CHAPTER 14 DECEMBER                                              In the darkness he could just make out the two heads. Chalmers' voice said ‘We've got a problem.’          Steve was at the wheel, Chalmers in the passenger seat.          ‘I thought we had it all neat and tidy,’ said Chalmers, ‘ but they're acting like I handed them a bag of snakes. Where'd I get the stuff? How d'ye know it's kosher? What's it mean anyway? This bothering you?’ The red spark of his cigarette drew circles in the blackness.          Steve said ‘Yes’ and coughed. Steve had his window down. A fitful draft of cool air let them breath intermittently. Spots of rain too.          Chalmers said, ‘You trying to catch your death?’          Steve said, ‘Pneumonia is curable, lung cancer isn't.’          ‘I didn't want to call you,’ said Chalmers, ‘but we had to have another chat. Thing is, we're dependent on you for technical know-how. Special Branch have taken all your stuff, they say for analysis, but they are already making like they think I'm trying to pull an April Fool stunt.’          Allan was uncomfortable. It wasn't just the smoke. His knees were pressed against the back of Chalmers' seat. Chalmers took a drag. The red glow showed him the two heads and two head-rests in silhouette and a cloud of cigarette smoke like a picture of a nebula in one of Uncle Roddy's space books.          He said, ‘I don't see how there could be any doubt. It was plain enough on the printout.’          ‘Plain enough to you. Not everyone has your expertise.’          Steve said, ‘There's a car coming.’          They watched in silence as the loom of light got stronger, the tops of trees suddenly white and gleaming, spangled with water. Telephone lines drew white lines in the sky. Chalmers was slewed half round to face Steve, his profile outlined in white. Steve had his hands on the wheel. The windscreen sparkled with points of light and then the car swept past, unseen behind trees. They heard the tyres sizzling on the road. Then total darkness again and the dying sound of the car.          ‘It's a good spot this,’ said Chalmers. ‘The bend at the railway bridge holds a driver's attention. No one ever notices this lay-by, and the trees screen it completely.’          ‘Good spot for a murder,’ said Steve.          ‘It's a bit far,’ said Allan. ‘For a night like this.’          ‘Thought you were bursting with energy,’ said Chalmers. ‘All that biking.’          ‘Head wind,’ said Steve, ‘You must be soaked. Time you got yourself a car Allan.’          ‘How're the driving lessons coming along?’ said Chalmers.          ‘Not bad. I go for my test in two weeks.’          ‘Did you go to BSM?’          ‘No. ACME.’          Chalmers laughed. ‘Not Cyril McAllister. I thought he'd folded. We ought to pull him in for having no visible means of support. Does he have an MOT certificate for that old banger?’          ‘Is that the guy with the wee shed at the top of Ivanhoe Road?’ said Steve. ‘That shed should be exhibited in the Demarco Galleries. The graffiti work on it is a classic example of Naive Scottish Street Art. It's got more obscenities to the square inch than an American crime novel.’          After a moment he said, ‘Why is it that there are there more Rangers supporters than Celtic supporters?’ Without waiting he supplied the answer. ‘Because if you're working with a spray can its quicker and easier to write something rude about the Pope than it is to write it about ... ’          Chalmers chimed in, in unison, ‘.... The Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland....’          ‘....Aye we know,’ said Chalmers. ‘What school did you go to Allan?’          Allan said ‘I'm an atheist.’          Steve said in his Rab C Nesbit voice, ‘But ur y'a Protestant atheist or a Catholic atheist?’ and they both laughed.          Allan said, ‘Do the police have an MCI computer?’ and the laughter stopped dead.          Steve said, ‘You mean why don't we just log in to a police computer with the password?’          ‘Yes. Special Branch couldn't argue with that.’          ‘Well,’ said Chalmers and took another drag on his cigarette, ‘We did think of that but that's where we have a problem.’          ‘We don't have the password,’ said Steve. ‘They took away all our paperwork, even our notebooks.’          ‘And you haven't got a copy anywhere?’          ‘Nope.’ Steve said it quickly as though speed would disguise embarrassment.          ‘Not at all? Not even in your private diary?’          ‘Nope.          Chalmers lit up the car with his cigarette again and then said,’ ‘We thought maybe you wrote it down somewhere.?’          ‘You took all my notes. Remember?’          ‘I thought you might have memorised it and written it down later,’ said Chalmers.          ‘A jumbled string of thirty characters. Are you joking?’          There was a rushing noise. On the embankment above them the railway lines twitched in anticipation. Then, obscured by thick foliage, a procession of lighted windows hurtled past with the beat of a heavy diesel engine and a sound like falling water. Chalmers waited until the noise died away.          ‘Might Jack have written it down?’          ‘You took everything.’          ‘Then we're stymied,’ said Chalmers.          