"Just Callum."

"Drink?"

"Aye, a whisky would be fine."

Lachie picked up the phone and, turning away from Callum, whispered into it. After he had replaced the receiver, he went to the bar and poured a generous glass of whisky for Callum.

"Cheers!" said Callum.

Lachie nodded. Then he said, "How much are you asking for this information?"

"A thousand pounds," said Callum.

"Well, we'll see." The door opened and the Undertaker came in. "On his way," he said briefly. He sat down on a chair against the wall. He took out a nasty-looking knife and began to clean his nails.

"I thought they only did that on the fillums," said Callum nervously. Both men said nothing, just looked steadily and unnervingly at Callum.

"It's been fine weather," said Callum.

Nothing. They just continued to stare at him. Callum could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. He began to curse Blair in his mind. He was beginning to feel all this was too deep and dangerous for a small-time villain like himself.

The door opened and Jimmy White came in. Callum immediately knew this must be Jimmy White from the expensive clothes and the two brutal-looking henchmen who came in behind him.

Jimmy White drew up a chair next to Callum and said, "Speak."

"It's important information," said Callum. "I want a thousand pounds for it."

"You'll get it. Now, speak."

"I'd like to see the money first," said Callum, frightened but determined.

"You have the word of Jimmy White. Isn't that good enough for you?"

Callum caved in. Now all he wanted was to get out of this dreadful place. The office was soundproofed but the disco beat filtered through like the beating of his heart.

"It's like this," he said. "You're dealing with a man who says he's Hamish George and his wife."

"So?"

"He's Hamish Macbeth, a copper from Lochdubh, and his so-called wife is a detective chief inspector from Glasgow. The heroin you're getting is from that haul the police grabbed in Glasgow. At the next drop, all the police will be waiting for you."

"Who told you this?"

"I got it from top level in the police but I cannae be revealing my source. Now, what about that money?"

Jimmy White turned to one of his henchmen. He made a twisting motion with his hands. "Pay him."

Callum relaxed and picked up his whisky. One of the henchmen stepped forward and deftly slipped a wire around Callum's scrawny neck and pulled tight. The rest watched with interest as Callum writhed and fought and then was still. His lifeless body slumped to the floor.

"Dump that in the harbour," said Jimmy.

"You'd best clear off," said Lachie.

"Not before I take out Hamish Macbeth," said Jimmy. "That bastard's going to pay for this with his life."

Hamish went through to their little hotel sitting room the following morning. Olivia looked up at him, her face shiny bright as if lacquered. He thought, She's going to say, "I hope you are not going to take what happened between us last night seriously."

"Sit down, Hamish. Coffee? There's something we need to discuss."

"You're going to say that last night is to be forgotten," said Hamish.

"Well, yes. We've got a job on and we cannot have any emotional involvement."

"Very well, ma'am."

There was an awkward silence. Hamish switched on the television. It was the local news. "A body was recovered from the harbour at Strathbane this morning," said the announcer. "Police are not revealing the identity of the dead man until relatives have been informed. Foul play is suspected."

"Find out who that was," said Hamish.

"Why?"

"We're involved in a drug scam and suddenly there's a dead body. I'd like to know who it is."

Olivia phoned Daviot, who said he would phone back. "I think we're both worrying too much, Hamish."

"I've suddenly got a bad feeling," said Hamish. "Dammit, I know there's something gone wrong."

The phone rang, making them both jump. Olivia answered it, listened, said thank you and rang off. "He was a small-time crook called Callum Short."

"Could they get a photograph of him over here?"

"Why, Hamish?"

"Chust a hunch. Please, Olivia."

Olivia rang again and asked for a photograph of the dead man. "I hope you're not cracking up," she said to Hamish.

"How did he die?"

"He was strangled."

"I'm worried."

"But why?"

"I'll tell you when I see that photo."

Olivia had ordered breakfast but Hamish picked at his.

After an hour, there was a knock at the door. "That'll be the photograph," said Olivia.

She swung open the door.

Jimmy White's henchmen walked in. Both held guns. One said, "You'll put on your coats and come with us. One movement, Macbeth, and we'll shoot her first in the stomach."

They put on their coats. "And look cheery about it," the taller of the two growled. "One sign to alert anyone and she's dead."

Numbly they walked downstairs. Outside, there was a long black car. The door swung open. "In the back," they were ordered. They climbed in. Jimmy White was sitting there, holding a small pistol.

"Where are you taking us?" asked Hamish.

"Shut your face," said Jimmy.

The car sped on out of Strathbane. Hamish held Olivia's hand. How had they been unmasked? Was it something to do with that body in the harbour?

Then he realised they were heading for Lochdubh.

"You taking me home?" he asked Jimmy.

"Aye, we did some checking up on you. I've been up all night," said Jimmy. "Highland copper who loves the place. So you'll die there."

"Man, everyone will know you killed us!" said Hamish. "You'll have all the police looking for you."

"I'll be on my way to South America tonight," said Jimmy. "And I want everyone to know I did it. Nobody messes wi' me. I was thinking of retiring anyway."

The car cruised down to the harbour at Lochdubh. Hamish could see Jimmy's high-powered boat in the harbour.

"As I said, I checked up on you," said Jimmy. "You're supposed to be taking a wee holiday. So as part of your holiday, you're coming on a sail with me. You're the only copper in Lochdubh, so there won't be any more of the fuzz around. Nobody likes a policeman, so the villagers wont be much interested in what you do. But just in case you try to warn any of them, they'll be killed."

He's mad, thought Hamish. Stark staring mad. And yet, he'll get away with it. Dump me and Olivia at sea and head off to France or Amsterdam and disappear.

The car stopped on the harbour. "Get out," ordered Jimmy. "You men, keep the guns concealed, but shoot if you have to. Hughie"-to the driver-"take this car away and lose it."

Hamish got out of the car and then helped Olivia out. He took a longing look at Lochdubh. If I ever get out of this alive, he thought, I'll never leave the place again.

"Hamish!" He froze.

Angela Brodie was hurrying along the waterfront towards them. "Get rid of her fast," snarled Jimmy.

"Why, Hamish," said Angela, coming up to him, "you're looking very grand. Won the lottery?"

"No, thrift shop," said Hamish.

"You'll need to tell me which thrift shop and I'll go there myself," exclaimed Angela.

"I've got to go," said Hamish, conscious of Jimmy's gun in his ribs. "I'll call on you when I get back."

Angela looked from one to the other. Why didn't Hamish introduce her and why was that woman with him so white-faced and frightened?

"Your sheep are all right, Hamish," she said. Jimmy was urging Hamish away from her.

"What about the black one?" asked Hamish over his shoulder. "It's sick. I think it's going to be put down. See you."

Another jab from the gun. Hamish and Olivia went down the stone steps to the large white cruiser which was Jimmy's boat. They were urged down into the cabin. "Tie them up and let's get out of here," said Jimmy.