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weapons from abroad.'

The detective sergeant rubbed his chin, his fingers scratching on the early-morning bristles. 'What sort of a person is he?'

'If that man fell into a pit of shit,' I said bitterly, 'he'd come out smelling like roses. He's got a charmed life. I mean, I ought to have topped him two or three times already, and look what's happened now. He may be in the nick, but that hasn't stopped him.'

Suddenly I remembered the presence of the female constable, scribbling in the background, and felt the color rise in my cheeks as I turned to her and said, 'Sorry…'

Still writing, she gave a quick grin and raised her left.

hand , and I felt myself warming to her.

'The thing is, he's a well-educated guy,' I blundered on. 'He's got a university degree. He's big, dark, good- looking, he's a bit of a wine buff… I don't know what it is that makes him tick.'

A telephone rang. The ops officer swung round, picked up the receiver and listened. After a few seconds he said, 'That's fine. We'll expect you then,' and hung up. Turning back to us he said, 'That was Special Branch. Because of the nature of the incident there's a standby team coming down from London. They'll be here in three hours' time. Geordie, you're looking knackered - you'd better get your head down. Is there anything else, Sergeant?'

'Nothing immediate. We'll want to look at the house first thing in the morning. And Geordie, you'll come with us.'

'Fair enough.'

'I'll take that photo with me. Once Forensic have been over it I'll have it copied, so that we can circulate prints. Then no doubt SB'll want it. By the way…' He looked back at Mac. 'No press release of any kind. The last thing we want is for this to get into the papers.'

'Don't worry,' Mac assured him. 'I will personally throttle anyone who talks.'

'All fight, then.' Bates turned back to me. '
Seven o'clock
at the guardroom?'

'I'll be there.'

TWO

I spent the rest of that night in the sergeants' mess, in the room I shared with a mate, Pat Newman. He, being married, lived at home, and normally neither of us slept there, using the place as a store for some of our kit. It was a small, bare room, with little more than a bed, a wardrobe and a washbasin as furnishings. The bed was piled with our gear - bergens, para bags and webbing - so I heavet the lot off into a corner. There was a sheet in the cupboard, I knew, but I couldn't be bothered to make the bed at that stage, so I just kicked off my shoes and got under the top blanket. I felt .jaded and filthy.

Normally I would at least have washed my face and cleaned my teeth, but such a wave of exhaustion had swamped me that all I wanted was to lie down and pass out.

The next thing I knew I was wide awake. For a few seconds I couldn't think where the hell I was: strange room, narrow bed, unfamiliar window already allowing in the grey dawn light, birds singing outside. Then back it all came with a bang.

My watch said 5.35. Jesus! Special Branch would be here any moment. I jumped up, dug out my sponge-bag and went along to the washroom, where a shave and a shower brought me back to reality. My biological time- clock might have been all to blazes, but the combination of hot water over my face and alarm at my family's predicament soon cleared my brain.

By
six o'clock
I was back at the guardroom, and the Special Branch Rover rolled down to the barrier a few minutes later. The guard commander had been told to take the party to the ops room, so I volunteered to show them the way. The boss figure was Commander John Fraser, a slender, lightly-built guy in his forties with a thin face, sandy hair and a slightly harassed expression: not physically impressive, but with a reassuring manner that quickly inspired confidence. I noticed he had taken trouble over his appearance. He had a slight Cockney accent, but his voice, like his presence, was unobtrusive and comfortable.

With him came a sidekick in the form of a burly detective sergeant called Denis Haynes,