63
'For Christ's sake. Sir James, don't you people ever listen! I've told Skinner, ever since this thing started, that we will not give in to terrorism. Now even you have joined the chorus of appeasers. I will not cancel the Fireworks Concert.'
Proud Jimmy looked at his most formidable, as thunderclouds of rage gathered on his brow. Skinner sat back in the Secretary of State's comfortable armchair and waited for the storm to break.
But Ballantyne had not finished. 'Whatever these people may threaten, far from cancelling the event, I will attend personally!
And I won't be alone. I spoke with the Prime Minister himself this morning and he has insisted on being present also! My information directorate has just made that announcement.'
'Sweet Jesus,' said Skinner softly.
Ballantyne shot him a haughty glance, but continued to address the Chief Constable. 'Protection and detection is what I asked of Bob last week. As our opponents point out in their so-called communique, his anti-terrorist squad has protected very little so far, and detected even less. Let's see if things will improve now that you're back.' " 'Secretary of State,' Proud's tone was even, but Skinner knew that he was controlling himself with difficulty, 'I note what you say. However I have to tell you that I believe that you are being foolhardy, and that the Prime Minister should know better than to go along with you. If you insist, the Concert will proceed.
However, since my force is responsible for your safety, I will apply the following conditions. First, the general public will be barred from the Gardens, and only people with auditorium tickets will be admitted. Princes Street will be closed to all traffic between "w Mound and Lothian Road. Spectators will be confined to the North side of the street, well away from the railings. They'll hear the music and see the fireworks, but they won't see either you or Second, the arena will be kept in darkness throughout. The conductor's rostrum and the players will be lit, to the extent that is necessary, but the rest will be blacked out. Third, the PM's armoured Jaguar will be used to drive you and him right up to your seats. Fourth, soldiers in protective clothing will be positioned behind you both throughout the concert, acting as human shields. Fifth, as soon as the concert is over, you and the, Prime Minister will be collected by the Jag and driven from the Gardens to overnight accommodation of our choice, which will be made properly secure. On those conditions alone, the Concert may proceed.'
Ballantyne stood up behind his desk. 'Quite unacceptable. That is quite unacceptable,' he shouted. 'We will not skulk in and out like that.'
Proud rose up, too, massive and formidable in his uniform. His voice was still quiet and steady.
'Secretary of State, sit down, while I tell you something. If you do not accept every one of those conditions, and put yourself and the Prime Minister completely in my charge, then I will resign as Chief Constable, and will make it known, loudly and publicly, that I have done so because the Secretary of State for Scotland has no thought or concern for public or police safety and is prepared to put lives unnecessarily at risk, lives like that of young Barry Macgregor, who died yesterday obeying your orders, or of that baby who was killed because you thought it was right to have a party in the face of terrorism.'
Still standing, Ballantyne seemed to fight, for a few seconds, for breath and words. Eventually he gasped, 'You can't threaten me.
I'll… I'll…' a The storm broke. Proud Jimmy exploded in a fury that Skinner had never witnessed before. He roared at Ballantyne. 'Don't be a bloody fool, man! I am Scotland's senior Chief Constable. You're just another tinpot politician. You have no jurisdiction over me.
Of course I can threaten you. I have just threatened you. I am still fucking threatening you! And I will carry out my threat at once, if you cross me!'
He glared at Ballantyne for a moment, then went on, his voice lower, grinding out the words. 'I'll go further than that. I missed the first few days of this affair, but I've kept in touch with Bob '
Skinner here, who, in spite of your scorn, is in my opinion the finest policeman in Britain. I am now observing for myself the final stages of your transformation under fire from a moderately acceptable minister to a dangerous buffoon who is quite unsuited for high office. For now, Mr Ballantyne, Bob Skinner needs my support. But I tell you today that, once this affair is over, I will renew the promise I have just made to you, and wilt carry it out exactly as I have described, unless you yourself resign to make way for someone with the judgement and ability to do the job!'
He glanced down at Skinner, who sat in his chair marvelling silently at his Chief. 'Come on. Bob. Let's go and get on with the job of keeping this pathetic man alive!'
He turned his back on Ballantyne, and slammed out of the room. Skinner, for once in his life, followed silently and obediently at Proud Jimmy's heels.
64
At the Chief Constable's insistence. Bob took the rest of that Monday off.
'Take your lovely wife away to the seaside, man. Recharge those batteries for Thursday night.'
So, with Sarah signed off from her practice and her police duties for twenty-four hours, they headed down to Gullane. All three of the golf-courses were jam-packed, and so they decided instead to walk along the beach path to North Berwick, and back via the highway – a good twelve-mile hike. Dressed in T-shirts, shorts and Reeboks, they walked mostly in silence at first, finding and following a narrow path which wound down through a forest of head-high thorn bushes, then ran for a stretch along the perimeter of Muirfield golf course, before opening out on to the broad East Sands, far from the Gullane Bents car park. No day trippers knew of this attractive beach, and so it was always deserted, even on the finest of days. Sheltered, in a natural alcove among the dunes, from the light breeze which signalled the turning of the tide, they lay down to sunbathe for a while, stripping off their T-shirts to use as beach-mats.
Bob marvelled anew at the firmness of his wife's body as she lay on her back, high-breasted, nipples erect, eyes closed against the sun which glinted on her auburn hair.
'Perfection,' he whispered, and suddenly into his mind came a premonition of brown-haired sons and of a second shot at fatherhood. He felt himself harden, and laughed softly.
'Skinner?' She voiced his name as a question. Then, without needing an answer, she rolled sideways and on top of him, full of desire and with the suppleness of her youth, She made love to him quickly, lustily, hungrily, in the hoti August sunshine which bathed the deserted beach, mounted on; him as if he were her stallion, calling out to him in her pleasure.
When their journey was over, she lay upon him for a while longer,; their foreheads touching, covering his face with kisses. ,222 8 And then, as if she had read his earlier thought, she said: 'You and I are ready to be parents, my love. You deserve another shot, and I Couldn't get any broodier if I tried.'
He held her breasts in his hands as she lifted herself up from his chest. 'Well, honey,' he said, huskily. 'If that happens, we'll just have to call him Jimmy. After all, he did give me the afternoon off
65
The Mallard's Eighty-shilling ale was pouring at its best. The village clock showed 6:15 pm as they arrived back in Gullane.
Their hike, and the excitement of their sudden, spontaneous, sunwashed coupling on the deserted beach, had left them with a raging thirst, which they slaked with two pints each of Scottish Brewers' finest product, They gave some thought to dining in the bar, but eventually! they agreed that the evening was too good to be spent indoors.'