Death Of An Addict

CHAPTER SEVEN

The following day, Hamish and Olivia held a secret meeting with Chief Superintendent Daviot and Kevin and Barry on the moors high above Strathbane.

"We have decided on a further cunning plan," began Daviot. Hamish suppressed a groan. "We have a yacht registered to you, Hamish, the Marie~Claire, a ketch. She will only be carrying one kilo of heroin. This, you will say, is to prove the quality of the stuff and to make sure the landing place is safe. We will let that deal go through. Then you will promise the rest of the shipment. They will be lulled into a false sense of security. On the second delivery, that is when we will pounce."

"I don't like the delay," said Hamish. "I'm always frightened that the longer we wait, the more chance there is of word leaking out that the whole thing is a scam."

"Chief Inspector Chater?" asked Daviot.

"It sounds all right to me," said Olivia. "With so few people knowing about it, I can't see anything going wrong. We're going to Lachie's tonight. When will we say the first shipment is due to arrive?"

"Say two days' time. That should speed things up enough for you, Macbeth." Not "Hamish" this time. The super was obviously disappointed in what he saw as Hamish's sad lack of enthusiasm.

"Very well, sir," said Olivia. "We will do what we can."

"Let's hope the weathers all right," said Hamish. "Who will be skippering the ketch?"

"A police officer from Inverness. And the crew are policemen as well."

"Will they be armed?" asked Hamish.

Daviot looked at him impatiently. "There will be no need for that. Jimmy White will not be expecting them to be around."

"On the contrary, sir. I would think that any drug baron would expect a crew bringing in heroin to be armed."

"I don't believe in guns," said Daviot severely. "Guile is the answer. Just do your part, Macbeth, and leave the rest to Chief Inspector Chater."

"Won't it look odd my wife going along as well?" asked Hamish.

"You'll think of something," said Daviot crossly. Why couldn't Macbeth show some enthusiasm! "You can hardly leave the senior officer on the case behind."

What was that American phrase? thought Hamish. Amateur night in Dixie, this was it.

"And what do we do when we know the landing place?" asked Hamish.

"Olivia will contact us. The first shipment, we will have men observing. The second shipment, we'll seize them."

"Very good, sir," said Hamish in a hollow voice.

"Well, I'll be on my way." Daviot cast a stagy look around the moors. "Coast's clear."

Hamish watched his retreating figure. "Now I know why so many top policemen are Freemasons," he said. "They like playing games."

"Show respect," snapped Olivia.

"I don't like it at all," said Hamish wearily.

Olivia suppressed a qualm of unease. She had, she remembered, considered the whole business at the beginning quite mad. "We've got our orders," she said briskly. "We'll go to Lachie's tonight."

They entered Lachie's that evening, flanked by Kevin and Barry. "I see Bob over there," said Hamish. "I wonder why he didn't demand payment for the introduction."

"He did," said Olivia. "Kevin paid him out of the kitty when you were in with Jimmy White."

They asked at the bar for Lachie, and after a short wait, the Undertaker appeared.

"Enjoy your stay in Amsterdam?" asked Hamish.

The Undertaker gave a thin smile. "We always check up. Lachie's waiting."

Lachie rose to meet them when they walked into the office.

"Great to see you, Hamish, my man. I think we should have a wee talk in private. Your lady and friends can wait at the bar."

"My wife is my business partner," said Hamish. "She stays."

Hamish slung his coat from his shoulders and sat down after pulling out a chair for Olivia. "I think the time has come when we prove our good faith to each other. My boat will land a kilo of heroin. You name the place, you check the quality. If all goes well, we'll land the rest of the stuff at a second meet."

"Right you are," said Lachie. "Jimmy'll be up from Glasgow tomorrow. Meet him here about the same time. Let's have a drink. On the house."

"Verra kind," said Hamish, his accent becoming more Highland with nerves. "But we haff urgent business to attend to."

He stood up and slung his coat over his shoulders.

"Aye, see you," said Lachie, although his eyes slid curiously to Olivia.

Back in the hotel room, Hamish said, "You should have kept your tarty image, Olivia. Lachie found it odd that you should be my business partner."

Olivia was wearing a tailored suit and subdued makeup. "Also," Hamish went on, "you got to act the part from the inside put. You were emanating an atmosphere of senior police officer, Olivia. It's a wonder he didn't look down to see if you had big boots on."

