`Who's with us?'
Inspector McGuinness, from Hawick, and a bloke called Fender, another Constable.'
And we're all going towards the cockpit?'
`That's right.'
Okay, let's just head for it.'
The thrashing of Skinner's legs grew more violent, as if the mud was turning to glue. All at once it stopped. 'Over there, Kevin. That thing — it looks like a doll. I'm going to look at it. That's what it is. It's a doll. See? The arms and legs are all out of their sockets the way dolls go when you twist them. The head's all turned round, too. Wait for me a minute, I'll just put it right'
He paused, as if concentrating on something. To O'Malley and Sarah, watching him, it was as if the air in the small room began to tingle. And then he screamed.
A pitiful heartrending scream.
`What is it, Bob, what is it?' asked O'Malley, his voice shaking in spite of himself.
It's wee June, Kev, it's wee June!'
`Who's wee June?'
He was sobbing in his sleep, uncontrollably. 'My pal Dougie Fiddes, from Motherwell.
He's only a couple of years older than me. He and his wife, Shona, arrived in our hotel a fortnight ago, at the end of our first week; them and their baby, wee June.
Aw, Kev, I was playing with her in the pool last week, on the day we left. She's only two, and now look at her, look at her. Oh man, it's just no' fair!' He paused, his voice catching on his sobs.
And look at me, Kevin. I've pissed myself!'
O'Malley looked down and realised suddenly that Skinner was speaking the truth, past and present.
`Bob, we're going to come up now. That's more than enough for this session. On one: Five. Four. Three. Two. One.'
Skinner's eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling in horror. His hand clutched at his sodden groin.
`God,' he whispered, trembling. 'In my life I've been shot, stabbed and half-strangled, but I've never had an experience as awful or as terrifying as that. I remember it now, as clear as a bell, yet •
`Yet you've been having the experience, subconsciously, for half your life,' said O'Malley.
'Your way of dealing with something that for most people would be too awful to contemplate has been to shove it right down into the depths of your mind, and as I said yesterday, to build a wall around it. I've had other patients who have done that, but they've all been dysfunctional personalities. For you to have suppressed it all and achieved what you have is remarkable. In fact, it suggests-' He stopped. 'No, I'll keep that thought to myself, until we're all through.'
Sarah was still shaking as she came to stand beside him. 'Do you want to go on, Bob? We know about the doll now, but we still have to confront the man in the cottage. Are you strong enough for that?'
He smiled up at her, weak, white-faced, but determined. 'I have to do the rest of it, love.
But in one more session. Next time, I promise to stay continent. That wasn't just an awful experience. It was very embarrassing… then and now.
`Yet,' he said, 'at the time, neither McGuinness nor Pender mentioned that part of it. I think it was because they'd done the same themselves.'
EIGHTY-THREE
‘That's a bit of a turn-up, Adam,' said Andy Martin. 'It must be a bit awkward for you, finding your boss right in the middle of the situation.'
I work for the Ministry,' said Arrow, 'not for the individual. It doesn't worry me a bit. In fact, I'm pretty pleased with myself. The idea of having such a corrupt bastard at the heart of the country's defence: I tell you, it would curdle any soldier's blood. What I'd really like to do is offer him a pearl-handled revolver and the key to the library — except he wouldn't have the balls to do the decent thing. Mind you, if I didn't have your two coppers around, I might be inclined to help him. But no, we'll go back to London, we'll pick up the tapes from the spooks and play them to the pair of them, and then your lads can interview them formally.'
Standing in the Swinbrook churchyard, with Donaldson's mobile phone in his hand, Arrow heard Martin suck in his breath. 'I don't know about that, Adam. Morelli's very heavy duty.
I don't think it's fair to lump that on Dave's shoulders. If Bob was fit he'd be on the first plane down. As for me, I'm a bit tied up here with our other live prospect. I'll have to consult the Chief. I suspect he'll want to handle this one himself.'
One knight to another,' chuckled Arrow grimly.
`That's right. Anyway, for now, you get your prisoners back London. I'll be in touch.'
Martin pushed the 'End' button and strode back into Sawyer's study.
`Right, sir; he said. 'Let's go over this again.
The man was seated in a hard-backed chair, with Sammy Pye standing, stern-faced, behind him. He was still wearing his oily, grimy overalls.
`How many more times?' he snarled. `Metal-working is my hobby. I'm a blacksmith. My wife is into leather.' A chortle welled up in young Sammy Pye's throat, but was choked off short by a single glance from the Chief Superintendent.
`She's a tailor by training, and she runs a dress-making business from the house. Lately she's been designing her own range. She's always worked in spun fabrics, but a few weeks ago she came up with a concept in leather. She bought that length to try it out.'
`Red leather, Mr Sawyer? That's pretty garish for clothing, is it not?'
An eyebrow rose as he looked up at the detective. 'Colour selection is not my wife's greatest asset as a designer. You saw that skirt she was wearing. A bit bright for morning wear, you'll agree.'
Is that all she's made in that material?' asked Martin. 'There's quite a bit missing from the bolt.'
Somehow, Sawyer managed to shake his head and shrug his shoulders simultaneously.
'She did make something else, but it was a disaster. She found that it's too difficult to work with the bloody stuff on anything more complex than a skirt. She was supposed to be making a tailored top, but it wound up looking like a red bag with holes in it.'
`How about your metal-work? What sort of things do you do?' Anything. Sculptures in steel, wrought-iron gates, furniture…
`Cabinets?'
`Yes,' said Sawyer warily. 'I could do… but I haven't.' `You haven't made a steel box,'
Martin signed with his hands about this wide, this long, this deep?'
`No.'
And you haven't bound it in red leather?'
`No!'
`Nor decorated it with gold paint, of the type we found in the lower part of the cupboard in your wife's studio?'
`No!'
Okay.' Martin paced across the small room, and back again.
`Let's leave that for now. Let's talk about explosives instead. Your company uses them, doesn't it, for live missile tests?' `Yes.' Sawyer shifted in his chair.
And you admit that you are thoroughly experienced in handling and priming them?'
`Yes, I am,' he said grudgingly.
`You have to keep a meticulous record of their use, of course.'
Of course.'
In that case, can you explain why, at your factory, which my Chief Inspector has just searched, there's a discrepancy in those records? Why you actually have about three kilos less explosive there than your stock sheet says?'
`We had a live test firing from a Harrier a couple of weeks ago. My stock controller probably hasn't entered that withdrawal as yet.'
`Come on,' said Martin, 'he should have entered it as soon as it was taken out.'
`Yes, I know, but Griff was off with flu around that time. We probably slipped up. Look,' he said, standing up with his jaw stuck out aggressively, 'what have we got here? What do all these questions add up to? What's your allegation?'
I haven't alleged anything yet, Mr Sawyer. I've just established with your help that you have metal-working and munitions skills, that you're in possession of certain materials, and that you were in a certain area of London at a specific time. That's all I've done so far.