Quintin Jardine - Gallery Whispers

'I want to brief you on something that's developed. And to ask your view on what I intend to do about it.' He paused, as the door closed behind the secretary. 'I've called a meeting of heads of Special Branch from all eight Scottish police forces; two o'clock this afternoon, in this building.

'But before I get round to that, let's deal with the really important stuff. Sarah called me from Edinburgh Royal, while she was waiting for the body to arrive from Oldbams. She said that she was worried about you; that you weren't yourself this morning.

'I can tell just from looking at you that she's right. What's up, son?'

Martin picked up his mug, took a sip to test the temperature, then a mouthful. He held it, cradled in both hands, for several seconds, staring across the room and out of the long window. Finally his gaze swung round to Skinner.

'It's Alex and me,' he said, at last. 'We're in bother. I think we might be breaking up.'

There was an edge to the silence which filled the room. Andy looked at his friend, trying to gauge his reaction.

'Anybody else involved?' Bob asked quietly.

'Yes,' Martin replied. 'But not in the sense you mean. Mitchell Laidlaw's the problem; Laidlaw, and the mighty firm of Curie Anthony and Jarvis. With every day she spends there, Alex's ambitions are becoming more clear. Before she graduated, they were vague, and involved going to the Bar.

'Under Mitch's influence she's become hooked on litigation. That's the specialist area she wants to follow, and being Alex, she's only interested in becoming the best there is.'

'Do you begrudge her that?'

'No, I don't. But her ambition and my hopes for the two of us don't fit together any more. We've been dancing around this for a while now. This morning I brought it to a head. I asked her whether she wants to break off our engagement to concentrate on her career.'

Skinner gasped. 'That's a bit heavy, Andy, isn't it?'

'Maybe it is. But she didn't say "no".'

The silence returned, ever more palpable. Bob stood up, walked over to the window and looked out. 'Is this purely about Alex?' he asked, quietly. 'Or does her mother come into it too?'

'What d'you mean?'

'You know bloody well what I mean. You tell me you see her career as a rival; but are you coloured in that by what you know about Myra?

Let's not piss about: Alex's mother was a serial adulteress. Are you asking yourself whether this new-found ambition others, this lusting after something other than you, might be some sort of genetic inheritance setting itself free?'

Martin threw back his head. 'Jesus, Bob!' The words burst out in a great gasp.

'Alex isn't a bit like her mother. It's you she takes after, and that's what really worries me. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but all that time that Myra was screwing around, you hadn't the faintest idea of it, because you were so wrapped up in the job. If she hadn't been killed, your marriage would probably have gone on.'

Skinner snorted. 'You think it would have survived her being pregnant by another man?'

'Sure. She'd either have had the kid aborted without your knowledge, or she'd just have told you that it was yours. You'd never have doubted that for a second.'

The big man's eyes narrowed. 'So my family's subordinate to my job is it?' he whispered.

'No it's not,' Martin snapped. 'Not any more. You've sorted out your priorities. But you've done it from a position at the top of the tree. Alex hasn't, and she's only just started to climb. I hadn't thought of it this way before, but if I think of you and Myra, then look at Alex and me, the roles are reversed.

'I'm not saying for one moment that I'm afraid Alex will start sleeping around: but sometimes I'm not so sure about me.'

'Ahh Christ,' said Skinner wearily, shaking his head. 'Life's never easy, pal, is it. Look take it from me, my daughter loves you. Do you love her?'

'Of course.'

'Well? Isn't that enough?'

'That's what I'm asking Alex. So far, I've had no answer, just silence. And to me, that's speaking volumes.'

There is nothing especially mysterious about Special Branch. Every police force has such a unit within its organisation, and they link loosely together into a network which is responsible for protecting the public against subversion, terrorism and other threats outside the bounds of run-of-the-mill criminal activity.

Nevertheless, looking at the eight officers, seven men and one woman, who were seated at the conference table as he came into the room, Bob Skinner experienced an unusual sense of personal power, and pride. He was Chief Constable only on a temporary basis, during the absence of Sir James Proud, struck down by a mild heart attack while on holiday in Spain. Sir John Govan, the outgoing Strathclyde Chief, and new security adviser to the Secretary of State, could easily have assumed command of the operation he was about to outline, and yet it was Govan himself who had proposed Skinner for the task.

'Bob has a track record in this type of situation,' he had said. 'The rest of us are pen-pushers by comparison, so let's all of us agree to put our people under his command until this crisis is resolved.'

Skinner and the two men who had accompanied him into the room took their places at the head of the table. As they did so, the eight others looked at them in complete surprise. The DCC scanned their faces. Detective Inspector Mario McGuire, his own Special Branch chief, Superintendent Harry McGuigan from Strathclyde, then Lorraine Morrison, from Tayside, Walter Paton, from Central, Joe Impey from Dumfries and Galloway, Brian Burns from Fife, Andrew Macintosh, from Grampian and lan Evans from Northern, detective inspectors all.

'Good afternoon, people,' he said briskly. 'Welcome to Fettes, and thank you all for getting here promptly.

'I know that in your roles as heads of Special Branch, you maintain regular contact with each other, so wholesale introductions aren't necessary. However, for those of you who don't know my companions, the officer on my right is Detective Chief Superintendent Andy Martin, my Head of CID, and on my left is Detective Sergeant Neil Mcllhenney, my Executive Assistant.

'Mr Martin is here as my deputy in these matters. I'll explain DS Mcllhenney's role later. Now, to business. All of you, even Mario McGuire, my own head of Special Branch, thought that this was going to be an ordinary liaison meeting. It isn't, and for that small deception, I apologise.

'So why the hell are you here? Don't worry, I'm going to tell you, but first, I want to say this. You all work on a confidential basis, and know the importance of keeping your mouths shut. This meeting isn't just confidential, it's Top Secret. Neither its existence nor its subject are to be discussed with anyone, other than members of this group, or with your own Chief Constables. In this instance, all of you are working directly under my command, so that's an order.'

He picked up McGuire's glance. 'Yes, Mario, that applies to you too. I know your wife's a Detective Chief Inspector, but she doesn't need to know about this.'

Skinner looked round the table. 'You'll all remember a couple of years ago, when we had major problems here in Edinburgh with a gang of terrorists at the Festival.' There was a general murmur of confirmation round the table, and a few nods.

'Well this time, we may have something similar on our hands.

'Like all of you,' he continued, 'I'm part of a secret network. Mr Martin, Neil and Mario are aware of this, and now you should be too, if only so that you understand the strength of what we're dealing with here. Sir John Govan may have taken over from me as the Secretary of State's security adviser and good luck to him…' Only Martin and Mcllhenney caught the edge of bitterness in Skinner's tone. '… but that doesn't affect my links with, or my position within, Ml 5.'