Faulds pointed his gun at the offending member, and the Flesher slapped both hands over it. 'Other head.' The muffled shouts from the bed got louder. The woman struggled against her bonds, screaming blue murder as Faulds forced the Flesher to his knees at gunpoint. Logan hurried over and untied the silk scarf gagging her. 'Aaaaagh ... You bastard!' 'It's OK, you're safe! You're safe!' Faulds dragged the Flesher's hands behind his back and slapped the cuffs on. The woman writhed, yanking at the silk scarves tying her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. 'You dirty bastard!' Logan scanned her naked body, trying to figure out where all the bright-red blood was coming from ... only it wasn't blood. 'He's my husband!' It was tomato sauce.
The press officer sat at Logan's desk in the history room, with her forehead resting on the Formica and her arms wrapped over the top. 'Oh dear Jesus ...' Faulds leant back against the other desk, still wearing his borrowed SAS ninja outfit. 'When we left she was on the phone to one of those ambulance-chasing lawyers that advertise on the telly.' The press officer hauled herself upright. 'Why couldn't it have been him? I really thought we'd finally come to the end of this bloody case, and now we've got a lawsuit to deal with.' Logan finished off his post-incident report and stuck it in the 'out' tray. 'I can't believe she'll go through with it. Can you imagine what the headlines are going to be like? 'Police raid kinky serial killer sex games', 'Wannabe Flesher caught playing hide the sausage'. Not exactly going to get them a lot of sympathy, is it?' The press officer stared at him. 'They weren't photogenic, were they?' 'Not from where I was standing.' 'That's something, I suppose ...' 'If it helps,' said Faulds, peeling off his bullet-proof vest,'I've got that criminal psychologist coming in tomorrow. We could get him to do a piece on why people who dress up as mass murderers for sexual kicks are a menace to the gene pool?' 'Chief Constable!' She was on her feet like a shot. 'Are you suggesting Grampian Police should lower itself to character assassination just to avoid a lawsuit?' 'Yes.' She smiled. 'Sounds good to me.'
'What you still doing here?' asked Rennie, plonking himself down on the edge of Logan's desk. Half past eight and the station was gearing itself up for another quiet night of underage drinking and random acts of vandalism. Logan nodded at the pile of paperwork sent up by Tayside Police. 'Trying to catch up on those two sisters who got grabbed in Dundee.'
