smuggling ring. The cops are on the case down south, but they know they’re not making great headway – they’ve made some seizures along the line and stuff, over the years, but nobody’s really cracked it.’
‘I did that seminar on diamond smuggling down at the Met a while ago and I remember the background. But what I can’t understand is why Glasgow? Normally they go to dealers down in London and then to Antwerp, where the diamonds would be cut and polished. There’s all sorts of required licences that can apparently trace every diamond back to its origin. It’s quite complicated. So how come they got under the radar? And what would the rough diamonds be doing here?’
‘That’s what we don’t know. But one theory is that this guy, Malik, was flying to Glasgow, maybe coming through Amsterdam or something and it was less risky to fly to Glasgow than Heathrow or Gatwick, and was maybe going to go down south on the train. Or maybe it’s that diamonds are the new black in Glasgow.’ Don rubbed his face. ‘We justdon’t know. The dead Pakistani is from Bradford, but we don’t know anyone here who’s involved in it, so we haven’t a clue why he’d be in Glasgow.’
Rosie was also trying to figure out what he was doing in Glasgow, but from a different perspective. She already knew from the limited conversation with Sabiha that someone within the Pakistani community was involved in smuggling, so maybe it was a reward, or whatever, for the provision of passports or bodies.
‘So are the cops going to release the line about the women and the suitcase? And how about the ID of the woman with the severed arm? The dogs in the street are barking her name. We could have used it last night, but the editor decided not to. It was stupid of you guys not to confirm.’
‘I know. New detective superintendent. He’s a bit of a nutjob and hates the press.’
‘Terrific,’ Rosie said, knowing if the new superintendent had an inkling of where she’d just been she’d already be on her way to the cells, awaiting the custody court in the morning. ‘Well, he’ll need to get his act together. This is a big story, Don.’
‘Tell me about it. Let’s just say the assistant chief constable has had a word in his shell-like.’
‘What about the Pakistani jumper – the bride who took the swan dive?’ Rosie asked. ‘Anything new?’
‘Nothing.’ he sighed. ‘But we know it stinks. They’reup to something, but we can’t go harassing or sitting on them, especially when they’re already throwing racism allegations around.’ He turned to Rosie. ‘You hearing anything?’
Rosie sighed and shook her head. She hated holding out on Don like this, especially when he was being so forthcoming. She wished she could tell him just a hint of what Sabiha and her cousin had told her, but she couldn’t risk it. Once she’d handed over the information, she’d be handing over the girls as witnesses. It was too risky for them. The wine, on top of the adrenalin-pumping day it had been, made her suddenly tired. She was looking forward to going home to sit in a hot bath till she had made some sense of all of this. She needed to work out what her next move would be. McGuire would have to be told everything, and she wasn’t looking forward to that.
‘I have to go after this, Don. I’m knackered, and I’ve got a couple of calls to make before I call it a day.’
Don drained his glass.
‘Me too. We’ve been doing overtime every night this week with all this shit that’s going on, so I’m pretty done in myself. Early one for me too.’
When they finished their drinks, they stepped outside into the sleet, the traffic thinning out as they were two streets away from Charing Cross.
‘Will I walk you up the road?’ Don asked, glancing around at the deserted streets.
‘No, don’t worry. Sure, who’d be out on a night like this, only whores and polis.’ Rosie smiled.
Don chuckled as he leaned in and she felt the warmth of
‘I did that seminar on diamond smuggling down at the Met a while ago and I remember the background. But what I can’t understand is why Glasgow? Normally they go to dealers down in London and then to Antwerp, where the diamonds would be cut and polished. There’s all sorts of required licences that can apparently trace every diamond back to its origin. It’s quite complicated. So how come they got under the radar? And what would the rough diamonds be doing here?’
‘That’s what we don’t know. But one theory is that this guy, Malik, was flying to Glasgow, maybe coming through Amsterdam or something and it was less risky to fly to Glasgow than Heathrow or Gatwick, and was maybe going to go down south on the train. Or maybe it’s that diamonds are the new black in Glasgow.’ Don rubbed his face. ‘We justdon’t know. The dead Pakistani is from Bradford, but we don’t know anyone here who’s involved in it, so we haven’t a clue why he’d be in Glasgow.’
Rosie was also trying to figure out what he was doing in Glasgow, but from a different perspective. She already knew from the limited conversation with Sabiha that someone within the Pakistani community was involved in smuggling, so maybe it was a reward, or whatever, for the provision of passports or bodies.
‘So are the cops going to release the line about the women and the suitcase? And how about the ID of the woman with the severed arm? The dogs in the street are barking her name. We could have used it last night, but the editor decided not to. It was stupid of you guys not to confirm.’
‘I know. New detective superintendent. He’s a bit of a nutjob and hates the press.’
‘Terrific,’ Rosie said, knowing if the new superintendent had an inkling of where she’d just been she’d already be on her way to the cells, awaiting the custody court in the morning. ‘Well, he’ll need to get his act together. This is a big story, Don.’
‘Tell me about it. Let’s just say the assistant chief constable has had a word in his shell-like.’
‘What about the Pakistani jumper – the bride who took the swan dive?’ Rosie asked. ‘Anything new?’
‘Nothing.’ he sighed. ‘But we know it stinks. They’reup to something, but we can’t go harassing or sitting on them, especially when they’re already throwing racism allegations around.’ He turned to Rosie. ‘You hearing anything?’
Rosie sighed and shook her head. She hated holding out on Don like this, especially when he was being so forthcoming. She wished she could tell him just a hint of what Sabiha and her cousin had told her, but she couldn’t risk it. Once she’d handed over the information, she’d be handing over the girls as witnesses. It was too risky for them. The wine, on top of the adrenalin-pumping day it had been, made her suddenly tired. She was looking forward to going home to sit in a hot bath till she had made some sense of all of this. She needed to work out what her next move would be. McGuire would have to be told everything, and she wasn’t looking forward to that.
‘I have to go after this, Don. I’m knackered, and I’ve got a couple of calls to make before I call it a day.’
Don drained his glass.
‘Me too. We’ve been doing overtime every night this week with all this shit that’s going on, so I’m pretty done in myself. Early one for me too.’
When they finished their drinks, they stepped outside into the sleet, the traffic thinning out as they were two streets away from Charing Cross.
‘Will I walk you up the road?’ Don asked, glancing around at the deserted streets.
‘No, don’t worry. Sure, who’d be out on a night like this, only whores and polis.’ Rosie smiled.
Don chuckled as he leaned in and she felt the warmth of
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