Iceline

The police had requested transfer to a private room where they could keep an eye on him and any visitors. The initial sessions of questioning had not been very productive and they thought a little more privacy might encourage him to talk. He made a steady recovery and there was hope that he could be discharged by the end of the week, provided someone turned up to claim him. Jill Darling had been off shift for three hours when Steel was moved and later in the day she returned to the hospital to see how he was settling in to his new surroundings. He was awake when she opened the door and looked up from the newspaper spread across the sheets. "Jill, darling," He said, "don't stand on ceremony, come in."

  She looked slightly taken aback, her mouth moved, but the words failed to come straight away. "What did you call me?" She exclaimed.

  "Your name is Jill, isn't it?" He teased.

  "Not that, the other bit, the darling bit, you said Jill, darling, with a particular emphasis on the darling." Then she realised he was chuckling softly.

  "I couldn't resist it, partly for the humour, but it seemed a harmless way of saying thank you."

  "Just doing my job." She said and he nodded as she said it.

  "More than that isn't it, not just a job," Steel replied. It was her turn to nod in agreement. "It has to be, but you need to leave it behind when you go home and it's not always easy." She said

  "Some get to you more than others." Steel remarked and she nodded again.

  "Grab a seat, sit yourself down, you might as well stay awhile now you're here, unless you have other things to do."

  "Not to-day, my shifts change, so I get to stay home tonight and start on afternoons tomorrow." Jill said. "You seem to be getting on all right, good progress all the way, before long you'll be going home." Steel listened to her words and tried to read her body language. He knew about the problem with his name and how it had influenced her attitude to him, the relief when she found out that he could remember tinged with the discomfort of imagining what it was he could not forget. They had spent some time talking while he lay on the ward and had found an easy companionship, but both of them knew there was an artificial element to what was happening, the real world would soon intrude and all would change beyond recognition. Steel wanted to acknowledge her friendliness and she had agreed to meet up for a drink before he went home, whenever that might be.

  "Some of my friends are on their way down from Oxfordshire, so when the doctor's decide I'm fit enough they'll be here to keep an eye on things."

  "That's good; take it easy for a week or so, until the wounds knit together properly, then there should be no stopping you." She remarked.

  “Things should ease up soon." Steel shifted his position on the bed, wincing at the discomfort, at least the plumbing had been removed and he could move. Jill sat silently watching Steel; he still looked a mess. The bruises were fading and the swelling across his face was going down and there was still some swelling around the chest wounds, scar tissue was building a network of low ridges amongst the hairs. "If you keep your shirt fastened, you shouldn't frighten too many people." Jill smiled, "and a short tidy beard should hide the worst of the damage to your face, but then the maggots did you a lot of good there, they kept the wounds meticulously clean and that's helped to reduce the scars. You might get away clean shaven."

  “In a bad light? I'll see how it goes, maybe I could get used to a beard, but it's a bit scratchy at the moment." Surprisingly she leaned forward and touched the stubble then settled back again. "Give it another week, it should be softer then." Steel relaxed and sank back into the pillow. "Did the police give you a hard time with the questions; they laid it on pretty thick with me?”

  "I know; they wanted to know anything and everything you said while you were under sedation, absolutely all of it, no matter how trivial it might have seemed. They gave me the old line, which I suppose must have some truth, it might be important, even though it didn't seem it."

  "Did I say anything? I didn't reveal the intimate secrets of some passionate affair with the boss’s wife did I?"

  Jill smiled and Steel reckoned he liked it when she did that and in a different place and a different time he would have been tempted to do something about it.

  "No," she said, "you just muttered, good dog, a considerable number of times."

  "Did I, that's a bit odd isn’t it!"

  "No it isn't, you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for a dog."

  "Well, in that case, I'll say it again. Good dog." Steel grinned, "Anyway, what really brings you here, it can't be my irresistible charm and my undeniable good looks at the moment are more dashed, than dashing?

  "I thought I would call in and see you, there is something you might be able to help me with, a little favour if you will."

  "Can’t promise anything, but ask away." He was chivalry itself and a favour was the least he could do after the work she and her team had put in on his behalf.