"You're the one who has to act the part," said Olivia.

"He's right," said Kevin. "I thought myself you were looking a bit severe."

Olivia capitulated. "Oh, well, I'll do better tomorrow night."

"Fancy a drink in the bar downstairs, Hamish?" said

Barry.

"Aye, that would be grand."

"I have some phone calls to make," said Olivia. "You go ahead."

"It's the first time I've seen plastic tartan," said Hamish, sitting down on a tartan banquette. "Isn't this hotel awful?"

"The whole of Strathbane is awful," said Kevin. "All that lovely highland countryside all about and this town sitting in the middle of it like some great excrescence."

They ordered whiskies. "The thing that's bothering me," said Barry, leaning forward, "is that Superintendent Daviot. He's like a wee boy playing at cops and robbers. And the men on the boat ought to be armed."

"Aye," said Hamish. "I don't like this idea of two shipments. One would have nailed them, quicker and safer. Olivia's not stupid. Why didn't she object?"

"Because she got where she is today," said Kevin, "by agreeing with everything the higher ranks said or told her to do. And it's landed her in some hairy situations before. She knows if she starts sticking pins in Daviot's plans, then he'll report her as an officer who is awkward to work with."

Hamish looked around the bar. He was wearing his dark glasses just in case he saw a familiar face, but there were few people in that night.

He stayed talking to Kevin and Barry for about an hour and then they all went upstairs to their respective rooms.

"You took your time," said Olivia when he walked in. "And you smell of whisky. I hope you're not turning out to be a drunk."

"I only had a couple," protested Hamish. "I can nurse a drink for a pretty long time."

"Why is it always just a couple? That's the sign of a drunk, Hamish."

Hamish repressed a sigh. Frosty Olivia was back again.

The fact was that Olivia was as nervous as Hamish over the forthcoming operation, but could not confide in him. She had got this far in police ranks by never criticising a superior officer to anyone.

"Chust a suggestion," said Hamish tentatively.

"That being?"

"I didn't like the look in Lachie's eyes when I said you were my business partner. We're going to have to look as if we're in love."

"Why?"

"Well, it figures that a man who was besotted with his wife would take her everywhere."

She sat frowning for a moment and then said, "All right. We'll try that."

"Do you know what it's like to be in love, Olivia?"

To his surprise, her face flamed scarlet and she said, "Mind your own business."

"Sorry. Look, are we going to have to stay cooped up in here tomorrow? Or can we go somewhere?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere. We could take a picnic. The weather forecast says it's going to be fine and there won't be many more fine days. Winter sets in early up here."

"I'll check with Daviot tomorrow. I don't see any reason why we can't go out."

Hamish brightened. "I'll buy some stuff for a picnic tomorrow morning."

"No, you won't," said Olivia sharply. "Drug barons don't go out shopping for picnics. We'll send Kevin and Barry. I don't think we need to take them with us, though. We're not in any danger."

"Yet," said Hamish, but she had reached over and switched on the television set and did not hear.

The following day they set off with a generous hamper of goodies in the back seat, Kevin having done the shopping at Strathbane's one posh delicatessen.

"Where are we going?" asked Olivia as the sun sparkled on the broken glass in front of one of Strathbane's many dismal high-rises.

"The Falls of Braggie. It's a beauty spot."

"Won't it be full of tourists?"

"Too late in the year."

The Falls of Braggie, a tremendous waterfall of gold peaty water, crashed down from a great height. Rainbows danced in the spray. Ferns already turning golden lined the steep banks of the River Braggie. Rowan trees heavy with dark red berries stood gracefully on the banks.

"Is there any sort of flat place round here?" asked Olivia.

"There," said Hamish, pointing to a flat rock in the middle of the river below the falls.

"And how do we get across?"

"There's some rocks that act as stepping-stones. I'll leave the car here and then we'll carry the hamper down to the river."

"What on earth has Kevin bought?" groaned Olivia as they edged their way down, carrying the heavy hamper between them. "Half the shop?"

When they got to the edge of the river, she noticed there was a little causeway of rocks leading out to the flat stone. They gingerly made their way across and sat down with the hamper between them, the sun hot on their heads.

Olivia lifted the lid. "Now, let's see what we have here. Good God, what a waste of police money!"

