When he logged on to the Sci-Med computer he found some information waiting for him on Childs and Leadbetter. Both had been trained as explosive experts during their time in the army. ‘And in the occasional use of small musical boxes,’ thought Steven. There were several other skills attributed to them: Childs spoke Arabic: Leadbetter was fluent in French and German and an authority in field communications, but it was the fact that both were explosive experts that captured Steven’s attention. It suggested that this had something to do with their being in Blackbridge although he had to admit, it was hard to see what — always assuming that blowing up Blackbridge as a solution to everyone’s problem was not an option, however appealing he found the notion himself. He thought he would take a leisurely bath before changing his clothes and setting off to pick up Eve.
Steven’s mobile phone rang while he was in the bath. Luckily he had propped it up on the edge. It was Jamie Brown.
‘Well, we’ve got some action on the rat problem,’ said Brown. ‘I’ll have to give McColl credit for that.’
‘So I saw,’ said Steven. ‘I was out there earlier. Nice to know someone can actually get something done out there when they put their minds to it.’
‘Know what you mean,’ agreed Brown. It reminds me of a joke. How many local government administrators does it take to change a light bulb? Answer, none. They’ll set up a sub committee to investigate coping with darkness. But do you want to hear the best bit?’
‘Amaze me,’ said Steven.
‘Nobody out there knows who started things moving.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘No one’s taking the credit for it and that’s unusual in itself but no one seems to know who sent in the rat killers.’
‘But someone must,’ Steven protested.
‘You’d think so but it turns out not. Apparently everyone thought that someone else was responsible. When they finally got round to talking to each other, nobody claimed the credit.’
‘Has no one asked the men on the banks?’
‘Apparently they arrived in an unmarked truck and waved away anyone who approached them. When darkness fell they left in the same truck when it arrived to pick them up. The police had a word with them but they wouldn’t tell me anything when I asked them.’
‘Not even how many rats the men got?’
‘One of the locals said they only had one sack with them when they left and it was about half full. Not more than a dozen or so, he reckoned.
‘That shouldn’t upset the British Association for the Preservation of Rats too much,’ said Steven.
‘Is there one?’ asked Brown, naively.
‘Bound to be,’ replied Steven.
When Brown rang off, Steven rang Brewer at police headquarters. ‘So who’s dealing with the rats?’ he asked.
‘Would you believe the army?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ said Steven, astonished at the reply.
‘I wish I was,’ said Brewer. He had an air of resignation in his voice. ‘All we need now is the Berlin Philharmonic putting in an appearance and we can stage, Blackbridge, the musical.’
‘You’re sure about the army’s involvement?’
‘Two of my lads challenged them when they were leaving this evening. They were shown Army ID.’
‘Well, I suppose they can at least shoot straight,’ said Steven. ‘It makes some kind of sense, I suppose. But who made the decision?’
‘Exactly,’ exclaimed Brewer. ‘None of the briefcases up at the hotel knows, or no one will own up to knowing, and so the squabbling goes on.’
‘Well, at least someone’s shooting the rats while they set up sub committees, request clarification, defer decisions and report upwards, downwards and sideways,’ said Steven.
‘I’m really surprised that there’s been no involvement at ministerial level yet,’ said Brewer. ‘You’d think one of the buggers would have had the courage to put in an appearance.’
‘This mess isn’t going to do anyone’s career any good,’ said Steven. ‘Politicians have an innate sense of that. They’ll leave it to the spear carriers as long as possible.’
‘Suppose you’re right,’ agreed Brewer.
Steven ended the call but then thought to himself that the decision to call in the army had presumably not been made by some postal clerk in the Scottish Office down in Leith or a window cleaner in Whitehall. Surely that decision must have been taken at ministerial level, so why hadn’t the relevant minister — whoever he or she was — appeared on the scene to take the credit for firm, swift action in the wake of the Clarion’s story? Such shyness seemed well out of character. Steven found that it was difficult to work out even where the decision would have been made. Rural Affairs was a Scottish matter. Health was a bit of both. Defence — and therefore the army — was definitely Whitehall’s province.
Steven drove out to Blackbridge and picked up Eve outside the hotel at eight as arranged. He thought she looked stunning in an emerald green dress that highlighted her beautiful red hair and said so.
‘Smooth southern bastard,’ said Eve with disarming frankness but she was far from being annoyed. ‘You’ve changed your car,’ she observed.
‘I’m that kind of a guy,’ said Steven. ‘Wild, impetuous, untamed.’
‘Anchored only to this earth by your civil service superannuation scheme,’ added Eve.
‘Ye gods, the night is only five minutes old and I’ve been shot down in flames already,’ Steven complained.
‘Where are we going?’
‘The Witchery.’
‘You must want me to talk to Trish real bad,’ said Eve. ‘When I go out with a bloke for a meal, it’s usually a Dutch treat at Pizza Hut.’
‘It’s not just that,’ said Steven.
‘Of course not,’ laughed Eve.
‘How are your folks?’ asked Steven, as they drove off.
‘They’ve gone to Aunt Jean’s down in North Berwick for a few days. It’ll do them good to get away from here for a bit.’
Steven agreed, thinking it would do anyone good to get away from Blackbridge for any length of time. ‘How did they take the Clarion story?’ he asked.
Eve snorted at the memory. ‘Bloody rag,’ she complained.
‘I’m sorry. I take it they were very upset?’
‘No,’ said Eve quietly, sounding strangely embarrassed. ‘Mum and Dad actually believed that the Clarion ran the story out of concern for them and their feelings.’
‘I see,’ said Steven. ‘And what did you tell them?’
‘I kept my mouth shut and let them go on thinking that.’
‘Good for you. Sometimes education can be a dangerous thing.’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Eve. ‘You know, it’s so ironic that the very thing good, decent people strive to give their children is often the very thing that drives them apart. I keep seeing it.’
‘Not in your case though.’ said Steven.
‘I’ve worked out what’s really worth having in life and you don’t find it in Harrods or the glossy pictures in the Sunday supplements.’
Steven had to seek Eve’s advice when he thought they were getting near the restaurant.
‘Turn left at the next junction, then left again,’ Eve directed.
‘What like’s parking there?’ he asked.
‘Go round into Castle Terrace,’ said Eve. ‘It should be okay at this time of night.’
They found a parking place without trouble and Steven got out to stare up at the floodlit castle, towering above them. ‘Impressive,’ he said. ‘What’s all the scaffolding for?’
‘It’s not really scaffolding,’ Eve corrected him. ‘It’s the seating for the military tattoo. The Edinburgh Festival starts soon. You won’t be parking here then!’
They walked the short distance to the restaurant, which was situated very near to the entrance to the castle esplanade and walked down the steps to the Secret Garden of the Witchery.