Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

He looked at her, his emotions churning, temptation gnawing at him, realising that he was approaching a pivotal moment in his life. He thought of his marriage, and asked himself, for the first time, whether he wanted to repair it, even if he could. 'I really would like to sleep for a bit, though,' he told her, to end the moment, as much as anything else.

She led him through to her bedroom, showed him the en suite shower room. As soon as she had left him alone, he stripped off his clothes, slipped under the duvet, and was gone in sixty seconds.

When he was awakened by a gentle touch on his shoulder, she was sitting on the edge of the bed; her blonde hair was perfectly arranged and she had changed from the casual clothes she had worn earlier into a dark business suit. She smiled down at him; for a second he was disorientated, then his eyes and his mind focused. 'Hi,' he mumbled, drowsily. 'What time is it?'

'Five to twelve.' She picked up a mug of coffee from her bedside table. 'Yours is there,' she said, nodding over his shoulder.

'Thanks.' He pulled himself up to sit beside her, picked up his mug from its coaster, and took a sip. 'Jesus, I needed that.'

Aileen laughed. 'Which? Sleep or the coffee?'

'Both.'

'How did things go in Florida… or don't you want to talk about it?'

'There's not a lot to talk about. Let's just say we reached some understanding of where we stand and what we really feel about each other. Before, there was anger on both sides, but I think we've worn that out. Sarah says she's going to do some thinking over the next few days. I suppose I'll do the same. I've got all sorts of worries in my head, but most of all the kids. What do you tell them at times like this?'

'The truth, I suppose, if they're old enough to understand it.'

'They're old enough to be hurt by it.'

'So are you. It's in your eyes.' She ruffled his hair. The duvet was folded back to his waist, and her eyes were drawn to a ragged scar on his side. 'What's that?' she asked.

'That? It's where I was stabbed a few years back.'

She touched his face above the nose. 'What about that? Who gave you that one?'

'Big Lenny Plenderleith; he got plenty in return, though. I think that's how I earned his respect.' He grinned at her; there was a mischief in his eyes that she had never seen before. 'How many scars do you have, then?'

She jumped off the bed, unfastened her trousers and pushed them down enough for him to see a faint line on her lower abdomen, to the right. 'Appendix,' she said, then fastened herself in again. 'When I was twelve. All the rest are on the inside.'

'I'd like to heal those.'

'Maybe you can't; maybe no one can. Just make sure you don't give me any more.'

'I promise I won't do that. So talk: these things you mentioned, tell me them.'

She drank some more coffee, then set down her mug. 'Okay,' she said, 'but first I've got a question for you. Did you know that Sir John Govan was being replaced as the First Minister's security adviser?'

She could read the surprise on his face, so she knew his answer before he spoke it. 'No, I had no idea.'

Aileen smiled. 'That's good. If you had, my next question was going to be "Why the hell didn't you tell me about it?" But you would have, wouldn't you?'

'Of course, but I'd have expected you to be consulted.'

That's not the way our First Minister works. Tommy wants his own man, not someone with anyone else's seal of approval. He made the appointment all on his own.'

'So who is it?'

'One of your guys, Mr Jay.'

Bob sat bolt upright in bed, forgetting that he was naked. 'Greg Jay? You're joking.'

'You'll find I'm not, when you get to your office. He's full-time in post as of yesterday. But he was active before that, as I know to my cost. After our bust-up on Sunday, Murtagh had him monitor my telephone calls. He knows I called you in Florida; he knows you leaked the story to the press. He's threatened to ruin you if you don't behave, and to boot me out of the Cabinet in disgrace if I don't fall into line and go along with his plans.'

'Has he now?' Skinner growled. 'Let's see him try. It doesn't take a genius to guess who was behind the story, but let him prove it. You could stick John Hunter in the High Court and have a judge order him to reveal a source on pain of jail, and he wouldn't. If Greg Jay tried to interrogate him, he'd laugh in his face.'

'Couldn't he check your phone calls from the hotel?'

'He'd need the FBI's help, and it's no cert he'd get it; but even if he did he'd come up dry. I used Sarah's American cell-phone to call John, and he knows nothing about that'

'Don't underestimate him. He knows a lot about us. That's why I came to pick you up this morning; it's why I wouldn't speak to you on the phone yesterday. I was afraid that someone would be listening.'

'What does he know, exactly?'

She repeated everything that Murtagh had told her about their meetings, about the Arts Club, her Edinburgh flat, the Open Arms Hotel. 'Jay must have been tailing us all along, or me at least.'

Bob took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. 'No,' he said, quietly. 'I'd have known if he was doing that. He didn't follow anyone unseen, not me at any rate; he's not that good, and I'd have known if he had used any serving officer for the job. Somebody told him about those meetings.'

'But who could have?'

'Work it out. It wasn't me, so that leaves only one person.'

Aileen's brow knitted into a frown. 'No, it couldn't be; she wouldn't.'

'Lena McElhone isn't your personal secretary, love. She's your private secretary and that's different. She's a civil servant: if she was leaned on by the First Minister or his stooge, she'd have a career choice to make. I wouldn't blame her, but I'd be careful what I let her know in future, other than your official business.'

'Those bastards!' She spat the words out. 'I can just see them doing it too. What's this man Jay like?'

'Disgruntled, is how I'd describe him. He didn't quite make it to the top, but he thought he should have. I transferred him recently, out of Leith to another division; he accepted it at the time, but I could tell that he didn't like it. I don't think he liked me either.'

'Why not?'

He chuckled. 'It's not compulsory. Greg might seem like a quiet, sober, middle-aged man, but inside that drab exterior there lurks an ego at least as big as mine.'

'How did he get the job? Murtagh said something about him having friends.'

'He does. He's got Masonic connections for a start. I guess the First Minister must have sent out scouts and his name came up. He's no security expert, but I guess that isn't the main requirement for the post any more.' He looked at her. 'This is not good. What are these plans of wee Tommy's that you mentioned?'

'He intends, and I quote, "to take a lot tighter control over the police service". He also wants me, as his Justice Minister, to go along with it. He wants you, as he put it, to "lower your profile and stop interfering". Or else.'

'He's threatening us?'

'Exactly. If we don't play ball he'll do some leaking of his own, about you and me.'

Skinner laughed. 'But he doesn't have anything to leak. Or didn't until now. Innocent we may be, but what would the tabloids do if they were tipped off that we've been together in your flat?'

'Murtagh and Jay didn't know we were coming here,' she protested.

'They didn't have to, not necessarily. Do you know how small they can make bugs and cameras these days?'

Aileen gasped. 'Jay might have bugged this place?'

He shook his head. 'Relax, I don't really think so, not for a moment. But just to be on the safe side give me a spare key and I'll have the Strathclyde Special Branch sweep it. And this…' He reached across her and switched on her bedside radio, pressing pre-set buttons until he found Clyde Two, then turning up the volume. 'Enjoy that, boys,' he growled.