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on.’
    ‘Okay. You say this is a contract hit. So, let’s assume that the two guys outside weren’t amateurs, however dead they might be now.’
    ‘Far from it. They were South African mercenaries, both of them.’
    ‘Right. That being the case, they’re going to have seen photographs of their target. Your wife is about five eight and blonde. Toni Field was five feet five with her shoes on and she had brown hair. But even more important, Aileen de Marco is white, and Chief Constable Field was dark-skinned. These people knew exactly who they were here to kill, and they didn’t make a mistake. That’s my professional opinion. Sir.’
    Skinner gazed at the floor, then up, engaging her once again. ‘And mine too, Detective Inspector,’ he murmured. ‘But let’s keep it to ourselves for now. The media can run with whatever theories they like. We won’t confirm or knock down any of them. Tell me,’ he added, ‘what did you think of Toni Field?’
    ‘Honestly?’
    ‘I don’t believe you could tell it any other way.’
    ‘On the face of it, she was a role model for all female police officers. In reality, she was a careerist, an opportunist and another few words ending in “ist”, none of them very complimentary.
    ‘I liked DCC Theakston, but she had him out the door as fast as she could. I more than like ACC Allan, he’s the man I’ve always looked up to in the force, and she had her knife out for him as well. She might have been a good police officer herself, but she didn’t know one when she saw one. I have a feeling that you might.’
    ‘I believe I’m looking at one.’ He pushed the door open. ‘Come on. You’re with me.’
    ‘Where? I’m supposed to be in command here.’
    ‘Mmm. True,’ he conceded. ‘Okay, get your team together, and give them dispositions. You need to search the building for anything the shooters left behind. The weapon they used was a Heckler and Koch, standard police issue, so the assumption is, they must have worn uniforms to get in.
    ‘Tell your people to find those, and then find out whether they’re authentic. If so, we need to establish whose they were, because we’re looking for those owners. Beyond that the work here’s for Dorward and his people. Once you’ve got your people moving, I have to do a press conference, and I want you with me.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Absolutely. I think Max was wrong to hide you away. You’re a gem, Lottie; the Glasgow press deserve you. Just mind the language, okay?’

Three
     
    ‘Can I get you coffee?’ the Lord Provost of Glasgow asked.
    Bob Skinner smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he replied, ‘but given that it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday evening, if we accepted you’d either have to make it yourself or nip out to Starbucks. No, the use of your office for this short meeting is generosity enough. Now, if you’ll . . .’
    Dominic Hanlon took the hint. ‘Come on, Willie,’ he murmured. ‘This is operational; it’s not for us.’
    ‘Oh. Oh, aye.’ The two councillors withdrew.
    The Lord Provost was still wearing his heavy gold chain of office. Skinner wondered if he slept in it.
    ‘Right,’ he said, as the door closed. ‘We’ll keep this brief, but I wanted a round-up before we all left.’ He looked to his right, at Lottie Mann, and to his left, at Lowell Payne, who had joined them as the press briefing had closed.
    The conference had been a frenzied affair. It had been chaired by the Strathclyde force’s PR manager, but most of the questions had been directed at Skinner, once his presence had been explained.
    ‘Can you confirm the identity of the victims, sir?’ the BBC national news correspondent had asked. She was new in the country, and new to him, sent up from London to make her name, he suspected.
    ‘Sorry, no,’ he had replied, ‘for the usual next-of-kin reasons, not operational. However,’ he had added, halting the renewed clamour, ‘I can tell you that the First Minister is unharmed,