Lethal intent

'Your information was out of date: I didn't have a car for a while, but I've driven since I was eighteen. I bought myself new wheels six months ago: a sharp deal from Arnold Clark.'

'I'll bet Neil was pleased to hear that.' He leaned forward slightly, and kissed her cheek. 'But I'm glad you did it: I wanted to see you too. I tried to call you yesterday, but Lena said you were tied up all day.'

'I sure was: She took his arm. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'

She led him out of the terminal building and across the road to the short-stay car park. Her car was a Fiat Stilo hatchback; he put his bags into the boot and climbed in, pleased to discover that the interior was still warm from the trip to the airport.

'Have you come from Edinburgh?' he asked her, as she turned on to the M8.

'No, I stayed at my flat in Glasgow overnight. I thought we'd go there now, actually, to let you freshen up, and to have some breakfast.'

He rubbed his chin. 'Good idea. I feel like I've been travelling for ever; it's three flights from where I was to here.'

'There's a Scotsman in the back,' she said. 'There's something in it you should see.'

'Sounds ominous,' he murmured, reaching behind him to retrieve the newspaper.

The report of George Regan junior's death was at the foot of the front page. 'Jesus,' he whispered. 'The poor kid. I met him, too, at the station Christmas party a couple of years ago.' He scanned the report. 'How must George and his wife be feeling?'

'Like any other parents who've lost a kid, I imagine. They'll be going through all sorts of agonies and recriminations: if only they hadn't let him go, and all that.'

'Try caging thunder,' Bob mused. 'My younger son would try to climb Mount Everest if I took my eye off him for a second.'

'Make sure you don't, then. By the way, I've got a message for you from Neil. There's a meeting in Fettes at three this afternoon that you'll want to attend.'

'Did he say what it is?'

'No; he just asked me to tell you the time, and make sure you got there.'

She turned off the motorway and headed into, then through Govan. The traffic was building, but most of it was headed for the Clyde tunnel, so there were no hold-ups. They passed through street after street of sandstone tenements until, suddenly, the river came into sight and with it a tall development of newer apartments. She turned into the car park of the third block, and tucked the Stilo into a space marked 'Reserved. 4a'. Bob took his flight bag from the boot, followed her inside and into the lift.

The flat was on the fourth floor; it was small, but the space was well planned. The living room had a corner window which looked across the Clyde, and eastwards, towards the city. Very nice,' said Bob, impressed.

'I like it,' Aileen replied. 'I wish the parliament was in Glasgow, then I could live here all the time.'

'You could do that if you wanted. The government cars would pick you up from here and bring you back. Like you said, it's a perk of the job.'

'My days are too unpredictable.' She smiled. 'As for my nights, there's nothing to draw me back here.' She reached up and touched his face, feeling the stubble on his chin. 'You look tired. Do you want to go to bed for a couple of hours?'

'Do you mean alone?' he asked her, with a quiet grin.

'That, sir, is up to you,' she murmured, provocatively. 'I have things to tell you, and that might be as good a place as any.'

He put his hands on her hips. 'Honest to God, Aileen, I couldn't do you justice. I'm just off the flight from hell, I've got a chin like a hedgehog, plus… to be honest, the time isn't right'

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. 'I know. But I thought I'd make the offer anyway, out of devilment, if nothing else.'

'You don't feel snubbed that I've turned it down?'

'No, honestly.' She smiled, shyly. 'I'll regard it as a rain-check. The truth is, I don't know how I'd have felt if you'd taken me up on it' She ran her palm over his beard. 'You're right about the stubble; heavy-gauge sandpaper at the very least.'

He looked at her, his emotions churning, temptation gnawing at him, realising that he was approaching a pivotal moment in his life. He thought of his marriage, and asked himself, for the first time, whether he wanted to repair it, even if he could. 'I really would like to sleep for a bit, though,' he told her, to end the moment, as much as anything else.

She led him through to her bedroom, showed him the en suite shower room. As soon as she had left him alone, he stripped off his clothes, slipped under the duvet, and was gone in sixty seconds.

When he was awakened by a gentle touch on his shoulder, she was sitting on the edge of the bed; her blonde hair was perfectly arranged and she had changed from the casual clothes she had worn earlier into a dark business suit. She smiled down at him; for a second he was disorientated, then his eyes and his mind focused. 'Hi,' he mumbled, drowsily. 'What time is it?'

'Five to twelve.' She picked up a mug of coffee from her bedside table. 'Yours is there,' she said, nodding over his shoulder.

'Thanks.' He pulled himself up to sit beside her, picked up his mug from its coaster, and took a sip. 'Jesus, I needed that.'

Aileen laughed. 'Which? Sleep or the coffee?'

'Both.'

'How did things go in Florida… or don't you want to talk about it?'

'There's not a lot to talk about. Let's just say we reached some understanding of where we stand and what we really feel about each other. Before, there was anger on both sides, but I think we've worn that out. Sarah says she's going to do some thinking over the next few days. I suppose I'll do the same. I've got all sorts of worries in my head, but most of all the kids. What do you tell them at times like this?'

'The truth, I suppose, if they're old enough to understand it.'

'They're old enough to be hurt by it.'

'So are you. It's in your eyes.' She ruffled his hair. The duvet was folded back to his waist, and her eyes were drawn to a ragged scar on his side. 'What's that?' she asked.

'That? It's where I was stabbed a few years back.'

She touched his face above the nose. 'What about that? Who gave you that one?'

'Big Lenny Plenderleith; he got plenty in return, though. I think that's how I earned his respect.' He grinned at her; there was a mischief in his eyes that she had never seen before. 'How many scars do you have, then?'

She jumped off the bed, unfastened her trousers and pushed them down enough for him to see a faint line on her lower abdomen, to the right. 'Appendix,' she said, then fastened herself in again. 'When I was twelve. All the rest are on the inside.'

'I'd like to heal those.'

'Maybe you can't; maybe no one can. Just make sure you don't give me any more.'

'I promise I won't do that. So talk: these things you mentioned, tell me them.'

She drank some more coffee, then set down her mug. 'Okay,' she said, 'but first I've got a question for you. Did you know that Sir John Govan was being replaced as the First Minister's security adviser?'

She could read the surprise on his face, so she knew his answer before he spoke it. 'No, I had no idea.'

Aileen smiled. 'That's good. If you had, my next question was going to be 'Why the hell didn't you tell me about it?' But you would have, wouldn't you?'

'Of course, but I'd have expected you to be consulted.'

That's not the way our First Minister works. Tommy wants his own man, not someone with anyone else's seal of approval. He made the appointment all on his own.'

'So who is it?'

'One of your guys, Mr Jay.'

Bob sat bolt upright in bed, forgetting that he was naked. 'Greg Jay? You're joking.'

'You'll find I'm not, when you get to your office. He's full-time in post as of yesterday. But he was active