Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

'Granted.'

The DCC raised an eyebrow. 'Thank you, Chief Inspector. Okay, time's pressing. Call your contact through in Glasgow and get what you can from her. If you need to go through there to meet her, do it. I'll brief Neil when he gets back from his lunch date. On your bike.'

Mackenzie nodded and left, with Haggerty at his heels. Dennis remained behind. 'I could have a detachment of special forces close by, just in case,' she said.

'Too many people on the ground, and unnecessary at this stage,' Skinner maintained. 'Look, if things really do look like going pear-shaped, we can have a Strathclyde armed-response team there pretty fast. But somehow I don't think they will. Frankie Jakes is supposed to be Macedonian, according to Willie's contact. Maybe he's just another cousin, and Samir went to look him up. This investigation is full of maybes.' He looked at her. 'How are you coming along with Sean Green's new identity?'

'It's done. This afternoon he'll be ready to call Bassam and ask for an interview for the job. After that we trust to luck and Sean's persuasiveness, which can be pretty effective, I assure you.'

'Good. Maybe this weekend we'll find out what we really need to know… what the hell these guys are doing here.'

As Dennis nodded agreement, the phone rang on Skinner's desk: his direct line. He picked it up, his mind still on their discussion. 'Yes?' he exclaimed, not realising that he sounded irritable.

'I'm sorry,' said Sarah. 'Have I called at a bad time?'

'No, no,' he assured her quickly, then put a hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Dennis. 'I have to take this,' he told her. She nodded and left.

'Sorry,' he said, as the door closed. 'I had someone with me.'

'Something important?'

'Very.'

'Another shitty fan, eh, Bob? That's the story of your life.'

'I wish my life was that simple. Where are you?'

'I'm still in Key West, but not for long. I'm about to check out.'

'You're coming home, then?' Part of him wanted to add 'please', yet the rest felt ambivalent.

'Not straight away. I'm going back to Buffalo; I've made some decisions and I need to be there to put them into effect. I'm going to sell all the property there, both my parents' house and the up-state lakeside cabin; the cars as well, the furniture, everything. I'm finished with that city, Bob.'

'And once you've done that?'

'Once I've instructed estate agents, and all the other people I need to see, I'll come back to Scotland to you and the kids.'

'Still in time for Christmas, though?'

'Of course.'

'And after that?'

'I'll tell you when I see you.'

He felt his stomach flip. 'Not "we'll talk about it"? You'll tell me?'

'I'm sorry: that was badly put. When I get back we'll sit down and have a discussion and compare our respective ideas about the future. How's that?'

'Come on, Sarah,' he said. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Leave it. I'm sorry I said it. I'm not going to discuss the state of our marriage over the phone. How are things with the Justice Minister, incidentally?'

In spite of himself, he bridled. 'You can leave that out, too. You're the one living in the…' He stopped himself before 'glass house', but she caught his meaning. There was a long, expressive silence.

'How did we get like this?' she murmured, eventually.

'We've just lost the plot, honey, that's all,' he replied, wearily. 'Can we pick it up again?'

'I don't know. That's what I don't want to discuss at long distance. I'll see you in a few days.' She hung up, leaving him staring out of his beloved office window on to a world that was in danger, for the first time in his adult life, of moving out of his control.

As soon as she stepped through the front door Maggie kicked off her heavy black shoes and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Twenty minutes later she had showered, towel-dried her thick red hair and changed into a sweatshirt, jeans and slippers.

As she stepped into the big kitchen she glanced at her watch, wondering what had delayed Stevie, until at that moment she heard his key turn in the Yale lock. She was there to kiss him as he stepped through the door. 'Hi, boy,' she greeted him. 'What kept you?'

'Mary,' he said. 'She wanted to fill me in on the latest about Ross Pringle.'

'Mmm,' Maggie murmured. 'That's terrible, isn't it? How is she? What did Mary say?'

'She's still unconscious, and nobody's taking any bets that she'll ever come round. Apparently Dan's just devastated. He collapsed completely at the hospital. They had to sedate him, then Mario took him and his wife home. He wouldn't let her hand go, apparently.'

She frowned. 'The whole thing's tragic,' she said. She led him into the kitchen and poured him a large glass of red wine from a bottle that had been left over from the previous evening, then went to the sink and drew herself a large glass of water from the tap. 'I'm not surprised that Dan's taken it like that. It's in contrast to the way George Regan's handling his loss, but they're very different people. Dan's emotions have always been closer to the surface.'

'Plus, he's older,' said Stevie. 'He probably figures he owes it to his wife to be with her.'

'I doubt it. Elma's always struck me as the stronger emotionally of the two of them. I'd guess that he needs to be with her.'

'Are there any other kids?'

'They have a son, Samuel. He's at least ten years older than Ross, maybe more than that; he works in Hong Kong with a merchant bank. I don't think he and Dan got on: he never talked about him much.'

'They'll have to get on now.'

'It might not be as easy as that. Closeness between parents and kids isn't something that can be switched on at will.'

He sipped his Coronas. 'You sound bitter when you say that. Personal experience?'

She nodded, looking at her glass. It was empty, so she refilled it. 'Yes. My mother and I never got on; it wasn't my fault, at least I don't think it was. There was no bond between us, that's all.'

'And your father? You realise you've never talked about your parents?'

'My father's dead. I've never talked about him because I don't want to, don't want even to think about him, ever again. Does that shock you?'

'No. If he makes you sound like that, I don't want you to think about him. I'll never ask you again, I promise.'

Her smile returned. 'You know, Stevie Steele, you can be a real love sometimes.'

He chuckled. 'Only sometimes?'

'Okay, all the time. But some times even more than others, like yesterday, when I told you my news. Honestly, I wasn't sure how you'd take it, with us still being so new to each other. But you looked so happy, you made me want to cry.'

'If you're right, I'm still just as happy, I promise you. You're still sure, are you?'

'Yes, but I'm a copper, so I need evidence.' She reached into her handbag, and held up a package wrapped in paper. 'I can't wait any longer. I left a bit early today so that I could go into a chemist where nobody was likely to know me, and I bought this. It's a testing kit:

He laughed out loud. 'I wondered why you were drinking all that water.'

Maggie patted her stomach. 'It's having its effect, too.' Still holding the kit, she headed for the door. 'I won't be long… at least I don't think I will.'

'Do you want me to come with you?' He was joking, but for a second she took him seriously.

'I know how to aim, thanks,' she retorted. 'Shut up or I'll use your beer tankard for the sample.'

He watched her as she climbed the stairs, then drained his glass. As he poured himself a refill, he realised that his hands were trembling and that his heart was beating fast. He walked to the window and looked out into the night. The weather had become progressively colder, and he thought that he could see a few snowflakes in the beams of the streetlights. He smiled as he dreamed of building a snowman in the garden.