Jim Bob."
Andy laughed and then
regretted it, wondering if he was about to see those cups of tea
again. "Technically, we are if you think about it." He
groaned.
The other two laughed and
Colin poured more tea, spooning more sugar in, to the point where
the spoon was liable to stand up on its own.
"What do you want us to
do?" Davie finally asked. "Surely you don't want to let them get
away with it?"
"I think all I want is my
bed. Besides, isn’t looking for trouble what got me into this
position in the first place?"
"They started it." Davie
said, was a petulant look on his face. "But I'll finish
it."
"I think you just wanted
to say that," Colin chimed in, slowly turning the screw in the back
of his brother's head. Why did brothers seem to enjoy winding each
other up so much? Andy didn't have brothers, though at times he
thought it could be handy. They wound each other up these two, but
they always had each other's back.
"In any case." Davie
said, his face hardening suddenly, "Something's got to be
done."
It was a face Andy had
seen pull only once before, and that had ended in tears.
8
The offices
of the SCDEA were hardly in the most salubrious of locations.
Opposite a branch of a car rental firm, they looked like an
up-to-date version of Gayfield Square; a testament to the
architect’s lack of imagination or the lack of available options
maybe.
They
announced their arrival at the front desk and waited. The waiting
must have been Edwards making a point. It went on for about ten
minutes while Burke checked his phone messages and Facebook
updates, eyed some managerial looking portraits of senior officers
in the lobby and finally settled on looking at a pamphlet for Crime
Stoppers.
It was DC
Wilson who finally arrived, looking gregarious as ever. She
escorted them to the lift where they made way up to the second
floor. The office had a constant hum about it, the noise of
activity, several brains processing information; analysts and
coppers engaged in a constant struggle to stay one step ahead, or
probably more accurately no more than a step behind the criminal
fraternity.
They made their way
towards a glassed off room at the back of the office, eyed by a
stressed looking figure in an office to the side Burke presumed was
Edwards. The man spoke into his phone in an animated fashion,
gesticulating redundantly with his right hand.
Wilson took
coffee orders and went in search of some biscuits as they sat one
end of a long conference table. A plasma screen complete with
camera hung from the wall at one end of the room for conferencing.
On the opposite wall a drop down screen was positioned to take
projections from above their heads.
They could see Edwards as
he made his way across the floor towards the conference room. He
was tall, around 6’2, fair hair and looked as though he kept fit,
probably mid 40s Burke thought. In stark contrast to himself,
Edwards was what you might realistically expect a Detective
Inspector to look like.
"I have to apologise for
my lateness, duty calls and all that," he began, shaking Burke's
hand with a grip which was surprisingly limp.
"Not at all,"
Burke lied, "we're grateful for your time," he lied again. “Nice
offices.”
"Well, it keeps the rain
off our heads," Edwards replied, "But I'm sure you didn't come here
to appreciate the interior architecture."
"No, quite right," Burke
confirmed. "Thought it'd be a good idea to call in person, seeing
as I was through here anyway." Lie number three.
"Good, well
I'm glad you could fit us in," Edwards grunted, through gritted
whitened gnashers.
"Likewise."
"Obviously, this has
caused a bit of a stir."
"Really?"
Edwards raised his
eyebrows in a way that clearly said sarcy bastard.
"Really."
Burke lowered
his in a way that clearly communicated mock empathy, with just the
right amount of ha ha fuck you thrown in for good measure. "Well I'm sure we all
want to inconvenience each other as little as possible. So what
have you got for
Andy laughed and then
regretted it, wondering if he was about to see those cups of tea
again. "Technically, we are if you think about it." He
groaned.
The other two laughed and
Colin poured more tea, spooning more sugar in, to the point where
the spoon was liable to stand up on its own.
"What do you want us to
do?" Davie finally asked. "Surely you don't want to let them get
away with it?"
"I think all I want is my
bed. Besides, isn’t looking for trouble what got me into this
position in the first place?"
"They started it." Davie
said, was a petulant look on his face. "But I'll finish
it."
"I think you just wanted
to say that," Colin chimed in, slowly turning the screw in the back
of his brother's head. Why did brothers seem to enjoy winding each
other up so much? Andy didn't have brothers, though at times he
thought it could be handy. They wound each other up these two, but
they always had each other's back.
"In any case." Davie
said, his face hardening suddenly, "Something's got to be
done."
It was a face Andy had
seen pull only once before, and that had ended in tears.
8
The offices
of the SCDEA were hardly in the most salubrious of locations.
Opposite a branch of a car rental firm, they looked like an
up-to-date version of Gayfield Square; a testament to the
architect’s lack of imagination or the lack of available options
maybe.
They
announced their arrival at the front desk and waited. The waiting
must have been Edwards making a point. It went on for about ten
minutes while Burke checked his phone messages and Facebook
updates, eyed some managerial looking portraits of senior officers
in the lobby and finally settled on looking at a pamphlet for Crime
Stoppers.
It was DC
Wilson who finally arrived, looking gregarious as ever. She
escorted them to the lift where they made way up to the second
floor. The office had a constant hum about it, the noise of
activity, several brains processing information; analysts and
coppers engaged in a constant struggle to stay one step ahead, or
probably more accurately no more than a step behind the criminal
fraternity.
They made their way
towards a glassed off room at the back of the office, eyed by a
stressed looking figure in an office to the side Burke presumed was
Edwards. The man spoke into his phone in an animated fashion,
gesticulating redundantly with his right hand.
Wilson took
coffee orders and went in search of some biscuits as they sat one
end of a long conference table. A plasma screen complete with
camera hung from the wall at one end of the room for conferencing.
On the opposite wall a drop down screen was positioned to take
projections from above their heads.
They could see Edwards as
he made his way across the floor towards the conference room. He
was tall, around 6’2, fair hair and looked as though he kept fit,
probably mid 40s Burke thought. In stark contrast to himself,
Edwards was what you might realistically expect a Detective
Inspector to look like.
"I have to apologise for
my lateness, duty calls and all that," he began, shaking Burke's
hand with a grip which was surprisingly limp.
"Not at all,"
Burke lied, "we're grateful for your time," he lied again. “Nice
offices.”
"Well, it keeps the rain
off our heads," Edwards replied, "But I'm sure you didn't come here
to appreciate the interior architecture."
"No, quite right," Burke
confirmed. "Thought it'd be a good idea to call in person, seeing
as I was through here anyway." Lie number three.
"Good, well
I'm glad you could fit us in," Edwards grunted, through gritted
whitened gnashers.
"Likewise."
"Obviously, this has
caused a bit of a stir."
"Really?"
Edwards raised his
eyebrows in a way that clearly said sarcy bastard.
"Really."
Burke lowered
his in a way that clearly communicated mock empathy, with just the
right amount of ha ha fuck you thrown in for good measure. "Well I'm sure we all
want to inconvenience each other as little as possible. So what
have you got for
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