  “Robbie, my cousin, works for the Coastguard and he was asking how you were. He was on duty when they airlifted you off the mountain, but that's by the by. Bear with me for a minute, he has a colleague in the Canadian Coastguard that he keeps in touch with and the day well the night you came in he rang and left a message for Robbie, two messages actually, one on my machine and one on Robbie's. He had just got back from a patrol out towards the ice as he calls it. He didn't say what they had found, but it wasn't good news for the folks at home. He had a query, he wanted Robbie to see what he could find on incidents involving cylinder failure, bursting open like a bomb and smashing everything up."

  "It's not an unreasonable request, I'm not sure I can give you the answer you're looking for, but what the heck."

  "Well, you did say you were a diver and you'd been diving in the area before all this happened, I wondered if you knew anyone who might know what he was looking for. He does have some contact with the divers around the area, that's part of his job as Coastguard, but as a diver you are more on the inside of things, well, like I said, I wondered."

  Steel put up a hand against her disappointment. "Whoa. I'll see what I can do. I can't make any promises, but I will ask around." He reached for a chit from a telephone pad on the cabinet beside his bed, "have you a pen, just scribble a contact on there and I'll get on to it when I'm mobile again."

  "Jack, this friend of Robbie's, said it was a pretty unusual thing to happen."

  "He's right; I can't remember the last time I heard of anything like that, but don't worry." Jill handed the pad back with a telephone number written in clear precise script. Steel read it and put the pad, face down on the cabinet. "Are you worried that someone might see it?"

  "Maybe, but more that it might be recognised and then put two and two together, which we all know makes six, if you get my drift."

  "Better be off; got things to do before tonight, I promised Robbie I would cook dinner. The price I have to pay for inviting myself round. You take care of yourself; you've got my number. Give me a call sometime." Jill said in a matter of fact tone and Steel noticed the colour rising on her throat and the flush on her cheeks.

  "Jill, darling; what is it?" There was less of an attempt at humour now, more serious. "Just be careful, that's all mister Steel, be careful." She said and left. Steel watched her close the door and the handle return to its normal position. He let his head fall back on to the pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling. He knew he was well on the road to recovery now; there had been a familiar early morning stirring when she had stopped by his bed at the end of her shift. It was an understandable reaction and a misreading of the care and attention lavished on him through his confinement. A personification of all those who changed dressings, swabbed wounds and patched up the wounded. No, she wasn't an angel, but she was a darling, no doubt about that and next week there would be another in his place, one more in a long line of damaged people repaired and sent on their way.

 

  He could do with the sleep, but with sleep came the dreams and the benefit he gained from the rest was
diminished by the intensity of the imagery. Lie still, he told himself, just don't move and let it be for now. He did sleep, but the images were mixed, some good, some not. The glove was there, but so was the dog and the dog was trying to savage the glove, but the barbs were tearing the animal’s mouth until shots rang out and it scuttled away, head down and hugging the floor to a place of safety.

  The Thermos flasks of coffee ran dry outside Alexandria, north of Glasgow. Josie slotted the Range Rover into a line of traffic, leapfrogging the caravans and boat trailers being hauled out to the highlands and islands. The company plastic was taking a beating to keep the horses fed as she juggled time and speed against economy and the coffee stops now matched the garage visits to refuel. The last stop at Tyndrum saw the tanks topped off while Langhers ordered coffee at the Little Chef. Josie rang the hospital before they took to the road again. Five minutes of concentrated persuasion had a visit sorted out and they headed straight for the hospital car park. Langhers took over the driving and pushed the Rover down the A85 to Oban, confident and relaxed he went for it and forty-five minutes later he swung the vehicle into the hospital car park and into a vacant slot. He cut the engine and released his seat belt in the same manoeuvre. Josie stretched in her seat and pushed open her door. The cool evening air slipped into the car and she shivered. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she reached for a fleece jacket folded on the back seat. They left the car, with Langhers bringing up the rear, his windcheater jacket fastened at the waist and zipped part way up. The breezes drifting in from the Atlantic put a chill in the air which made it natural to pull a jacket close and fasten it. He let Josie deal with the desk and followed her purposeful stride through the corridors of the hospital.

