we know. An explosion took place in a hospitality marquee on top of Waverley Market at around midday today. It could be that it was meant to go off at 12:00 noon exactly. There was one fatality, an unfortunate lad named Danny Baker, who was too close to the seat of the blast to have stood a chance. His next-of-kin have been told. Apart from the boy Baker, there were no serious casualties, although around twenty people wound up in the Royal with shock or minor injuries. I've just told the Press Office to issue a statement that we are investigating the possibility that the explosion was caused by a faulty gas bottle.'
He paused for a moment. 'This may shock you good people, but that is an out-and-out lie. 'Gammy' Legge, the bomb expert, has just confirmed that it was caused by approximately one pound of Semtex. He believes that the explosive was hidden in a metal tool-box, on account of some bits of scorched shrapnel dug out of the poor lad Baker and three other casualties. That fact makes it very clear that we must take very seriously the contents of this letter which was delivered to the Secretary of State at St Andrews House shortly after the explosion.'
He went from person to person, handing each a photocopied sheet. 'Read it, note the details, then each of you make sure you shred your copy before you leave this room. No copies other than mine must be taken out of this building. The original is currently at the forensics lab. Although the lads there will take until this time tomorrow to prove it, I am quite certain that it, and the envelope in which it was delivered, will yield no fingerprints other than those of a couple of security guards, the Secretary of State, DCI Martin and me. They will also tell us that it was originated on a word-processor using a common software package – WordPerfect or some such – and printed on a laser or bubble-jet job with no distinguishing features. In other words, the sort of kit that thousands of punters buy across the counter at Dixons every year.
'However, I could be wrong. You never know, the scientists might find a set of dabs that'll let us wrap this business up by tomorrow night. If that happens, I will personally treat you all to a fine steak dinner – but don't set your taste buds going in anticipation! Mr Martin has made sure that neither the existence nor the content of that letter will be mentioned in the press, radio or television, for the meantime at least. That will piss off our friends no end, but I don't expect any further action from them within the next twenty-four hours.'
Mackie raised a hand. 'You said 'our friends', sir. Couldn't it be just one bloke? Couldn't this letter be a con?'
'It could be – but it isn't. First, it'd be a very resourceful individual who could lay hands on a pound of Semtex unaided.
Second, at least one person, and maybe two, had the Secretary of State's residence under observation after that letter was delivered, reporting on arrivals and departures to someone on the other end of a mobile telephone. This is clearly a terrorist group and, to my mind, a very determined one.'
Martin, at the back of the group, opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it tight as Skinner froze him with a warning look. Only Sarah noticed this silent exchange.
Skinner continued with barely a pause. 'Because of that, I want every one of you – except Dr Grace, of course – to be armed at all times during this investigation. You'll have SB arms and ammo, issued under Mr Martin's authority. You won't need to hand them in at the end of each shift. Each of you draw them from Brian Mackie at the end of this briefing.'
Martin had already taken his own gun, under Skinner's authorising signature. He carried it slung in a shoulder-holster inside his baggy leather jacket. Skinner had not drawn a weapon, for reasons which he had kept to himself.
'I hardly need to say that this is only a precautionary measure. I don't want any Cowboys and Indians out on our streets. But in the unlikely event, and all that, I want you able to respond in any way you need to. Whether they meant it this time or not, these characters have shown that they're prepared to kill. That means you have to be ready to drop them, if it comes to it. Anyone got a problem with that?'
He glanced in the direction of Barry Macgregor. The young man understood the reason. Unsmiling this time, he shook his head so slightly that his beads made not a sound.
'OK. We may not expect further immediate action, but we have things to do now. We've had a direct threat to the whole Festival, and we have to privately warn all the personnel involved. There's no way that we can cover all the venues. Mr Martin's been pulling some figures together. They should give you an idea of the scale of our task. Andy?'
The detective chief inspector, powerfully built and blondhaired, took Skinner's place at the front of the room. His green eyes were made even more vivid by his tinted contact lenses as he fixed a piercing gaze on each member of the team in turn.
'Those of you who ain't culture vultures – and I have to admit I'm not myself – will probably be surprised by just how big this Festival is. I should really say 'Festivals', because this year there are six different ones all running at the same time. The Festival proper – that's the Official job, the one the City backs – it's relatively small. Over the next three weeks, starting tonight, it will put on about one hundred and fifty events, concerts, opera, coots football – sorry, ballet – and plays, in more than a dozen different venues. On the other hand, the Festival Fringe, despite its name, is the biggest event of the lot. This year it'll put on several thousand individual performances of all shapes and sizes, in over a hundred venues. They range from church halls to circus tents, and they're all over Edinburgh. Two of them are even staged out of town, in Musselburgh.
'Then we've got the Film Festival. Very prestigious. Not Cannes, or anything like it, but it still attracts some high-quality film premieres, and some big names. That what's-her-name, the one with the big voice-box – you know who I mean, Neil – she's due in for it next week, and she'll have to be looked after. Put your hand down Macgregor, Sergeant Rose will draw that job.
The Film Festival takes place mostly in the Filmhouse, and in that other cinema up Tollcross. This year there are about a hundred screenings, and five will involve personal appearances by directors and stars. The best thing about the Film Festival is that it only lasts for a couple of weeks, not the full three.
'The Jazz Festival has an even shorter run: nine days, to be exact. It's been scaled down a bit over the last couple of years, but it still puts on eighty shows – or is that 'gigs'? – in nine halls.
The Jazz Festival, so a friend tells me, tends to attract fewer tourists than the rest. It's for real aficionados, and it's the big week of the year for all the local jazzers. There is also a strong correlation between the Jazz Festival and the consumption of strong ales and lagers, which won't make our security job any easier.
'The Book Festival is different entirely. It only happens every other year, and it's an exhibition as much as anything. This year. they've stuck ii in the new Conference Centre in Lothian Road.
That makes it easy for us, 'cause there's all sorts of security built in there.
'As well as all that lot, we also have a Television Festival. That only lasts for a few days, and it's more of a talking shop really, but it still pulls in some very high rollers. Scottish Television puts a lot of money and effort into it, and all the big UK names – from the BBC, the Commercial network and now from satellite – turn up. There's an international contingent, too. Guess who's coming this year, boss? Your mate Al Neidermeyer of Television News International.'
The rest of the team looked puzzled. Skinner laughed.
'If we should happen to meet, Andy, I'm sure the pleasure'll be all his!'
Martin grinned and continued. 'When I'd tallied that lot up, I thought that all we needed to make up the set was an international gathering of arms dealers. Then I realised that, in a sense, we have. Because on top of it all, although it isn't part of any Festival, there's the biggest event of them all, the Military Tattoo.
Three weeks of night-time performances on the Castle Esplanade, six thousand seats for every performance, and every one of them sold in advance.
'Taking it all together, the Festival involves thousands of live performances at a couple of hundred different venues. No one knows for sure how many people will be taking part, but it'll be in the tens of thousands for sure. As for spectators, working it out on a bums-on-seats basis, it's reckoned to be around a million.'
Barry Macgregor let out a soft whistle.
'Remember,' Martin went on, 'these are the performance events. I haven't mentioned the various sorts of art exhibition that'll be running. There are about a dozen regular galleries in Edinburgh, and quite a few other places are pressed into service.
So that's what's happening in our city over the next three weeks.
And we've just had a threat to it of a lethal nature.
'The idea of calling it all off is a non-starter. The Government can't be seen to give in to terrorism, and neither, for that matter can the police service. And, anyway, it's too late. So our job is to protect it, the whole
