ‘I assume he won’t be alone?’

  ‘Correct. Gangster types like their entourages. He’ll have some heavies with him.’

  Irvine nodded and they jogged across the street when there was a gap in the traffic. Armstrong pulled the door of the restaurant open and motioned for Irvine to go in. They stood at a sign that told them to please wait to be seated and Irvine spoke when a maitre d’ type in a black wool suit and an open-necked white shirt came over.

  ‘Is Mr Parker in today?’ Irvine asked, producing her warrant card and holding it out close to the man’s face.

  He took a step back, looked at the card for a while and then at Irvine.

  ‘You’ve had your hair done,’ he said. ‘Wait here.’

  Irvine turned the card to look at it and saw that she had her blond bob when the picture was taken. She looked a lot younger than she remembered.

  ‘Nice picture,’ Armstrong said.

  The maitre d’ came back after a couple of minutes.

  ‘Is it Mr Parker Senior or Junior that you’re looking for?’

  ‘Senior,’ Armstrong said.

  The maitre d’ looked at him for a moment.

  ‘I don’t believe that I saw your identification, sir.’

  Armstrong took out his SCDEA gold shield and showed it to him.

  ‘Mr Parker thought that it might be you. Please follow me.’

  Irvine glanced at Armstrong but his face was impassive. She wondered again what it was between him and Parker. It seemed like maybe she would find out once the two of them were in the same room together.

  The maitre d’ led them through the restaurant, past a central bar area and into a private room at the back of the building. He left the room and closed the door.

  The room was dark, lit subtly and decorated in sombre tones of black and deep burgundy. There was a large round table set in a half-moon booth with a curved, padded leather seat. An immaculately clean white tablecloth covered the table.

  Two large men sat off to the side under a window and stared at Irvine and Armstrong. There were four other people in the room — three men and a woman — and they were all sitting in the booth, sipping wine.

  The woman was a young blonde who immediately got up and walked past Irvine to leave the room. She teetered by on monster stilettos and her teeth flashed white in a deeply tanned face. Parker
was a little obvious in his taste for women.

  The oldest of the three men at the table was also well tanned and had dark, curly hair swept back and gelled in place. Grey flecked the hair at his temples. The youngest of the men looked like he could have come from the same gene pool and Irvine made them for father and son: the Parkers.

  The other man was thin and wore glasses on his narrow nose. Weaselly was a word tailor made to fit him.

  ‘DS Armstrong,’ Parker Senior said, standing and holding out a hand for Armstrong to shake.

  Armstrong stared at him but made no move to accept the greeting.

  ‘Frank,’ was all he said.

  ‘Mr Parker, I’m DC Irvine with Strathclyde Police CID.’

  Parker nodded and sat down.

  Irvine walked forward and pulled out a chair from the table. She sat down. Armstrong stayed standing behind her.

  ‘Can you tell me what you know about Joanna Lewski?’ Irvine asked.

  ‘Don’t know her. Who told you that I did?’

  ‘What about Russell Hall?’

  Parker’s eyes flicked to Armstrong. ‘I know Russell,’ he said, his eyes remaining on Armstrong’s face.

  ‘How do you know him, Mr Parker?’

  He looked back at Irvine. ‘He used to work for me.’

  ‘Used to?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now he doesn’t.’

  One of the goons sitting off to the side laughed.

  ‘Do you mean because he’s dead?’

  This took Parker by surprise. He leaned forward, his hands coming up on to the table. ‘What?’

  ‘I asked you if the reason he didn’t work for you any more is because someone killed him last night.’

  Parker Junior stiffened next to his father.

  ‘This Joanna person,’ Parker Senior said, ‘I take it that she’s also dead. I mean, that’s why the CID is here, right?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Did Russell kill her?’

  ‘What makes you ask that?’

  ‘He had difficulty controlling his impulses. Back when I knew him.’

  ‘Which was when?’

  ‘Russell hasn’t worked for us for the last three months,’ Junior said. ‘I run the clubs now.’

  Irvine could have sworn his chest puffed out as he spoke. A look of annoyance passed across his father’s face. The message wasn’t lost on Irvine and she knew that Armstrong would have picked it up: Frank Parker Junior was now in charge of the Parker organisation’s drug trade.

  14

  ‘So you’re saying that you fired Mr Hall, is that correct?’ Irvine asked, looking at Junior.

  ‘Yes,’ his father answered. ‘It wasn’t working out.’

  ‘He’d been with your organisation for some time?’

  ‘Nothing lasts for ever.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  Junior smirked. Irvine had taken an immediate dislike to him. She wondered if he would be quite so confident if his father wasn’t here.

  ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘Haven’t seen him since we… let him go,’ Senior answered.

  ‘Can you account for your whereabouts last night? All of you.’

  Irvine made a point of looking around the room and making eye contact with everyone.

  ‘Yes. Let us know what you need.’

  Senior reached into his jacket and took out a business card. He leaned across the table and held it out until Irvine took it from him. He knew the police had a job to do and he understood the rules of the game. Irvine wasn’t so sure that Junior would look at it in the same way.

  Armstrong moved forward and sat next to Irvine, across the table from the Parkers.

  ‘What was it, Frank?’ he asked. ‘Russell not making enough money for you or something?’

  Parker Senior looked at Irvine and smiled.

