Chapter 67
Journalists packed the conference room, cameras and phones at the ready. Staring at the podium and its Police Scotland backdrop with hungry eyes. As if someone was about to be sacrificed on the table in front of them to appease the Ancient Media Gods . . .
Logan marched his tired arse down the side of the room and into the little nest of whiteboards and flipcharts, where Chief Superintendent Pine and PC Sweeny were waiting for him.
Well, Sweeny was waiting, Pine was on her phone again.
The Media Liaison Officer closed his eyes and shuddered out a long breath. Knees bending, one hand propping him up against the wall. ‘Oh thank Christ for that . . .’
Pine stuck a finger in her spare ear, swivelling around to face the corner for a modicum of privacy.
‘I know that, First Minister, this is why we’re devoting every available resource to finding Mrs Agapova .
. . . No, I realise it’s—’ Her shoulders tightened.
‘Yes, First Minister . . . . Thank you, First Minister.’ She stuck her phone in her pocket and sagged. ‘Bloody politicians.’
‘Hey, Sarge.’
Logan turned, and there was Tufty, beaming up at him. ‘Why are you—’
‘Is everyone ready?’ Sweeny pressed a printout into Logan’s hands. ‘Finally: some good news to Feed The Beast. Make sure you stick to your prepared statements, OK?’
Pine frowned at hers. ‘How did you get these ready so quick?’
‘Trick of the trade, Boss.’ His swanky swagger wilted beneath Pine’s glare. ‘Sorry. They covered it in the Media Liaison Officer Training Course: “Always prepare a best-case-scenario briefing as something to work towards.” That way, if things actually do go well, you’re ready for it.’
Which wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence in A Division.
Logan peered around the edge of a flipchart. The chatter was fading away as the last sixty seconds ticked down. ‘Think they’re all here about Charles MacGarioch?’
‘Don’t care,’ Sweeny brushed a knob of fluff off his black T-shirt, ‘as long as we come out of this smelling like roses, rather than what they’re grown in, it’s a win.
’ Frown. ‘But if anyone asks you about anything that isn’t on the briefing notes, do not engage.
Especially about Natasha Agapova. Last thing we need is them turning our moment of triumph into a big bag of festering shite.
’ He checked his watch. ‘OK: it’s showtime.
Let’s give these bastards a briefing they’ll never forget!
’ Then strode out into the room and up onto the platform.
Going by the glare Pine directed at Sweeny’s back, she hadn’t enjoyed that bit about ‘festering shite’.
Logan nodded at her private corner. ‘Operation “Find Natasha Agapova” not going well?’
‘Bloody thing isn’t going at all. Our only suspect is lying in the mortuary, Forensics have found precisely zilch, ANPR is useless, nothing on CCTV, and no one saw or heard anything. Other than that? Everything’s just sodding great.’ Pine pulled her shoulders back and marched out after Sweeny.
Tufty patted Logan on the back. ‘Break a leg, Sarge.’
‘Why are you here again?’
‘I has a lovenest and a bidie-in to support, so the overtime comes in handy. Plus Kate and me totally helped with the arresting, so I does has some basking-in-the-reflected-glory to do.’
Twit.
Logan rolled his eyes, shook his head, then joined Pine and Sweeny onstage.
And the crowd went wild . . .