Saturday, 5 January 2013

The Scottish Play: The Murder

Banks had scanned the classified ads and selected a run down 1975 Datsun for sale in Leith. He made sure it was a runner and had enough petrol for the job. His instincts told him something wasn't right about the deal. The seller was just too keen to get him inside the house and he could smell a rat. As he counted out the cash in the living room, two heavies burst in wielding weapons. They were fast and loud but hadn't counted on a man who did this for a living. He drove out of Leith with the car and the cash.

As far as Roddy was concerned Vivian was on one of her regular shopping trips to Edinburgh. This time she was with Banks. He had new plates ready and parked up the Datsun in the car park an abandoned shopping precinct to retrieve them and swop them over. Then drove into the centre of Edinburgh, parking in George Street. The hotel as close by but far enough away to make sure he wasn't being followed.

The hotel had been Vivians choice, posh and glitzy. She had given him cash to pay for the room in his name but he'd used Colin's AmEx card instead and assumed Colin's identity. In part he didn't want her getting any ideas about being 'Mrs Banks' into her head. As instructed, he gave her a call from the lobby. She told him to give her five minutes before coming up. Time for a quick whiskey in the bar. A double.


With inside information on the layout of Duncan King's home, the job was a doddle. Colin drove the backup car and parked a couple of streets away. Banks and Sandy simply forced their way into the house in Rubislaw Den and shot both Duncan and his wife with an untraceable Luger. A scattering of leaflets proclaiming the Scottish National Freedom Party, a roughly sprayed Anarchy Circle-A symbol and SNFP initials on the living room walls were left behind for the police to find.

A simple typed statement proclaiming the actions of the SNFP was received by BBC Scotland. In the coming fortnight, SNFP leaflets were distributed in the most deprived areas of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Stirling, Perth, Dundee and Aberdeen. Followed by small but noisy litter bin and postbox bombs going off from Glasgow to Peterhead. A car bomb exploded in Dundee and a Panasonic Shop was firebombed. The last one was personal and happened on the day of the King's funeral. Each incident was preceded by a coded message being given to the editorial desk of The Scotsman.

Vivian of course looked her best for the funeral, which took place surrounded by a melee of international media. Whilst there was very genuine sorrow for the deaths of the Kings amongst the mourners, she could feel the undercurrent of fear, the unspoken concern about who could be next. And she was, if truth be told, excited.

Derek: "You wanted to see me sir?"

Roy: "Thanks for coming in Derek. Take a seat. Would you like some tea?"

Derek: Nodding to Tom, "Err, no thank you sir. Just had one" He was keen to get out of the Jackal's den.

Roy: "Looks like we have some new players within your remit?"

Derek: "I don't think so sir"

Tom:  "Really?"

Derek: "Look, the SNFP are a pair of middle aged guys working out of a garage in Dunkeld. Jacobite fantasists, no more than that. And the arrests made simply don't fit the profile."

Tom: "You mean the tip-off?"

Roy: "Yes, what's your verdict on that?"

Derek: "Local bobbies in Leith acting on a tip-off about a stolen Datsun, enter a house to find two cases of SNFP leaflets, personal effects and a Luger used in the King murder in the garage. Well, it's straight off the Telly isn't it."

Roy: "Thank you Derek. You can leave now." Derek leaves, grateful that it wasn't the grilling he was expecting.

Roy to Tom: "Well what do you think?"

Tom: "Glagow is still a goer in my opinion. At worst, a couple of extra bodies to lift and maybe a few extra 'soldiers' on the ground. I've got eyes in place. We're just waiting for it to happen. Tim and the 'SO' team have built a model and rehearsing their role. Think they're actually looking forward to it".

"One thing though......this SNFP?.... Smacks of some counter-gang stuff, pure Kitson if you ask me. Are we sure another door in this building aren't involved?"

Roy: "You're right Tom. Something doesn't fit. I'll ask June to dig.  The secretarial pool probably know more about what's bloody well going on than we do."

Roy lit a cigarette. It doesn't add up. If they lifted the principal players in a single operation would that simply leave a power vacuum? Would unknowns fill the void creating even greater chaos?

Absentmindedly he thumbed the latest reports and operations orders coming from Wales..... and something about Norway - that's all we need, he thought, the bloody "Prince of Denmark" to invade.....


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