Chapter 3

“Probably a quiet word in the ear of the local constabulary. They would make their own enquiries and come to their own conclusions. If they see signs but do not have enough evidence to act, I might assist them by advising the local newspaper editor that these premises might be the site of a possible pornography ring. Newspapers love a salacious story, Mr Phillips.”

He regarded me with more interest.

“You seem a little young to to be claiming to be an investor, Mr Rodney. Might you not be an investigator yourself, working for someone else, trying to ferret out information?”

I spread my hands. “Who knows? It all comes down to the same end point. What are you going to do about it?”

“Without admitting anything, Mr Rodney, I will have to think over your words and your insinuations. I must point out that this shop is part of a group, so buying this shop may not be on the cards.”

“I am aware of the fact, sir. Before investing in a group, I like to pick a shop at random, and use it as an example. I hate to say it, but if one shop shows up as connected to the underworld, the remaining shops may also be criminally affected. Once the police start with one shop, they may very well extend their enquiries to the whole group. If my surmise proves to be accurate, the entire group may end up in trouble, and be a target for a cheap purchase, to my benefit. I may be young, but I am not stupid, sir.”

“Ahh ... interesting,” he said. “I will definitely think seriously about what you say, Mr. Rodney. How do I get in touch with you?”

“You don’t. I will get in touch with you, one way or another. Farewell.”

I turned and left his office, fully aware of the security camera in his shop, which might have me in its viewfinder. I smiled to myself, and left the shop.

Round a corner from the street where the camera shop was, I went and stood at a bus stop as if awaiting a bus, but a moment later our car drew up and Sandy said, “Want a lift, Mr Rodney?” and I pretended to be happy to see her as an acquaintance, and accepted her offer. I climbed in and she drove off, carefully keeping to the speed limit so as not to be noticed by officialdom.

We got to the house, and as I got out, Sandy handed me the briefcase. I took it and thanked her, and stepped into the vestibule. The travel machine was prepped with the Edinburgh target, and I gave it a half hour limit.

Switching on, I was in Edinburgh at once, and no-one seemed perturbed by my appearance on the street. For most people, seeing a person who was not there moments before, is usually put down to a momentary lapse in concentration, and they shrug it off. If there is nothing else untoward happening, it is a logical conclusion to make.

I walked rapidly to the steps of the National Library, and entered. Within a few yards I was at the reception counter and asked for a library card, to do some research. The young man spoke.

“Yes, sir. If you would just fill in this application, and produce some identification, we can proceed.”

Doing so, I then handed over my recently acquired passport, and the man copied the information of the serial number, etc., on to the form that I had just completed; then he handed it back.

He nodded politely and said, “Thank you, Mr McIntyre. The card will be with you in a minute or two, and you should present it every time you come here, so that we can get you inside quickly. If you have not been here before, you must deposit your briefcase with our attendant, who will give you a marker for getting back when you leave.”

I immediately argued, “Why should I hand it over? I need it for my research.”

“Mr. McIntyre, all that a visitor may bring inside is his notebook and pencils. I am sure you are aware that no ink writing tools are permitted.”

“But my briefcase contains my notebooks and pencils; that is all it is carrying. It is effectively my pencil case!”

“It is still a briefcase and you must take them out of the briefcase, sir.” The young man was trying to be polite and helpful as he could, within the rules.

“But then the briefcase will be empty, thus nullifying any valid intent by your rules. Surely an empty briefcase does not have to be deposited?”

“I am afraid so, Mr McIntyre. Think of it as a security matter: any person leaving with a bag or case of any kind, who has not gone through our procedures must automatically be searched in case he or she is trying to remove one of our unique documents. That may sound much more onerous and unpalatable for visitors, but it is simpler to have all bags left at reception and returned on departure, with no-one suspected of anything. Now, your card is ready; if you will just sign for it, sir...”

“Now I have to sign for a card which you are obviously handing over. What is the point of that? Security does not come into it.”

I was now a damned nuisance in his eyes, but he tried to maintain his temper.

“The signature is for our own records, sir. It proves that you have been given your card, so that you cannot claim you didn’t get it, if you decided to be EXTREMELY awkward.”

I sighed and signed, but declared as I pocketed the card, “I am leaving now, as I have been upset by this officiousness when I was merely trying to do some research for my employer. I will come back when I feel better disposed towards your regulations. I am sure the solicitor who employs me will also be unhappy. Good day!”

