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.Then there had been that arrogant heid-the-baw from MI5 or whatever, Knight.Flew in in a helicopter, barked a load of orders, pointed his finger a lot and then buggered off again, no doubt satisfied with his brief but invaluable contribution.And after that came the Portakabins, turning the south end of Dingwall Street into what looked like a site-office.Run along now, they had told him.We’re sure you’ve got lots of important teuchter things to be getting on with.“Someone’s still got to maintain law and order down in the village while there’s all this excitement in the hills,” one of them said.Patronising wee jobbie.They didn’t want to make any use of his local knowledge, his familiarity with every blade of grass for umpteen square miles, in the hills he had known since boyhood.Didn’t want to hear where he thought the fugitives might end up if they needed water, or where the best vantage points were.Oh no, they obviously didn’t need any assistance from some mutton-molesting village bobby.Well sod them, he had thought.Neither, presumably, would they need to know where the most treacherous bogs lay, or that where they had parked their Portakabins was about ten yards downwind of Duncan Sutherland’s slurry pit.They hadn’t even wanted to use the station once their wee mobile HQ was set up, and the nearest he had got to any involvement had been around lunchtime, when the bastards towed in the wrecked bus and dumped it on the shinty pitch behind his office window.“Keep an eye on it, Sergeant.We’ll be moving it down to Edinburgh later.”Aye.Like somebody’s going to steal it.He sighed, still simmering, and tapped again at the keyboard.Then Morag put her head around the door, knocking on the frame to get his attention.“Sarge, can you take this call? It’s some bloke asking to talk to the desk sergeant on duty.Says it’s ‘a local matter’.”A local matter.He growled to himself, lifted the receiver and pressed the blinking pink light.“Hello, Sergeant John Shearer speaking,” he said tiredly.“Fit can I do for you?”“Are you the desk sergeant on duty?” asked a male voice.Sounded like a Glasgow accent.Definitely not local.“I’m the only sergeant in a radius of aboot forty miles.well, usually.” He thought of the trenchcoated legions.Grrr.“Right,” said the man.“So are you anythin’ to do with this, eh, manhunt cairry-on?”“Don’t talk aboot that,” he couldn’t help but mutter.“Dinnae get me started.Just tell me what I can help you with.Fit’s your name?”“You’re definitely not involved, then?”“No, I think it would be pretty bloody safe to say I’m not bloody involved,” he replied, starting to lose it.“Good,” said the man.“Weeeyyyaaaiiiaaaaw,” said the cat, propelled through the doorway by Shearer’s boot.“What was that?”“Nothing.Stress-relieving office toy.Look, fit is it that you want, sir? I believe you said it was a local matter.”“Aye, sort of,” said the man.“Would you be interested in knowin’ where you could find two of the gang that killed Roland Voss?”“Are you trying to take the piss?”“Not at all.I know where they are, and I also know that they’re not in much shape to resist arrest.They’d a wee accident, I think.”“Who is this? You’ll have to give me your name.”“I cannae give you ma name.This is kinna an anonymous tip, you know.But it’s legit.I swear it.”“That’s okay,” said Shearer, reaching for a pen.“So where are they?”“I need your word that you’ll come alone.”“I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly come alone.For procedural reasons I’d need to bring at least two of my men.”“Aye, fair enough,” agreed the man.“But can you give me your word you won’t tell the other cops, the folk on the manhunt, until you’ve made the arrests?”Shearer grinned, beaming until the corners of his mouth felt the strain.“Oh, I can certainly promise you that.How many members of my extended family would you like me to swear on the lives of?”It took almost two hours to reach the spot.Shearer had listened to the description of the place and been sure of where the man was talking about right away.His “two men” had been Morag (WPC McLeod) and her brother, Andrew, who wasn’t actually on the force, but needs must and all that.Andrew was a solicitor, so that almost counted, even if he was usually in the station to represent the toerags Shearer arrested.The only other candidate who lived locally was PC Ross, but he was still suffering from the flu that had kept him off for a couple of days, so he was only fit to mind the station while the rest of them were out in the hills.“Keep a close eye on that bus,” Shearer said to him before leaving, to Ross’s obvious and entertaining puzzlement.Shearer wasn’t able to drive the Land Rover as near as he would have liked, which was why it took so long to get there.The moon was bright enough, and there were few clouds, but he still couldn’t risk leaving the roads and tracks in such poor light.Buggered axles and squashed sheep were but two of the potential hazards.“Over’ ere!” Shearer heard, as the beams of their torches thrust ahead of them through the trees and bushes, swinging to and fro as if slicing through the vegetation.“Oi! Over ’ere!” came the shout again.Shearer picked out the waving shape first, and led his company into the wee clearing, a quarter of a mile down from the ridge [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]