`His temperature's taken a hike. And look at the pulse! Something's wrong.'
Distrustful of monitors, the white-haired sister lifted Bob's right wrist from the bed, and held it for around twenty seconds. `Don't get yourself in a panic, my dear, but I think I'll ask someone to come up here.'
'Who's going to be around at this time of night?' asked Sarah anxiously.
'Mr Braeburn, the consultant. He's staying on the premises tonight:
'What? Because of-'
Sister looked at her reassuringly. 'Of course not. He has an early start in surgery tomorrow, that's the only reason,' she said, lying in her teeth, but knowing that Sarah would believe her because she wanted to. She hurried back to her station.
In less than five minutes, the door opened and Mr Braeburn slipped into the Unit. He was a tall, thin man with fine surgeon's hands. His hair was so unruly that for a moment or two Sarah had difficulty recognising him as the same person who, still in his theatre clothes, had briefed her that morning on Bob's surgery and on his prospects.
`Hello again, Doctor,' he said. 'Let's have a look at the prize patient, shall we?'
He went quickly and expertly through a string of procedures, checking pulse, heart, breathing, temperature and blood pressure, lifting one of Bob's eyelids and testing his pupil reaction with a pencil torch.
When he was finished, he withdrew to the head of the bed, motioning Sarah to join him.
'It's damn funny. Blood pressure is as it should be, so I'm quite certain that the arterial sutures are holding, and that there's no internal bleeding. He's not in the clear yet, by a long way, but physically he's in good shape for someone who should have been dead when he was brought in here. He's heavily sedated, yet he seems agitated.'
He clutched his chin between thumb and first finger. 'I think I'm going to ask Sister to give him some more sedative, just to slow that heart-rate down a bit. He looks like a man who could handle some extra jungle juice.
She looked up at him. 'But what's causing it? What's raising his pulse?'
Mr Braeburn shrugged. 'Who knows? I wish I knew what's going on inside his head, because the best answer I can give you is that something in there is making him fight the sedative!'
FIFTY-FIVE
‘He looks like a real fookin' bandbox, doesn't he? If I'd kept my uniform as neat as that, when I wore one, I'd 'ave been a Colonel by now.'
`You don't know him, then?'
Arrow looked at Donaldson with the disdain normally shown only by Glaswegians when they are asked by Southerners whether they know someone from Edinburgh.
`Neil,' he said slowly. 'I know the Army isn't what it was. I know we've shrunk a bit. But if I knew every one-pipper in every Regiment, we'd really be in trouble!' He handed the photograph to the DCI. 'How old would you say the lad was?'
The DCI made a shrugging gesture, then handed it back. Dunno. I didn't get a close enough look at him. What do you think, Sergeant?'
'Mid-twenties, I'd guess.'
Arrow sank back in his chair, making himself look even smaller. 'A bit young, maybe, to be having it off with an 'ighpowered lady in her thirties?'
`Who can say for sure?' countered Donaldson. 'Maybe Ariadne has a thing about men in uniform.'
`Could be,' said the soldier, 'though wearing one never did me any good in that regard. But then,' he added with a twinkle, I'm only little!'
He rose from his chair and walked over to the window of his top-floor office. It faced south, out across the autumnal Embankment, and over the cold grey waters of the Thames.
He stood there, watching a barge as it made its steady way downriver, flapping the photograph idly in his left hand, and tapping the glass with the knuckles of the other.
Eventually, he turned back to face Donaldson and Mcllhenney, holding up the snapshot.
'Right, lads. Leave this with me. I'll have someone check the records downstairs. We've got, or should 'ave, a photograph of every serving officer in this building, so it shouldn't take us long to trace this guy. Meantime, what about these anonymous letters that you mentioned? What does Andy Martin say you should do about them?'
`He agreed that we should follow them up,' said the DCI. 'We want a complete picture of this couple. I'm intending to call on Ariadne again this evening. Want to come with us?'
Arrow shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. I've got other plans for this evening. Anyway, this is a purely civil matter. If I was there she might want to know why.'
`Yes, I see that.' He paused, then handed over the SOCO Report. 'Right. Last item on the agenda. Read this.'
Arrow took the document and scanned through it. As he did his face darkened. He read through it again, more slowly this time. `What do you think of it?' asked Donaldson.
`Could mean nothing, could mean everything,' said the soldier grimly. 'Why the hell wasn't that window alarmed? According to this, all the others were.'
I guess because it was so small, they thought they'd save a pound or two.'
`Could be. Anyway, you can find out the reason when you see the woman tonight. Go through the motions, and ask her if you can look over the system. See what they've got there, how it works, and how it was fitted.'
Sure, we'll do that.' He turned to Mcllhenney. '
'Neil, have you had Crime Prevention training?'
The Sergeant nodded. 'Aye, about three years back. I'm reasonably up to speed about alarm systems.'
'Good,' said Arrow. 'Let's meet here at the same time tomorrow, yes?' The police officers nodded. 'So where is it now for you two?'
'Another fun day at the Old Bailey,' said Mcllhenney. 'I only hope I don't wind up in bloody Aldershot again tonight!'
FIFTY-SIX
‘You must be cooking in that uniform, Jimmy.' Sarah smiled faintly up at the silver-haired Chief Constable.
I'm sorry, my dear. I have a Police Board lunch at twelve-thirty otherwise I'd have been more appropriately dressed. How is he today? I see the colour's back in his cheeks'
`Don't let that fool you. That could be an infection. He's still critical, and the heart-rate keeps going up and down, despite the sedation. Mr Braeburn's coming in to check on him as soon as he's finished his surgical list. We'll see what he thinks then.'
Kindly and concerned, Sir James Proud looked down at her, and at Alex who was seated beside her, holding her father's hand. And how are you two?' he asked. 'How are you bearing up?'
`We're fine,' Sarah replied, for them both. 'Alex was great, the way she just took over looking after her brother.'
`Where's the wee chap now?'
`His nanny is looking after him.'
And looking after the flowers,' said Alex. The house is full of them. They just kept arriving all day yesterday… some from very strange people, too. Do you remember that time earlier this year, the night Andy was hurt, when Dad had a huge fight with a man he was arresting for murder?'
The Chief nodded, intrigued.
`There was a bouquet from him!'
