Four lengths of white rope, blood-streaked again, were secured to the four corner posts of the frame; at some point the man they had restrained had been cut loose. A number of small objects lay near each of the strands; McGurk bent over them, peering. 'Don't touch,' Pringle whispered, unnecessarily. Severed thumb, severed little fingers at the far end, severed big toe, severed little toe at each of the nearer corners; discoloured but not yet black. Discarded, between where the feet had been secured, lay a heavy pair of garden secateurs.
And laid against the frame, caked with thick, dark, dried blood, a full-sized, metal baseball bat. 'The murder weapon, d'you think?' asked Pringle heavily.
He looked around the room, feeling queasy and regretting his last four whiskies of the evening before. There were blood spatters on the walls around the bed, on the curtains and even on the ceiling. A red trail led across the carpet from the frame to the door.
'I noticed two bolts in the hallway floor,' said McGurk. 'I bet they're for securing a trap door, covering steps down to a boat-landing on the river. There's no rug in the hall, but I'll bet that there used to be, until it was used as this guy's shroud, before he was rolled down those steps and dumped in the river.'
'I'm not taking either of those bets,' said Pringle. He stepped carefully across to a dressing table, in the window space. A black leather wallet lay on it. He picked it up, by a corner and held it up. It held no money, but there were six plastic cards in slots. He slid one out with a finger until he could read the holder's name; 'H. Shearer.'
He set it back down on the dressing table, took out his mobile and dialled Skinner's number. Mcllhenney answered. 'The Boss there, Neil?'
'No. He's had to go out.'
'You got an ID on your pal from that blood yet?'
'No, not yet.'
'We have, at his son's cottage. Sorry, lad, but he was here all right. Some of him still is, in fact; all over the fucking place.
'You'd better tell the Boss when he comes in that it's all right for him to call Mrs Shearer now'
42
'Karen, this is for you,' Jack McGurk shouted across the CID room at Torphichen Place. She frowned; who knew she was there? She picked up the call on another extension. 'Neville.'
'Karen. Good, you're still there.' The voice of Sammy Pye.
'Just. I've been stood down: I'm just tidying my desk, then I'll be on my way back to you, my dear. We seem to have put a name to the man at the centre of this investigation.'
'Yes, I know.'
'Who is it then? No-one's saying around here.'
'Can't tell you; not over the phone. Neil Mcllhenney passed on an order from the Big Boss that if there's another leak to the press on this one before he's ready to make an announcement, then the leaker will be out of a job.'
The Sergeant whistled. 'Heavy stuff. So what did you want me for?'
'I was wondering if you knew where our boss is; the DCS. He hasn't turned up so far this morning; he hasn't called in and he isn't answering his home phone or his mobile.'
'Why ask me?' she said, coldly.
'Come on, Karen. Don't be naive; if Mr Martin's missing you're one of the first people anyone would talk to.'
'Well, I don't know, okay? All that's over with.' She was angry now, but hurting as well; on top of all that she felt a twinge of fear. 'What about the DCC? Have you asked him?'
'He's out of the office. DI Mcllhenney doesn't know anything; he asked me to have the DCS call Mr Skinner when he got in.'
She thought of the red car in the driveway. 'Ahh, don't worry. He'll be across some new woman or other. Is Ruth McConnell in yet?'
'Of course. There's nothing going on between them. They had a date for tomorrow night, but the DCS called it off.'
'How do you know that?' she asked, surprised.
'I know because I'm going out with her now; she told me what happened.'
'Don't bother taking her to dinner; it would just be an appetiser. Ruth will eat you, Sam. Now, who else have you asked about Andy?'
'SB. And that's what's worrying me. When he left last night, the DCS was doing something related to them. He was going to lift a guy that the Special Branch trawl turned up in connection with the Alec Smith investigation.'
'On his own?'
'Yes. He told me to stay here and finish what I was doing, that he'd have no bother. I called DI McGuire; he was out too, and that new girl in there Alice Cowan, she wouldn't say a thing. It hasn't taken her long to go native. A couple of days ago she was in uniform, now she's a bloody SB zealot.'
Karen thought once more of the red MGF. 'Did he take his own car?'
'No. He walked to Fettes yesterday. He was in a pool Mondeo, and it's missing too.'
Her fear was more than a twinge now; it was chilling her, sending her pulse rate soaring. This is what you do, then. Don't make a fuss, but order every panda car, every patrol car and every biker we have to find that car. Tell operations that it's an order from the Head of CID.
'I'm on my way back now.'
43
They beat the plane to the General Aviation terminal by ten minutes. They stood side by side outside the building which had once served all of Edinburgh's air traffic, looking at its impressive and ever-expanding replacement across the old north-south runway.
Skinner had no idea what type of aircraft to expect, but even he was impressed when an RAF Tornado streaked in to land.
'Every time Adam Arrow shows up,' he shouted to Mario McGuire over the noise of the engine roar as the pilot eased the plane back to taxiing speed, 'it means trouble. For him to arrive like this, it means BIG trouble.'
'What is he, exactly?' the Inspector asked.
'The fact that you're a Special Branch officer and yet are asking me that says a lot in itself.' Skinner could speak quietly again, as the plane approached.
'Adam is everything. He was SAS, but now he's in charge of all MoD security and intelligence gathering, with the power to do things you would never want to tell your grandchildren about.'
'Who's his boss?'
'God, I think, but maybe he's under surveillance too.' 'What rank is he?'
'At this moment? I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter. That little man climbing out of that aeroplane could, if necessary, make a Field Marshal, Air Marshal or an Admiral of the bloody Fleet disappear off the face the earth.' As he spoke, Arrow jumped down from the navigator's seat and came bustling across the runway towards them. He was small, but built like a spinning top; massive shoulders tapering down through a stocky waist to short legs with little feet. His hair was cropped close and he was wearing civilian clothes — dark trousers, white shirt, an MCC tie and a check jacket.
'Morning, Bob,' he said, with a cheeriness which made McGuire wonder how he could possibly be the figure Skinner had described.
'Morning, Captain, Major, or whatever it is now…'
