Thursday legends

45

Glencorse Barracks and its hospital wing were probably Victorian, Skinner guessed, but the equipment was high-tech.

Andy Martin lay on a modern hospital bed, his upper body raised slightly and supported by pillows. He was either asleep or unconscious; the former, Skinner hoped. Sensors were stuck to his bare chest, leading to a cardiac monitor, on a shelf. The DCC was relieved to see that his heartbeat was strong, slow and regular.

'How is he?' he asked the young Army Medical Officer by his side. 'Was he hurt in any way?'

'Physically, very little. He has a split lip, some bruising to his face and his shoulder, but otherwise he's fine. Psychologically, I couldn't say. He was in shock when he was brought in here, rambling and delirious. I gave him a strong sedative, enough to knock him out for a few hours.

'I can't predict what he'll be like when he comes round. What happened to him? How did he get like this? I haven't been told, but he was in a hell of a mess. He reminded me of a soldier I saw once who was too close to a colleague when he stepped on a mine. But this man

… God, his teeth… the time it took to clean them alone.'

'Don't ask, Doctor,' said the DCC quietly. 'I want to be here when he comes round, okay?'

'Of course. If you're a friend, seeing you should be good for him.'

The MO left the room. Skinner pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat, looking at his friend's sleeping face, and wondering what his dreams were like, hoping that he had none. He tried to imagine the scene in the Pentlands, and Andy's fight for his life. Jesus, what must Scotland have felt like having this mad, desperate, bull of a man coming at him. What a way to kill someone. He imagined being in the same situation himself, then remembered that he had been; that man was in an unmarked grave too. There are no rules in a fight for survival.

He sat for over an hour, waiting, not thinking of McGuire and Arrow in the corridor outside, thinking only of Andy, and of what he would say when he awoke.

At last he began to stir on the bed. He whispered something. One word, very softly, but Skinner caught it; 'Karen.'

His right shoulder twitched; his head made a butting movement, then began to roll from side to side. His jaws clamped tight working, working. His eyes flickered, closed again, flickered, then suddenly, opened wide. He sat bolt upright in bed with an expression on his face unlike any that Skinner had ever seen — a mixture of terror and sheer animal ferocity.

The big DCC jumped to his feet and held him, using all his own great strength to counter Andy's and press him back down on to the bed. 'Okay, son, it's okay.'

Martin's face cleared at last. 'Bob?' he said, in a dazed croak. 'Where am I? Have I been in an accident? Or shot, or something?

'Bloody hell, that was some nightmare I was having.' He looked at Skinner, read his face, and fell silent again. That unnatural look came back, but this time it was pure terror, and that alone, as everything came flooding back.

"That was no nightmare, was it?' he asked, at last. 'No, Andy boy. No, it wasn't.' 'Scotland. How's he?'

'How do you think? He's dead; you ripped his throat open.'

'Good!' For a second, the DCC was shocked by the intensity of the malice in his best friend's eyes, but then he remembered his own emotions at a similar time.

'I told the rat-fucker I would kill him. He should have believed me.'

'It's just as well he didn't. He wouldn't have played his bloody game if he had; he'd have shot you straight off.' 'You worked it all out then?'

'Mario did. So it was Scotland after all, Scotland who did Alec?'

'I suppose so. Even though it took him years to pluck up the courage; but he had to play his game too. He had to get someone up there.'

'Why in Christ's name did you go for him on your own, Andy?' Skinner asked. 'A man with a history like that.'

'I guess I have to call it an error of judgement. Between you and me, I've got a few distractions in my private life right now. I've done smarter things in my time, right enough.'

He paused. 'On the other hand, if I had taken Sammy Pye with me, one of us would have been dead now. Probably both of us.'

'Aye, well. You can hold an inquiry into yourself, later. You're alive, so fuck the recriminations.'

'What happens now?' Martin asked. 'Report to the Fiscal?'

'Hell no. Nothing happens. It's all taken care of; you're in Army hands at the moment. Adam Arrow's involved and he's made everything go away, including what's left of Scotland.'

The younger man looked up at him. 'You've done that?'

'Too fucking right. Not just for you, for the force. I don't want any of the Alec Smith story to come out.'

'I told Scotland that too. But the guy was only into talking, not listening.' He pulled himself up into a sitting position.

'When can I get out of here?' he asked. 'There's someone I have to see/

'You can get out of here now, but you're coming home with me. No arguments; you're either under Sarah's care, or I'll leave you here with the Army doctor. We'll see how you're feeling tomorrow. Meantime, I've told everyone who needs to know that you're all right.'

Bob stood, and moved towards the door. 'I don't think you're going to want to see your clothes again, but I'll have the Army fix you up with some uniform stuff. Then you and I are going for a nice helicopter ride out to Gullane.'