‘Mona.’
Somewhere, in a far-off distance from her dream, a man’s voice was calling her name. She ignored him. The pull of sleep was strong and she kept her eyes firmly shut.
‘Mona.’ A hand shaking her shoulder finally jolted her back into the world of wakefulness, and she reluctantly came to. She felt chilled, and every bone ached.
‘Sorry to interrupt your slumbers but we’re nearly there.’
She smiled at Ian. Despite his comments of the night before, she’d been extremely glad to see him. Their paths had crossed, briefly, a few months earlier when one of their cases had strayed into Police Scotland territory. With his help, and that of his colleague (whom she’d been introduced to while speeding away from the service station and whose name now escaped her), they’d managed to get the professor back on the road and had raced through the night in the direction of the Scottish border.
‘I thought I was too wired to sleep, but I pretty much went out like a light.’ She turned to the constable on the back seat – Bob, she was pretty sure it was Bob – ‘How is he?’
‘Good, I think.’
‘Has he been snoring the whole way?’
Probably-Bob pulled a face. ‘If only it was just snoring.’
‘Any word on my guv’nor?’
‘Your boss phoned my boss to tell him he was still alive.’
‘Oh thank God.’ She closed her eyes and allowed a feeling of relief to wash over her. ‘Is either of them hurt?’
‘Neither has more than bumps and bruises, but they’ve headed off to Casualty just to be on the safe side.’
‘So, what exactly happened back there? Who were those people?’
Ian laughed. ‘Some nutters who dislike the tone of the professor’s views tried to kill him. And I hit a man who was aiming a gun in your general direction with a very heavy piece of kitchen equipment.’
His tone was dismissive, almost light-hearted. The forced jollity was completely at odds with the gravity of the night’s events. She’d expected Stuttle’s guys to be businesslike, serious, concerned with the urgent matter of keeping them safe. She wouldn’t have been surprised to be bawled out by them, to have her competence questioned about the way things had turned out. She would have found that unfair, and would have told them so loudly and clearly, but she would have understood it. But flippancy? What was this all about?
‘What do you mean, “some nutters”?’
‘Well, you know what it’s like with public figures, especially in this day and age. Every nutjob with a Twitter account is issuing death threats against people like the professor, after they get some bee in their bonnet. You know, they start thinking that he’s trying to kill everyone rather than cure them.’
‘True, but nutjobs on Twitter don’t generally have the wherewithal to lure someone to London, poison him, have him followed, then try to shoot him. That smacks of organisational involvement.’
‘Mona,’ Bob leaned forward, his hand on the side of her seat. ‘Relax! You’ve done your bit, take it easy now.’
She shifted in her seat so that his hand was no longer touching her. ‘He knew my name.’
‘What?’
‘The guy with the gun, he knew my name. He said, “Come out, Ms Whyte.”’
There was a long silence. ‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ said Ian.
‘Yeah, Mona, it’s been a really stressful few days for you, and I bet you haven’t had a lot of sleep. Like I said,’ Bob’s hand found her shoulder, and patted it, ‘you’ve done your bit. Relax.’
Mona stared out the window, and thought about all the things that were wrong with the conversation. She was tired, weary to her core, but she knew what she had heard last night. She knew also that Stuttle’s guys were making a cack-handed attempt to get her so confused about the past few hours’ events that she would shut up. What she didn’t know – yet – was why. The unmistakeable bulge under Ian and Bob’s jackets meant that somebody, somewhere, had authorised this being an armed excursion. Did Stuttle suspect when he sent them down here that things could turn out like this? Or had things gone wrong very quickly?
‘You’re very quiet.’ Ian glanced over at her. ‘Are you annoyed with us?’
‘No, of course not,’ she lied, and forced herself to smile. ‘I know none of this is your fault. I’m pretty furious with Mr Stuttle for nearly getting me killed though.’
‘Believe me, no one is more freaked out at the turn of events than Stuttle. He’s going to want to keep this all very quiet.’
‘This would be a very good time to be asking Stuttle for a pay rise,’ said Bob, laughing.
‘Yeah, totally.’ Ian joined in the laughter, which became increasingly strained as Mona didn’t respond.
‘Anyway,’ said Ian. ‘Time to wake the professor, do you think?’
‘Just before you do, can I ask you something?’
There was another slightly loaded pause. ‘Sure. We’ll answer if we can.’
‘Is the professor in danger?’
‘No immediate danger.’ Ian took his eyes off the road so that he could make eye contact with her. ‘Seriously. We’ll give him protection until his speech tomorrow, then there will be a full review of his security arrangements, and those of his family.’
‘Including the daughter in London?’
‘Definitely. Now that people seem to know where she lives she could be a target.’
‘For the nutters on Twitter?’
‘Exactly.’
Fuck you, she thought. Her life had been put at risk by people who thought so little of her that they thought she’d buy some cock and bull story about Internet weirdos. And poor, poor Maria. No sooner does her long-lost dad find her than she ends up needing personal protection. Not the best of starts to the prof rekindling their relationship.
Ian pulled off the motorway. Mona watched the little blue dot on the car’s satnav twist and turn as they moved closer to the big red arrow that indicated their destination.
Bob gave the professor a gentle shake. ‘Sir, we’re here.’
He woke with a start, and stared blankly around for a second before recognition set in.
‘Good, good. But where exactly is “here”?’
They appeared to be parking in a car park containing nothing except three recycling vats and a Portakabin.
Ian pointed at the building in question. ‘That, folks, is the Gretna Green Health Check Centre.’
‘And they are expecting us?’ Mona looked at her watch. It was only just after 7am.
‘Yup, special arrangements have been made.’
The professor opened his door.
‘Hang on a minute there, sir. Just need to check in case it’s not just the health centre staff who are expecting us.’
Mona saw his hand move to his hip.
‘I’m going to do a quick recce. Bob, can you and Mona keep an eye out, and, Professor, if you can get ready to move quickly if necessary?’
‘I’m not sure I can do any more running. I’m not twenty-five anymore, you know.’
Ian disappeared round the back of the Portakabin, appearing a second later at the other side. He knocked on the door, had a moment or two’s conversation with someone they couldn’t see, then went into the building. All the time he was gone, Bob kept up a watchful eye on the surrounding area.
Ian reappeared. ‘All clear. Bob – do you want to do the honours of getting him into the building?’
Mona and Ian followed them, then took up position on either side of the door. Inside she could hear the sounds of the professor being greeted by a female voice.
‘So this will get the professor off the hook?’ She kept her voice low.
‘People can arrange to have an early Health Check if there’s a compelling reason why they can’t make it. You don’t get into trouble for having an early Health Check, only a late one.’
‘It’s still going to look odd, him having a Health Check here.’
‘I think you’ll find it was prearranged for him by his personal assistant, who knew he would struggle to make it back to Edinburgh in time after he had to attend to some urgent family business in London. There’s a paper trail to show that, or at least there should be by now. And from what I’ve heard about his PA, she’ll play along.’
‘We met her in London. I think she’d do anything to protect him.’
‘She was down there too? Explains why we couldn’t find her. Anyway, as soon as he’s logged on the system, we’re home free.’
‘Well, almost. We still have to get him safely to the Parliament building.’
‘Believe me, we’ll have plenty of reinforcements for that.’
The door opened and the professor emerged, waving a cheery goodbye to the staff.
‘OK, sir, ready for the last leg?’