"And then the voice of my beloved came loud and clear, 'Hot stuff. Bit naive. Screams a lot. Fergus, oh, Fergus, that sort of thing.'"

She fell silent, staring at the rushing river.

"So what did you do?" asked Hamish.

"I went to my flat. I wanted to die of shame. But I wanted revenge. I could not report him, of course, I couldn't. If I told his wife, then I would lose my job. All the men would be on his side. Then I thought that if he had done it to me, he would do it to someone else. First I dropped him. I told him I was seeing someone else. I had a nasty time after that, all the rotten cases, but I waited and watched. The chief superintendent's old bat of a secretary retired and he got a new one, very pretty girl in a hard sort of bitchy way. I saw Fergus beginning to sniff round her. I watched and waited. I began to follow them. I got a camera. I took pictures of them in restaurants and then I followed them when they went to Rothesay for the day and got some tremendous snaps of them kissing on the beach.

"I sent the photographs to his wife and another set to the chief superintendent."

"What happened to him?"

"Nothing would have happened on the job front, I suppose, except that the secretary told the super that Fergus had not told her he was married and had promised to marry her. He had even given her a ring. Then the wife arrived, screaming blue murder. He was demoted and transferred to a small local police station. He left the police force and is now, I believe, chief security officer at a big chemical works. I'm not proud of what I did. I haven't been with a man since."

"It's a wonder you didn't leave the force yourself," said Hamish.

"I threw myself into my work. I got the reputation of being a hard woman. God, I don't know why I told you all this."

"Have some champagne. I havenae been lucky in love either."

Feeling that one confidence deserved another, Hamish refilled her cup, and told her about his aborted love affair with Priscilla Halburton-Smythe. "In fact, I never have much luck with women," he said ruefully. "Anna in Amsterdam was a typical mess-up. It's getting cold. I think we should go."

Kevin whispered to Barry as they walked into Lachie's that night, "Something's going on between that pair." He jerked a thumb at Olivia and Hamish.

"Oh, that. Hamish told me that they're pretending to be mad about each other," muttered Barry, "so that Jimmy won't think it odd her going along on the drop."

"Good act if you ask me," said Kevin, shouldering his way ahead.

Once more into Lachie's office. "Well, Hamish," cried Jimmy White. "I gather you've got an idea we should check a wee bit o' the load."

"Aye, that way you can see the stuff is good and I can be sure you're not about to double-cross me," sneered Hamish, his arm around Olivia's shoulders.

"Oh, come on, man, all friends here."

"If that's the case, you can tell that lang dreep o' a man over there," Hamish said, pointing to the Undertaker, "to stop following me around."

"It's no' my man. That's Lachie. Suspicious o' his ain mither. Right, to business."

One of Jimmy's men spread out an ordnance survey map. "We would like you to land the stuff here in two days' time. Can you manage that?"

Hamish looked at the map. Of all the damn places, he thought. Loch Drim!

"Why there?"

"One of our spies said it was a grand place to land. We havenae used it before. Your men bring the stuff ashore to this point." He stabbed down on the rocky promontory opposite the cave where Jock had hidden his monster.

"But to get there you'll have to go through the village of Drim," said Hamish, "and believe me, the locals will know you're there."

"No, they won't. You'll be coming in my boat and we'll go in from the sea as well."

"In that case, why not go out to my boat and pick the stuff up at sea?" demanded Hamish.

"Could be caught by the Customs and Excise that way. My boat will drop us there one hour before the meet. I assume your lads have the stuff well hidden. If the Customs come cruising around, they won't bother much with one boat, but two together would excite their suspicions."

I hope Jock's given up playing with his monster, thought Hamish.

"Well, Hamish?" demanded Jimmy. "Can you get the stuff there in two days' time? That'll be Monday morning at two A.M."

Hamish thought quickly. He was sure that for this operation the ketch would have a high-powered engine.

"It's a deal," he said, holding out his hand.

Jimmy shook it, and then, holding on to Hamish's hand, looked at the calluses on it which Hamish had got from working round the croft.

"Done time?" he asked.

"South America," said Hamish, pulling his hand away. "Bribed my way out."

"Okay, let's have a drink," said Jimmy.

Fortunately for Hamish, Jimmy liked to brag rather than listen. He told of drug deals and contacts. Hamish felt himself go almost weak with relief. Jimmy trusted them.

But he only breathed easily when they got out of there and back to the hotel.

"Can we start writing down what he said?" Kevin looked anxious. "All those names, all those drug contacts."

Olivia laughed and unbuttoned her blouse. Underneath, she was wearing a brief lacy bra and in her cleavage was tucked a little black tape recorder. "Got every word," she said.

"Very good, ma'am," said Hamish curtly as Kevin and Barry goggled. "I think you can cover yourself up now."

Olivia turned a faint shade of pink as she quickly buttoned up her blouse. "I'm going to try this out and phone Daviot," she said.

She went off into the bedroom. "Anything going on between you two?" asked Kevin. On the other side of the bedroom door, Olivia pressed her ear to the panel.

"Don't be silly," she heard Hamish say clearly. "She's a good officer and I've forgotten she's a woman."

"With boobs like that!" exclaimed Kevin.

"You chust forget she's a woman as well," snapped Hamish.

Olivia moved away, grateful to Hamish for keeping quiet about their afternoon on the rock. She phoned Daviot.

Hamish lay awake a long time that night, not because Olivia was lying in the bed beside his, but because he was now worried about Jock Kennedy and his monster. But Jock would know that one more sighting of his rubber beastie would bring Hamish down on his head. So much to worry about, thought Hamish. Jimmy had said he would pick them up at their hotel on Sunday evening. Nothing he could do until then but wait and worry.

Hamish and Olivia mostly kept to their hotel room. Kevin had bought them a Scrabble board and they played games and watched television and read. It seemed a long time until Sunday night but suddenly it was upon them and there was one of Jimmy's henchmen to drive them down to a high-powered boat in the oily, polluted harbour of Strathbane where even the seagulls looked dirty.

They joined Jimmy in the cabin, all sitting around the table, but not saying much. One of the crew landed them on the point at the head of Loch Drim. "Now we wait," said Hamish. He looked across the darkness towards the cave but there was no sound and no sign of life.

The night was frosty and calm. He had never known an hour pass so slowly. Then at last they heard the faint sound of an outboard engine.

"That should be it," he said with an air of relaxed ease which belied the rapid beating of his heart.

The sound of the engine approached and then cut off. There was silence apart from the lapping of the waves and then the sound of oars in rowlocks. Hamish took out a torch and gave a brief flash. There was an answering flash and then in the starlight they could see faintly a dinghy rowed by two men, pulling towards the point.

Hamish strolled forward to meet it. "Any trouble?" he asked.

"No trouble, sir." Hamish cursed inwardly. That "no trouble, sir" had been a damn sight too polite and official. He took hold of the oilskin packet the man was holding up as he stood in the rocky boat.