There was cold grouse, pate, rolls and butter, salad, various cheeses, chocolate cake and among various other goodies a bottle of vintage champagne.

"I think Kevin was just trying to keep up our rich image," said Hamish. "Let me see. Did he put in glasses to drink out of? No, he didn't, silly man. We'll need to drink out of the bottle."

"Not you. You're driving."

"I'll have a mouthful. Oh, look, here's a flask of coffee and paper cups. We can use the cups."

"This is incredibly beautiful," said Olivia, looking around her. "I'm beginning to understand why you love it up here so much."

"He's remembered plates and knives and forks," said Hamish, rummaging in the bottom of the hamper. "Do you want me to serve?"

"No, I'll do it. I'm not completely de-feminised."

Olivia was wearing trousers, and a sky-blue lambswool sweater over a blue silk blouse. Hamish was wearing an expensive sports shirt and designer jeans. "I wonder what happens to all these clothes when I hand them back," he said, watching Olivia as she arranged squares of pate, toast Melba and pats of butter on two plates.

"They probably go back into some sort of police wardrobe. Oh, open the champagne. We may as well have a glass, or rather a paper cup, of the stuff"

Hamish filled two cups and then placed the bottle carefully in the shallow water which ran round the rock to keep cool.

"I can't believe it's so warm," said Olivia.

"It's the lack of pollution up here," replied Hamish. "The sun has nothing to block the rays. It'll be cold tonight, mind, with a sharp frost."

"There speaks the true countryman. What's the matter?"

There was a sudden wariness and stillness about Hamish.

"I don't think we're alone. Don't look round!"

"How do you know?"

"Chust a feeling."

"Probably tourists," said Olivia impatiently.

"Now we start to flirt," said Hamish. "Voices carry."

He raised his voice. "More champagne, darling?" He lowered his voice. "And take that suspicious look off your face. I am not using this as an excuse to make a pass at you."

"That would be lovely," said Olivia loudly. "If you've finished your pate, we'll start on this grouse."

Hamish smiled at her lazily and glanced idly around. His sharp eyes caught a flash of light up on the left bank. "We're being watched through binoculars. I'm going to kiss you."

"Is that necessary? Married men don't go around kissing their wives in public."

"Besotted ones do. Lean forward and pucker up."

Olivia leaned forward. His kiss was warm and gentle and strangely comforting. He shifted around the rock and gathered her in his arms. "Don't go too far," she whispered.

"I won't." He kissed her again. She relaxed against him. She began to return his kisses, feeling warm and languid in the sun, both of them forgetting the watcher, both of them locked in a little world far from drugs and danger.

Hamish stole a quick look up the hill. No flash from binoculars, but then through a screen of rowan trees, he saw a black car moving off. He wanted to go on kissing her but he knew his sensual pleasure in the feel of her lips and the feel of her body against his was slowly turning to passion.

"Our watcher has gone, Olivia," he said. "We can carry on eating."

She moved away from him and bent her head over the hamper. Her cheeks were flushed and her bosom rose and fell.

"I hope you realise that was all in the line of duty, Hamish."

"It was a pleasant duty, ma'am. Do you like grouse? I'll tell you about a famous grouse race where two men competed to see who could get the first brace of grouse of the season to London first and how it led to murder."

Olivia listened, grateful to Hamish for having easily got over what might have been an awkwardness.

When he had finished his story, she handed him a plate of grouse and said, "Who do you think was watching us?"

"Probably the Undertaker or one of Jimmy White's henchmen."

"I don't like it. They should not be so suspicious of us now."

"We're still an unknown quantity," said Hamish. "Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?"

"When I asked you if you'd ever been in love, you fair bit my head off. Why was that?"

"I'll tell you. If only to make sure you don't talk to the lads about snogging with a chief inspector."

She ate a mouthful of grouse. Then she said, "I was a detective constable, young, ambitious. He was a chief inspector called Fergus Shane. He was handsome and clever. At first I had a crush on him, that was all, you know, like a schoolgirl crush. Then one evening I had been working late on a case and I had just filed my report when he came in. He asked me if I had eaten and when I said I hadn't had the time, he took me out for dinner. Over the first dinner, he told me he was married. That cooled me down. After that, a few weeks passed and again I was working late and again he asked me out for dinner. He said his wife was away visiting her sister in Elgin. It seemed like just a friendly invitation."

