and lank grey hair which looked two months overdue for a trim. He had the tired eyes of a man who played with a jazz band several nights a week, then stayed on after the show.
The six directors now sat in waiting, some looking curious, some – Nelson and Hands in particular – showing an edge of annoyance. Skinner smiled his wannest smile. 'For those of you who haven't met us, I'm Bob Skinner, Assistant Chief Constable and head of CID in Edinburgh. It's a matter of public knowledge that I also act as security adviser to the Secretary of State. My colleague here is Detective Chief Inspector Andrew Martin, head of Special Branch in Edinburgh. Some of you may have guessed why we've asked you to meet us.'
Only two reacted in any way. Archie McPhee smiled tightly and nodded. Jay Hands looked puzzled.
'For those of you who don't already know, we have had what we describe in police-speak as 'a serious incident', specifically an explosion. It happened at midday today at a Festival hospitality venue in Princes Street. In fact, we now know that it was a bomb attack on the Festival itself.'
He paused. Opposite him, Julia Shahor's eyes seemed to grow impossibly wide.
'Jesus Christ!' whispered Jay Hands.
Skinner went on. 'Shortly after the bang, we received this.
Would you all read it, please.'
He handed his copy of the letter to Harriet Nelson. She scanned it slowly, then, white-faced, handed it to Archie McPhee. By the time Jay Hands had finished studying the letter, and handed it back to Skinner, all six directors looked considerably shaken.
'Before any of you ask me, I'll tell you that we are taking this letter at face value. We believe that the people behind this atrocity are serious. We don't know the first thing about them yet, but we do know that anyone who can lay hands on a pound or two of Semtex is unlikely to be a one-hit wonder. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, we have to believe that the Festival events for which you are responsible are now all under threat. More than that, while I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily, we have to assume, for safety's sake, that each of you could be a target.'
He studied each face in turn. The expressions ranged from the incredulity of Ray Starkey to the serenity of Julia Shahor. As Skinner had expected, the first to speak was Archie McPhee.
The colonel's eyes seemed to gleam with memories of conflict as he asked softly: 'What would you like us to do about it. Bob?'
'I'd like all six of you to co-operate with us, but, Archie, I'd like you to do a wee bit more than that. The Tattoo isn't run by the army, but it is military in nature, and it does take place at what is in fact an army base – the Castle. I'd like you yourself to take on responsibility for extra security. Pull in soldiers from Craigiehall if you have to. You won't have any difficulty getting them. I can promise you that. At the moment I'm considering whether I need help from other quarters for the wider task. Is that okay with you?'
'Certainly!' said McPhee emphatically, 'Thanks. Now, everyone else, the first thing to say is that we do not believe that we should, nor do we even believe that we could call off any or all of your Festivals in response to this threat. And that isn't just a police view. It's a decision of the Secretary of State. So Mr Martin and I have two tasks. First, we have to take steps to protect all the Festival events, organisers, performers, and audiences, as best we can. Then, having done that, we must make it all unnecessary by catching these terrorists and putting them away. I have already set up a team to tackle both those jobs.'
He described the instructions which he had issued earlier to his own team.
'When my officers make their security checks, they'll do so discreetly. I don't want to cause any more public concern than is necessary. At the moment, that lettter's between you, us, and some very co-operative newspaper editors. We've secured a news blackout on it, otherwise you'd have heard about it before now. I would ask you to assist my people in every way, as they assess each of our priority venues. If they need specific help or information, please let them have it without question. If any curious managers ask you what that was all about, the party line is that it is routine procedure. Please stick to that.'
Skinner look around and smiled. 'OK so far? Good. That's what we're doing about the buildings. Now for the people – and this is where you're asked to give us the greatest help. As part of the security operation we need to ensure that each participant can be identified, and also that we know when they're on site. That means a pass system for everyone who is performing at every Festival event, front or back stage, primadonna or call-boy.'
There was a collective cry of protest from five of the six directors. Only Archie McPhee stayed relaxed, sprawled comfortably back on his sofa. The Military Tattoo had operated its own pass system since its inception.
'You can't mean everyone!' said Harriet Nelson.
'That's impossible!' said David Leroy.
'I do, Ms Nelson – and it isn't, Mr Leroy.' He looked across at Martin. 'Andy, explain how we'll go about it.'
Martin waited until he was sure that he had the full attention of every one of the six. He flashed a wide smile at Julia Shahor, who responded with a small one of her own.
'As Mr Skinner has said, it's important that we are able to check people's identity and that we know precisely when they're in their venues. God forbid, but we could have another incident like today's, or an arson attack, or even just a warning that we take seriously enough to act upon – and if this threat becomes public knowledge we could have every drunk and nutter under the sun calling in hoaxes. If anything like that were to happen, we'd have to clear the place in question totally, and account for everyone supposedly there. Ticket stubs would tell us how many people are in the audience, but we need a pass system for the performers.
Agreed?'
His last word was a statement rather that a question. Martin sat forward on his chair, accidentally swinging his bolstered pistol into full sight. His vivid green eyes were intense as they scanned the three sofas. Five heads nodded. Even Colonel McPhee sat up straight.
'Good. Now let me tell you how we'll do it. These passes needn't be photographic. They'll be credit-card style, and they'll be signed on the back by the holder, in the presence of the issuing officer, when they're allocated. We'll use experienced Scottish Office personnel to process the applications and issue passes on the spot. They'll be based in your various offices. So what we'd like you to do, as soon as you all get back to your offices is to organise a circular to every performing company that's here so far. It should advise them that the fire safety officer has demanded that, in the light of new regulations, all performers and crew will have to carry passes and show them whenever they enter their venues. Here's a draft for you to work on.'
He delved into his briefcase, produced a handful of copy letters, and handed them round.
'This asks everyone involved to report to whichever Festival Office is appropriate, between four and seven o'clock tomorrow evening, and to take with them some form of personal identification.'
Jay Hands broke in. 'What if they don't possess any?'
'We won't actually turn anyone down on those grounds, but I think you'll find that nowadays everybody carries something with their signature on it. We'll put experienced people into your offices to do the job. It'll be painless, I promise you – no worse than the queue at the building society on the last Friday of the month.'
He grinned at the six directors. Julia Shahor smiled back; the rest reacted with an assortment of grunts and snorts.
'Of course, you and all of your staff will require passes, too.
Even you, Colonel McPhee, in case you need to go backstage at any other event.'
The colonel acknowledged with the faintest nod of his head.
Harriet Nelson voiced again her earlier concern. No exceptions at all?'
Martin shook his head. 'Ms Nelson, if the Royal Ballet had the ghosts of Fonteyn and Nureyev appearing in Swan Lake, I'd want them to have passes. There are no exemptions when it comes to security. Even the Prime Minister has to carry a pass for the House of Commons.' He looked around the room once more.
'Your circulars should make it clear that, as from Monday, anyone without a pass just doesn't get in. So that this daily signing-in routine isn't a burden with the larger companies, we'll put our own plain-clothes people in to look after it. The smaller groups should be able to handle that end themselves.'
Martin picked up his briefcase again, and lifted the lid. 'As Mr Skinner said earlier, we have to consider every foreseeable threat, however remote it might seem. For example, these terrorists may decide that it's easier to target individuals than venues. You're all prominent people, and we have to keep you safe. If any of you want round-the-clock police protection, just ask and you'll have it. In my view, that's not necessary, but just say the
