Lethal Intent

Eighty-three

Aileen de Marco had never driven as fast after dark. She had done as Bob had asked and had heard the Home Secretary's manner change from one of annoyance, to bewilderment and finally to panic, all within thirty seconds. Then, rather than leave Lena McElhone at home to field incoming London calls about which she knew nothing, she had taken her with her in the Fiat. Her presence was a bonus, for Lena was a St Andrews graduate and guided her along the fastest, straightest road to the town.

They kept the radio switched on all the way. The eight o'clock news headlines told them that reports were coming in of an incident in the university town, they gave no details, but reminded listeners that the Prince was a student there.

When they arrived, the whole of North Street was blocked off by armed police, and a contingent of the RAF regiment flown down from Leuchars, but when Aileen identified herself a detective sergeant took them into his charge and led them towards the college.

A small group of journalists, photographers and television crews had been allowed inside the perimeter, under tight control. They recognised the minister and called out to her. She stopped and walked across. 'Wait, please,' she said, stilling their cries. 'I don't know what's happened yet; I'm just going in to be briefed. When I can I'll talk to you.'

As the sergeant led them into the quadrangle, they stopped in their tracks, shocked by the devastation, and the mangled side of tire building. Lena gave a stifled scream; she had known it well.

They passed through the bloody hall, where five large white sheets had been laid over the dead, and found Skinner in a room at the back of the building. Aileen had seen him straight from a transatlantic flight, but then he had looked nowhere near as exhausted. He was slumped in a chair, pale-faced and wearing a military flak jacket. A glass of whisky lay on a table near his right hand, which seemed to her to be trembling very slightly.

He stood when he saw her enter. Their eyes met, then they came together in a great shivering hug. 'Thank God you're here to warm me, baby,' he whispered in her ear. 'I thought I was going to freeze to death.'

'Hush, now,' she murmured, stroking his hair. 'It's all right.' The chief constable, Lena McElhone, Bandit Mackenzie, and the detective sergeant all looked away, trying to be as invisible as possible.

When Skinner had stopped shaking, she released him from her embrace and made him sit once more. She turned to Chief Constable Tallent. is the Prince safe?' she asked.

'Yes. There was an attempt to kidnap him, but thanks to DCC Skinner and his men it was foiled.'

'Those…' she hesitated '… in the hall?'

He understood her question. 'There have been seven fatalities in the building,' he told her. 'Two students killed by the blast and another by gunfire, two of my officers and two members of the royal protection squad.'

'And three outside,' said Skinner, hoarsely, from his chair. 'Two soldiers and one of the kidnappers; his body's down by the Sea Life Centre, being guarded by the military.'

'Can I go there?'

'You don't want to. Anyway, it's off limits to everybody for now.' His eyes were still slightly glazed as he took a sip of his whisky.

She turned back to the chief. 'How many kidnappers were there?'

'Four in all. Three escaped by boat, although Mr Skinner says that one is wounded, possibly fatally.'

'Probably,' the DCC snapped. 'I shot him in the middle of the back, right between the shoulder-blades. He fell into the boat.'

Chief Constable Tallent nodded. 'The RAF have scrambled aircraft and are searching for them. We believe that they'll be meeting up with a larger vessel offshore.'

'Do we know anything about the attackers?'

The chief hesitated.

'It's all right, Clarence,' said Skinner. 'Aileen's entitled to know; anyway, we might as well go public now. They were a gang of Albanians, four of them, and their aim was to collect the biggest ransom pay-off in history. They got paid off all right, and any minute now the RAF will be blowing what's left of them out of the water.' He smiled, weakly. 'That last bit isn't for the press, by the way.'

'Killed trying to escape?'

'They are certainly still armed. They may even have another missile. No chances will be taken.'

'I understand; anyway, that's military business. Chief Constable,' she continued, 'there's a hungry media pack outside. Shall we give them a joint statement for the ten o'clock news programmes?'

'It's very early in the investigation,' Tallent answered, doubtfully.

'What bloody investigation, Clarence?' Skinner snarled; he pushed himself to his feet once more, stripping off the flak jacket and throwing it into a corner. 'We know what's happened, and we know who did it. It's a national issue, there's Christ knows what speculation already, and the people need to be told: most of all they need to be told that the prince is safe and sound.'

He looked at Aileen. 'Get out there and tell them, Minister. Just don't mention the body count, for there are next of kin to be told, and don't mention my name.'

'If she doesn't I will,' said the chief constable gruffly. 'Let's do it, then.'

Aileen was in the doorway, when she turned. 'Bob, I understand that you don't have transport back to Edinburgh. When this is over, can I give you a lift?'

Skinner's tired smile crinkled the lines around his eyes. 'That's very kind of you. Do you have room for DCI Mackenzie as well? His transport's gone too, and I'd hate for him to have to hitch-hike in this weather.'