collection box because if headquarters gets a wind of me taking money, I'll be out on my ear.'
'I'll leave you here,' said Sanders, stopping by his car. 'I parked well away from the church.'
'It's an ordinary car, not a police car,' said Hamish. 'Why did you do that?'
'I wanted to go on foot for a bit. Gave me a better chance to suss out the people going into the church. Are you going to see these blokes in your capacity as police officer?'
'No.'
'Well, you look a damn sight too clean. Take my advice and muck yourself up a bit. And let me know if you even get a whisper.' He took out his notebook. 'I'll write down my home address and number. You may get into trouble.' He tore off the piece of paper and handed it to Hamish.
Hamish waved to him and walked off into the night.
What a smelly place Strathbane was, he reflected as he headed down to the old docks where he knew Glenfields housing estate to be. Smells of gas and sour earth and cheap cooking.
He wished he hadn't shaved that morning. He wished he hadn't pressed his shirt. He was too old to pose as a student.
He walked through the estate until he found Kinnock Tower. The lift wasn't working. Wearily he began to climb the stairs. The walls of the staircase were covered in graffiti and the stairs themselves in garbage. The whole estate had been due for demolition for some time but kept being put off, because temporary accommodation would have to be found for the inhabitants and then new houses built and there was no money for that, perhaps because the councillors of Strathbane had a propensity to travel to exotic places en masse on 'fact-finding' missions, and taking their wives with them, and all at the taxpayers' expense.
The flat he was looking for was near the top of the building. He trudged along until he came to 244. A blast of stereo sound came through the thin door. He rang the bell, and then, reflecting that the bell probably didn't work, knocked at the glass panel of the door, which had been broken at one time and stuck together again with sticky tape. Still no reply. He bent down and shouted through the letter box, 'Anybody home?'
The door was suddenly jerked open.
A small, fat, piggy man stood there. He was bare to the waist. A snake was tattooed around one arm. Bob, thought Hamish.
Bob's eyes dropped to Hamish's feet. Hamish was glad he had put on an old pair of trainers instead of his regulation boots, which he often wore even when he was in plain clothes.
'Whit
Hamish leaned indolently against the doorjamb. 'I heard I could get some good stuff here.'
Bob thrust past him and peered up and down. 'Come in,' he said.
The outside door opened straight into a living room. The noise from the stereo was so loud it seemed to make the thin walls vibrate. There was little furniture, beanbags on the floor, one with a knife slash in it and the contents spilling out onto the bare boards. The room was littered with empty Diet Coke cans. Hamish had never seen so many.
'Wait here,' said Bob.
He went into another room. There came sounds of an altercation. Then silence. Then Bob came back, followed by a tall young man with long unkempt hair and a straggly moustache. Angus, thought Hamish.
'What stuff?' demanded Angus.
'Heroin,' said Hamish.
'Oh, yeah? What makes you think we've got any drugs.'
'You haven't,' said Hamish insolently. 'Not in the quantity I need to buy.'
Hamish knew impersonation came better from the inside. His very sneering insolence, the contempt in his eyes as he looked them up and down, he knew was a better disguise than if he had tried to dress up in the character of a drug baron.
'How much are we talking about here?' demanded Angus.
'Fifty thousand pounds for starters.'
'Whit! Show us the money.'
'Do you think I'd bring that much into a slum like this?' Hamish's eyes raked over the mess of the room. 'I'm moving business to Strathbane and someone told me you two knew the drug scene.'
'Oh, aye? And just who would that someone be?' demanded Bob, who had taken out a large knife and was waving it about.
'Put that bread knife away, you silly wee man,' said Hamish.
'Who re you calling a silly wee man?' roared Bob. 'I'll cut your face.'
Hamish stared at him unmovingly.
'Put the blade down,' snapped Angus. 'So, big man,' he said to Hamish, 'which syndicate are you from?'
'As if I would tell you,' jeered Hamish. 'Just get me in touch and there's money in it for you.'
'How much money are we talking about?'
'A hundred for each of you. You get me the contact and you get your money.'
'Where do we get in touch?'
'You don't. Name a place and time and I'll be there.'
'Wait a bit.' Angus jerked his head at Bob and both went into the other room and shut the door behind them.
When they had gone, Hamish forced himself to maintain his role of big-time drug dealer. He knew if he relaxed the act for one moment, he would feel frightened and the fright would show.
There was an opened packet of cigarettes lying among the debris of Coke cans and half-eaten food in a corner of the floor. He stared at it hungrily, all the old longing for a cigarette flooding his body.
But just when he felt himself weakening, the door opened and Bob and Angus came back in.
'Took your time, didn't you?' demanded Hamish.
'Lachie's. Do you know Lachie's?'
'The disco.'
'That's the one. Be there Thursday at nine o'clock.'
'Okay. I'll be seeing you.'
Hamish walked quickly to the door, nodded to them and walked outside, shutting it firmly behind him. He then stood a little way away from the door so that his silhouette could not be seen against the frosted glass and listened. 'Follow him,' he heard Angus say.
Hamish took off like a hare, running lightly on his trainers. He darted down the stairs and then along a corridor leading to the flats below. He pressed against the wall and waited until he heard Bob clattering down the stairs in pursuit. He waited until Bob's footsteps had faded away and then he made his way leisurely down the stairs, his mind in a turmoil.
What had he done? How on earth could he follow it through? What on earth had possessed him?
He would need to get hold of Sanders fast.
He made his way cautiously along the dark empty nighttime streets, always listening for the sound of pursuit. In the centre of the town, he found a phone box and dialled Sanders's number.
'Hamish,' said Sanders crossly. 'What now?'
'I need to see you. Now,' said Hamish. 'I'm in a mess.'
'Okay, come round. Get to police headquarters, go on along Strathie Street past four turnings on the left going north, and the fifth is Tummock Drive.'
'I'll be as fast as I can,' said Hamish, and rang off.
Sanders listened to Hamish in silence and then said, 'There's two things you can do, Hamish. One, go back to Lochdubh and forget about the whole thing. Two, come with me to police headquarters and let's see if we can follow this through.'
'Blair will have my guts for garters.'
'Blair's away for a week. Superintendent Daviot'll need to be in on this. You'd better stay the night and come in with me in the morning.'
Wondering what they were making of his absence from the church, Hamish endured the wrath of Jimmy Anderson the next morning. Anderson howled that Hamish had lost his mind. Sanders said quietly that they had never really nailed a good drug bust and if Hamish could lead them to where the supplies were coming in, it would