  The policeman on duty sat outside the door, his cap on the floor under his chair and the Kevlar body armour unfastened. He began to take an interest as they approached, fastening the jacket and Langhers muttered under his breath, deciding he would stay out here for the time being rather than force a confrontation with the policeman over the ironmongery he carried. Josie would hit him with the full force of her personality; flash the smile and the hair. He saw her run her fingers through her hair, teasing it out, tousling it, working the long journey factor into her step and the harassed look in her eyes, she was going for the full effect. This was Josie Burke giving it the complete girlie. She rubbed her eyes hard, reddening them, the effect of drying tears and the poor copper never stood a chance; he fell, hook, line and sinker. Reassured by the male nurse, who identified her as one of the people Steel had cited as next of kin, he checked his watch and jotted her particulars down in his pocketbook. He barely glanced at Langhers as he followed her in through the door and closed it behind them. Josie stopped and Langhers moved close, his chest easing against her shoulder, close enough for her to lean on him as she rocked back on her feet. Her voice was strained as she looked at the sleeping figure, his skin dark against the crisp whiteness of the bedding and the shape of his body broken by the bands of white strapped around his chest. "Oh my God," she whispered, "what happened?" Langhers rested a hand on her shoulder and said. "Steady lass, take it easy. He's asleep. Let him come round on his own."

  "But Kurt, look at him." She blurted hoarsely.

  "I know, but let him wake on his own. Relax," he said and checked his watch. "We'll give him half an hour, if he's not awake by then, we'll go and find Charlie, get ourselves settled in and come back in the morning," Langhers hand slipped around her waist. She leaned back against him. "Are you OK?"

  "I'm fine, bit of a shock that's all. I don't know what I expected, but this isn't it. I don't know whether he looks better or worse than I anticipated. I'm OK now though."

  "Good, stay with him I'm going to have a chat with the staff and the policeman." Josie nodded and moved to the chair beside the bed. She sat down and watched him sleep. Gently she reached across and brushed a shock of hair back from his forehead. The touch and the movement of the hair across his skin brought a reaction, his nose wrinkled and twitched, but he stayed asleep. Josie pulled her fleece close around her and made herself comfortable to wait. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, Josie couldn't say how long she sat before Steel began to stir. His eyes opened and she held his gaze. A moment passed before his face broke into a smile of recognition. "Hello stranger," he said his voice dry and rasping in his throat, "you're a sight for sore eyes."

  "Hello." All the things she had planned to say when he awoke were gone, pushed from her mind by the reality of being here with him. She dropped her eyes and stared at her hands. "I lied to you," she whispered, "I had given up. I didn't know what to think. What happened Don?" This was not a moment when she could use his surname, for her it was too intimate, only the diminutive of his first name would do.

  "Not now, I'll tell you all in due course, but not now. Are you alone?” He asked.

  "Kurt's with me, Jardine sent us to be local when you're ready to come out of hospital. We've got some lodgings fixed up, self-catering, in the town. We're meeting someone later to pick up the key and we'll probably have to sort out a bit of shopping." Josie explained.

  "Don't fret and I'll be back on my feet before long, then we'll sort this out."

  “How, we’ve no idea who or what we're up against?" The frustration in her voice was clear.

  "Maybe, maybe not, but we do have a starting point." His face might be battered into unfamiliarity, but the reassurance in his voice was just the same as it had always been. Josie let go of his hand and rummaged through her pockets for a tissue to blow her nose. "I hope you're not getting all emotional, young lady that won't do. I'm not in a position to do the reassuring hugs at the moment and I refuse on principle to delegate that onerous task." She tried to blow her nose and laugh at the same time and almost pulled it off, "now, come on, help me sit up and we'll try and work out how soon I can be out of here. Don't get me wrong, they're a great bunch and one of them is a complete darling, but I'm itching to get off my backside."

  Josie's eyebrow went up. "A complete darling, eh, by name and nature?"

  It was Steel's turn to look. "Pardon?"

  "Well, I thought she sounded a bit starchy, but if that's what you like." Josie said, "I spoke to her on the phone.”

  "Back to practicalities; you're supposed to be meeting someone to pick up the key to your digs, then hadn't you better get on with it and fetch Langhers in here before you disappear.

