Skinner paused. 'At first, I wondered why anyone would pick a useless pissed-up wee twat like Salmon as a means of shafting me.
But as soon as I knew it was you I worked that one out for myself.
You were having it off with Alan Royston when I barred wee Noel from Fettes. You found out from him, on the pil ow, which journalist hated me the most.'
His smile was al gone now. 'Come, on Pam, don't disappoint me.
Protest your innocence.'
She looked at him, her once-soft eyes blazing. 'I can't. Because I can't believe what I'm hearing. I didn't realise you were so desperate that you could do something like this.'
'If you can't believe it,' he answered her, 'then why did you call Air UK this afternoon and book a flight for Amsterdam at five forty-five this evening?' He eyed her evenly. 'Mario called me just afterwards, on my mobile, while I was in the garden at Fairyhouse.'
He smiled cruelly at her surprise. 'Ever since I knew it was you, Special Branch have been bugging your phone.
'That's what the suitcase is about, Pam.' She started to speak, but he silenced her with a single look.
'No. Don't interrupt me. You are in very great danger. Just listen.
'I knew it was you, my pet, because of two stupid mistakes you made. The first was when you slipped me a blank sheet of paper to sign when you were my executive assistant. For a second or two, I actual y believed my own story, that I had given someone my autograph. Then I remembered that when I do that I always sign myself "Bob Skinner". The ful Monty signature, "Robert M.
Skinner", that's reserved for official letters and for cheques.'
He shook his head. 'I should have known from the first moment that I heard of the bribe al egation that it was an inside job. But there are some things that not even I'l face wil ingly. And I didn't, not until Alex brought me back my own signature from Guernsey.'
Skinner sighed, then went on, in a cold, even voice. 'The clincher came when you used Carole Charles's typewriter to type that note.
You never believed for an instant, did you, that anyone would match the note to that machine?
'It was handy, a standard electric typewriter unconnected with the Force, so you used it. After it was recovered from the flat in Westmoreland Cliff that Carole kept as a secret office, Neil and I brought it back to Fettes, and I put it in your room. It was there for a day or so until it went off to the production store. You had that time to use it.
'In the same way, as my assistant, you had every chance to hide that receipt in my desk later.
'If Cheshire hadn't found it, I suppose that eventual y you'd have dropped a hint that he should look there. It would have been a clumsy, accidental hint of course,' he said sarcastically, 'and you'd have been appal ed by the way it turned out.'
He paused. 'The typewriter was a huge mistake, really – far bigger than the signature, because who else could have used it? I knew I didn't. Not Neil Mcl henney, in a million years. Not Ruth McConnel, in the same million. Not Carole Charles, because she was dead when most of this happened. Not Jackie, because he didn't even know about the Westmoreland Cliff office, let alone about the bloody typewriter.
In fact when Jackie did claim to have typed the note, the whole thing screamed out at me, and the last of my disbelief vanished.'
Skinner grinned again, cruelly. 'Think about it, Pam. When was the last time that you and I made love? Before that note was tied to that typewriter. Ever since then, I've managed to have a headache.
'No, lady, only you could have used that machine to type the note.
I didn't want to believe it. At first I wouldn't let myself. Not because I'm deep in love with you, because I'm not. No, because I didn't want to admit to myself that you could con me, and maybe because I didn't want to find out why.'
He began to move slowly, menacingly, towards her. 'Then something happened,' he said, slowly, 'that made everything else insignificant.
'When Cheshire and Alex came back from Guernsey with the suggestion that the man who made the cash delivery might have been the same man who killed Leona and Catherine Anderson, and kidnapped the kids, at first I dismissed it out of hand.
'But when Peter Gilbert Heuer sent me this morning's tape, that outlandish idea turned out to be the truth. I made sure you were in earshot when I said that, out loud, in Andy's office this afternoon. I wanted to see how you'd react. It didn't take you very long to cal Air UK.
'Because you know, Pamela, that Heuer's involvement in both plots makes al of this a whole different game, one with lives at stake, and maybe yours among them.'
He was standing over her now, as she backed towards the window.
'That thing he let slip, my dear, that he knew of the Guernsey bank, means that you are linked to Peter Gilbert Heuer. It means that you gave him my unlisted number in Gullane, just as you gave it to Salmon. Most of al it means that you are linked to the murder of two women and the kidnapping of their children.'
He gripped her by the arms, just below the armpits, and he lifted her up, clear off her feet, to stare into her eyes, cold, hard and with menace.
'You must tell me now, Pamela,' he said, evenly. 'You have no choices left.' He lowered her to the ground, turned her around, and pushed her firmly towards the living room.
'You will tell me everything, because you are standing on ground more deadly than you know. And most of al…' for the first time, his tone betrayed his hurt, and huge disappointment, 'you wil tell me
… why?'
When she looked up at him, her eyes were almost as cold, as cruel as his. 'Why?' she repeated, in a calm, hard-edged voice which he had never before heard issue from her lips. But it reminded him at once of one that he had heard before, and had thought was silenced for ever.
'To take away your life,' she said. 'That's why. And, to quote you back at yourself, to look at the wreckage afterwards and say, "Quite fucking right too".'
82
'Sorry I'm late, Andy,' said Skinner stepping out of his car, parked at the rear of the headquarters building. The time was fifteen minutes to seven, and a green helicopter stood on the sports field, its blades stil and drooping.
'S'okay,' said Martin. 'Our stuff's on the chopper.' They began to walk towards the aircraft. 'Did you do the business you mentioned?'
He nodded. 'I won't be seeing Pamela Masters again.' Martin's head swivelled round in surprise.
'The lady's been a rucking roadblock in my life, pal,' Skinner said, vehemently. 'But not any more.'
'A clean break, I hope?' asked Martin, tentatively.
'Oh yes, as clean as they come.' The younger man looked at him, puzzled again by both his tone and his mood. 'I'l tell you al about it later; for now let's get away in this contraption. Hello, Gerald,' he said, recognising the young lieutenant who stood by the helicopter door, and shaking hands before climbing in.
'Where are we going, sir?' the pilot asked. 'Mr Arrow only told me to report here. He said you'd have further orders.' Martin looked at Skinner in surprise at the mention of Arrow's name.
'That's right.' He produced Mcl henney's map. 'We're going to pay a call on a man named Everard Balliol at a castle on the shore of Loch Mhor. He doesn't know we're coming, though. I always think it best to surprise Everard. He thinks I'm al right, though. Especially since I let him beat me at golf.'
The pilot looked at the map, then at a larger chart spread out on the seat beside him. 'Okay, gentlemen,' he said. 'It looks simple enough. I'll file a flight-plan with Prestwick once we're in the air. I'd guess around an hour and a half, two hours. I should warn you, though there's a restricted area just to the north. That might be a problem, if there's military traffic expected.'