'Ah, Tommy,' he murmured, pausing. 'Yes,' he continued, 'give him long enough and he'll be regarded as our most famous son.'
'Who's the current holder of the title?'
'Oor Wullie, I believe.'
Martin smiled. 'Yes, it's a unique claim to fame, having a cartoon character as your top citizen. I can't knock it, though. I'm a Glaswegian and ours are all footballers… most of them dead footballers, at that.'
'We have something in common, then: we're both sons of cities that are music-hall jokes.'
'Don't tell too many Weegies that.' He sipped his orange squash, noticing that Groves was drinking what appeared to be cola. 'How long have you and Rod been in-laws?' he asked.
Groves frowned. 'Since God was a boy, it seems. Celia and I were married when I was still at university, and before you ask, our son was born six months later.'
'Is he a member here too?'
'No.' It was as if the question had thrown a switch, turning off the man's amiability. 'Rod,' he said, sharply. 'It's time to go, the snow's bad enough as it is, and from what I can see out there it's getting worse. Just as well I brought the Range Rover.' He pushed himself to his feet, looking down at the policeman. 'Good evening to you. We'll meet again, no doubt.' Turning on his heel, he walked out of the lounge.
The two golf addicts turned towards Martin. 'So, young man,' the one named Archie began, with an impish grin, 'what's your handicap?'
Fifty-one
It was happening too often for his liking: once again, Bob Skinner was taken by surprise. He had waited late in the office, after everyone else had gone for the night, but the visitor he had been expecting was not the Justice Minister.
Nevertheless, he was pleased. He had wanted to see Aileen again over the weekend, but his need to spend quality time with his children had ruled that out. 'Bring her up,' he told the security officer who called to announce her arrival, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice.
'Hi,' she said, quietly, as she stepped into the room.
He smiled and pointed to the low couch against the far wall, out of sight of the window. 'Hi to you,' he replied, as they sat together.
'I hope you don't mind me dropping in unannounced, Bob.'
'I should mind? You're a minister: it's an honour. Besides…' He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. 'I've found myself wanting to see you.'
'Me too; that's why I called in.'
'Where are you headed?'
'Through to Glasgow: there's a party meeting tomorrow, and before that I have a constituency surgery in the morning.'
'I wish I was a patient.' Bob chuckled.
'I wish you were too.' She looked into his eyes. 'I'm trying to fight what's happening to me, you know, before I put myself at risk with you.'
'I won't let that happen, I promise. To tell you the truth I'm not trying to fight anything. I'm concentrating on doing what's right, in the right order and at the right time.'
'Do you always manage to do that?'
'I have to confess to a conspicuous record of failure in that department,' he told her.
'Have you heard from your wife?' she asked, tentatively.
'Yes. She's still in the US, but she's coming home soon.'
'And what will happen then?'
'I haven't a bloody clue; all I hope is that whatever way it goes, it's best for the kids.'
'I'm sure you'll manage that. My one big fear is that if you did split, I'd be seen as the scarlet woman who caused it. Murtagh would have a field day if he chose and, knowing him, he would, especially as I'll have served my purpose by then.'
'I promise you, Aileen, you won't be involved if it goes that way. Things were going wrong between Sarah and me long before I met you. But I hear what you're saying and, yes, we need to be discreet. What we have at the moment is a strong friendship, and we mustn't give anybody the chance to misinterpret it… any more than we have already. For a while, when we meet, it's either official or it's in Glasgow.'
She nodded. 'We could call this official. As well as wanting to see you, I've got news for you about the bill.'
'Tell me he's going to drop it.'
'Fat chance. No, the First Minister has told me that he's giving me the honour of introducing it in the Parliament next Tuesday. The statutory three-week study period will be up on Monday and the Presiding Officer will clear it for presentation and publication. Tommy's decided that it isn't going to be his sponsored legislation but mine, even though I'm opposed to it and had no hand in its preparation. Do you still think I should stay in office?'
Bob whistled. 'He is boxing you in, and no mistake. If you introduce the legislation, then even if you do succeed him at some time in the future, you'll look an idiot if you try to repeal it. Should you quit? If your conscience demands it, I suppose you should.'
She reached out and laid a fingertip on his chest. 'If I do, Tommy's machine will leak the story that you and I are having an affair and that you talked me into it. He told me that, flat out, this afternoon. If I let that happen, how would your wife react to it? She'd be as humiliated as you and me.'
His face twisted into something close to a snarl. 'How the hell did a nasty little bastard like him ever come to lead this country?'
'Or lead my party for that matter,' Aileen added.
He reached out and cupped her face in his big hand. 'I'll make you a promise,' he said. 'I'm going to have him; maybe not before next Tuesday, but before too long. When I bring him down, they'll hear the crash all over Scotland.'
'You be careful,' she warned him.
'I am being careful, so much so that I'm going to chuck you out now. You've walked into the middle of something you're better not knowing about until after it's done.'
He rose, and led her to the door. When he opened it, she saw, waiting outside, a big, heavily built man with black hair and flashing eyes. 'My next meeting,' he said. 'Aileen, let me introduce Detective Superintendent Mario McGuire.'
Fifty-two
In his student days, when his world was young and he had dreamed of becoming a broadsheet journalist, uncovering hidden truths and holding them up for the world to see, Sean Green had bridged the gap between malnutrition and comfort by working as a waiter, five nights a week, in an Indian restaurant in Oxford.
There had been a customer, a regular, a bookish man with big thick-lens spectacles that from certain angles made him look like a frog. He had been a good tipper, always cash too, rather than credit card; naturally, the staff had paid him special attention. He was a visiting lecturer, or so the student waiter had come to understand, at Exeter College. Their paths had never crossed outside the restaurant, since Sean was enrolled at Balliol.
And so it came as a surprise when, in the week in which he had completed his final examinations, the man gave him a business card and an invitation to lunch in London a week later.
The 'lecturer' was Rudy Sewell, and two weeks later, to his complete amazement, Sean Green had found himself a member of the Security Service, MI5.
