on the form and sent it through to him. It was a joke, really, but he didn't get it. He just booked himself in and went.
And he never came back! How am I going to tell Lottie that, or look in her eye at the funeral?' Skinner, desolate, bowed his head.
`Bob, Bob,' said Proud Jimmy quietly. 'It wasn't a joke, and you know it. I sent Roy out to West Lothian for much the same reason, and I'd have sent him to that conference as well.
He was the sort of copper who could sit for three days, listening conscientiously and taking notes, and then represent the Force like a trouper at the dinner. He was a good, solid, dependable bloke, so bloody dependable that he probably decided that bad head or not, he was going to put in a full day at the office. So he booked himself on the seven o'clock flight. That's how you've got to see it, man, or you'll gut yourself.'
Skinner straightened up. He shook his head. The last thirty seconds, Jimmy. That's all I can see. But don't let's talk about that, or I really will go crazy.'
Aye. Let's grieve afterwards. You wait till you read the rest of that passenger list. Quite apart from the Right Honourable and late Colin Davey, some of the names on there are very familiar to me.'
Skinner looked at the list again. His stomach turned over as he read the first name aloud.
'Master Mark McGrath. Oh dammit! Life's just not fair, is it? And next to him, must have been his dad. Roland McGrath MP. McGrath! Christ, he's the Home Affairs Minister in the Scottish Office. It's not three months since he paid us a visit to open the new station in Craigmillar.'
The Defence Secretary's protection officer was in the seat next to McGrath,' said the Chief. 'That's why it's simply labelled 'Male Passenger'. Another lost policeman.'
Not so likely,' said Skinner. 'More probably a soldier. Defence tend to look after their own.'
`Colin Davey himself was in the middle seat on the other side of the aisle,' said Proud. The people on either side of him were his Private Secretary and someone called Shaun Massey.
That name's familiar too, but I'm damned if I can remember from where.'
Skinner grunted. 'Jesus, it should be familiar. He's the American Secretary for Defense.
Look at Row 2 Seats D to F. Three more 'Male Passengers', two of them marked 'US'.
Another of our protection people and two Secret Service, I'd say.
'Who's this in Seat 2C, d'you know?' he asked, and read the name aloud. 'Ms Victoria Cunningham.'
`Roland McGrath's Private Secretary,' said the Chief Constable. 'She was with him when he performed the opening ceremony. I remember her quite well. A nice wee lass. She looked a bit like my daughter-in-law. Oh dear.' He shook his head mournfully.
Skinner read on, down the list. Several of the names seemed familiar to him, and four more of them were Members of Parliament. He looked up at Proud. 'Six MPs in all,' he said. 'I make it two Tories, two Labour, one Lib Dem and one Nat.'
`That's right. The first shuttle on Friday's a popular plane with Parliamentarians. I'm surprised there weren't more on board. Did you see Lord Barassie's name there?' Skinner nodded. 'He sat on the Labour benches. A spokesman on something or other.'
`You said you think you know who some of these other people are?'
Aye,' said Proud Jimmy. 'It's well seen you don't use the New Club as much as me. You'll need to get to know the Edinburgh establishment better, Bob. I tell you, I reckon the Club will have a right few vacancies as a result of this calamity.
`The two chaps sat next to each other in Row 5. Yeats and Bernard. They're both directors of the Bank of Scotland. I recognise three other names as senior people with the insurance companies. There could be a couple of directors of the brewery there as well.
`The business community will have been decimated here, Bob. There were eight Japanese on board, too. Possibly inward investors, or executives with some of the electronics companies.
I counted the names on the list. There were a hundred and ninety-eight passengers and seven crew on board. Two hundred and five lives, snuffed out, just like that. And for what? Just to get from point A to point B that wee bit quicker. You can't exist in this world without flying, but I'll tell you something, my friend: every time I do it, I'm scared stiff.'
Skinner looked at his Chief. Do you think you're unique?' he said quietly.
They stood there in silence for almost a minute, looking down at the scene of growing activity in the valley. Eventually Sir James glanced back towards Skinner. 'Has the airline given us any idea what might have caused this?'
The DCC shook his steel-grey mane. 'They don't have a clue. I do, though. We've got a witness, a guy who saw the plane come down. God, it almost landed on the bugger. From what he told me, it looks as if there was an explosion in mid-air.'
Oh bloody hell!' said Sir James.
Exactly. On top of that, Adam Arrow told me there have been threats made to Davey.'
The breath hissed between the Chief Constable's teeth. 'I hate the sound of all that. Have you called in the Bomb Squad?'
`Not yet. I'd just finished speaking to the witness when you arrived.'
`Better do it, then.'
`Time enough. The first task is recovery of the victims. Then we'll have the world's biggest jigsaw puzzle to solve. We may have to try and put the plane back together again to get a picture of what happened. And before we can do that, we'll have to find all the bits!'
TEN
Skinner didn't need to send for the Bomb Squad. It came to him.
He and the Chief Constable were making their way through the heather and down the hillside to add their manpower to the pointless, but obligatory, search for survivors when he heard the steady drone of the helicopter engine. At the sound, he stopped and looked up, thinking at first that an over-eager TV crew might be breaching the air exclusion zone which Jim Elder would have seen imposed by now as the DCC had instructed him earlier.
The sky was still empty, but as he listened, the tone of the engine told him that the approaching craft was a heavier machine than those normally available for hire by the media. He looked back up the slope, westward, towards the source of the sound. It grew louder, forcing itself upon the stillness of the valley, until eventually it burst over the horizon and into view — a big, ugly, dark green machine, flying so low that Skinner could feel the down-draught from its heavy rotors.
`Who's that?' said Proud Jimmy beside him. 'It isn't carrying RAF markings. Naval, is it?'
Skinner shook his head. 'No, Chief. That's the so'jers. I can't tell which lot though. No.
Wait a minute.' The helicopter held steady in flight hovering just in front of them, and swinging round so that they could see a man in a window to the side. He was pointing and gesticulating towards the other side of the hill.
`That's Gammy Legge, Jimmy.'
`Who?'
`Major Gabriel Legge, known to one and all as Gammy, the Head of the Bomb Squad in Scotland. You remember him, from the business last year. Adam Arrow must have called them out.'
Oh aye. Funny bugger that Legge, isn't he? What's he pointing at?'
I think he's telling us that they can't land here and that the pilot's going to put down on the other side of the hill.'
He waved an acknowledgement to the Major. The helicopter veered away.
`D'you want to come and meet them?' Skinner asked.
`No, Bob. It doesn't take two of us. I'll get down to where I can do some good; you go and talk to Legge.'
Okay.' Skinner turned and headed off, not back towards the road, but following the aircraft as it lumbered over to its landing spot. As he reached the top of the slope, he saw it settle on the uneven ground on a spot 200
