'Ready, everyone. They may be confused about which plane to . take, but they're getting closer. They're stopping. OK, wait for it.!
Door's opening. Now go!'
Down on the tarmac, the driver's door of the white car swung open. A stocky, ginger-haired man got out – and reeled back in surprise as six handguns were trained on him by airport ground-crew. I "What the fuck!' he cried reaching so high above his head that for a second it looked as if he would take off.
'What the fuck!' said Sir James Proud, up in the control tower 'McGuire, get out and see what this is.'
Mario McGuire jumped from the Dash and ran over to the silent group surrounding the white car. The passenger doors had been torn open. There were no other occupants.
'Police,' snapped McGuire, as he reached the scene. 'Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?'
The red-haired man continued to reach for the sky. 'Harry Page. Ah'm Harry Page. Look, ah know ah wis speedin'. Ah'm sorry! Ma wife works as a stewardess fur Loganair. Ah'm here taste pick her up. Christ, mister, what is this? Ah'm late enough already. Ah should have been here at ten-fifteen. She'll bloody murder me, as it is!'
92
'Remember, pilot, let it get more than two miles away, and we've fookin' lost it.'
'But it is working?'
'Sure, Bob. It's working like a fookin' dream. There's enough irradiated iodine in that paint-splash to give us a good strong signal. Cracking shot by Brian, that were.'
Arrow held a small box on his knee. It was wired into the helicopter's electrical system. A green glow from its screen reflected on his face.
'We can follow them forever with this, as long as we stay within two miles, and as long as the paint doesn't get washed off.'
'Can we make visual contact?' Skinner asked the pilot.
'Yes. But do you want to take the chance, sir? A mile is as close as I'd come, to be sure they won't see us.'
'No,' Arrow answered for him. 'Trust our little box, Bob. I'll wager that's the only car on the road with a big patch of radioactive bird-shit on its tail!'
'Ok, Adam.' Skinner's voice could only just be heard above the noise of the helicopter's engine. 'Let's go with it. What does it tell us?'
'Well, you were right. They've by-passed Edinburgh Airport.
That were a con all along. I reckon they've just gone past the Norton House.'
'Unless they turn off for Ratho, it's Newbridge roundabout next,' said Skinner. 'From there they can go anywhere. North over the Forth Bridge, although I don't think they'll fancy stopping to pay the tolls; Falkirk and Stirling up the M9; or due West to Glasgow on the M8, and then, as far south as the road goes.'
'How far can they get on a tank of fuel in that thing?' asked Arrow.
'Hard to say, but the bigger the engine, the bigger the tank.
Even though that's a three-litre, he should get to Birmingham easy, maybe London at a pinch, without stopping. If he goes south and gets into heavy traffic we've got a problem.'
'As long as he's got that paint on his arse, he's the one with the problem.' •Let's hope so,' said Skinner. 'Watch that tracker. He should be at Newbridge any second now.' "
Arrow bent close to the little screen. The reflected glow turned his face green in the darkness of the cabin. -•Here we go. He's swinging. He's going left. Yes, he's off. l's the MS, Bob. He's off to Glasgow.'
93
No one came to the door when Maggie Rose rang the bell. The porch of the Skinner bungalow in Fairyhouse Avenue was lit and welcoming, but no one answered.
'Surely they haven't gone out?' she said to Neil Mcllhenney. •Can't imagine so. But then the boss didn't tell them we were oming. It was an afterthought of his, this baby-sitting idea.'
'God, Neil, don't let Sarah hear that. Remember, the party line 5 that he decided he should expect anything from these characters, o with him and Andy out of town, he sent us down here as irotection.' •She'll never believe that.'
'Maybe not, but she won't take it out on us. She's a nice lady, lie doctor.'
'Try the bell again.'
They rang again, listening hard to make certain the bell had sounded, and waited for two full minutes more, before deciding to check round the back. They crept softly along the gravel towards the back door, and saw as they went that the garage door was open. Skinner's car was there, but Sarah's was gone. The garden was lit from the unshaded kitchen window arid from the back door, which lay slightly ajar.
They had their pistols drawn as they slipped nervously into the house. Moving quickly through the deserted kitchen, they went from room to room on the ground floor, checking each one cautiously. Then they climbed the short flight of stairs to the attic, to satisfy themselves that the three upper rooms were empty also, before returning to the living-room for a second look.
They saw that Sarah had prepared for Julia's arrival. A big oval plate of freshly cut ham and tomato sandwiches, American-sized, t on the low glass coffee-table between the two sofas. Alongside it were two plates, two china mugs, knives, spoons and paper napkins. Nothing there was out of place.
They went back into the kitchen. The coffee filter was primed and ready, waiting to be switched on. Two glasses, a bottle of Smirnoff Silver and a tin of diet Coca-Cola sat on the work surface beside the tall fridge-freezer. Without touching anything, Mcllhenney crouched down and studied each item closely.
One glass was three-quarters full. A few bubbles clung to the side, and a slice of greenish lime floated on the surface. Lipstick traces showed on the rim. He leaned over the glass and sniffed.
'Bacardi and tonic,' he said. He looked at the other glass. A slice of lemon was wedged at its foot in a finger of a clear liquid. He sniffed that, too, but found no trace of alcohol. He looked again at the bottle. Vodka and Coke in the making, probably.
'So what happened to them?' he asked Maggie. 'Sarah's got a drink on the go when Julia arrives, and she comes into the kitchen to mix one for her guest. She gets the ice and lemon from the fridge, drops them in the glass. Takes the Smirnoff and the Coke from the fridge as well. And that's as far as she gets… Then they decide to go to the pictures? Hardly!'
Maggie's face broke into a sudden, relieved smile.
'Neil, she's a doctor, isn't she? Not just with the police, but in a general practice. She's had an emergency call-out. Rather than leave Julia here, she's taken her with her. That's your mystery.'
Mcllhenney looked sceptical. 'Oh aye, and being an ACC's wife she just runs out the back door and leaves it wide open, with all the lights on.'
Maggie grimaced. 'I see what you mean.'
Then she made a decision.
"Look, let's wait here anyway, as ordered. But in the meantime let's try and check her practice. Then we can call in to Brian Mackie, when he gets back to the office.'
94
Glasgow reflected yellow in the night sky ahead. Closer at hand they saw below them the lights of the Harthill Service Area, as the helicopter continued to track the Vauxhall westward along the M8. They matched its speed, keeping a mile behind it.
Occasionally, Skinner fancied he glimpsed tail-lights in the distance. The car was travelling fast, at just over 80 mph, but not so fast as to attract the attention of the motorway patrols.
Skinner checked his watch. The time was 11:23 pm, yet it seemed like an age since the Senator had raced into the Gyle Centre. He hated to be bottled up; it made him feel claustrophobic. Eventually he could stand the tension inside him no longer. He dug his mobile telephone from the top right pocket of his black leather jacket.