The Complaints

  ‘Do what?’ McEwan asked.

  Fox was standing by the window when McEwan arrived in the living room a few moments later.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ McEwan asked.

  Fox kept his back to McEwan and started to speak. ‘Remember what you said to me, Bob? All those years back when I joined the Complaints? You said “No favours.” What you meant was, we had to treat everyone the same - friend or stranger, if they were bent, we took them down.’

  ‘I remember,’ McEwan said quietly. Fox heard him take a seat.

  ‘Adam Traynor wanted a favour from you - he wanted a cop put under surveillance. You said it would be best if the Chop Shop did the asking - that was the proper channel, after all.’

  ‘Is that right, Malcolm?’

  ‘I can’t see any other way it could have happened.’ Fox took a deep breath. ‘This would have been the Thursday or Friday. I was busy dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on Glen Heaton ... handing the whole thing over to the Procurator Fiscal. But there was something you told me that Friday - you said there might be a case for us in Aberdeen.’ Finally Fox turned towards McEwan. ‘And that gave you an idea. Maybe you already knew a bit about Jamie Breck ... what kind of officer he was. You reckoned me and him would get on. I’d be intrigued by him, begin to see in him lots of things I’m not ... You did a deal with Grampian - they’d start tailing me and you’d do what you could to make sure the inquiry into them was as soft as it could be.’

  Fox walked towards his chair and sat down opposite McEwan. McEwan was staring at the piles of books on the floor next to him. He would even pick one up from time to time and pretend to study it before putting it back.

  ‘You had that whole weekend to think it over,’ Fox went on, ‘to make sure it felt right. I’d be set the task of watching Jamie Breck. The more I found out about him, the more I’d start to trust him rather than the evidence. And from what you’d come to know about me, you were sure I’d put my foot in it somehow. That was all you needed ... for me to make a mistake. Same sort of fall Breck himself was being set up for, and for exactly the same reasons.’ Fox paused. ‘Which, if true, puts you in the selfsame class as Bull Wauchope and Charlie Brogan ...’ He let the accusation linger, while McEwan riffled the pages of another book.

  ‘If true,’ McEwan eventually echoed.

  ‘The only real coincidence was, Breck ended up on the Faulkner inquiry - gold dust, as far as you were concerned. It gave me a whole new set of ways of falling flat on my face ...’

  Fox paused again, giving McEwan another opportunity to speak, an opportunity McEwan found it easy to refuse.

  ‘When I was going through Traynor’s file, I took a look at yours too, Bob. It reminded me of something you’d said right back at the start of the Heaton inquiry - that you had to take a back seat. And you were quite right - you’d worked in the same office as him, after all. Only for a short time, but these things can come back to haunt us once defence teams get hold of them. But your file told a different story. Glen Heaton was your partner way back in the day - he was just starting out and you were the one teaching him the ropes. You wanted my reputation tarnished so his lawyer could use it against us in court. You wanted the Complaints to fail. Your own team, Bob ...’

  McEwan looked up for the first time. ‘And to your way of thinking, this is the only way it plays out?’ he asked.

  ‘Remember when you told me Breck and Heaton weren’t the best of friends? You said you’d spoken to someone at Torphichen ... but it was your old pal Heaton you actually spoke to, wasn’t it? We don’t get to help our old pals,’ Fox continued, leaning forward with the top half of his body. ‘We’re the Complaints.’

  McEwan cleared his throat. ‘Glen Heaton gets the job done, Malcolm.’

  ‘So I keep hearing, but that’s the excuse we’re always given!’ Fox waited for McEwan to say something more, but he just tossed the book he was holding on to the coffee table and leaned back a little on the sofa.

  ‘I thought it was Wauchope helping Heaton,’ Fox admitted with a rueful smile.

  ‘Bull Wauchope and Terry Vass are bad men, Malcolm.’

  ‘Meaning you’re not?’ Fox stared at his boss. After a few moments of silence, he gave a sigh. ‘In the morning,’ he said, ‘you’re going to take everything on Wauchope and Brogan and Vince Faulkner to the Chief...’

  ‘Everything?’ McEwan echoed.

  ‘You’re going to have to tell him about Traynor and you’re going to make sure Jamie Breck gets reinstated without the hint of a slur or a stain on his character.

  McEwan nodded slowly. ‘And what about us?’

  ‘Last thing you do before leaving the Chief’s office is hand him your resignation - that gives you a few hours to come up with any excuse you like. I want DI Stoddart put back in her box and I want to be told I’m returned to duty. But not with you running the show.’

  ‘And if I refuse?’

  ‘Then it’s my turn to talk to the Chief.’

  ‘It’d be my word against yours.’

  ‘You really want to take that chance? Be my guest ...’ Fox got to his feet. ‘I suppose I’ll find out in a few hours’ time.’

  McEwan stared at him and started reaching into his pocket, pulling out a phone. ‘I’m thrilled at your high regard for me,’ he said quietly, pushing buttons. When his call was answered, he spoke only four words.

  ‘You better come in.’

