Stevens' voice continued, telling Brogan what he expected him to do, telling him what would happen to Marianne if he failed to comply with his demands. Warning him to keep the police out of it.
Then the man stopped speaking and Brogan heard a small cry in the background.
He winced, trying to imagine what was happening to his sister at the hands of this man, a man he knew to be capable of unimaginable horrors.
'Billy? Billy?' Marianne was sobbing into the phone, her breath coming in short bursts.
'Aye, I'm here,' Brogan said, pulling the crumpled sheet around his shivering form.
'Please,' she cried. 'Please do as he says, Billy,' Marianne begged. 'He… he's got a gun. And he says…' her voice tailed off then returned in a whisper. 'He says he'll kill me if you don't get him that money.'
'Where are you?' Brogan asked, urgently. 'Just tell me where.
And I'll fix everything.'
Marianne had just given him the name of a city centre hotel and their room number when Brogan flinched, hearing her let out a yelp. As he heard Stevens shouting at her Brogan stiffened, wanting to square up to the hit man, sudden rage boiling up inside him.
'You heard what she said, Brogan. You get that money to me by tomorrow or she's dead meat. Understood?'
'I'll need more time,' Brogan protested, hearing the blood pound in his head.
But the connection had been cut and he sat there looking at the phone in his hand, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get out of this mess.
The leaves were falling in swirls, withered and brown, as Solly watched from the window of his new office. Summer was past and the new session was beginning. Already students had arrived back in the city, many of them looking for accommodation or books from their lists, trying to prepare for the autumn term that lay ahead. His postgraduate students had never really left though, working on dissertations that never seemed to be curtailed by the familiar markers of the academic year.
Marianne's name had not appeared in his class lists so far.
Where was she? Solly had watched the recorded Crimewatch programme with Rosie, his concern for the woman growing as he had listened to Lorimer's appeal. He had sat through to the end, seeing pictures of criminals who had slipped out of the reach of police in several different parts of the country. Many of them went by aliases, Solly noticed. And that had given him something to think about. What if Marianne had changed her name, too?
So far he had not made much progress with his own investigation but today there was one thing that he thought he might do.
He turned around, his eye falling upon the many boxes of textbooks laid neatly below his bookshelves. Among them were several from the library that he had borrowed and must now be returned. SoIly bent down, taking the books out of their boxes, opening every one to check its return date before placing them in a tidy pile. Perhaps, like him, Marianne had had to visit the library, to take back books? It was worth a try, Solly thought as he gathered up the textbooks into a hessian shopping bag.
Several students were walking down the path towards the students' union as Solly emerged from the door of the psychology department and he smiled at their laughter, hearing the sound of enthusiasm in their voices. Freshers, he thought, nodding to himself.
Their lives were on the threshold of something new and wonderful and on this windy day when the air tossed the leaves skywards, Solly found their eagerness quite infectious. Quickening his stride, Solly turned left, following the path to the library, a modern building that was tucked between the Hunterian Museum and the curve of University Gardens.
The library was already busy with students sitting at tables, poring over books or laptops. As ever, Solly found himself relaxing in this place where quiet study was carried out day after day. He handed over the books, watching as the librarian checked to see that the dates tallied as they should then he cleared his throat.
'Perhaps you might do something for me?' he asked, smiling hopefully.
'Of course, Doctor Brightman,' the librarian replied. 'Is there a book you want us to reserve for you?'
Solly shook his head. 'No, no, nothing like that. I'd like you to do a little detective work,' he said, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially.
'It's one of my students. She seems to have changed her name.' He shrugged as if this was a matter of little import. 'It was Marianne Scott, but perhaps you don't have it on record?'
'Oh, we have everything on record, Doctor Brightman,' the woman replied briskly. 'Now, what year is she in?'
SoIly told her and waited as the woman worked at the keyboard, her eyes on the computer screen. `Ah, yes. Marianne Scott. She was in here less than a fortnight ago,' the woman told him. 'Told us she had changed her name from Scott to Shafiq. Must have married a foreigner,' the woman said, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise.
'Well, thanks for that. I'm sure she'll let us know the details in due course but our secretaries will be glad to put it right for now.
For class lists, you know?' he murmured.
Gathering up the empty bag, Solly left the library and made his way back down to the main road, his heart beating a little faster.
She had married! Rosie was right, then. Her woman's intuition had suggested that Marianne's personality change was down to that old black magic, after all. Plus she had alerted the library to that change of name. So, he reasoned, Marianne had intended to resume her studies here.
The television programme had suggested that she might be involved in her ex-husband's death, but how could that be? If Marianne had hoped to continue at university as normal surely she would be afraid of detection in such a public place as this?
The psychologist stopped at the edge of the pavement across from the main university gates and stood still, staring into the sky, quite unaware of the curious glances he was receiving from passers-by.
Motivation was everything in a crime, he told himself. Why a person chose to commit an evil deed said so much more about them than the deed itself. If Marianne had killed her own husband then what could her motive have been? She had been legally divorced from Scott so she did not need to be rid of him to marry this Shafiq, whoever he was. Yet, she had thanked Solly for… for what? Suggesting that she rid herself of some bad dreams? In the clear light of this autumn day such a notion seemed absurd, but, until he knew more, Doctor Solomon Brightman could only theorise about the reason behind Marianne's change from the timid student she had been into the vibrant woman he remembered from the bookshop. And was that simply down to finding the right man to love?
SoIly noticed the orange lights of an approaching taxi and he stepped forwards on to the road, one arm raised. Perhaps it was a little rash of him, a little presumptuous, but it had to be done.
'Into town, please,' he told the driver. Then, stepping into the cab, he gave him the address of Lorimer's divisional headquarters.
Sitting back, SoIly stroked his beard thoughtfully, wondering what sort of reaction his unexpected appearance would provoke.
Lorimer sat on the edge of a desk, facing the members of his team. All of them had been brought up to date with the Crimewatch results. There had been some tuts of disapproval as the team learned that one of Scott's neighbours had phoned in, distraught yet full of apologies, telling them that she had gone into the house to tidy up, as she had put it. Hadn't meant to cause any bother. The mystery of the neatly made bed was a mystery no longer. That was one box at least that could be ticked. But the best result had been the Asian's call and now Lorimer was relating Amit Shafiq's part in the investigation.
'We've got him under surveillance partly for his own protection,' he explained. 'After what happened to Jaffrey we can't afford to take any risks,' he said gravely. 'Hopefully the people who were Brogan's associates will make contact with him, but that may take time…' he broke off as the door to the room opened and a harassed looking uniformed officer entered, a familiar figure in her wake.