  ‘Your colleague doesn’t think that I’m a legitimate businessman.’

  ‘I’m not in a position to comment,’ Irvine said. ‘And right now I don’t really care. There are two murder inquiries ongoing and that’s my only concern.’

  ‘We had nothing to do with them,’ Junior said loudly, leaning forward. ‘So why don’t you fuck off.’

  Irvine stared at him.

  ‘Everybody out,’ Parker Senior said sharply.

  No one moved.

  ‘I mean now.’ His voice was even but firm.

  The goons got up and shuffled to the door, followed quickly by the weasel in the glasses.

  Junior stayed put, but shrank back in his seat.

  ‘You too, son.’

  Junior glared at his father for a long moment before sliding across the leather seat and out of the booth. He slammed the door as he left.

  ‘I apologise for my son’s ignorance,’ Parker said. ‘That’s not how I like to do business.’

  ‘Frank,’ Armstrong said, ‘cut the bullshit, okay? You’re not impressing anyone here.’

  Parker shrugged.

  ‘Who was Russell working for after he left you?’

  Parker flicked at an imaginary piece of fluff on the lapel of his suit jacket.

  ‘If you tell us, we’ll be going after them hard. Maybe help take out some of the competition.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean by competition.’

  Armstrong sighed. Irvine felt that his intervention was proving counterproductive.

  ‘Mr Parker,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you would be just as pleased as we would be to take a killer off the streets. Make it safer for everyone. That’s my aim here. Nothing else.’

  She maintained eye contact with him, hoping that Armstrong would stay quiet.

  Parker looked from Irvine to Armstrong and back. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do,’ he said eventually. ‘If I can help I will.’

  Irvine nodded.

  ‘Do you know who Mr Hall was working for after he left your employment?’

  ‘I heard it was someone… new to the business scene.’

  Armstrong turned his face away from Parker and snorted.

  ‘Anything you can do to help us would be appreciated,’ Irvine said.

  Parker regarded her silently for a moment. ‘Andrew Johnson,’ he said finally.

  Irvine wondered if he was joking.

  ‘The Andrew Johnson who’s dead? Murdered. I mean, it was all over the newspapers. I’m one of the investigating officers.’

  ‘Yes, that Andrew Johnson.’

  ‘So what are you telling us? Did Russell Hall kill Johnson and take over his organisation?’

  Parker smiled benignly.

  ‘I would be very surprised if Russell had big enough balls. I mean, Johnson was out of his league. A proper psychopath.’

  ‘I’m not following what you’re telling us.’

  ‘Russell worked for Johnson until his unfortunate meeting with a bullet. Now he works for the man who succeeded Johnson.’

  ‘And is this man still alive, or do I have another body to discover?’

  He laughed this time.

  ‘I don’t know his name. But I understand that he is very much alive.’

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you would let me know if any of your sources of information can identify this man.’

  Parker looked at her for a long moment without blinking.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said. ‘But whoever he is, I’d stay well clear, you know. Anyone crazy enough to take out Johnson is deserving of respect.’

  Irvine took a business card from her pocket and placed it on the table in front of Parker. She stood and waited for Armstrong to do the same.

  ‘Thank you for your assistance, Mr Parker,’ Irvine said as Armstrong started to rise.

  ‘I know how to deal with these scumbags,’ Armstrong said, his voice rising.

  Irvine stared at him from the passenger seat of the car.

  ‘And you don’t treat them like that.’

  ‘Like what?’
/>   ‘Giving them any respect or legitimacy.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘He’s a drug dealer and a gangster.’

  ‘Did we advance the investigation?’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Maybe not to you. Look, it’s obvious that this guy has done something to get at you in the past. I don’t need to know about it. But he gave us a lead. The rest of it I’ll leave to you SCDEA boys to take care of. You brought me in to look at the deaths. That’s what I’m doing.’

  Armstrong looked ready to argue but the fight seemed to drain out of him. He started the car and put his hands on the steering wheel.

  ‘Ask me about him again when this is all done.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘But for now you’re right.’

  ‘What he gave us, if it’s correct, is good stuff. We can link the Johnson case to Hall and Lewski. Get all these cases closed. This is real progress.’

  ‘Let me see if I follow,’ Armstrong said. ‘Hall goes to work for Johnson. Johnson’s outfit is the one selling the bad gear. For whatever reason, Johnson gets killed and the new boss takes over.’

  ‘Right. And this new guy must be the one who killed Hall.’

  ‘It’s a safe bet that Hall gave the drugs to Lewski for sex and then when she died he dumped her body to get rid of the evidence. Or, at least, that was his plan. Then what? Hall’s boss has him taken out for making such a mess.’

  ‘Seems like he covers his tracks in extreme ways. The boss, I mean.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘This new guy is obviously a very serious individual.’

  15

  Armstrong dropped Irvine off before heading over to the SCDEA HQ in Paisley to see if he could find out anything more about a new face on the scene — either from his colleagues or from street contacts. He said he’d call if he got anything concrete.

  Irvine opened the CCTV file from Murphy’s e-mail and settled down for a long afternoon. She started watching, fast forwarding through stretches of film that were clearly of no help.

  After more than an hour, she noticed a silver Mercedes saloon that she had seen on the film before. She moved backwards and forwards through the film, following the car as best she could. It went south towards the river and out of sight for about twenty minutes before reappearing heading north.