‘How can you say that so confidently? You hardly know me.’
An expression that she had not seen before spread across his face; there was mischief in it. She had not thought him capable of that.
‘Sure I know you,’ he told her, in a slow, easy drawl. ‘You’re thirty-six years old, the daughter of a chartered accountant and a nurse. You were educated at Hutcheson’s Grammar School and Strathclyde University: you’ve got an honours degree in civil engineering.’
His smile vanished, and his voice grew serious. ‘When you were twenty-three you went to South America to work on an irrigation project in Surinam. You were caught up in a revolution, and you set up a refugee camp for women and children running from the fighting. You fed, sheltered and saved the lives of hundreds of people. Then a platoon of rebel militia arrived; the government were winning, they were on the retreat, and they were out to scorch some earth. You faced them down, and they left your camp untouched. You weren’t so lucky, though. You were raped by their commander. Luckily for you, he was one of the few men in that group who wasn’t HIV positive, but you didn’t know that until you were tested, after the revolt collapsed completely and the army arrived.’
He paused; Aileen de Marco’s mouth was set in a tight line. ‘After that,’ Skinner continued, ‘you came back to Scotland and you took a job with a firm of consultant engineers. You also became an active member of the Labour Party, where before you had only been a supporter. When you were twenty-six you were elected to Glasgow District Council. By that time you had established a charity which raises funds for the relief of refugees from civil wars, of which there is never any shortage. At the beginning of your second term on the council you were appointed chair of the planning committee. You were instrumental in uncovering a bribery scandal involving contractors, officials and a couple of your fellow councillors. They all got the slammer; as a result you’ve got some enemies yourself. They did their best to stop you getting a seat in the parliament, but they failed. That was their one chance. Now you’ve got power and you’re going to get more in the future. You’ve become a career politician. You don’t run a car, and you live alone in Glasgow, in a flat by the side of the Clyde. You’ve never married, although you had a relationship with another councillor that ended six years ago. Since then your male acquaintances have included a journalist and a musician. Currently unattached.’
He paused again. ‘Oh, yes,’ he added. ‘And confirming your attraction to the oppressed and the under- privileged, you’re a Partick Thistle supporter.’ He looked at her. ‘You couldn’t kill anyone, and you couldn’t even threaten it. If you saw someone threatened with death, you would say, “Kill me instead.” And you know what? They probably would, because people who are capable of killing usually do it when they’re challenged to.’
She sat in silence as he finished. ‘That’s me taught, isn’t it?’ she whispered eventually. ‘Does it say on my file that I couldn’t kill anyone?’
He smiled. ‘No, Aileen, I said that. My wife made a forceful point to me a few days ago. There are no angels, she told me.’ He flashed her a quick, wicked glance. ‘But there are some who can call up the Devil when we need him.’
‘And I should be grateful you’re on our side?’
He nodded, and his grin widened. ‘Very.’
She gave a snort of laughter. ‘God!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re up front, aren’t you?’
‘Very rarely. You’d be surprised if you knew how few people I’d talk to like I’ve talked to you this evening.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t. You might be surprised too; the normal everyday Aileen de Marco’s as private a person as you are. I guess that having read each other’s files has given us a sort of intimacy.’
‘I suppose.’ He swung round in his chair, then suddenly looked her in the eye. ‘Tell me something. That rebel, the one in Surinam: he didn’t rape you, did he? Not forcibly, that is.’
He saw her cheeks redden. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I think that was the deal. It was the price you had to pay to save the people you were looking after. Am I right?’
She nodded, eyes downward. ‘How did you know that?’ she asked quietly.
‘If he’d raped you, taken you by force, I mean, it would have been a violent act. He’d have killed you afterwards and his men would have slaughtered everyone in your camp. You took a chance that he would keep his word.’
‘I couldn’t do anything else.’
‘Of course not. You were lucky that the guy had some sort of honour.’
‘They killed him, you know,’ she murmured. ‘The government troops caught him and shot him, in front of his men. Then they shot the rest of them.’
Skinner shrugged his shoulders. ‘Fair enough, in your man’s case. You might pretend to yourself that there was a sort of treaty between you at the time, but in truth he did rape you, as sure as if he’d held a gun to your head.’
‘I suppose you’d have shot him too,’ she challenged.
He looked her in the eye, smiling cheerfully. ‘Only if he was very lucky,’ he replied.
‘God,’ she exclaimed, ‘you mean that too, don’t you? Stop it. Turn off that magnetism.’
‘Hey!’ He touched his chest, just below his left shoulder, where his pacemaker had been implanted. ‘A magnet could do me some serious harm. I’m computer-driven, remember.’
She laughed. ‘You mean that’s your equivalent of a krypton necklace, Superman? That’s a powerful hold you’ve given me over you.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind when they’re putting you through the metal detector. “Look out for magnets!” I’ll warn them.’
‘Me too?’
‘You too.’
‘I don’t think I’ll bother going in that case.’
‘Some chance. Atheist or not, you won’t pass up the chance to meet Gilbert White. Oops, sorry,’ he exclaimed, ‘His Holiness. I haven’t got used to giving him his title yet.’
‘Are you an atheist, Bob?’
He grinned. ‘Are you still trying to find my soul?’
‘Maybe. Are you?’
‘I thought I was, twenty years ago. Now I’ve seen some stuff, and I’d say I’ve slid into agnosticism. Talking with Jim Gainer, and with other clergymen, has given me a new slant on spiritual matters. It’s made me realise that the older I get, I seem to be moving towards defining some sort of belief. Consider this. The New Testament portrays War, Famine, Pestilence and Death as anthropomorphic entities: the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. They’re all too real in today’s world, the whole fucking quartet, and you and I have no trouble accepting their existence. God’s portrayed as an anthropomorphic entity, too, so why do we have trouble accepting its existence?’
‘We’re shown proof of the existence of the Horsemen every day. Where’s the evidence for God?’
‘By definition, that’s where faith comes in: steadfast belief, in the absence of evidence. That’s my problem, you see. I’m a copper and so I’m trained to require evidence. I’m still searching, though . . . and I
‘Mmm.’ She mused. ‘Maybe I should too. It can’t do any harm, can it?’
‘Not that I can see, as long as you don’t become a zealot. Converts have a reputation as extremists.’
She smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not that good.’
‘Oh, no? Should I caution you, then?’
‘Maybe you should.’ She hesitated and then looked up at him. ‘You haven’t always gone home to your wife, have you?’
‘Ahh. Back to my file, are we?’
‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No, you shouldn’t.’
‘But since I did . . .’ They met each other half-way, not pulling back. She opened her mouth and flicked his tongue with hers, pressing her body, her small, firm, hard-nippled breasts, against him. ‘If you said, “Yes, Minister,” ’ she whispered as they broke off, ‘I wouldn’t laugh this time.’
He leaned back and looked at her. ‘Aileen, when you said you liked danger, you weren’t kidding.’