  "He did, but you were fast asleep, so he went off to talk to people, in fact he's probably chatting up your darling nurse right now."

  "Doubt that very much, she's more than likely off duty at the moment and she's not my darling nurse." He grumbled and Josie left him to it. Langhers was outside, chatting to Fowler, who was not enjoying sitting around doing nothing much in particular. Neither of them had been able to tell the other much about the circumstances Steel had found himself in. A condition not eased by shared professional reticence, they had skirted around the details of the subject like a pair of grizzled old lions around a carcass, so it was with some relief that Josie dragged Langhers into the room. She went back to the Range Rover and phoned the Grange, updating Jardine. Ten minutes later Langhers swung open the passenger door of the car and slid onto the seat. "Right," he said, "let's find Charlie and see about settling in for the night."

  Josie turned twisted the key and the engine turned over first time, kicking smoke from the exhaust and growling comfortably under the bonnet. "He is going to be alright, isn't he?" She asked Langhers, genuine concern in her voice, "Only he seems in such good spirits, I worry that he's too brittle."

  "What, you mean the sparkle is like glass, so easy to shatter and you're left with hundreds of pieces and no way to put them together," His grin was forced, "he'll be fine, stop worrying, now drive."

  "You know where we're going?"

  "Yes, now drive." Langhers told her. Josie did as she was told and took the Range Rover out of the car park and into the town, threading through the traffic until he told her
to park and they went the rest of the way on foot. The Firth of Lorne was a light coloured building with contrasting casements for the windows, inside, the centrepiece was the bar and the tables and drinkers surrounded it. Langhers went first, Josie close on his heels and made straight for the bar. He made himself heard above the crowd and eventually steered Josie to a table in the corner with a pint of Guinness in one hand and an orange juice for Josie in the other, using his shoulder to divide the bodies. Langhers sat down with his back to the wall at a table where he could see the door. Charlie found them not long after, watching them from the corner and waited, keeping an eye on the rest of the pub and the trickle of people in and out, business wasn't too brisk at this time of the week. The serious drinking would kick in on Friday and take it through the weekend. She was the only one even close to the description tonight, let alone with a tall blonde guy in tow. He stood by the table and placed his pint on a vacant beer mat, as if staking his claim to the territory. "Would anyone like to swap an anorak for a duffel coat?" He asked.

  Josie looked up as she sipped her orange and said. "Charlie, it's good to see you."

  "And you too," He said, not quite pulling off the impression of not having seen her for ages. He sat down and leaned forward. "Good journey up I take it and your friend is on the mend." It wasn't a question, more of a statement. Langhers leaned forward, one forearm on the table and the index finger of his other hand rubbing the rim of his glass. Josie carried on the illusion of old friends meeting again by resting her hand on Charlie's arm. "Yes, to both and you. No trouble sorting things out?"

  He shook his head, "No worries, piece of cake actually. The digs are in a tenement on Albany Street, will sleep four, five at a push. Double bedroom, two singles and a bunk-hole."

  "A what?"

  "Bunk-hole, it's a sort of large cupboard with a bunk-bed inside. You'll see when you get there and don't worry about food. I've done the shopping, got the basics and transferred a few bits from the boat. It's a bit cheeky I know, but I could do with asking a favour."

  Langhers and Josie looked at one another and nodded. They didn't know what the favour would be, but he'd done plenty already to warrant the request. "I could do with staying ashore for a couple of days to do some sorting out. I need some gear for the boat and I could really do with replenishing my supplies. Some of the stuff from the boat is close to the use-by date. It would probably make a good stew."

