'You're not asking him, you're telling him. Neither of you has any option any more. Hilary Guillaum's been murdered, remember. That's major international news, and the enemy's already called a satellite news channel with the story. Of course, they used the code-word. On the way down here, I told my guys that they could confirm the information, and give the details. It'll be on air in the States by now, and here too for those who tune in to that station. Everyone else will follow it up. The genie's out of the bottle, Alan.'
Ballantyne spun round to face Skinner. ' You said they could confirm it' he shouted, suddenly red-faced. 'On whose authority?'
'On mine!' Skinner roared back. This is a murder. It's my city, and I'm in charge of the investigation – not you. My call. End of story – or you can find yourself a new security adviser.'
The Secretary of State looked at him with a mixture of amazement and apprehension, realising that he was seeing just a flash of the danger in the man: the frightening Skinner of whom Sir James Proud had spoken. Quickly he backed down.
'Bob, you are quite right. Please forgive my outburst. This affair is preying on me. I will do as you recommend. And I'd like you to be with me when I confront the press. I have a number to contact the PM, so let's raise him now. Then we'll have Licorish call the press conference. Let's see. It's nearly four now. Shall we invite everyone here for, say, 5:30?'
Skinner's anger was, as usual with him, quick to dissipate.
'Sounds fine, Alan. Sorry I blew my cool, too.
'Where is the Prime Minister anyway?'
'He's at EuroDisney with his family – and with a small press contingent. He's given all of us orders to be nice to the French, though God knows why. This seems to be his way of setting an example.'
'OK, then, so you dig him out of the Magic Kingdom and update him on the real world. Meanwhile, I'll get Licorish moving.'
Skinner hurried from the residence, and, from his car, he called the Director of Information and instructed him to set up a meeting with the press for the time that he and Ballantyne had agreed.
Then he called Martin.
•Miss Charlotte Mays. Solicitor. Age thirty-something. Partner in a firm called Goldstone and Ferns, Aberdeen. Everything there is to know, please. I'm on my way back.'
23
There must be fifty people in there.'
The Secretary of State was staring nervously at a monitor screen set up by the police audio-visual unit in the Special Branch Office suite. On the advice of Michael Licorish, the press briefing had been transferred to the main hall at Fettes Avenue, both because of the potential turn-out and because of the difficulty of providing full security cover at St Andrews House at such short notice.
'I can't ever recall such a turn-out for a press conference in Scotland. Can you. Bob?'
One or two. But they had to do either with murder or football.
You see, you only deal with politics as a rule, so when you have a press conference up here, or even at Westminster, you see the same half-dozen or so faces, again and again. Whereas if we have a briefing here that's to do with a really sensational murder case, we'll have a turn-out not far short of this one. Best of all, though, is if it's anything to do with football, say crowd misbehaviour, or stadium regulations. Then they're breaking down the doors trying to get in. The press are governed by the laws of supply and demand, just like any other business, and the sad fact is, Secretary of State, our stuff sells more papers than your stuff!'
Andy Martin, who had vivid memories of earlier occasions, looked at Skinner thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Ballantyne grunted. 'Sad fact indeed. Bob. Violence and soccer.
The twin opiates of the masses. Come on, Michael,' he said to Licorish, with forced humour, 'lead on and let's face the scribbling classes.'
There were six television crews crammed together on a hastily erected platform at the back of the hall, behind theatre-style seating which held around forty newspaper and broadcast journalists. Most were home-based Scots, but the numbers had been swelled by writers and broadcasters from England and beyond, currently in Edinburgh on assignment to cover the Festival, but pitched suddenly into the midst of the fastest breaking story of the day.
The three participants, with Licorish in front and Skinner bringing up the rear, entered from a door to the right of the table at which they were to sit. It was placed in front of a simple blue backdrop, kept for media occasions, which had been assembled quickly that afternoon by Alan Royston, the police press officer.
The noisy air-extractors in the high-ceilinged hall had been switched off. The day outside was still blazing hot, and already many of the audience were perspiring freely.
Ballantyne took the seat in the centre of the table, with Skinner on his right. The two were introduced formally to their inquisitors by Michael Licorish. Ballantyne opened a blue folder, which he had carried with him into the hall, and produced a prepared statement which he began to read to the hushed assembly.
He recounted the events of the previous thirty hours, from the Waverley Centre explosion to the murder of Hilary Guillaum. He thanked the media for their restraint in withholding publication of the first threatening letter, saying that it had allowed full security measures to be put in place at each of the major Festival venues, without alarming the public unduly in the process. But he made no mention of the second letter.
As he reached his conclusion he said: "As most of you will know. Assistant Chief Constable Skinner also acts as my adviser on security matters. I am very pleased to say that at my request he has formed, within the past twenty-four hours, an elite antiterrorist squad to deal with this new and unexpected threat. I have assured him that he will have all the facilities he needs to enable him to catch this group and shut it down. He bears a heavy responsibility, but I have every confidence that he will succeed. At the same time, the public can have confidence that the security precautions which have been taken under his direction will prove effective, and that the horrifying actions perpetrated by this ruthless group will not be repeated.
The people of Scotland, whose Festival this is, have been targeted by this group of desperate men. They have given the lie to their bluster about freedom by their willingness to use violence against those same people whose imaginary cause they purport to champion. I ask all Scots, and those who are among us as our guests, to show their support for the actions I have taken by declaring business as usual at the Edinburgh Festival. I pledge that these bandits will be hunted down and punished to the full extent of the law. We can all feel safe under the protection of Mr Skinner and his team, while these terrorists should know that they will have no refuge while they remain among us. Scotland will not give in to them. The Government will never accede to their demands.'
Ballantyne paused, and stared across at the rows of seats, then beyond them at the television cameras. 'I give them warning that their days are numbered. Thank you all.'
Skinner's face was visibly grim as BaUantyne finished. He had been staggered by the Secretary of State's assumption of copyright over the creation of the anti-terrorist squad. And he had been shocked by the way that he had been set up. He knew that Ballantyne's promise of total safety at the Festival was a sham.
Equally he knew who had been placed squarely in the firing line should things go badly wrong. All of his burgeoning doubts about the Secretary of State's valour in a crisis crystallised finally into a certainty that the man was innately treacherous.