Mona sat back on the sofa, her eyes closing again. Liz had left them in the house while she’d gone out to do some shopping. It was quiet, and she’d have been asleep by now if it wasn’t for Paterson flicking through channels on the TV. He seemed unable to settle on watching anything. They’d had thirty seconds of the BBC, thirty seconds of Channel 4, a loud and derisive snort at some American cop show full of beautiful people, then flick, flick, flick up into the high numbers, then back down. She was relieved when he eventually settled on the BBC News Channel.
‘Are you looking for something in particular, Guv?’ she asked, yawning.
‘Nope, just channel-hopping. I suppose I vaguely thought there might be some mention of the professor, but until he misses that Health Check he’s not actually newsworthy.’
‘He’s not going to miss his Health Check, Guv. We’ll get him there.’
‘Of course, now that we’ve got the magnificent Cameron Stuttle pulling out all the stops to help us . . .’
There was a loud knock at the door.
‘And that’ll be the guy.’
‘I’ll get it,’ said Mona.
She caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. The reflection showed someone who had undeniably slept in her clothes, woken up, then slept in them some more. There wasn’t much she could do about that, but she wished she’d taken the time to brush her hair, and show some semblance of professionalism to whichever colleague Stuttle had dispatched to get them. Oh well, too late now. She took off the chain, and cautiously opened up.
Greg was standing there, and judging by the look on his face he was not any better disposed toward them than he had been when he left. In fact, had it not seemed impossible, he looked even more annoyed.
‘Where is he?’ He pushed past her.
‘Guv, Greg is here,’ she shouted, by way of warning.
He flung open the door to the living room. ‘I said, no more favours.’
Paterson looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and annoyance. ‘And I heard you loud and clear. Exactly what additional burden have I placed on you since you left here less than one hour ago?’
Greg’s fury appeared to be reaching eruption point. She tactfully inserted herself into the flight path between Greg’s fist and Paterson’s face. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I get into work only to get immediately summoned into the boss’s office. He tells me I’m driving my dad and an unnamed VIP all the way to Scotland, which he is not happy about, by the way, but he’s had orders from above.’
‘That sounds like Stuttle, right enough.’ Paterson sighed. ‘This wasn’t my idea, Greg. Honest. But it’s obviously occurred to my boss that he could make use of the son he knows I have in the MET. Would have been nice of him to mention that on the phone.’
Greg stared at him. ‘And he’s got the clout to do that?’
‘Clout implies that he commands respect and obedience. I’m sure there’s a better word to describe a self-serving toe-rag whose main skill is an ability to accumulate favours. But either way, he gets things done.’ He tapped the remote control distractedly on the side of the table while he thought things over. ‘Did you say that you had already been working with me?’
‘No. I thought it best not to.’
Paterson looked relieved. ‘Good man. One thing for Stuttle to involve you in this, quite another for me to do it off my own back.’
Greg shook his head. ‘Jesus. I have a life here, you know, Dad? One that was going just fine without any input from you. Now Liz isn’t speaking to me, my boss has got the hump, and best of all, I’ve got to drive all the way to Edinburgh.’
‘I can see why you are annoyed, son . . .’
‘Greg!’
‘Greg. I am sorry about getting you and your,’ he paused, ‘friend involved in all this.’
Greg dismissed this with a wave of his hand. ‘Well, I’m here now. We may as well get him moved. And if he takes ill en route it’s your responsibility, not mine.’ With a final glare in the direction of his father, Greg headed toward the bedroom.
Paterson swept an arm in the direction of the door. ‘After you. Our carriage awaits.’
Mona smiled, and followed Greg.