  "No problem Charlie, we already owe you, stay as long as you like." Langhers told him; "in fact we'll give you a hand with the re-supply." it might help us get a feel for the way things are around here.” He didn't tell him it might allay the suspicious nature of anyone who might have been keeping a watch on Steel. A bit of innocent holiday activity might throw a veil of Scotch mist around. It sounded innocent enough, old friends meeting up for a couple of days, to spend time around Oban then off along the coast for a spot of sailing. Sounds good, Langhers thought and made a note to put the idea into action. Charlie fished a bunch of keys out of his pocket and slipped them across the table to Josie who slid them into her pocket. The conversation descended into generalities for a while until just after ten when Josie announced that she thought it was about time they made a move and at least went to see the accommodation. The two men drained their glasses and followed her out into the darkened streets. They collected the Range Rover and Charlie directed them to Albany Street. Langhers drove past the front door of the block and parked about fifty yards up the road on the opposite side. It would do there for now, while they unloaded, once they were settled he would come back and relocate the vehicle. He had spotted an open space not much further away where cars were parked off the road. He would leave the Rover there. They split the luggage between them, Charlie swinging Steel's pack on to his shoulder and leading the way inside and up the worn stone steps to the second floor. He twisted the key as he pushed the door and disappeared into the darkness inside, the light came on with a snap as Josie and Langhers followed him. Langhers kicked the door shut, dropped his burden and began to move through the apartment, drawing the curtains in each room before turning on the light nearest the window, to minimise the shadows cast on the curtains. Charlie pulled open a cupboard door and said. "Bunk-hole."

  Josie peered inside and frowned. "I think we'll leave that as a last resort, to be used only when there is absolutely no alternative."

  Charlie nodded. "Good idea," he agreed and closed the door, "right, any takers for a mug of tea?" he added as he moved into the kitchen and began clattering about unpacking the supplies he had left behind earlier. Langhers pointed Josie in the direction of the double room, Charlie was given one of the singles and Langhers took the other. The allocation would remain in place until Steel was discharged from hospital, then they would have a rethink. The bunk-hole lay directly opposite the entrance, giving at a good overview of any movement into or around the flat; Langhers made a unilateral decision that for now it would do as a storage space and loaded the camera cases and Steel's rucksack on to the top bunk. He stacked them close together and digging into the flap pocket of the Rucksack he removed and unrolled a strong, lightweight wire mesh. He wrapped everything up and secured it with an attached padlock. It would be enough to deter the casual opportunist. He closed the door and Charlie came out of the kitchen and handed him a mug of tea. Langhers sniffed it, "What is it, it smells herbal?"

  "You're right, it'll help you unwind. I use it myself after a hard day sailing."

  Langhers shrugged, what the hell, it couldn't hurt. A decent kip never goes amiss, but an uncomfortable feeling neighed that he should be reasonably alert. Charlie looked him straight in the eye. "You get the sleep, if need be, I'll wake you." he said and led the way into the living room. He indicated the three-seat settee and said. "If we have a gang to stay, that folds out to a double bed. Now sit down and we'll sort out one or two things." Langhers took one end of the settee, Josie went for one armchair and Charlie took the other. Charlie had the floor as Josie and Langhers sat drinking tea.

  "You two are going to rest tonight and don't worry about keeping an eye on things, I'll sleep lightly, I generally do the first couple of nights ashore, it's something that becomes essential when sailing. Half of your brain seems to stay awake listening. You both do things which give me an inkling," Langhers lowered his mug and Charlie held up his hand, "not yet Kurt, give me a minute. I know you're here to meet your friend when he comes out of hospital and I can guess that it wasn't an accident that put him there."

  Josie managed to slip a word in when he paused for breath. "Charlie, you seem to have gone along with everything that has been requested, is this because you owe Ben a favour or two."

  "In a manner of speaking, we go way back, to the fifties and sixties when Ben was driving the Shetland Bus."

  Langhers put down his mug and rested his head on his hand with the elbow propped on the arm of the settee. "I thought that was a wartime thing, you know, Second World War, what the devil were you doing in the fifties."

  Charlie gave him the sort of look reserved for a harmless idiot. "The hot war might have ended in forty-five, but it just got cold out there and a rusty trawler can go where a grey funnel liner couldn’t, we were in the business of popping over for a quick butchers, then slipping away again just as quickly.” Josie was looking at him closely, taking in the detail of this wiry man. The shock of white hair and the eyebrows, wild and unruly, set on a face of deeply tanned skin burnished by the wind as much as burnt by the sun. His eyes were a sparkling brown, but with their focus set on a point far away. Josie said. "Alright Charlie, how do you read this?" She swept her hand around the room, taking in the three of them.

