“‘You’re calling off our drink,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m sorry, something’s cropped up. Work, you know how it is. The hours aren’t always social.’ The phone went dead in his hand. He replaced the receiver like it was spun sugar. Then, having requested five minutes of his boss’s time, he went to Kilpatrick’s office. As ever there was no need to knock; Kilpatrick waved him in through the glass door. ‘Take a seat, John.’ ‘I’ll stand, sir, thanks all the same.’ ‘What’s on your mind?’ ‘When you spoke t...o the FBI, did they mention a man called Clyde Moncur?’ ‘I don’t think any names were mentioned.’ Kilpatrick wrote the name on his pad. ‘Who is he?’ ‘He’s a Seattle businessman, runs his own fish-processing plant. Possibly also a gangster. He’s coming to Edinburgh on holiday.’ ‘Well, we need the tourist dollars.’ ‘And he may be high up in The Shield.’ ‘Oh?’ Kilpatrick casually underlined the name. ‘What’s your source?’ ‘I’d rather not say.’ ‘I see.’ Kilpatrick underlined the name one last time.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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