  Fox heard another car door open and close. McEwan had exited the living room long enough to let in the new arrival. There was a quick, muttered conversation in the hall. Fox had risen to his feet. Surely McEwan hadn’t brought Glen Heaton with him ... But if he had, Fox was ready. The door opened, and McEwan led a distinguished-looking man into the room.

  ‘Malcolm,’ he said by way of introduction, ‘you’ve maybe not met the Chief Constable ...’

  The Chief’s name was Jim Byars and he held out a hand for Fox to shake. He was in his late fifties, with thick silver hair combed straight back from the forehead.

  ‘Sir,’ Fox said by way of greeting.

  ‘Bob here tells me you’ve grabbed the wrong end of the stick,’ Byars said. His eyes were deep-set but probing. ‘Maybe we should all sit down, eh?’

  The Chief Constable waited until they were settled, then turned towards Fox. ‘You looked at Adam Traynor’s file, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Notice anything?’

  Fox nodded slowly. ‘Some of your own comments were in there ... Reading between the lines, it looked to me as if you never really rated Traynor as a possible successor.’

  Byars turned his attention to McEwan. ‘He’s a sharp one, Bob.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ McEwan agreed. ‘On occasion.’

  Byars was facing Fox again. ‘As it happens, you’re quite right - there had always been whispers about Adam Traynor.’

  ‘Dating back to his days in Dundee?’ Fox guessed.

  ‘Suspicions that he’d kept the wrong company in the past. Bruce Wauchope for one ...’

  ‘It was probably Wauchope who introduced Traynor to Glen Heaton,’ Bob McEwan interrupted, fixing Fox with a look. ‘You’re right to say that me and Heaton go back a long way ... but I’d never sell out one of my men, Malcolm.’

  Fox swallowed. Blood had begun to colour his cheeks.

  ‘Bob here,’ the Chief Constable went on, ‘knew something was up - no way Traynor should have sanctioned a surveillance operation on you without Bob being kept in the loop. Bob already knew I had some concerns about my deputy, concerns he was now sharing. DI Stoddart has had a word with her DCC up in Grampian, and he’s admitted it was Traynor who ordered your surveillance.’

  ‘He’s admitted it? Just like that?’

  The Chief Constable offered a shrug. ‘On the understanding that we keep a few details to ourselves.’

  ‘In other words, we don’t go shouting from the rooftops that Traynor offered him a deal - if Grampian kept tabs on me, the Complaints in Edin
burgh wouldn’t take on the Aberdeen inquiry?’

  ‘Something along those lines ... Look, I can appreciate you’re upset ...’

  ‘Not half as upset as me,’ McEwan interrupted, eyes on Fox. ‘You really thought I was behind all this?’

  ‘You’re not the one who was left out there as cannon-fodder,’ Fox muttered. He slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. He was remembering something his father had said to him - You’ve got to be careful ... Machinery ... it’s not to be trusted ... Maybe the old boy hadn’t been so confused after all. The police force consisted of a series of connected mechanisms, any one of which could be tampered with, or become misaligned, or need patching up ...

  ‘Why did Traynor pull the Breck surveillance?’ he eventually asked. It was McEwan who answered.

  ‘Best guess is, he already had enough on both of you to kick you out of the park. The longer the Breck thing went on, the more suspicions it was bound to raise.’

  ‘Breck’s credit card payment to SEIL went back five weeks,’ Fox commented.

  McEwan nodded. ‘This whole thing had been a while in the planning. Probably they were waiting to see if he’d notice it and query it.’

  ‘Or it could be that all they needed,’ Fox added, ‘was for Wishaw to know Jamie Breck would be kicked out of the park at some time, and so wouldn’t keep on nipping at his heels ...’ He thought for a moment. ‘Breck’s credit card details ...’

  ‘He worked alongside Glen Heaton,’ McEwan reminded him. ‘Heaton likes to know everything there is to know - no telling when it’ll come in handy.’

  ‘He copied out the details?’

  McEwan offered a shrug. ‘Best guess,’ he offered. The Chief Constable looked from one man to the other, then pressed his hands to his knees, readying to rise to his feet.

  ‘It was Traynor?’ Fox asked. McEwan nodded.

  ‘Traynor,’ he agreed. ‘Heaton asked a favour, and Traynor saw a way to kill two birds.’

  ‘But when I accused you just now ... before you hauled the Chief in ... why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘Can’t a man have a bit of fun?’ Bob McEwan said. But then his face darkened. ‘Although you and me will be having words about those conclusions you jumped to.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Fox managed to reply, watching the Chief Constable head towards the door. ‘One thing, sir,’ he called out to him. ‘I think I’m owed ...’

  Jim Byars paused. ‘Owed?’

  ‘Owed,’ Fox repeated. ‘I want Dickson and Hall taken down a peg.’

  Byars looked to McEwan for an explanation. ‘They’re Billy Giles’s men,’ McEwan obliged.

  ‘They gave me a doing,’ Fox added, indicating what remained of the damage to his face.

  ‘I see,’ the Chief Constable said. Then, after a moment’s thought: ‘There are channels, you know?’