The sun went behind a cloud and there was a sudden chill in the air. She shivered and hugged her knees. "He told me he was getting a divorce. There were no children and nothing to tie him down. And then he said he had fallen in love with me, and I believed him. By the end of that dinner, I was head over heels in love. We began an affair in secret. He said it had to be secret until the divorce came through.

"And then I came back to the station late one night. I had been out on a case which had fallen through. I wasn't expected back at all, but I thought I may as well get my report out of the way. I saw the light shining through the frosted glass of his door and my heart lifted. Then I heard the sound of masculine laughter. I hesitated outside the door, wondering who was with him and whether to go in, when I heard a man say, 'So what's our Olivia like in bed, Fergus?'

"And then the voice of my beloved came loud and clear, 'Hot stuff. Bit naive. Screams a lot. Fergus, oh, Fergus, that sort of thing.'"

She fell silent, staring at the rushing river.

"So what did you do?" asked Hamish.

"I went to my flat. I wanted to die of shame. But I wanted revenge. I could not report him, of course, I couldn't. If I told his wife, then I would lose my job. All the men would be on his side. Then I thought that if he had done it to me, he would do it to someone else. First I dropped him. I told him I was seeing someone else. I had a nasty time after that, all the rotten cases, but I waited and watched. The chief superintendent's old bat of a secretary retired and he got a new one, very pretty girl in a hard sort of bitchy way. I saw Fergus beginning to sniff round her. I watched and waited. I began to follow them. I got a camera. I took pictures of them in restaurants and then I followed them when they went to Rothesay for the day and got some tremendous snaps of them kissing on the beach.

"I sent the photographs to his wife and another set to the chief superintendent."

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing would have happened on the job front, I suppose, except that the secretary told the super that Fergus had not told her he was married and had promised to marry her. He had even given her a ring. Then the wife arrived, screaming blue murder. He was demoted and transferred to a small local police station. He left the police force and is now, I believe, chief security officer at a big chemical works. I'm not proud of what I did. I haven't been with a man since."

"It's a wonder you didn't leave the force yourself," said Hamish.

"I threw myself into my work. I got the reputation of being a hard woman. God, I don't know why I told you all this."

"Have some champagne. I havenae been lucky in love either."

Feeling that one confidence deserved another, Hamish refilled her cup, and told her about his aborted love affair with Priscilla Halburton-Smythe. "In fact, I never have much luck with women," he said ruefully. "Anna in Amsterdam was a typical mess-up. It's getting cold. I think we should go."

Kevin whispered to Barry as they walked into Lachie's that night, "Something's going on between that pair." He jerked a thumb at Olivia and Hamish.

"Oh, that. Hamish told me that they're pretending to be mad about each other," muttered Barry, "so that Jimmy won't think it odd her going along on the drop."

"Good act if you ask me," said Kevin, shouldering his way ahead.

Once more into Lachie's office. "Well, Hamish," cried Jimmy White. "I gather you've got an idea we should check a wee bit o' the load."

"Aye, that way you can see the stuff is good and I can be sure you're not about to double-cross me," sneered Hamish, his arm around Olivia's shoulders.

"Oh, come on, man, all friends here."

"If that's the case, you can tell that lang dreep o' a man over there," Hamish said, pointing to the Undertaker, "to stop following me around."

"It's no' my man. That's Lachie. Suspicious o' his ain mither. Right, to business."

One of Jimmy's men spread out an ordnance survey map. "We would like you to land the stuff here in two days' time. Can you manage that?"

Hamish looked at the map. Of all the damn places, he thought. Loch Drim!

"Why there?"

"One of our spies said it was a grand place to land. We havenae used it before. Your men bring the stuff ashore to this point." He stabbed down on the rocky promontory opposite the cave where Jock had hidden his monster.

"But to get there you'll have to go through the village of Drim," said Hamish, "and believe me, the locals will know you're there."

"No, they won't. You'll be coming in my boat and we'll go in from the sea as well."

"In that case, why not go out to my boat and pick the stuff up at sea?" demanded Hamish.

"Could be caught by the Customs and Excise that way. My boat will drop us there one hour before the meet. I assume your lads have the stuff well hidden. If the Customs come cruising around, they won't bother much with one boat, but two together would excite their suspicions."

