Gorrie stood back a few feet and surveyed the scene. The shoulder across the way was wide enough for a waiting car, easily parked in the shadow of the pines.

Hadn’t the words Specialty Transport been on one of Cameron’s pads?

Gorrie reached into his pocket for his notebook, though even before he opened it he realized he hadn’t written down what the council member’s pads had said.

Bad detective work, that. What would the walrus say?

“Sergeant, have you a phone I could borrow?” he asked Lewis.

“It’s my personal phone, Inspector.”

Gorrie held out his hand.

Melanie, the sister’s American friend, answered on the second ring. Ms. Cameron was out, but she volunteered to check the pad. Gorrie listened as she pulled open the drawers.

“Right or left?” she asked, and his heart sank.

“Left, I think.”

“Nothing here. Wait, I’ll try the right.”

It was there. Halfway down the page of the second pad was the note: “Hgh Spec Trprt?”

Highland Specialty Transport. Or highly special transportation. Or Hugh Spectre Transport.

“There was a phone number, wasn’t there?” asked Gorrie. “Read it to me, would you?”

He punched the number into the sergeant’s phone, even though it meant breaking his promise to the sergeant that he would only call the nearby number. A very correct though very young bureaucratic voice answered on the other end.

“UKAE Nuclear Waste Regulation, Transport Division.”

“Transport Division?”

“Sir, can I help you?”

“What precisely is it you do, son?”

“I hang up the phone if I don’t have an explanation as to why this is not a crank call,” said the man.

Gorrie explained who he was and why, more or less, he was calling. The young man became considerably more helpful. He believed he had spoken to Cameron, who sat on the area Land and Environment Select Committee. The council member had inquired about forms and regulations governing transport of spent nuclear fuel. The conversation had not lasted long; Cameron had been referred to Constance Burns. The head of the UKAE Waste Division liked to deal with elected representatives personally.

“She takes all VIPs,” said the young man. “I’m not sure if she spoke to the committee member or not, just that he would have been referred.”

“Could you tell her that I’d like a word?” said Gorrie, who wasn’t sure if he qualified as a VIP or not.

“Afraid she’s out of the country on vacation in Switzerland. She calls in every morning and evening. Shall I give her your number?”

“Why don’t you give me hers instead?”

“Well, sir, our privacy policy—”

“Come now, be a good lad,” said Gorrie.

“Well.”

“You never know when you might need a favor,” suggested the inspector.

“As a matter of fact, if it was convenient, I could use one. There’s a matter of a speeding ticket.”

“Speeding? And when were you in the Highlands?”