“We’re an international communications concern,” said the man, adding that he was in the security division, filling in for another person Gorrie had never heard of. “One of our people at Glasgow intercepted a hacker trying to break into our e-mail system.”

“Computer crimes are a bit out of my expertise,” Gorrie told him. “And Glasgow—”

“It’s rather complicated.” Hernandez explained that in investigating the attempted hack, they had uncovered possible evidence of another crime. They were alerting Scotland Yard’s computer branch, but some of the e-mail they encountered seemed to pertain to Inverness and they had been referred to the local CID.

It appeared from the e-mail that the owner of an estate there named Cameron had been targeted for murder.

Until Ewie Cameron’s name was mentioned, Gorrie paid scant attention. Now he pulled over a pad and began taking careful notes. The man read four e-mails; only one was directly incriminating—it mentioned Cameron by name and gave a price for his death. But there was another one referring to a “trashman,” and still another advising that the job would not be considered complete until all complications were eliminated.

That one was dated two days ago. All were signed “CB,” and all had come from the UKAE computer system.

“I don’t know that these are authentic,” said Hernandez, “but we can help you find out. Scotland Yard will undoubtedly be in touch.”

“I’ll arrange for a detective to go to your Glasgow office,” said Gorrie. He wrote down the contact information, unsure who he could send who might actually understand how they had managed to come up with the information.

CB—Constance Burns, of course.

It was all suspiciously easy, just like finding the truck with a spot of blood still on the fender.

Gorrie hung up—then hit *69, which on their phone system redialed the number that had just been connected. On the third ring, a Yank picked up the phone.

“UpLink International,” he said. “How can I direct your call?”

“Is there a Mr. Hernandez who works there?”

“Hold on and I’ll connect you.”

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary now,” Gorrie said, hanging up. He started a new folder for the UpLink information, then put it on top of the others at the side of his desk. The large clock on the wall read five minutes to eight.

He must not show up at home too late, he decided. This new business would hold off the higher-ups for some days, perhaps even win him more men. Russell would bristle when he heard Scotland Yard had been contacted.

Still, there was time to stop by Brown Glen Hall and see if he could find Christine Gibbon there.

She was not there, which didn’t surprise him terribly. And no one remembered anyone odd hanging around who might have overheard her running her mouth.