Last Resort by Quintin Jardine Read Free Book Online Page A

interesting conversations over the dinner table.’ I looked at him. ‘So that’s your management structure?’
    ‘Almost,’ Sheila replied. ‘Alongside the board we have an internal audit department, run by Susannah Gardner, a Scots lady Xavi pinched from the Saltire ’s accountants in Edinburgh. They scrutinise the finances of every component company within the group, right down to reporters’ expense accounts . . .’ she chuckled, ‘and the managing director’s when he’s away on business.’
    I looked at her husband. ‘Since Hector disappeared, have you instructed a full audit of his department?’
    He stared back at me. ‘No, of course not. Why should I?’
    ‘Probably because it’s your duty as chief executive. You’ve just bounced this situation off me, as a cop. The man has gone, and there are no signs of violence or of any form of duress. I don’t know him, so I am automatically objective, and I’m telling you, professionally, that in a case like this the first thing you do is look at the money.’
    ‘Hector’s not a thief!’ Sheila protested.
    ‘In which case there’ll be no trouble demonstrating it. All I’m saying is that you have to check the company books. From what you’re telling me the man spends his life online, doing stuff that’s beyond your ken, and Xavi’s. He lives in a different world from you. He could be the world’s worst Internet poker player, and you would not have a clue about it.’
    ‘Bob’s right, love,’ Xavi said, sadly. ‘It has to be done.’
    ‘What has to be done?’
    The young voice that came from the far end of the room had a pronounced Catalan accent and yet still it took me back almost twenty years, to my Alex as an almost teenager. I caught the look in Xavi’s eyes, and guessed it had been in mine too, around that time. Maybe it still is.
    ‘Hello, Paloma,’ he called out as the girl approached. ‘Come and meet our guest. This is Mr Skinner, from Edinburgh.’
    His daughter, as you’d expect, was tall for her age; her dark hair was long and tied in a ponytail. I glanced up at the central portrait of her namesake and saw a resemblance that should not have existed, since they were unrelated in blood.
    ‘ Encantada, señor ,’ she said. ‘Pleased to meet you. I’ve been back to Edinburgh since we left, with Mama, but never with my dad. He says he doesn’t like it any more. But he says’, she added, ‘that I can go to university there.’
    ‘Let’s get you through school first,’ her father laughed.
    A man had come into the room with Paloma. He was around the thirty mark, with a mop of dark hair and a black full beard; her stepbrother, I assumed, and this was confirmed when he spoke to Sheila.
    ‘Mum, can I borrow the Toyota again?’ he asked. ‘There’s a film being shown in English tonight in Girona and I fancy catching it.’ He stopped then turned to me, hand outstretched. ‘I’m sorry, no manners, I’m Ben McNeish.’ He smiled, and I read a hint of shyness in him. ‘You are the Mr Skinner, aren’t you?’ His tone underlined the definite article.
    ‘I’m probably the one you’re thinking about, yes,’ I replied.
    ‘It’s an honour, sir.’
    ‘My pleasure too, Ben. I hear you’ve had some bad luck on the job front . . . in which case, I know how you feel.’
    ‘Mine was inevitable, the way things have gone in the book trade.’
    ‘Mine too,’ I countered, ‘given the clowns that run our country just now.’
    ‘The police could do it better, then, Bob?’ Xavi challenged. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
    ‘We’d run it more efficiently, that’s for sure. However, I’m for wider police accountability, not for none at all.’
    ‘Dad, can I have some Playstation time?’ Paloma asked, uninterested in Scottish politics. ‘I’ve no homework.’
    ‘In that case, my love, please do. We’re in mid-discussion here. Ben,’ he turned to his stepson, ‘since you’ve got a woman to impress, why don’t