persons list, only we won't be looking for him.'
The MP turned to Arrow. 'Do it,' said the little man, in a flat, clipped tone. 'I will speak personally to all the men involved. If they want to have army careers, indeed if they want to have futures at all, they will do what I tell them.'
The Colonel made a mistake. He frowned. 'I don't know…' he began.
Arrow stepped up close to him; very close. 'Listen,' he whispered. 'If that man there asked me to bury you up here, I'd start digging. So: do as you're told.'
44
'Look, are you guys going about this systematically?' Karen Neville asked the Operations Inspector.
'Of course we are, Sergeant. But have you any idea how many white Mondeos there are in our area, let alone how many white motor vehicles? I will find this car for you, but I won't give you any guarantee as to how long it will take me.
'Now. I don't care whose bloody office you're in, stop being so bloody pushy and back off. Or I will call my boss, and have him call ACC Elder, and have him lean on your boss… I think he still outranks him. Or am I wrong?'
'He doesn't outrank Bob Skinner though. Do you want to talk to him?'
The phone at the other end of the line was slammed down.
'Karen,' said Sammy Pye. 'I think you should calm down. You losing it is not going to help us find him.'
'Plodding so-and-sos like him aren't going to help us either,' she shot back.
Pye stood and walked across to her desk; he sat in the edge and took her hand. 'Listen, Sarge,' the young Detective Constable murmured gently. 'You're giving away too much here. At the moment only we know that Mr Martin's missing; but pretty soon others are going to twig, and here you are sending the message loud and clear to everyone you speak to that this thing goes way beyond the professional with you.
'If that gets back to the DCS when he does turn up, that could be very embarrassing for him — and problematical for you, because you know he won't like it.'
She gave his hand a quick squeeze. 'You're right, I'm sorry. I'll tell you what, you do all the talking from now on.'
The phone on her desk rang. Pye grinned and shook his head, as she picked it up automatically.
'Karen,' a steady voice said. 'This is Neil. Tell me why you are antagonising the entire ops room with this vehicle search of yours? I have just had a mate of mine on the blower yelling at me, insisting that I kick your shapely bottom.'
'You know why I'm doing it,' she answered.
She heard Mcllhenney's light, sad, laugh. 'Yes, love, I know. I couldn't tell him that though. Anyway, you are to stop it; cease; desist. This doesn't come from Ops; this comes from the Big Man himself. The DCS has turned up and he's safe.'
She slumped back into her chair, vision blurred with sudden tears.
'But there is to be no discussion of it,' the Inspector went on. 'In fact, after the waves you've made, best that you and Sammy just get out of everyone's way. Go and interview pigeons in the Botanies for the rest of the day.
'You'll be told where Andy is, maybe even get to see him, when Mr Skinner is good and ready. Till then, just be patient… and be relieved.'
45
Glencorse Barracks and its hospital wing were probably Victorian, Skinner guessed, but the equipment was high-tech.
Andy Martin lay on a modern hospital bed, his upper body raised slightly and supported by pillows. He was either asleep or unconscious; the former, Skinner hoped. Sensors were stuck to his bare chest, leading to a cardiac monitor, on a shelf. The DCC was relieved to see that his heartbeat was strong, slow and regular.
'How is he?' he asked the young Army Medical Officer by his side. 'Was he hurt in any way?'
'Physically, very little. He has a split lip, some bruising to his face and his shoulder, but otherwise he's fine. Psychologically, I couldn't say. He was in shock when he was brought in here, rambling and delirious. I gave him a strong sedative, enough to knock him out for a few hours.
'I can't predict what he'll be like when he comes round. What happened to him? How did he get like this? I haven't been told, but he was in a hell of a mess. He reminded me of a soldier I saw once who was too close to a colleague when he stepped on a mine. But this man
… God, his teeth… the time it took to clean them alone.'
'Don't ask, Doctor,' said the DCC quietly. 'I want to be here when he comes round, okay?'
'Of course. If you're a friend, seeing you should be good for him.'
The MO left the room. Skinner pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat, looking at his friend's sleeping face, and wondering what his dreams were like, hoping that he had none. He tried to imagine the scene in the Pentlands, and Andy's fight for his life. Jesus, what must Scotland have felt like having this mad, desperate, bull of a man coming at him. What a way to kill someone. He imagined being in the same situation himself, then remembered that he had been; that man was in an unmarked grave too. There are no rules in a fight for survival.
He sat for over an hour, waiting, not thinking of McGuire and Arrow in the corridor outside, thinking only of Andy, and of what he would say when he awoke.
At last he began to stir on the bed. He whispered something. One word, very softly, but Skinner caught it; 'Karen.'
His right shoulder twitched; his head made a butting movement, then began to roll from side to side. His jaws clamped tight working, working. His eyes flickered, closed again, flickered, then suddenly, opened wide. He sat bolt upright in bed with an expression on his face unlike any that Skinner had ever seen — a mixture of terror and sheer animal ferocity.
The big DCC jumped to his feet and held him, using all his own great strength to counter Andy's and press him back down on to the bed. 'Okay, son, it's okay.'
Martin's face cleared at last. 'Bob?' he said, in a dazed croak. 'Where am I? Have I been in an accident? Or shot, or something?
'Bloody hell, that was some nightmare I was having.' He looked at Skinner, read his face, and fell silent again. That unnatural look came back, but this time it was pure terror, and that alone, as everything came flooding back.
'That was no nightmare, was it?' he asked, at last. 'No, Andy boy. No, it wasn't.' 'Scotland. How's he?'
'How do you think? He's dead; you ripped his throat open.'
'Good!' For a second, the DCC was shocked by the intensity of the malice in his best friend's eyes, but then he remembered his own emotions at a similar time.
'I told the rat-fucker I would kill him. He should have believed me.'
'It's just as well he didn't. He wouldn't have played his bloody game if he had; he'd have shot you straight off.' 'You worked it all out then?'
'Mario did. So it was Scotland after all, Scotland who did Alec?'
'I suppose so. Even though it took him years to pluck up the courage; but he had to play his game too. He had to get someone up there.'
'Why in Christ's name did you go for him on your own, Andy?' Skinner asked. 'A man with a history like that.'
'I guess I have to call it an error of judgement. Between you and me, I've got a few distractions in my private life right now. I've done smarter things in my time, right enough.'