I hope Jock's given up playing with his monster, thought Hamish.

"Well, Hamish?" demanded Jimmy. "Can you get the stuff there in two days' time? That'll be Monday morning at two A.M."

Hamish thought quickly. He was sure that for this operation the ketch would have a high-powered engine.

"It's a deal," he said, holding out his hand.

Jimmy shook it, and then, holding on to Hamish's hand, looked at the calluses on it which Hamish had got from working round the croft.

"Done time?" he asked.

"South America," said Hamish, pulling his hand away. "Bribed my way out."

"Okay, let's have a drink," said Jimmy.

Fortunately for Hamish, Jimmy liked to brag rather than listen. He told of drug deals and contacts. Hamish felt himself go almost weak with relief. Jimmy trusted them.

But he only breathed easily when they got out of there and back to the hotel.

"Can we start writing down what he said?" Kevin looked anxious. "All those names, all those drug contacts."

Olivia laughed and unbuttoned her blouse. Underneath, she was wearing a brief lacy bra and in her cleavage was tucked a little black tape recorder. "Got every word," she said.

"Very good, ma'am," said Hamish curtly as Kevin and Barry goggled. "I think you can cover yourself up now."

Olivia turned a faint shade of pink as she quickly buttoned up her blouse. "I'm going to try this out and phone Daviot," she said.

She went off into the bedroom. "Anything going on between you two?" asked Kevin. On the other side of the bedroom door, Olivia pressed her ear to the panel.

"Don't be silly," she heard Hamish say clearly. "She's a good officer and I've forgotten she's a woman."

"With boobs like that!" exclaimed Kevin.

"You chust forget she's a woman as well," snapped Hamish.

Olivia moved away, grateful to Hamish for keeping quiet about their afternoon on the rock. She phoned Daviot.

Hamish lay awake a long time that night, not because Olivia was lying in the bed beside his, but because he was now worried about Jock Kennedy and his monster. But Jock would know that one more sighting of his rubber beastie would bring Hamish down on his head. So much to worry about, thought Hamish. Jimmy had said he would pick them up at their hotel on Sunday evening. Nothing he could do until then but wait and worry.

Hamish and Olivia mostly kept to their hotel room. Kevin had bought them a Scrabble board and they played games and watched television and read. It seemed a long time until Sunday night but suddenly it was upon them and there was one of Jimmy's henchmen to drive them down to a high-powered boat in the oily, polluted harbour of Strathbane where even the seagulls looked dirty.

They joined Jimmy in the cabin, all sitting around the table, but not saying much. One of the crew landed them on the point at the head of Loch Drim. "Now we wait," said Hamish. He looked across the darkness towards the cave but there was no sound and no sign of life.

The night was frosty and calm. He had never known an hour pass so slowly. Then at last they heard the faint sound of an outboard engine.

"That should be it," he said with an air of relaxed ease which belied the rapid beating of his heart.

The sound of the engine approached and then cut off. There was silence apart from the lapping of the waves and then the sound of oars in rowlocks. Hamish took out a torch and gave a brief flash. There was an answering flash and then in the starlight they could see faintly a dinghy rowed by two men, pulling towards the point.

Hamish strolled forward to meet it. "Any trouble?" he asked.

"No trouble, sir." Hamish cursed inwardly. That "no trouble, sir" had been a damn sight too polite and official. He took hold of the oilskin packet the man was holding up as he stood in the rocky boat.

"Get off fast," he ordered. "I don't want you hanging around."

"Yes, sir." Damn, it's a wonder he didn't salute, thought Hamish furiously.

He turned to Jimmy. "There's the first instalment."

"Bring the torch here," Jimmy ordered one of his men. He took a wicked knife out of his pocket and cut open the package and looked down at the cellophane bags.

"Aye, that'll do, Hamish. Now we wait a bit until my man comes back."

"So if you're satisfied," said Hamish, "we can let you have the rest of the stuff in, say, another two days."

"Aye, we'd best make it here. Say Wednesday morning. I'll pick you up same as this evening."

"You know what I'd almost forgotten about," said Hamish when he and Olivia were back in their hotel room. "The person whose death started all this. Tommy Jarret. I've no doubt his parents have been trying to get hold of me. They must have thought I'd forgotten about the whole thing."

"When we catch them, we'll sweat it out of Lachie."

