Talk about living the high life.
Pine looked up at Agapova’s glass-fronted entrance hall. ‘The Chief Constable is spittingnapalmover this one, Logan. We’re facing a massive cluster jobbie, soon as the press finds out.’ A sniff. ‘Surprised they’re not here already.’
‘Ah...About that.’ Deep breath. ‘It was a journalist on theAberdeen Examinerwho discovered she was missing, last night. He was the one who called us in. So it’ll be all over their morning edition.’ Logan checked his watch. ‘Which will be hitting the newsstands right about now.’
Her face creased. ‘Oh for—’
‘But that’s just one,localpaper, right? And they’re not going to just give their exclusive away, so none of the others will know about it till it’s published.’
Pine glared off into the distance. ‘At least that buys us a little time.’
‘And I asked the Met to stress: we need Mr Shearsmith to keep all this as quiet as possible; that his ex-wife’s safety probably depends on it; and until we get a ransom demand, we don’t know what we’re dealing with.’
‘Good. The last thing we need is Natasha Agapova turning up bit-by-bit all over the city.’ Pine frowned. ‘I worked a case in Clydebank where the family couldn’t pay the ransom. Every time the postie came, there was another chunk...’ She shuddered. ‘Ever see a uterus wrapped in an episode ofThe Broons? Never looked atThe Sunday Postthe same way again. Took us weeks to—’
The rest of her sentence was drowned out by thewhumping roar of a helicopter. Only it wasn’t a Super Puma – high in the sky, on its way to an oil rig somewhere – it was a small dark-blue number, just above the treetops, with theBBC Newslogo on the side. Circling the house. A gimbal camera, mounted on the nose, swivelled as it passed, giving Logan, Pine, and Brookminster a good lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng look.
Bloody hell.
The Chief Super’s mouth pinched, eyes bulging. ‘Thought you told the Met to keep thisquiet!’
‘They promised they’d lean on him! Low key, under the sodding radar. How was—’
A second chopper joined the first, howling over their heads. A big silver one this time, with ‘SKY NEWS HD’ emblazoned across it. Gimbal camera searching for the best view of the property. A massive, and no doubtvery expensiveupgrade from the drone they’d been flying at all the other crime scenes.
Pine jabbed a hand at the thing, going pink in the face. ‘DOES THISLOOKLOW KEY?’
Oh, and it just gotbetter:
From up here, on the hill, there was a good view down to the main road, and a chunk of the way back towardsPeterculter. Where a convoy of grubby hatchbacks, estate cars, and Outside Broadcast Units was chuntering its way towards Natasha Agapova’s house.
No way they only just found out ten seconds ago. And how long would it take to fly a helicopter up here from London? Three hours? Two-and-a-bit with a tail wind?
Logan gritted his teeth as the BBC made another pass. ‘You don’t think Adrian Shearsmith hates his ex-wife so much he hired apublicist, do you?’
Pine scowled up at the chopper. Then out at the line of approaching media. Took a deep breath. ‘Given the level of press interest in this, do you want to remain Senior Investigating Officer?’ She raised a hand. ‘And there’s no judgement if you don’t. This one’s going to be an absolute buggering nightmare, and I know your dance card’s full already.’
If she was volunteering, he wasn’t going to stand in her way.
‘To be honest, Boss, I’m happynottaking the lead on this one.’
Because she was right: itwasgoing to be a buggering nightmare; involve a shedload of meetings, briefings, blame, and recriminations; not to mention a one-hundred-percent chance of getting shredded by the media for everytinymistake. And once the press got into the inevitable full-on self-referential feeding frenzy, there’d be no stopping them.
Her face sagged. ‘Yeah, thought as much.’ Then she stiffened her spine. ‘Keep working your existing cases. But if I’m going to be SIO here, when I yell “Frog!” I expect you to jump, understand?’
‘Yes, Boss.’
‘Get back to the station. This is now our number one priority. I want Natasha Agapova found before the parcels start arriving!’
He hurried back towards the pool car.
Sky News made another pass, so Pine had to shout over the hammering rotors. ‘AND YOU’RE AN ACTING DETECTIVE CHIEF INSPECTOR NOW – DRESS LIKE ONE!’
Yeah...
This was going to be alongday.
The whole team had turned up in uniform, like a colony of rooks, gathered around the whiteboard wall at the front of the office, listening as Logan played the recording again: