`We found out that the Assistant Private Secretary packed the Box, then gave it to Mr Noble, and he took it home with him. All this was seen by Mr Joseph Webber.'
The Permanent Secretary gave Arrow a strange angled nod. If Webber confirmed it, you can accept that as gospel. Don't know how he does it with his lifestyle, but I have no more reliable man in the Ministry. So… if Mirzana gave it to Noble, and it blew up on the plane, then someone must have had access to it at the airport.'
`Not necessarily,' said Donaldson.
`But surely..
The bomb could have been placed in the box while it was at Mr Noble's house, sir.'
Morelli sat bolt upright in his chair. 'Are you suggesting that Mr Noble planted it himself, or his wife? Are you mad?' He hissed the words quietly, lest he wake the sleepers around them. Red-faced, he glared from Donaldson to Arrow and back again. Mcllhenney, glad that he was only a humble Detective Sergeant and, therefore, of no consequence to Morelli, sank back in his leather armchair.
Donaldson stood, or at least sat, his ground. He returned the man's gaze and shook his head. 'No, sir. I'm not making suggestions. I'm looking at possibilities.'
`That isn't one!' the Permanent Secretary snapped.
`Yes, it is, sir, but not one I'll dwell on. I'd rather look at Mr Noble himself. The picture which we're getting is one of a man with an episode of depressive illness behind him, showing clear signs that the problem was recurring. Noble confided in Webber that the excessive hours involved in his job were getting him down, that he felt inadequate to his wife's demands, and that he was sure she was seeking consolation somewhere else. He also said that he blamed Mr Davey directly for the situation.
`Sticking strictly to possibilities, we must consider whether Noble might have been unbalanced sufficiently to smuggle the bomb on board the plane, where he knew he would take Mr Davey with him.'
Morelli's face had gone from red to white. He stood up, shaking his head violently, and stared out of the window. 'No! Absolutely not,' he blustered. 'I knew Maurice. I put him in post. He was a bloody good chap, with the potential to sit in my chair one day. The idea of him doing something like that, why — it's preposterous.'
He looked round. 'Captain, you knew him too. Tell Mr Donaldson, will you?'
Arrow frowned. 'Tell him what, sir? I heard Webber's story, and I believed it. You're just after saying how reliable he is. He told us that Maurice got drunk with him the night all this came out. Hepatitis, alcohol and depression are all directly related. No, sir, I won't rule out the possibility of suicide.'
The Permanent Secretary shook his head as firmly as before. `But not in that way, surely.
Not taking all those lives along with his own.
`Maybe he meant to trigger the bomb later, when he and Davey were alone. Maybe the Minister opened the box himself and set it off. Who knows? But on the basis of what we've heard today, it's the most solid lead we have.’
‘The next thing we have to find out is whether Maurice had the ability to construct a device, or whether he'd been shooting his mouth off in the wrong company, to someone who might have supplied one.'
`So what's your next step?'
`We have to speak to Maurice's wife.'
Sir Stewart shook his head violently. 'Oh no. You can't land on the poor woman at a time like this. I forbid it, d'you hear?'
`You can forbid Captain Arrow, sir,' boomed Neil McIlhenney, from the depths of his chair. Suddenly, he was very visible indeed. 'But you can't forbid us. We're Scottish Police Officers investigating a serious crime, and we will not allow anyone to impede our enquiries. So unless we're told otherwise by our Commanders… they are Chief Constable Proud, DCC Skinner or Chief Superintendent Martin, if you want to ring any of them… we will be calling on Mrs Noble tomorrow morning.'
He glanced sideways at Donaldson. 'That right, sir?'
The DCI nodded gratefully. 'It is indeed, Sergeant. If the lady spent the night under the same roof as that Red Box, we have to interview her.'
Morelli stared down at Arrow, who sat in his chair, his feet not touching the ground. `Go ahead then. Do what you must. But for Christ's sake, Adam, make sure that these people are discreet!'
THIRTY-SIX
Andy and Alex were at the restaurant before them, befitting their situation as hosts for the evening. There are several Pierre Victoire restaurants in Edinburgh, but Alex had voted for the version in Dock Place, which she claimed was the biggest, best and noisiest of them all.
`Sorry we're late. Blame the taxi this time, not the baby,' said Bob, hanging Sarah's overcoat, and his own, on a peg on one of the restaurant's many pillars. It was 8.30 p.m. and in every corner, dinner parties were in full swing.
`You're not,' said Andy. 'They've only just brought the drinks. Here, get outside these.'
He filled Sarah's glass, then Bob's, with the house champagne. 'Cheers,' he said, clinking glasses around the table. `Look, everybody. This evening was planned as a celebration and despite everything that's happened over the last thirty-six hours or so, let's try to keep that in mind.'
`For tonight, Chief Superintendent, you're the boss,' said Bob, taking a long sip of the champagne. 'In that case, I warn you, I may just get pissed.
Alex was staring across the table at Andy. 'Chief Superintendent?'
He smiled. 'Sorry — didn't I mention it? It's only a courtesy title these days, you know, just like your dad's. The review abolished the Deputy Chief and Chief Super ranks, but most Forces kept the titles because in practice officers need to know which Superintendent is the boss, and which ACC is the Chief’s Deputy. Anyway, enough of the shop talk; that's not what we're here to celebrate.'
He turned to Sarah, sitting beside him. `How're you doing?'
I'm fine,' she said quietly. 'I got it all out of my system last night. But I tell you something
— I couldn't take another day like it. No one should have to experience that twice in a lifetime.'
And how's wee Jazz?'
`He's fine too. We left him holding the floor with his Aussie nanny. She's staying over tonight.'
`That's a great arrangement you have: the girl being a qualified children's nurse, but having her own place, and living in only when you need her.'
Sarah nodded. 'It's ideal. Jazz is looked after, she keeps the place tidy, and does the prep work on our meals, and on top of that, most evenings we have the house to ourselves.
Susan Kinture was very good about it when I told her I'd like to lure Tracey away from her. She said, 'Fine. Bracklands is so bloody big, I can never find all the staff I have in here anyway!' She's a great lady, the Marchioness.'
Abruptly she sat up straight in her chair. 'But enough of our shop talk, too! Celebration, you said. A celebration of what?'
As if on cue, Alex brought up her left hand, which had been hanging just below the level of the table. The diamonds caught the candle-flame, and sparkled, yellowish, in the gloom.
The sapphires, at the heart of the design, shone midnight blue.
`Hey,' said Bob. 'Another surprise.'
One you can live with, I hope,' said Andy.
`Hell, man, we've been through all that. I couldn't be more pleased.' Alex's eyes were shining as he kissed her, reaching out to shake Andy's hand at the same time. Sarah beamed and hugged them both, then grabbed Alex's left wrist.
`Let's have a look at it, kid.' She held Alex's hand under the candle, peering at the ring.
'Why, it's beautiful. It looks unique.'
It should be. Hand-crafted. by Laing the Jeweller. Designed by Michael himself.'
Bob whistled. 'Jesus. Whose idea was that?'
His daughter jerked a thumb at her fiance. 'His, believe it or not. I'd have settled for H.