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Didn’t end well for him, did it?”
    “Ian Wark’s still alive. They say he might come round. If he does he’ll be going to trial. They’ll want to hear from you too.”
    “There will be no trial. There’s a blackout on this case. Don’t be so naive.”
    Sandy had hoped the man might have borne a grudge. The Ian Davidson of old would have. He didn’t seem like that now, though, he was calm, bored even.
    “What can I do to change your mind?”
    “What is it that you thought I was going to say?”
    “I need an ‘in’ – someone who knew what was going on. Even on the QT, I need something to go on. Something that will allow me to talk about the events without breaking the Official Secrets Act.”
    Davidson knew what he was angling for but he wasn’t going to make it easy for his guest, “It won’t be me, I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement.”
    “Private medical care doesn’t come cheap.”
    Davidson shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he was starting to get irritated, “Look, I appreciate your concern for my well being but I really can’t help. I want to get my life together then get back to work.”
    “You know what I want?”
    “Yes.”
    “Help me out, the man is cancer.”
    “Sorry, you’re going to need to be specific.”
    “Donald.”
    “Donald is cancer? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the unfounded allegations you’ve pursued in the past?”
    “I prefer ‘unproven’”
    “I’m sure you do, but it smacks of a witch hunt.”
    “He got lucky, and people like you are protecting him.”
    “Graeme Donald was good to me, and you don’t have my best interests at heart. This is nothing more than a story to you. Now I’m sorry to break it to you but my life is more important than your career. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
    Davidson stood up; Sandy could see that his face had gone red under the mask, his skin looked sore.
    “It doesn’t have to be like this,” Sandy dug into his kit bag and fished out a business card. He offered it to Davidson but he didn’t look at it. Sandy threw it down on the coffee table, “I’ll leave it anyway, just in case.”
    “Ever the optimist.”
    Back in the car Sandy was disappointed. He hadn’t really got anything he could use. He had installed a button camera on his blazer which had been recording the conversation. It was technically entrapment but he needed a lead. He had hoped to get more information off the record but there was nothing much he could use. Davidson was in complete denial that there was anything untoward about his boss. Maybe they’ve been working together? The camera had uploaded the file to his laptop, which he was checking from the driver’s seat. He had great footage of the man in the mask; he just needed some dirt on the Chief Constable. It would come; it was just a matter of time.
    He switched on the engine when an incoming call triggered the car’s hands-free kit.
     
    Unknown caller
     
    He pressed the green handset button, “Sandy Stirrit here, who’s this?”
    “We haven’t met before but I understand you’re doing some digging into Graeme Donald’s past.”
    Sandy was immediately on his guard. He’d told no-one he was coming to Davidson’s place. He scanned the street to see if he was being watched. He didn’t speak.
    “Are you still there?”
    It was an Irish accent, sounded like Belfast or somewhere from the North, someone that knew Donald maybe?
    “Who is this?”
    “Let’s just say I’m a friend; someone that knows what you’re looking for, someone that can give you the scoop of the year.”
    “Can we meet?”
    “I’ll be in touch. Not today, but soon. I’ve got a lot I need to get off my chest.”

11
     
     
    They knocked. They waited. No-one answered. Chris Guthrie had his doubts.
    “Is this definitely the right address?”
    “Yes,” Arbogast was annoyed he’d even been asked, “134a Corsock Street.”
    “Not looking too promising then.”
    “She’s