When Skinner returned from the Friday press conference, he found Alex waiting in his office. As he entered the room, she jumped up and rushed across to him. s 'Hi, Pops.' i He took her into his arms and hugged her. I 'Pops, I'm sorry. You're under all this pressure and I behave like a selfish, love-sick cow. I am really, really sorry.
'Am I forgiven?'
His face lit up as he smiled at her. Suddenly the world was a better place. 'Yeah, just this once I'll let you off with a caution.
How are you and the boy getting on?'
'Fine. Ingo's great. He's so bright, and I just love him to bits.
Don't worry, though. I'm not going to do anything daft like rushing off to Sweden with him. I've got a degree to finish first, and a diploma to get after that. He's got his course to finish, too.
Once he's done that, he says he'll find a job in Britain, in the theatre if nothing else, and we can be together for good.'
In spite of his misgivings about the Swede, Bob grinned.
'Sounds like you've got his life thoroughly organised for him, just like you organised mine for twenty years.'
'Exactly. But you've got someone else to do that for you now.
Even Andy, I hear from Sarah, may have found the love of his life. I have to have someone to look after.'
'Well, babe, all I ask is that you look after yourself as well. In fact put yourself first for a while.' He decided it was time to change the subject. 'How's your play then? We must pay it another visit.' •We're doing great. It won't be announced in the Scotsman till tomorrow, but we've won a Fringe Award. Why don't you come to the Sunday show. It's being presented then.'
Sunday? Bob referred to his memory for a second. 'Sorry, can't do that. Sarah's got tickets for Le Cirque Mobile, or something, down on Leith Links. Tonight we're doing a movie with Andy and Julia, his new girlfriend, and tomorrow…' He paused for a second. 'Tomorrow I might be busy. So we'll come some time next week.'
Alex did not notice his momentary preoccupation. 'Le Cirque?
I've heard of them. They're all bikers or something like that, aren't they. They're supposed to be terrific.'
'We'll see,' he said, although his tone implied doubt. 'All that carbon monoxide inside a tent doesn't sound too great to me. I'd rather be at your show, darling, believe me, but Sarah's dead keen on it.'
Alex laughed. 'It'U be all right. Sarah can pick 'em, you know.
'Well, look. Pops. If I don't see you at the theatre, I'll look out for you at Fringe Sunday.' •No!'
His sudden vehemence stopped her in her tracks.
'Look, babe. Do just one thing for your old man. Steer well clear of Fringe Sunday.'
'But why? All the gang are going.'
'Just for me, give it a miss.'
She looked hard at him. 'You think something bad might happen? Do you know something?'
'Let's just say I'll feel happier if I know I don't have to look out for you there.' •Well, my old Dad, if it makes you feel happier, I'll give it a miss. Promise.'
She stood on tiptoe, kissed him on the forehead and flitted out of the room, waving goodbye.
50
Sir James Proud was the last man he had expected to see that morning. Or so Skinner told himself at first. But when he thoughtfl about it later, he realised that he had not been in the least surprised when his door burst open to reveal the Chief Constable's ample frame. Proud Jimmy, as he was known throughout his force, looked as imposing as ever in full uniform.
Chief What the hell are you doing here?'
You know bloody fine,' said Sir James Proud. 'I couldn't settle for a moment out there, knowing all this nonsense was going on back home. Eventually it all got too much for her ladyship.
Yesterday morning she said to me, 'Jimmy. That's it. I'm packing and we're going to the airport. Get your Gold CardjI ready.' So here I am.';
Skinner smiled at him. He realised at that moment just how much he had missed the solid support and advice of Sir James Proud.
Well, I'm sorry it had to happen that way, but by God I'm glad you're back.'
'So what's been happening?'
Quickly Skinner updated him on the crisis. He showed him the MI6 file on Jesus Giminez, and the FBI sheet on Mary Little Horse.
'I am impressed,' said the Chief. 'You seem to draw these people. Bob, like a flame attracts moths. So now I'm back, what can I do? How can I help?'
'You can chair tomorrow morning's press conference for a start. I'll be busy, doing something else. I'll have a Member of Parliament to arrest!'
51
Neil Mcllhenney was impressed by Macdainnid's choice of meeting-place. Edinburgh born and bred, he had never heard of the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, far less visited it. So when he ambled up the red sandstone steps and into the cathedrallike central hall, with its massive pipe organ at the far end, he was taken by surprise by its elegance and its scale. Neil had always liked organ music, and the fact that he had arrived in the middle of the Friday afternoon recital made the job the highlight of his week in Glasgow.
The tap had picked up Grant Macdairmid on the pub telephone as he set up his assignation at Kelvingrove. His call had been brief and to the point. 'Cassie? Grant here. Look I need you to run another message for me. Meet me this afternoon. Four-thirty, Kelvingrove Art Gallery.'
Haggerty had instructed Barry Macgregor to tail the MP from his office to the meeting-place, while Mcllhenney had been sent on ahead.
Wooden seats were set out in rows across the hall. Those near the front were well filled, but in the row second from the back a girl sat alone, round-shouldered but relaxed in a pale blue T-shirt.
Mcllhenney looked at the back other head and wondered. Rather than take a seat he wandered across to one of the display cases in an area off the hall. It was filled with an assortment of Cromwellian armour, out-of- place somehow in a Glasgow setting.
He could observe the main door from the far side of the glass case, and so Macdairmid did not see him as he glanced all around the hall on his arrival. Satisfied, the MP moved swiftly down the hall and made his way calmly between the seats towards the girl.
Mcllhenney noticed that he was carrying a black briefcase.
Macgregor entered a few seconds later, and sat down in the back row, a comfortable distance away from the couple. He had untied his pony-tail, and his long hair, with its white-beaded Plaits, fell around his shoulders. He wore a crew-necked, short191 sleeved shirt over faded jeans, split at the knee. Mcllhenney looked at him and smiled. 'Crime Squad throws up some sights, right enough,' he whispered to himself.
The meeting lasted only a few minutes. Neither detective dared edge close enough to hear the conversation, but from what they could see it was one-sided, Macdairmid doing all the talking. Less than five minutes after he had entered, the MP stood up and made his way out of the Gallery – without the black briefcase. Neither detective made a move to follow him. They knew that Glasgow officers were waiting outside at each exit from the Gallery, ready to pick up Macdairmid's trail. Instead they stayed, as ordered, with the girl.
She had little taste either, it seemed, for the fine organ music, for three minutes later she too rose to go.
