I’m just saying, be wary of Abercorn until you know what game he’s really playing. And more importantly, whose side he’s on.

Letting Off Criminals Under Secret Trades.

Dougie Abercorn, head of Locust, had just pulled up outside the home of one Stevie Fullerton.

Phantoms

They intercepted Margaret Bain as she walked towards the hospital’s main entrance, ready to begin her shift. Jasmine felt like some doorstep-ping journalist, waiting around to ambush an unsuspecting woman on her way into work, which reminded her that this was what Margaret Bain had believed her to be when she visited her house. Jasmine didn’t imagine her husband would have told her the truth about her and Fallan any more than he’d have told her the truth about why they were there.

In the event, there was more waiting to be done. Margaret looked askance at their approach, taking a moment or two to work out why she recognised them.

‘I’m not allowed to talk to reporters,’ she said. ‘You need to go through the trust.’

Jasmine didn’t know whether this was true, but they weren’t there to interview her in her capacity as a trust employee, and she strongly suspected Margaret knew that.

‘We’re not reporters,’ she said. ‘We’re private investigators. We work with Jim Sharp. We know you spoke to him.’

That got a reaction: the worried look of someone whose fears have just been confirmed.

‘And he’s gone missing since,’ Fallan added.

‘I’m due on shift in two minutes. I can’t talk to you.’

‘We’ll wait for your break,’ said Fallan, in a manner that conveyed she could expect to still find him waiting if she hid on the ward until midnight. ‘It’s about the Ramsay baby.’

Her mouth opened just a little, but no words issued. Then she made a frantic, frustrated gesture with her hand and walked off towards Maternity.

‘Could be here a while,’ Jasmine said, once Margaret had hurried out of sight down a brightly lit corridor.

Fallan shook his head.

‘First break, she’ll be here. She can’t wait to talk. Her conscience is bothering her: that’s why she called Jim.’

Jasmine could face some more waiting; having spent most of yesterday getting eye strain playing infrared spot-the-difference, this would be an easy shift. They now had a shortlist of possible locations, some of which admittedly could turn out to have been sheep or cattle.

Fallan was right. Margaret Bain reappeared after a couple of hours, looking both solemn and anxious, and led them outside, where she could have a cigarette. They walked a short distance to the edge of the car park, out of earshot of the other smokers in their hospital gowns, some still attached to drip stands.