It was all wrong, the boy told himself. Their kind should stick together, not mix with guys like Brogan. The dealer had many friends within the Asian community, though, didn't he? And rumour had it that he was well in with the Hundi, a personage who commanded huge respect from everyone young Jaffrey knew. He frowned. Would Dad have done anything stupid to upset the fragile balance that existed between families like their own and the powerful men who controlled the ebb and flow of drugs in the city? The thought made him blanch under his tanned skin. Whatever was going on back home, he was better off right here away from it all.
'The PD-100 Black Hornet has the advantage of almost total silence,' the man said, turning his head to make eye contact with his audience.
Lorimer tried hard not to fidget. The man's presentation at the Pitt Street assembly hall was going quite well so far and he had that knack of every good speaker for engaging his audience with humorous anecdotes. Most of these had been relevant to his subject which was what their attention was focussed upon: a tiny helicopter smaller than a cricket ball. So far the man had shown the senior officers some video footage of the device at work. Powered by an electric motor, the helicopter had rotor blades that measured a mere ten centimetres in diameter. Lorimer had been a little sceptical at first, especially when his neighbour had nudged him, remarking that they were being shown a clip from a Harry Potter film and that the PD whatshisname was really the Snitch in disguise.
Now Lorimer was paying a bit more attention as the speaker began to demonstrate the little machine's other facilities.
'The microphone has now been fully tested and it can 'eavesdrop' on conversations at a range determined by its controllers.
This adds to the benefits of it being used in situations that call for extra care like the hostage situation I mentioned earlier.'
The DCI was sitting up straighter now taking notice of all the pictures being shown on the screen. A close-up of the device made it look far too simple but in the videos he had seen how it could whirr silently, unnoticed by the men inside the building who had been part of the mock-up incident. It looked good, he had to admit. One more tool for the box, he could almost hear his old super saying. And it was right that the force should be looking to technological developments to help in fighting crime. If a wee helicopter like that could film a crime scene that was under surveillance then perhaps it should be given a place in their budget.
'More toys for the boys,' Helen James remarked wearily as they filed out of the hall afterwards. Lorimer smiled at her politely, not wanting to get into an argument about it. He recognised the woman as a DCI from another division who had been up to her ears with the press lately on a series of missing girls who were known prostitutes.
Helen's dough-coloured pallor on a skin that was stretched tight over sharp cheekbones was something that every one of her fellow officers could recognise – too much work and too little sleep.
That she had taken time to attend this presentation surprised Lorimer. Perhaps she was simply escaping for an hour? He knew how that could work. A brief respite that was still within the description of work could always help to focus back on a difficult case like the one she was on. Nodding to her as they walked out into the daylight again, Lorimer hoped that it might do the same for himself.
Solly turned the key of his office, smiling in appreciation as he entered the room. It was a different office from the one he had occupied for much of his tenure at the university and reflected his status as professor designate. He nodded approvingly at the light that flooded in from the two tall windows, art deco ovals etched onto the upper parts of their frames. It was, Solly told himself, a handsome room. Yes, handsome was certainly the correct word to choose.
Putting down his briefcase, Solly wandered around the room, touching the edge of a huge rectangular table that sat in the centre of the room. It was easily big enough for any of his seminars and as Solly stood there he imagined a group of young faces laughing and chatting as he encouraged their developing thoughts. The bookcases that lined almost every wall had begun to fill up with his books; the summer had seen him make lots of trips between his old, modern office and this large airy room.
He strolled across to the window, looking down the length of University Avenue, past the line of parked cars next to black painted railings. A small smile of satisfaction hovered on the psychologist's lips. Down there on the left was the department of forensic medicine, its sand-blasted walls a honey tone just visible behind the trees. In winter he would be able to look out and imagine Rosie when she was in her office; her time being divided between the campus and the city mortuary. His eyes drifted across to the buildings opposite, the crow-stepped gables jutting out from moss-covered roofs. Funny how this place felt so much like home to him. London was part of his past now, though he would surely continue to make family visits. Solly moved away from the window, checking the small desk where his new computer lay ready to be switched on. The departmental website would soon have his title changed from doctor to professor. How would he feel seeing that every time he logged on? Or came around the turn of the stair to see it emblazoned upon his door?
Professor Brightman sounded quite right to his ears and probably preferable to Doctor once his child had grown up and talked about him to his friends. (His again, SoIly grinned above his dark beard. Surely a subliminal wish?) Being mistaken for a doctor of medicine was simply not on, especially when Rosie already had that distinction. Anyway, his new title would be conferred during this coming session. The Senate would be sitting soon and Solly was not sure that he would actually enjoy the little ceremony that was to confirm his new status. It would not alter very much except a title and the welcome increase in salary that went with it; his research and teaching would remain pretty much as normal since this professorship was an internal, personal chair. And it would not affect the two weeks' paternity leave that he had ahead of him.
That would be something of a watershed in his life. Once the baby was here and Rosie was settled into her period of new motherhood then he could return to the department and resume his teaching life.
The new post was not something he had mentioned to Lorimer, nor to anyone outside of his family or academic circle.
Perhaps it might have given him a little more cachet in his dealings with Strathclyde Police, he mused. Having a professor of psychology to assist them might have been hard to resist. He knew how human nature worked, after all. But perhaps it could also have been counter-productive in his quest to remain on their payroll: might having a Prof for profiler be seen as way outside their budget?
When the telephone rang, Solly blinked, shaken from his thoughts back to the present.
'Doctor Brightman,' he said. As the familiar voice of the departmental secretary spoke to him, the psychologist's eyebrows rose in a speculative expression.
'And they'd like to see me?' he asked.
Putting down the phone, Solly stroked his dark beard thoughtfully.
Officers from Strathclyde Police were in the departmental office and wondered if he could spare a minute to see them.
Curiosity and his own better judgement overcame a sudden childish notion to say that he was too busy. The name of the officer was unknown to him, not one of Lorimer's team, he decided, walking along towards the main office. But as he opened the door and saw DC Irvine standing beside a slim, dark young man, Solly had to revise his first thought. The other detective's elegant features marked him out as North African, the psychologist decided, and his body language told Solly that the man was both respectful and ill at ease. Had he heard about Solly's dismissal as a profiler? That could certainly cause a slight sense of embarrassment, he told himself as Annie Irvine made the introductions.
'Sorry to bother you, Doctor Brightman,' Irvine began. 'But we wanted, that is, wanted, to let you know what we were doing here,' she began.
Solly smiled at the woman. He liked this officer. She had been one of Lorimer's team on several of the cases he had been a part of and it was sensitive of her to go out of her way to keep him in the loop.
'Good of you,' Solly murmured. 'Perhaps we can talk in my office?' he suggested, leading them back along to the bright and airy room that overlooked a delicate row of silver birches swaying in the afternoon breeze.
'We're investigating the murder of Kenneth Scott and the double shooting in the West End,' Irvine told him, sitting down on the chair that he had pulled out for her. 'But you know that of course, sir,' she gave a rueful grin. 'Mrs Brightman did the postmortems,' she added, turning to address Fathy.
'We're looking for the sister of the drug dealer who's disappeared,' she went on. 'Seems she applied to the university a couple of years back and was given an unconditional acceptance.
Only thing is, we haven't been able to find her name in any of the registration lists so far. So we're trawling
