Gallery Whispers

'It's the loneliness that's the killer,' the singer whispered.

'You're right there, pal,' the policeman said aloud. 'That's what gets to me most of all about doing Jimmy's job. While you're hauling yourself up the ladder, you hear them talk about the loneliness of command, and you think, "What a load of crap! How can you be lonely when there's a whole force at your disposal?" Then you get there, and the door shuts, and for the first time in your life, you've got no sounding board; no senior officer to look in on and ask, "Am I doing right here?", and if you do that with a subordinate you're seen to be unsure of yourself and as soon as that happens you lose their absolute trust and as soon as that happens you're no longer truly in command…'

Lit by the orange light of the dashboard, he laughed out loud.

'Welcome back, Jimmy. Welcome-'

He broke off as the car phone rang. Killing the CD sound, he pressed the receive button. 'Yes,' he said, anonymously, to the handsfree mike above his eyeline.

'Pops?'Alex's voice bubbled into the car. 'It's me.'

'Never,' he retorted.

'Don't be so smart,' she told him. 'Andy called. He said you needed to speak to me. I rang Fettes; and they said you had just left.'

'Yes,' Bob replied. 'I tried to get you at Gina's last night. Didn't she tell you?'

'I didn't see her. I got in late,' From her cousin's place, she thought, smiling wickedly at the other end of the line, 'and she left early this morning. What's the panic?'

'No panic. Far from it. Something I have to tell you, that's all.

You're going to be a sister again.'

There was a silence in the car. 'Pops,' she exclaimed at last. 'That is great. Sarah told me you had another baby in mind. I'm really chuffed for you both.'

'Thanks kid. I hoped you would be.' Looking ahead, at the road, he imagined he could see her face. 'But just for a moment there, I thought-'

'Don't be daft. I couldn't be more pleased. I'll phone Sarah now.'

'Yes, you do that. She's dead keen to share it with another female.'

He paused.

'How're you doing? I haven't seen you since yon time-'

'I'm doing fine, Pops. Never better.'

'You've no regrets then; about claiming your life back?'

'None. It was something I needed to do, for Andy's sake as well as mine. I think he realises that. Now I've done it, I've never been happier.'

'That's good. That's certainly how you sound. A lot more settled in yourself.' He felt himself frown. 'You know, Alex, I'm pretty sure that's what went wrong with your mother. She gave up too much of her youth too soon; that's why she went off the rails. I'm glad that you've spotted that danger, and done something about it before it was too late. You and Andy will be the better for it, I'm sure of that.'

'I'm sure we will, Pops.' He heard her laugh softly. 'We are already, believe me.'

'That's good.' In the dark, he sighed. 'You know, kid, I've never really thought about it before, but you sound like her. You sound just like Myra.'

56

'My God, Bob, you'd think there was a war on.' Sir James Proud looked around the headquarters gymnasium. Where normally there was a clear area, three rows of desks were arranged, each with its own telephone line.

'I'd rather there was,' Skinner muttered. 'Much less complicated.

It's been like this since last Wednesday. I thought you should see it on your first day back.

'It's Andy's show. He decided that it would be best run under one roof, and he's right. Until you get down to doing it, you couldn't imagine how complicated this exercise could be.

'We're having to make contact with bodyguards of all sorts from the thirty-plus countries that are going to be attending. For a start, that's run us into a significant sum for translators; that's why there are so many desks in here.'

The Chief Constable frowned. 'Not off our budget, I hope.'

'No, no. I've got that sorted. The Foreign Office will pick up that tab. They've actually supplied some of the people.

'Translation's only a minor problem by comparison though. We're having to gather in personal details for every protection officer nominated by every country. As we're doing that they all have to be vetted through the intelligence agencies.'

'Aren't their domestic vetting procedures sufficient?' asked Proud Jimmy, looking trim and neat in his uniform, which for the first time in many months, fitted him comfortably.

'Not for the American Secret Service. I thought the FBI were sticklers until I ran into these boys. I had a word with my pal Joe Doherty in Washington about them. He says they make their recommendations direct to the Chairman of the National Security Council, and he turns them directly into commands.'

'Who's the Chairman of the NSC?'

'The President, and it's his arse that's on the line; so he isn't usually open to persuasion when someone outside the Service thinks they're going too far. Their argument in this case is that since a number of the nations taking part in the conference are openly hostile to the US, it's not without the bounds of possibility that a fanatic might infiltrate one of the delegations. That's why they started this ball rolling by insisting on carrying their own weapons. They've vetoed one bloke from Pakistan already: they claimed he had links to the Taleban.'

'How long is all this going to take?'

'Almost until the opening of the conference at this rate, sir,' Andy Martin answered. 'Welcome back,' he said, shaking hands with Sir James.

'Thank you, Andrew,' said the Chief. 'I don't suppose that while all this is happening, the local criminals are showing consideration by taking time off.'

'Things have been quiet, actually. That probably means that they're all out casing the various hotels. That's another security problem; one for Mr Elder, fortunately.

'But you're right, sir. I do have to keep a foot in both camps. In fact, I've just been given a note to phone Clan Pringle about something, so if you'll excuse me…'

'Of course, of course. On you go.' Proud turned back to Skinner as the chief superintendent headed off.

'My goodness. Bob,' he said. 'Looking at this makes me sort of glad I'm going home at lunchtime.'

57

'Where are you, Clan?' asked Martin, having phoned the Edinburgh Central divisional CID commander on his mobile number.

'Up in Raymond Terrace, Andy, off the Western Corner,' Superintendent Pringle replied. 'I was just about to leave actually. I called you when I was on my way out here, but it's turned out to be a bit of a false alarm. It looked a bit colourful when my two detective constables turned up, but it's just a suicide. Sorry to have bothered you.'

The Head of CID chuckled. 'Don't mention it, mate. You got me out of the madhouse for a few minutes; I'm grateful for that. What was it made your people jumpy anyway?'

'Ach, it was just the way it looked. The stiff was a single bloke; the cleaning wumman came in this morning and found him sitting in his armchair, wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, stone dead. She screamed, and all that, and phoned us in hysterics. "Help, Murder, Polis!" — you've heard it a million times. My boy and girl responded, along with a couple of uniforms.

'The thing that made them call me, and made me call you when I was told, was that the guy had a bag over his head. It looked a bit weird, I'll admit, but I saw when I ot here that it was like wearing a belt and braces. The bloke had injected himself with something. The syringe was lying in his lap.

'The doctor's been,' he added. 'He certified death due to asphyxia, then left.'

Martin felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He leaned forward in his chair. 'The bag, Clan,' he asked, 'what was it like?'