Grant shook his hand, motioned for them to follow him. “Let’s get indoors afore it starts rainin’ again.”
* * *
Elizabeth followedQuinn and Grant into the warehouse, stopping at the front desk, where he introduced them to Dorcas, a middle-aged woman who worked as his assistant.
“Dorcas will need to see your IDs,” Grant said.
They hadn’t anticipated this, but Elizabeth couldn’t see how it was a problem. She took her wallet from her handbag and handed Dorcas her driver’s license. “I didn’t bring my passport. I hope this is enough.”
Quinn did the same, the two of them watching as Dorcas wrote down their names, dates of birth, and license numbers. Was Grant doing a background check?
If they’d been in the Middle East, Elizabeth might have been concerned. She didn’t hide the fact that she’d worked for the CIA, and there were parts of the Middle East where any association with the Agency could be a death sentence. But they were in the UK, an allied nation.
When they’d got their licenses back, Grant led them into his office.
Elizabeth took it in at a glance. The Scottish flag in the corner. A large map of the coastlines around the Irish Sea. A poster that read, “Free Scotland. Vote YES on Indy Ref #2.” Framed photos of different cargo ships on the walls. A photo of a woman and three children on a shelf beside a row of plastic binders. Cigarette butts in an ashtray. A station with a coffee pot and paper cups.
Grant gestured toward two office chairs. “What do you want?”
Elizabeth had coached Quinn on how to ask the questions he wanted to ask in hopes that a softer approach might get them more answers.
“I grew up in Glasgow, like Jack. He ran with your gang—the Young Boys. I ran with the South Bank Boys.”
Grant grinned. “Och, those fuckers. We bashed their heids a time or two.”
Quinn chuckled. “And we returned the favor.”
Come on, guys. Let it go.
“Jack and I met during recruit training and went through the SAS selection process together. We were the only Scots in our unit, both of us from Glasgow.”
“I understand why you became friends—two boys off the streets of the Dear Green Place.”
“I live and work in the States now. Private security. When I got the call that Jack was dead, I couldnae believe it.”
“Aye.” There was grief in Grant’s eyes—and anger. “I warned him not to work for that cunt—Whitehall. The fucker sold out his own country to the English. I even offered Jack a job as my chief of security, but he refused. He chose that bastard over me. Where do you stand on Scottish independence, McManus?”
Quinn met Grant’s gaze straight on. “I voted for it, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
“A true Scotsman.” Grant nodded, his brow furrowing. “You’re here wantin’ to know if I killed Murray—or whether I know who did. The answer is no. I’ve no’ seen him or spoken to him since the day we argued about his job. If I knew who’d killed him, the bastard would be lyin’ at the bottom of the Irish Sea by now. Jack and I disagreed about Scottish independence, but he was a Young Boy and a good friend. I would never raise my hand against a brother.”
There was the grief again—and the anger.
“Thank you for being so honest with us,” Elizabeth said. “The police say they think Jack was dealing drugs. We find that hard to believe. Do you think that was possible? Would he do something like that?”
Grant laughed, a harsh sound. “Wilson is an eejit, so he is. Jack drank, but he never touched drugs. Even when the rest of the Young Boys were smokin’ grass, he’d refuse. He was a right smug prick about it.”
“Do you think he changed?”
Grant shook his head, laughed again. “If that’s what the police are sayin’, they’re full of shite.”
Elizabeth was about to ask whether Grant knew anyone who might have a grudge against Jack when Grant’s phone buzzed. He answered, his gaze darting to Elizabeth for the briefest instant before moving away.
“Thanks.” He hung up, stood, but something had changed. Fear. Uncertainty. Rage. It was all there in his eyes. “I’ve answered your questions. I’m a busy man, so I’m afraid that’s all the time I have, even for friends of Jack.”
The door opened, and two men in dark suits entered.
“My men will see you out.”