readers. Can they expect your resignation within the week?'
'You can expect my hand on your col ar, you slimy wee toad,'
Skinner exploded. 'Plus, we're going to sue you til your fucking eyes pop. You can forget going to see my wife too. She has nothing to say to you, and if you push your luck over there, I have friends in the FBI who'l slam you right inside.'
'Nice one, Bob,' said Salmon, with a disturbingly calm assurance.
'I've got that al noted down, and, it'l read well in next week's Spotlight. You and Pamela have a nice night, now. But think on this: I haven't finished with you yet – not by a long way.'
As the cal ended. Skinner hurled the phone across the room, tearing the flex from its socket and smashing it against the wal. He turned to Pam, who sat shocked and drawn. 'He got my number!' he said, incredulously. 'I'm on the MI5 network, yet he got my ex-directory number. Some shit sold it to him.'
She stood up and held him to her, feeling him tremble with rage.
'Control yourself, love,' she said. 'Every point that nasty little man adds to your blood pressure is a victory for him. Remember the rule.
Don't get mad, get even.'
He shook his head. 'I've never been any good at that. Some guys, like Andy, can count up to ten, and by the time they get there they've cooled down. I've never made it past three.' Nevertheless, his breathing did begin to steady as she drew his face down to hers and kissed him, and as she stroked his hair.
'That's better,' she whispered, with a smile. 'Forget Salmon, and come with me. Come on. I drew the curtains earlier, but we'll keep the light out as well, just to be safe!'
Gradual y his expression softened, until finally he allowed himself to be led through to the bedroom. Slowly she undressed him in the dark, peeling off her own clothes more quickly, and climbing on top of him as he lay on the duvet. He felt her tongue in his mouth, 48 flicking, seeking his; then it moved, as she did. He felt it lick its way along his chest, playing lightly with its curly hairs; felt her lips move on him kissing, puckering, felt himself growing huge as she made her steady way down, until…
The only functional telephone in the cottage seemed to scream at the night a few feet from his ear. 'No!' It was Pam's turn to shout her frustration. 'If that's him again…'
'Then he's a goner,' said Skinner, quite seriously.
He picked up the phone. 'Now listen, you,' he began in a deadly tone.
'Good evening, Mr Skinner.'The voice cut across his: not Salmon, another man; a quiet, even and control ed tone, without accent.
'Who…'
'I have the child. He is alive, but at my disposition. You wil hear from me again.'
For the second time that evening a phone line went dead, leaving Skinner staring ahead into darkness.
15
'British Telecom couldn't help, then, Andy, I take it?'
Martin shook his head. He and Skinner sat grim-faced at the kitchen table in the cottage, china mugs of coffee steaming before them. It was twenty-five minutes past midnight, and the Head of CID had just arrived from Edinburgh, leaving Alex alone in the Haymarket flat.
From the living room, the faint sound of the television carried through, as Pamela watched, for the fourth or fifth time, a video of the carefully worded Sky News precis of Noel Salmon's Spotlight exclusive.
'They did their best, of course, Bob, but without exceptional luck
– such as the guy forgetting to disable 1471 – or advance warning, there wasn't much chance that they'd be able to trace the origin of the call.'
Skinner grunted. 'Come on, Andy, d'you think that I didn't try the automatic number trace? 'You were cal ed today at…',' he mimicked. ' 'The cal er withheld his number.' '
Martin glanced at him. 'Maybe he used a payphone. Did you hear coins drop?'
'No, but that's not a give-away any more. They did away with
'Press button A' years ago, on most of them.'
The younger man raised an eyebrow. 'Hey, maybe he used a credit card.'
Skinner glowered across the table. 'Andy, son, I know it's past midnight, and that we're clutching at some very short straws, but really…'
Martin sipped his coffee. 'Miracles happen.'
'No they bloody don't!' Skinner slapped the table, gently.
'Look, it's been a mind-fucker of a night, but let's get a grip of ourselves and start thinking and acting like the serious coppers we are.
'I asked you out here so that the two of us could have a brainstorm, before we call in the Cavalry, so let's get on with it.'
'Can I join in too?' asked Pamela from the doorway. 'Or is this for General Staff only.'
Bob grinned at her, as she leaned against the jamb wearing a 50 teeshirt and his long towelling bathrobe. 'Aye, come on in Sergeant, even though you're out of uniform.'
She looked at him in football top and shorts, then at Martin, in denims, raised her eyebrows in a gesture which said 'Oh yes?', then joined them at the table.
'Right,' said Skinner. 'There are all sorts of potential implications which we can draw from this call. Let's see if we can nail them all down.'
'A question first, surely,' Pamela interrupted. 'Was the call genuine? Could it have been a crank?'
'That's possible. But if it was a crank, bear in mind that the cal was made to an ex-directory number. That means that the perpetrator is either one of my inner circle, with access to that number, or he's gone to some trouble, and possibly some risk, to get it.
'No,' he said, emphatical y, 'I've no doubt that the cal was genuine.
Anyway we have to assume that it was, until we know otherwise. So okay, not a hoax. Next?'
'Why to you?' asked Martin. 'Why did the guy give a personal message to you? I've been the front man in this investigation al along? You've never been involved publicly.'
Skinner nodded. 'Good one. Ideas? Pam?'
She hesitated. 'Wel, you are pretty well known. Think police, think Edinburgh, think Bob Skinner. It could be no more than that, except…'
'… except,' said Martin, 'that it's public knowledge that you have a special connection with this child. After the Lammermuirs air disaster, when wee Mark was the only survivor – which proves incidentally,' he interjected, triumphantly, 'that miracles do happen it was you who rescued him from the sinking cockpit of the plane, in the middle of a reservoir.
'That was al over the papers at the time. Everybody knows about you saving that wee boy's life.'
'So?'
'So… It could explain why the kidnapper would choose to make contact with you.'
Skinner smiled, and his eyes narrowed. 'And could it explain why he took the child?'
Martin stared at him. 'You mean, could he have taken the child as an act of revenge against you?'
'Well? Could he? You'll concede I've made a few potential enemies over the years.'
Martin nodded. 'Even leaving out the ghosts of the dead ones.'
'Okay, suppose someone wants to hurt me,' the DCC went on.
'What are his choices?
'He could come at me in person. But maybe he lacks the physical 51 capability, the resources, or just the bottle for that. He could target my daughter. But she lives with you, and you're as dangerous a customer as I am. He could target my wife and son. But they're a long way off, in the States.
'So, how does he do something that's going to hurt me to the heart?' Skinner paused. 'Maybe, just maybe, he remembers last year's publicity; he remembers the bond between me and wee Mark, and he says, 'That's the way.' So he keeps Leona's house under observation; he traces her movements; he waits, and he waits; he picks