  "It's not over, there is more to come, whatever it is your friend got tangled up with, he got out alive and that may not have been someone's plan. They and I guess you don't, as yet, really know who they are, may want to finish the job. There are those in the police who agree with you, at least for the time being, because they have a g
uard on his room. They may insist on his being watched for some time after his discharge. And don't worry about playing the innocents, both of you left that blissful state behind a long time since and the fact that Ben and your boss are friendly." Charlie explained, "Tells me as much as I need to know. By the way, I'm quite happy to work on that footing, if I don't need to know about it, then don't feel obliged to keep me informed."

  Josie exclaimed. "If you're on the team then you know what we know."

  Charlie gave her his best disarming smile. "Look, I'm not as young as I was, the old grey matter doesn't work as well and so need to know is advantageous. If I don't need to know and I don't, then I can't forget, can I and if it isn’t in there clogging up what for me is the important stuff, then I can get on with a minimum of confusion."

  Langhers chipped in, "and you’re starting to sound geriatric and I don’t believe that. OK, so you're long in the tooth, but I'll put money when the fertiliser impacts with the air conditioning the teeth are still there."

  The brown eyes twinkled. "Thanks, I'll make some more tea,” Charlie had worked it all out. Langhers and Josie would get the rest they needed and he would lay in that familiar state where he rested, yet heard every yaw and pitch of the boat and the noise that went with it. If there was nothing untoward he would end the night as refreshed as if he'd logged a full eight hours with sweet dreams included. He went and clattered about in the kitchen. Langhers swung his feet up on to the settee and slid down until his head rested on the arm. "Charlie has the idea that the boss is up to no good, of skulduggery even," he muttered and clasped his hands behind his head. "And it sounds as though he might not be averse to the same."

  Josie said, "Comes across as a bit of a lad in his day, might have been interesting to meet him when he was at his peak." Langhers lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Josie snuggled down in her chair and yawned. "Get off to bed if you want, I'll keep Charlie company for a while if you like."

  "You don't mind?"

  Langhers shook his head, "No, go on, I’ll see you in the morning."

  She levered herself from the chair and left the room, calling to Charlie in the kitchen to cancel her tea. He called back, but she didn't catch the detail as she closed the door to her room. The two men talked into the early hours of the morning and Josie listened to the murmur of voices through the wall until she fell asleep.

  Langhers left Charlie at about two thirty and slipped off to his room, collecting the carrier bag with the Browning from the bunk-hole. He stripped to his boxer shorts, unwrapped the gun attached the silencer and slid it down the bed beside him when he drew up the duvet. He left the window slightly open, a little more than half an inch. There was no fire escape adjacent to the window and the window itself was on the second floor, a spider could manage the climb, but he reckoned it would challenge a pretty good mountaineer, unless he dropped from the floor above on a rope. Langhers muttered a warning about becoming too paranoid and closed his eyes. He slept deeply.

  Jill Darling noticed the light under the door when she returned from the meal at Robbie's a little after midnight. Another group of holidaymakers savouring the delights of Oban and its environs, she thought as she walked past and continued upwards to the next floor. Letting herself in, she dropped the latch on the door and walked through the flat to the front window, slipped the sash upwards and leaned out. Robbie watched for her wave from the street below and waved back. He waited until she had closed the window before he walked away, returning home. He walked back towards the harbour and then crossed the town to the small house he rented on the hill below McCaig's Folly, the strange coliseum like structure on the skyline above the town. Floodlights picked out the stonework, throwing the empty arches into black shadow. He was home by twelve thirty and switched on the radio to listen to the shipping forecast. There was another message on the answering machine and the accented voice of Jack Cocker asked him to ring back when he got chance, a quick calculation scribbled on his kitchen white-board with information from his electronic notebook. The result gave him a time shortly after eight o'clock. He dialled the number and waited. Cocker got to the phone fairly quickly and growled. "Cocker, who is it?"

  "Robbie returning your call."

  "Hey, Robbie, how ya doin', good to hear you."

  "You too mate, thought you'd be back at sea by now." Robbie said.

  Robbie could hear music, bright and exuberant. "First thing tomorrow morning, we sail on the morning tide for seven days out and I've got three weeks leave when I get back."

  "Well, then get your arse over here."

  "Patience, I'll get there when I'm ready, but first, you got anything for me?" He asked.