I stamped out, having made my presence and identity very clear to the reception staff. I would be remembered. But also the man knew that many of the researchers were there for legal research, so he was left wondering...

I made my way outside and returned to the street, where I found a nearby bench and sat quietly for a while; the very picture of a studious young man taking a break. No-one was observing me when I was whisked back to Gourock and home.

Two or three minutes later I was round and inside the front door, to be greeted by young children running or toddling around, exploring the house and all its wonders as only a child can do. A chorus of “Daddy!” led to me cuddling several at one time, then persuading the older ones to let me spend more time with the youngest. At last, Sandy, as the mother in charge at the time, appeared and shepherded them off, ‘to leave Daddy to say hello to your other mummies when they get home.’

Once the kids were moved to the nursery and the attentions of Naomi, Sandy asked how it had all gone. I gave her a run down of all the talk and action, and she was satisfied that all had gone well.

“You think you were picked up by the security camera in the store?”

“Fairly sure, but my face may not be clear enough for actual identification. He hasn’t the resources to identify me from a picture. Using the fake name, and leaving that manager with doubts about my involvement, all helped to muddy the water. We’ll see what happens in the next few days. Mrs Reddix may phone to inform us if there is any action at the shop.”

We heard nothing for a couple of days, then we had a visit by a very formal local policeman, with a few questions for me. He was fully uniformed, complete with notebook in hand, but took off his cap politely when Sandy brought him inside to me.

“Mr Robert McIntyre?” he asked me.

I agreed that was my name, asked what I could do to help him, and he proceeded.

“Mr McIntyre, we have had a complaint that you visited a camera shop in Greenock and threatened the manager. Have you anything to say about this accusation?”

“A camera shop? In Greenock? I have no need to visit a camera shop, so the suggestion puzzles me. When was that supposed to have happened?” I asked.

He quoted the date, and I gave a small happy chuckle to indicate my pleasure. He regarded me quizzically.

I questioned him, “That date? Are you positive? It is important to have to right.”

The policeman consulted his notes, and told me, “Yes Mr McIntyre. That is the date you are claimed to have committed the offence.” “Excellent. I can prove that I wasn’t in Greenock on the day stipulated, for I was in Edinburgh visiting the National Library of Scotland to do some research on the differences regarding witnesses in Scottish and English trials respectively, and obtained a visitor’s card while I was there. I was not happy with their officiousness, I should tell you. I had to produce my passport for identification, so they should have a record of issuing me a library card on that day; possibly also the exact time as well.”

The man smiled, and asked, “Have you any idea why the manager, a Mr Phillips, should claim that you were there and threatened him?” “No idea, except that we have a neighbour who I know works in a camera shop somewhere in Greenock; perhaps the one you are asking about, but what the connection might be, beats me. And where did my accuser get my name? Even if the shop has a security camera, it would just show the customers’ faces, I suppose, and how would he get any name from that? But even so, why me, and innocent man?” The policeman reddened and admitted, “He brought along a still from the camera when he visited the Greenock police station, and the only person that the local police force knew who looked remotely like that was you, sir.”

“Well, it was not me as you now know, so perhaps someone who looks like me but is not known to the police force?”

“That is a distinct possibility, of course, but we had to ask you first, for elimination purposes. You are not offended, I hope?”

“Gosh no. If I had not been able to show I was elsewhere, I might be offended, but in the circumstances, I am not bothered. What was I supposed to have done? I mean, the actual accusation made by this manager fellow?”

“He claimed that you threatened him with some spurious charge that you would make against him.”

“Interesting, if somewhat vague. What if someone accused him of being homosexual? Would that be regarded as a spurious charge that he would take to the police? It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” I went on,”I wonder if this claim was perhaps made up for some reason, and I happened to be in the way of misidentifcation, by bad luck. Mmm ... Tell you what ... Sounds to me like a man with something to hide. If I were you, officer, I would ask around the other staff about possible criminal activity involving the shop; just a thought that springs to mind. I may be guessing wrongly, but in my limited experience, questionable accusations are often used to divert attention, to hide something else, in my humble opinion. You would know the same thing, I am sure. However, that is for your colleagues to look into, if they have similar thoughts. Nothing to do with me and my musings.”