  Fox made no answer, and it was left to McEwan to step in.

  ‘I think Malcolm knows that, sir,’ he told Byars. ‘He is the Complaints, after all ...’

  32

  Fox stopped for a double espresso at a Starbucks near Annie Inglis’s street. He hadn’t had any sleep at all. The café seemed to comprise students with essay deadlines and mothers who’d just dropped their children at day-care. The background music was 1980s electro-pop. Fox took a stool next to the door and watched cars queuing at the Holy Corner junction. The caffeine didn’t seem to be having any immediate effect, but he decided against a refill. Besides, it was time.

  He drove his car the hundred yards to Inglis’s tenement and sat there, waiting. As before, Duncan was the first to leave. Fox watched him trudge sleepily schoolwards, then got out of the Volvo and made for the tenement’s main door. He was about to press the buzzer marked Inglis when he heard footsteps descending the stone stairwell. He bided his time, and when the door was opened from within, Annie Inglis herself was standing there. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw him.

  ‘Malcolm!’ she gasped. ‘What in hell’s name ...?’

  ‘Have you heard?’ he asked.

  ‘Heard what?’ She looked him up and down. ‘Have you started sleeping rough?’

  He ignored this, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Traynor’s career’s on its way to the knacker’s yard,’ he stated. ‘You need to be careful he doesn’t take you with him.’

  She stared at him, saying nothing.

  ‘When Gilchrist got that call,’ Fox went on, repeating words he’d rehearsed time and again in his head, ‘the call telling him to pull the Breck surveillance ... it was you on the other end, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Malcolm ...’

  ‘You owe me this, Annie.’ He’d taken a step towards her so that their faces were only inches apart. She played with her bag’s shoulder strap. ‘You really do,’ he nudged her.

  ‘I didn’t know it was a set-up, Malcolm - you’ve got to believe that. Would I have given you that contact in the Melbourne police if I hadn’t trusted you?’

  ‘You were just following orders, is that it? But you were getting something in return, Annie - Gilchrist was going to be removed from the picture. That’s not the way it usually goes with orders.’ Fox was shaking his head. ‘If you didn’t know, you at least suspected ... and yet you still went along with it. That day I told Stoddart I was ill, I’m betting you volunteered to call me and check I wasn’t just pulling a fast one. That’s why you offered to come to the house - just to make doubly sure.’ It was Fox’s turn to look her up and down. ‘You’re some piece of work.’

  ‘I did as I was told.’ Her face showed that even to her own ears, this sounded weak.

  ‘ Traynor specified that you should get the Complaints to help you nail Jamie Breck. He gave you my name ...’ He paused. ‘Traynor, rather than Bob McEwan?’

  ‘Chief Inspector McEwan?’ Inglis’s eyebrows lifted a little. ‘He had nothing to do with it.’

  Fox nodded slowly, then angled his head towards the sky. ‘You helped set two innocent men up for a fall,’ he told her. He lowered his head to stare at her again.

  ‘I really didn’t know...’

  ‘Inviting me to your flat - wasn’t that a bit of a risk? Did you just want to string me along, keep me sweet?’

  ‘Couldn’t it be that I just liked you - maybe wanted to warn you?’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘When I realised you’d looked in my file ...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How could I know Adam hadn’t pencilled something there - or wouldn’t in future?’

  ‘Adam?’ Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘You mean Traynor?’

  ‘There’s a bit of history there.’ She closed her eyes for a second. The silence stretched.

  ‘History?’ he eventually echoed, but she just shook her head. ‘And you did all of this without questioning, without Traynor needing to explain any of it?’

  ‘There was the evidence against Breck ...’

  ‘I’m talking about me, Annie. Traynor insisted it had to be me - and when I told you there might be a conflict, he got you to reel me back in again.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You never thought to ask him? My career starts hurtling down the hillside, and you do absolutely nothing?’

  ‘He told me you were a liability - that your friends in the Complaints were covering up for you ...’

  ‘Did you ever bother asking for proof? He watched her shake her head again. ‘Something to bear in mind for next time, then,’ he went on as he turned away from her. ‘A little bit of proof never hurts ...’

  Unless it’s on the side of a bottle.

  He returned home and managed a couple of hours on the sofa with his eyes closed. He’d bought a roll of bin bags and was going to fill them with the various piles of books. The whole lot could go to a charity shop. After a shower and change of clothes, he felt at least half awake, though still numb. Jamie Breck had left messages on his mobile, but he didn’t feel like responding. Instead, he drove to Saughtonhall and picked up Jude.

  ‘Notice anything?’ she as
ked as she got into the car.

  ‘New jeans?’ he guessed.

  ‘They’ve taken the cast off,’ she corrected him, waving her arm in his face. ‘Should never have been on in the first place, according to the doctor who removed it.’ She looked at him. ‘Some detective you are.’

  ‘If only you knew, sis ...’

  On the way to Lauder Lodge, he told her some of the story. She listened intently, tears leaking from her eyes. When he apologised for upsetting her, she told him it was all right. She needed to hear it.