Skinner smiled, remembering old pain. 'Mine too.' He paused. 'Still, we're both driving desks now, so it's one we've got a good chance of achieving.'
`Hope you're right,' said Arrow, sounding unconvinced. `Trouble is, there are times when it's difficult to stay behind the desk. Know what I mean? From what I heard, it even follows you on to t' golf course!'
`Hah!' said Skinner sharply. 'That's another story. Some time I'll tell you all about it. But for now, we've got our hands full here.'
`Too right. What's the picture, then?'
Skinner pointed towards the mortuary tent. 'There are one hundred and eighty-eight bodies in there.'
And our Secretary of State?'
`Not yet. Not as far as I know.' Skinner grimaced. 'I have a feeling we won't find him on this site… if we find him anywhere, that is.'
`What d'you mean?'
I mean, my friend, that there was an explosion on the plane, and that from witness statements, from the seat plan and from the condition of the wreckage, your Secretary of State was right in the middle of it.'
`Shit!' Arrow whispered.
`Major Legge and his boys are up in their chopper right now, checking around the moor for other wreckage. So far there's been no word, but let's go back to the Command vehicle and check again.'
As they walked to the mobile headquarters, Skinner briefed his soldier friend on the disaster morning as it had developed. `Your colleagues from Scottish HQ at Craigiehall have been a great help,' he said. 'If it hadn't been for them we'd still have bodies lying uncovered on open ground.'
They had reached the van. The policeman held the door open for Arrow to jump up inside.
`Hello, Sergeant Rose,' said the little man, showing the ability to put a name to a face instantly that is the mark of those in the security business.
'Inspector Rose now,' said the red-head. 'Captain… is it, still?'
'Fraid so. Our promotion system's slower than yours!'
Skinner looked at the lists on the pinboard. He counted fourteen names unmarked with a dot of either colour: eleven passengers from the two front rows, two from the rear, and one member of the flight crew.
`What have you recovered yet, apart from bodies?'
`Nothing,' said Rose. 'Victims first, effects second.' She paused, her eyebrows rising slightly. 'We think we've found the Black Box flight recorder, though. The divers have spotted an object that answers the description.'
'Bugger the Black Box, Maggie… Pardon the French. It's the Red one I need.'
Eh?'
Skinner smiled. The Secretary of State's Red Box, Mags. All Ministerial papers are carried in steel boxes covered in red leather, and everywhere the Minister goes, so do they. They weigh a ton and they're fireproof.'
Aye,' said Arrow, 'and now we're going to find out if they're bombproof.'
`Would they have been in the baggage hold, sir?' asked Rose. `No, they'll have been in the cabin. The Minister's Private Secretaries don't let them out of their sight.'
Skinner slapped his thigh in a gesture of annoyance — a habit picked up unconsciously from someone he had met not long before. 'I'm sorry, Adam,' he said. 'I should have thought before about those bloody boxes. I'd imagine that you'll be desperate to recover Davey's as quickly as possible.'
Aye. I've no idea what's in it, but God alone knows what might be. Weapons specifications, Intelligence reports, details of troop deployments where they ain't supposed to be deployed… There could be all sorts of secure stuff, and some of it could even be life-threatening in the wrong hands.'
`Right,' barked Skinner, suddenly and sharply. Arrow and Rose looked up at him, startled.
'My mind's been running in second gear all bloody day. I've been standing around just looking at things, not doing my job by thinking about them. I've been preoccupied by the scale of it all, but that doesn't change the basics. There was an explosion on that plane — an explosion that was too big to have been any sort of accident. This is a murder investigation, and it's going to be run like any other… flat out until we get a result!
Christ,' he said, shaking his head, 'and I've just sent my Area Head of CID off to nursemaid her pal.
`Switch the priorities, Mags. Now! Leave a couple of soldiers to bring in the last few victims, but otherwise, call everyone in here for a briefing. I want every able body looking for wreckage, and in particular for anything that looks as if it could be debris from a bomb.'
He snapped out orders. Try to raise Major Legge on our communications, and find out how he's getting on with his helicopter search!
`Tell the divers to get their fingers out and bring up that flight recorder!
`Find out what's keeping the CAA investigation team!
`We're going to need somewhere to examine the wreckage as it comes in. Ask the Army to give us another tent up here, at least as big as that one over there. And some tables this time. Generators too, to power lighting.
`We may be in the back of beyond, but this operation's going to be run according to the rules: Skinner's rules!'
NINETEEN
The Deputy Chief Constable's briefing had just broken up. Seventy police officers and thirty soldiers were winding their way back towards the valley to begin the painstaking search that Skinner had ordered.
He and Arrow were standing just outside the Command vehicle, watching them disperse, when he heard the heavy sound of the Army helicopter once more, heading up from the south.
They watched as it lumbered over the horizon, swept over the crash-site, then swung round towards the area where the Headquarters van was parked. As it headed towards them, close to the ground, Skinner caught sight of Major Legge, in the co-pilots’ seat, waving and pointing, indicating that they were about to land.
No sooner had the big green aircraft settled on a flat stretch of heather than Legge jumped out and ran towards them, crouched over although the slowing rotors were well above his head height.
`We've found something, Bob. I thought you'd want to be with us when we went down to take a look at it.'
Skinner nodded. 'Aye, sure, Major — if I can borrow that flight gear again. The heather knocks hell out of the wool worsted!'
Of course. It's still in the chopper.' The Major seemed to notice the policeman's companion for the first time. 'Hello,' he said, in recognition. 'It's Arrow, isn't it? SAS?'
Arrow, yes, sir. SAS no; not any more. I'm on MOD attachment now. That's what brought me up here.'
Legge nodded. 'Of course. Bob did mention it, but I'd forgotten.'
`So what have you spotted, Gammy?' asked Skinner.
`More debris. About a mile and a half to the south. It's all more or less together in a sort of gully, a ravine almost, in the moorland. We didn't go too low, for fear of blowing it around, but there are flight seats there, and quite a bit of other wreckage… some of it human, I'm afraid.
`Let's go and take a look, then.'
TWENTY
The helicopter put down on a high knoll. It overlooked the heather-grown moor for at least a mile in all directions. Skinner stared all around him, at the acres of brownish heather.
The landscape had been turned into a sort of patchwork by the watery autumn sun, as it picked out gold highlights on the tops of the bushes, and cast long shadows upon the rest.
On another day, the countryman in Skinner would have thought it beautiful.
`Where is it, Major?' he asked as he, Arrow, and the four uniformed soldiers of the Bomb Unit stood
