Head Shot

'I'm stil in Malaysia. There's been a delay on my flight, but I should be on the move soon. Sorry to come between you and the Lakers, or the Bul s or whoever…'

'The Wizards, buddy,' said Doherty. 'Always the Wizards, for my sins.'

'Basketbal 's a closed book to me, mate; those two names, plus Michael Jordan, are the only ones I know.'

'What about Magic Johnson?'

'Played for Glasgow Rangers, as far as I know… at least he did every now and again.' He drew a line across the sporting exchange.

'How's the new job going?' he asked.

'Great, so far. Truth is I'm glad to be back where I belong.'

Skinner had known Joe Doherty since the American's spell as the resident FBI man in the US Embassy in London. The election to the White House of an old col ege chum had led to his being plucked from Grosvenor Square to an exalted post with the National Security Council.

The change of tenancy in Washington had brought that to an end, but the new incumbent had been sufficiently impressed to send Doherty back to the Bureau as second-in-command and, as most insiders saw it, director in-waiting.

'Andy told you the story about Sarah's folks, then.'

'Yeah. I'm really sorry, man. Of course I've done what he asked, and a little more. Two of my people, rather than the police, will meet you at JFK, and arrange your onward transport. We'll fly you upstate in one of our aircraft.'

'Hey, Joe, I didn't mean for you to get the Bureau involved in ferrying me about.'

'Don't worry about that for one second. We know who our friends are, especially since last September, and I'm sending a clear signal to the cops on the ground that you are one of them. Now, what else can I do for you? I know you didn't just cal to improve your working knowledge of the NBA.'

Skinner laughed lightly. 'Al knowledge is power, mate; I thought that was your lot's motto. But you're right; I was wondering if you'd get someone to look into that legendary computer of yours and see if you can come up with a list of unsolved homicides where robbery was the motive…'

'Jesus, Bob, it'l take a lot of paper to print that out!' Doherty interrupted.

'Humour me on this, eh?'

It was as if he could hear Doherty's brain click into gear. 'Okay. You want anything else while we're in there?'

'Yes. Can you also print me out a list of murders, also unsolved, where a wire ligature was used?'

'I guess we can manage that too. But I hope you got a good-sized document case with you.'

'A Zero Hal iburton attache, my son. The strongest there is.'

'We'l fil it for you; you can bet on that.' Doherty paused. Skinner heard a click and guessed that he was lighting a cigarette.

'Haven't you chucked smoking yet?' he asked.

'Say that in a soprano voice and you'd sound just like Philippa. Have you any idea how many people around the world rely on guys like me to keep them in a job?'

'Sure. I've met several; all of them were either oncologists or cardiologists.'

'I prefer to think about the little guys in the tobacco plantations and on the production lines. But whatever way you look at it, I'm performing a public service. Anyhow, what are you going to do with al this stuff I'm going to get for you?'

The? Nothing. I just want to help the investigating officers al I can, that's al.'

'Sure. By shoving firecrackers up their asses… I know you.'

The Scot chuckled again. 'If they're not doing it already I'm sure they'd get round to it eventual y. I just thought we could help the process along, that's all. Kid gloves, Joe; I'll wear kid gloves, I promise you.' He paused; for a second or two, Doherty thought they had lost the line. 'He never did say it in the movie, you know,' he resumed, at last.

'Uh?'

'He never did say it.'

'What?'

'Play it again, Sam.'

Skinner could almost hear the American's bewilderment as he ended the cal and headed for the boarding gate.

11

Stil, sleep failed them. They made love again, but again, the usual drowsiness did not fol ow. There was something there stil, something unsaid, a question begging to be asked. And so, eventually, Mario did.

'When was the last time you saw him?'

'I told you. When I grabbed Eilidh's hand and hauled her out of that kitchen. The last time I saw my father was twenty-three years ago, and he was battering blood and snot out of my mother.'

'Never since then?'

'Never.'

'Have you ever felt the need to find him?'

'Never. Why in God's name would I want to do that? The man was a beast.'

'How does Eilidh feel?'

'I don't know, because I've never talked to her about what happened.

She was very young; to this very day, she might not have realised what happened to her.'

'What if he does turn up, out of the blue?'

'Then you deal with him. Okay? I real y mean it; if I confronted him I don't know what would happen.'

'Okay'

She jumped out of bed and went into the en-suite bathroom. Returning, she slid in beside him once more, face down, propped on her elbows, looking at him in the dim crystal light of their beside alarm. 'There's guilt there, Mario; so much of it. I feel guilt over what happened to my mother. If I'd kept quiet it would have saved her al that pain. On the other hand, I feel guilt about not waking up sooner to what was happening, to the fact that there was something terribly wrong about our

"wee secret", my dad's and mine. If I had, maybe I could have prevented it from happening to Eilidh.

'And even now, when you ask me whether I want to trace him, I feel guilt because I don't. What if he found another woman? What if he had more daughters? What if he stil has? By doing nothing, I'm shutting my eyes to that possibility. The truth behind it al is that I don't think I've got the guts to face him.

'I just hoped he was dead, Mario. And now I find out that he isn't.'

'What's his first name?' he asked, quietly.

'Jorge,' she answered, pronouncing the name in the Iberian fashion.

'Jorge Xavier Rose: my grandmother was Portuguese, and he lived in Lisbon for the first few years of his life. His father decided to see out the war there. That's where the Christian names came from.' She guessed the reason for his question. 'Listen, if you're planning to do anything about this, I don't want to know,' she whispered.

'Okay'

She leaned across and kissed him. 'Now can we get some sleep?'

'Unlikely, I'd have thought,' he murmured, cupping her right breast in his big hand. 'Not without tiring ourselves out a bit more.'

They did, until final y, the drowsiness overtook them.

12

DC Alice Cowan was in the office when Mcllhenney stepped into the small Special Branch suite. 'Morning, sir,' she said, with just a shade of caution in her voice.

'And a good morning to you. Constable,' he greeted her. 'If you haven't heard, I'm the new broom.'

'Yes, I had heard, sir. Mr McGuire told me yesterday afternoon.'

'Told you, but has he asked you yet?'

'What do you mean?' she asked, stil in a cagey tone.

'You know damn fine. Has he asked you whether you'l go to the Borders with him? I know he rates you.'

Her cheeks turned a delicate pink. 'Yes. He's asked me.'

'So?'

'So I told him that I'd like to stay here. That's if you want me,' she added. 'I know that Special Branch commanders sometimes like to bring in their own people.'

'Their cronies, you mean? Their yes-men, like the guy you replaced, Tommy Gavigan? Relax, Alice; that's not my style. If my friend McGuire rates you, that's all the more reason for me to want to keep you.'