"I think such as Lachie won't talk."

"Anyway, let's get this over with. If you like, I'll get us some time off and we can see if we can find out anything further about the boy's death. I'm going to bed. It's been a long night."

Hamish waited until she had finished using the bathroom and then went in and ran himself a hot bath. He put on his silk pyjamas-courtesy of the police force-and went into the bedroom.

He felt his way in the darkness to his bed. He should be tired, he thought, but he was plagued by a strung-up, restless feeling mixed with an uneasy feeling of apprehension.

"Hamish." Olivia's voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yes?"

"I can't sleep. I'm worried."

"Me, too."

"Hamish?"

"Yes."

"If you come over here, we could worry together."

"Yes, ma'am," said Hamish Macbeth. It was the first time he had obeyed a senior officer's orders with any enthusiasm.

It was a pity that Superintendent Daviot could not tell the difference between duty and grovelling. He rated Blair highly because Blair always praised him. The temptation to boast about the latest success of the operation was too much. He sent for Blair.

"We're doing just fine," said Daviot, rubbing his hands. "Just fine."

"So what's the latest, sir?"

Daviot told him about the success of the first drug delivery. "So all we have to do is hope the second meet goes as well and then we'll have them. And Detective Chief Inspector Chater has done splendidly. When they went to Lachie's and Jimmy White was bragging about his contacts, she taped every word. We could do with someone bright like that here. We haven't got a single woman detective and it's bad for our image."

"I think the success of the whole thing is due to your meticulous planning, sir," said Blair.

"Well, I must say I've had a hand in it. But give credit where it's due, I think we owe a lot to Hamish Macbeth. He's been rotting up in that village of his for too long. Drink?"

"That would be very nice, sir. Just a splash of whisky."

Blair's mind raced. This was awful. Hamish Macbeth transferred to Strathbane was bad enough, but to have a woman of the same rank was worse. Women should stay at home and in the kitchen where they belonged.

"So you were saying," said Blair, taking the glass of whisky handed to him, "that the final operation is at two o'clock on Wednesday morning at the head of Loch Drim?"

"That's it and then we start a massive round-up of all the other villains. Thanks to Chater, we've got all the names."

Blair went back to his desk afterwards and brooded over the problem. He then took out his book of informants, or snouts as they were called, and ran his finger down the list. He picked up the phone. "Callum," he whispered. "Blair here. Meet me down at the Fisherman's Bar at the docks. Can you be there in an hour? There's big money in this for ye."

He listened to the reply and then said, "I'll see you there. Don't let me down."

The Fisherman's Bar dated from the days when there were fishermen and the harbour at Strathbane had been crammed with trawlers. But overfishing and European Union quotas had crippled the fishing industry and the harbour lay deserted apart from a few rusting hulks of boats. The Fisherman's Bar consisted of little more than one small smelly room. Nicotine from millions of cigarettes had stained the once-white walls yellow. There was an ancient jukebox in the corner, still containing a stack of sixties records. No one could quite remember the last time it had worked. A television set over the bar was relaying the latest horse racing from Ayr and Cheltenham. No one ever came to the bar for any good purpose. It was a haunt of small-time villains. Callum, the snout, was one of those dwarf-sized men who still inhabit inner cities. His sparse hair was combed carefully over his bald spot. He had a deeply wrinkled face, no teeth, not even false ones, to lend shape to his sour and wrinkled mouth. He wore glasses and chain-smoked.

His information was usually as small-time as the villains who used the bar-petty theft, people who grew and sold cannabis, the odd ram raid, burglary and some warehouse break-ins. He passed these tidbits on to Blair, who would pay him the occasional tenner for the information.

Blair came in and sat down at the battered table in the corner which Callum had chosen. "I'm surprised you chose this place," said Callum.

"Nobody knows me down here," said Blair.

"Aye but you stink of copper," said Callum, watching a couple of men swallow their drinks quickly and make for the door.

"Okay, we'll take a walk." Callum looked disappointed. He craved a drink but had not ordered anything, expecting Blair to pay for one.

Both men walked out. The day was cold and clear. Mournful seagulls swooped overhead. Plastic cups, condoms, burger wrappers and other detritus bobbed on the filthy water.

"So what brings you?" asked Callum.

"This is big money," said Blair.

"How big?"

"Very big. I'm giving you information to sell."