  Robbie said. "Not yet, It's an unusual one, incident like that, almost unheard of these days. Cylinder manufacture and the test procedures generally weed out any rogue tanks pretty effectively. These days it tends to be the hoses that go, probably a catastrophic free-flow under water leads to an incident, but it’s not always fatal, doesn't even lead to a decom problem every time. Anyway, I've not written it off, I've got some feelers out with a couple of people in the diving world and oddly enough one of them has been a patient of Jill's. Lad got himself in a spot of bother, doing a bit of diving in the area then disappeared and turned up a few weeks later with the shit beaten out of him and dumped on a mountain. Nobody knows why, the police are itching to get some answers. Poor bastard was airlifted off the mountains unconscious, cleaned up and wheeled into her ward to come round."

  "How's he doing?"

  "Fine, should be out and about in a couple of days, hopefully he might be able to come up with something useful." Robbie explained, "what about your side, anything new from the last trip and the stuff you found?"

  "Yeah, got a bit of weird info from the Forensic department."

  "Go on, how weird?"

  "The cylinder had been altered, machined, lunatic if you ask me, what were they thinking of. The damn thing should never have been allowed anywhere near a compressor."

  "Why?"

  "Well, the cylinder had been sawn in half, then threaded and the damned thing screwed back together, from the outside it looked just like any other cylinder, clever way of smuggling stuff around."

  "Smuggling?"

  "Yes, it looks like somebody was shifting stuff around, up and down the coast, stashing it in dummy cylinders."

  "Which had the advantage of being real cylinders and impossible to tell from the working cylinders, which is why that one went bang?"

  "Dead right so my question might not be valid, the exploding cylinder wasn't an accident, but the result of tampering."

  "Ah well, that changes things and throws us back beyond square one, we're not even on the starting line are we?"

  "No," Jack Cocker said with weary resignation, "but customs and immigration are taking a real interest, I'm not sure how the two guys on the boat fit into the picture, part of me hopes they were the victims of a genuine error. They reckon a cylinder that size could carry ten or fifteen kilos of cocaine, I've no idea what that would fetch at street level, but I can't think they would be able to shift that much stuff around here. May be they were part of something bigger. If they were involved then it could hit the girl hard. Bad enough losing your guy like that, but then to find him involved in dealing drugs on a big scale, nah, she doesn't want that."

  Robbie agreed. "No, she'll have enough on, losing him and with the kid to look after. Look, Jack, if you want me to drop it, I can do that, or I can leave it and let it run, see what turns up?"

  "Let it run, something might turn up, give it a chance."

  "Alright then, going back to this cylinder, did the forensic lads say anything else?"

  "Not a lot, but they reckon the cylinder was done in any well-equipped workshop,” said Cocker, "it wasn't a backyard job, it's a professional job. There was no botching when it was put back together, the joint was a hairline, a couple of brush strokes with a matching touch up paint would have concealed it complete
ly, then slip a cylinder mesh over the top and no chance of spotting the joint. That's when the trouble started. I guess we'll never know what really happened."

  "I'll have a word with Excise next time they call, see if they have anything this side, you never know."

  "OK, it might be worth it. So, how's Jill?" Cocker asked.

  "She's fine, I've just had dinner with her, we had a good chat, few drinks then I took her home, just got back when I picked up your message and called you back, but yeah, she's fine. She got a bit hung up a couple of days ago about this guy they brought in. No name you see, just an unknown casualty and she got worked up about it, but when she found out his name, she was OK."

  "Still a none-kissing cousin?"

  "Well, can't say about that with anyone else, but certainly where I'm concerned, only goodnight and Christmas under the mistletoe."

  "Poor bastard, still, never mind. Give her my best, next time you see her." Jack said by way of goodbye, "and take care of yourself too. I've got to go, plenty to do before morning."

  "Will do Jack, the same to you mate all the best." Said Robbie and hung up. Jack Cocker went over the phone conversation with Jill a couple of days ago and wondered if she had tumbled. A beaten up no name broke through her defences, burst her wide open. Cocker shook his head, who'd a' thought it, she finally fell. He dragged his kit bag from the cupboard in the hall and carried it through to the bedroom. The washing was piled his on the bed, freshly ironed. Jack Cocker began to pack.