“Thank you, Mr McIntyre. I shall report back about your provable placement in central Edinburgh on that day. The National Library, you said? I assume you couldn’t get to Edinburgh from Greenock after a visit to the camera shop in time for your visit?” “I have no idea, officer, not knowing when I was supposed to be at the camera shop. Can you say when that was? Morning or afternoon?”

“Oh, it was shortly before midday, according to my notes.”

“Well, I was at the National Library sometime before two p.m., I think. I am not sure of when it was, but they would have a record of the timing, I expect. If his claim had any validity, that would mean arrival in much less than two hours, first in getting to a station in Greenock, buy a ticket, then travel by train from there to Edinburgh, which means transferring from Glasgow Central to Glasgow Queen Street for the changeover and waiting for the departure of the next train from there to the capital? I think not, officer. The timings are just not possible, for only the rush hours have fast trains between the two cities. The rest of the day it is trains stopping at every station; exceedingly tedious I can tell you.”

“Not even by car, sir?”

I laughed gently as I replied, “With a sixty mile speed limit, if you can manage that on the busy main roads? Then, have you ever tried to park a car in Edinburgh, anywhere near the city centre? The place is chock-a-block by nine a.m. every day, according to my solicitor boss, who used to go by car. It took him ten or fifteen minutes driving around looking for a parking spot, then have to walk back to his city centre appointment. Frustrating. Now he never goes by car, nor do I, following his example.”

“I see. That is all, sir, and thanks for your forbearance.”

Sandy had been standing near by and now commented, “What is this manager’s name again, officer? I’d like to know who is causing my husband all this bother.”

“Phillips, Mrs McIntyre, as I said to Mr McIntyre, but I can’t reveal any more information. We have rules we have to observe for everyone’s protection, you see.”

“Of, course, officer. I understand. I don’t blame you; you are just doing your duty. But I’ll check with our neighbour to see if it is the shop where he works. If it is, and if he happens to have any concerns about this Phillips, I’ll advise him to pass on his knowledge to the Gourock police station, and you can take it from there. Please let them know that his attendance at the station, if he does come there, is not frivolous.”

“We always listen to what the public tell us, Mrs McIntyre, and we keep names out of it unless a court case is likely.”

“That is fine, officer. My father is a solicitor, so he will be abreast of such rules and practices, and can advise our neighbour if required. I might ask him to go with our neighbour, if it is his shop of employment and he has something important to impart.”

The policeman’s eyes widened at this legal family background, and realised that if the member of shop staff came to them accompanied by a lawyer, it would indeed need to be taken seriously. He thanked Bob again for his help, and left.

Alone again, Sandy told me, “That seemed to go well, dear. That manager has pushed too far this time. Do you think we should send a message to the group management?” I was not so keen on this prospect.

“We don’t know if he is a one-off, or whether more of the group are involved in this scheme. Perhaps better to just have Mrs Reddix push her husband to go to the Gourock police and mention his worries about pornography through the shop. The bobbies will want to protect young women from predators like these. Maybe it would indeed be a good idea if your father went along with him to ensure his statement was being handled correctly and that his public anonymity was preserved. Your father can mention the shop being part of a group and that the activity might be more widespread.”

That was what they did, after Mrs Reddix persuaded her husband to participate in the proposed action, and Sandy and Georgie’s father accompanied him to the police station to make his formal statement. The police advised – they emphasized ‘advised’, not ‘instructed’ - Mr Reddix to proceed with accepting the taking of photographs, without specifying who he would be willing to photograph, and report back to his wife, who would phone Mrs McIntyre, and she would get her father to speak to the police. That way there was no identifiable contact between John Reddix and the police.

My normal daytime activity was full of either showing clients round properties or dealing with drafting or editing contracts at the solicitor’s office, and my time at home was either playing with my children, eating, or having sex with whichever wife was most in need of individual attention. I hardly kept up with the radio news or entertainment programmes, so I had no need of TV channels – not that there was much to chose from: erudition from the BBC or pap from ITV. I should mention that we had finally obtained a TV set, mostly for the ladies to watch their soaps and for children’s programmes for the youngsters. The children’s favourite show was ‘Andy Pandy’. My own preference was the Chronicle archaeology series, which brought you fascinating new discoveries about our ancient past.