There was a long pause. Chalmers puffed away. Allan opened another window and put his face to the wind.          ‘Is that it then?’          Steve coughed. Chalmers said, ‘How would you and Jack like to do it again?’          Allan laughed but he was not amused. ‘No way.’          ‘I understand,’ said Chalmers. ‘We wouldn't ask you if it wasn't necessary. But we do need to prove the thing, once and for all. Maybe Jack would do it himself.’          ‘Do they know about me and Jack?’          ‘Special Branch? No. We made sure of that.’          Steve laughed. ‘Jocylin was livid. The boss here made her photocopy all the printout and all your notes so that your fingerprints would not be on it. We destroyed all of the originals. She was standing by that photocopier for hours. Fanfold is not the easiest stuff to photocopy. Kept muttering about women's lib and women having to do the skivvy jobs.’          Chalmers said, ‘And that's why we're meeting here in this God-forsaken spot. This is not even our car. It belongs to Steve's father. We borrowed it so that there would be no danger of bugs or of being tailed. We drove round for a long time before we came here.’          ‘I noticed,’ said Allan. ‘I stood in the rain for half an hour.’          ‘Will you do it?’          ‘I'll think about it. I might have a word with Jack.’          ‘Could you do it without taking risks?’          ‘No.’          ‘Thing is,’ said Chalmers slowly, ‘I'm not sure whether they really believe me or not.’          ‘I don't get it. You said ...’          ‘Thing is,’ said Chalmers, ‘they might just be pretending to disbelieve. It might be a ruse to get us to reveal our sources.’          It had stopped raining but big drops were falling from the trees and landing noisily on the roof of the car. There was still a lot of wind. It sounded like waves on a pebble beech. After a while Allan said, ‘What do they know?’          ‘Damn all. I let on we got everything from Tommy Harkness. But he's been dead eight months now. Why'd it take you so long they said. I am a slow worker I said and they looked at each other. Four of them. My pal Larry wasn't there, just his superior and a guy he kept calling Commander and two other spooks who didn't open their mouths. The Commander did most of the talking. He wouldn't let it go. He kept on asking me about my sources. For the first time in my life I have some sympathy for the villains of this world. Interrogation isn't funny.’          ‘You think they may be part of the thing themselves?’          Chalmers stubbed out his cigarette.          ‘That's one explanation. It's not one I like much.’          ‘Is there another?’ said Steve.          ‘Only if I don't believe you experts that the evidence is crystal clear. It's very frustrating for old fogies like me. I am out of my depth on the technical side. I just have to make up my mind which set of whizz kids are telling me the truth.’          There was a long pause and then Allan said, ‘And have you?’          ‘Aye I have.’ said Chalmers. ‘But I don't like what that leaves me looking at. It means this thing is much bigger than we suspected.’          ‘You've always said it might go beyond MCI,’ said Steve.          ‘I thought that it might reach out and touch a few local officials, but Special Branch is something else. It means, Steve, that we may be looking at something you and I can't resolve. It would mean the thing has some kind of official sanction and the ordinary rules don't apply. There may not be a villain to catch.’          ‘The boss of MCI is a guy called Norman Marsdon,’ said Allan. ‘I wondered if he was behind it.’          ‘I've heard of him,’ said Chalmers. ‘and I dare say he is involved, but if Special Branch and the Procurator Fiscal and other officials here are involved that puts it higher still. An octopus with tentacles everywhere. Chop one off and it will grow three more.’          ‘You're not serious,’ said Steve. ‘Official sanction! Why the hell would governments be involved. What would they have to gain?’          Allan said, ‘MCI chips are everywhere. They're in government computers and equipment all over the world.’          Steve said, ‘It still sounds far fetched to me.’          ‘But if it's right,’ said Allan, ‘then you two and Jocylin are in the hot seat. If I got you the password that could just make things worse.’          ‘Aye,’ said Chalmers. He lit another cigarette, his hands cupped round the match, his face bathed in yellow light before he waved his hand and extinguished the light. In darkness again he said, ‘That's why I told Jocylin this morning to apply for a transfer....’ Allan felt the car lurch on its springs as Steve reacted. Chalmers went on, ‘...and why I'm about to suggest to this man beside me that he does the same.’          ‘Bloody hell,’ said Steve.          Allan said, ‘And what about you?’          ‘Well. I just have to know. One way or the other. I have to know.’          ‘So do you still want the password?’          ‘Yes.’          ‘If I'm not there who's going to use the password?’ said Steve.          ‘I will,’ said Chalmers. ‘Will you get it?’          ‘I'll get in touch,’ said Allan.          ‘When?’ said Chalmers. ‘Where are you going to be during the Christmas break?’          ‘Christmas at my sister's place in Maryhill and Hogmanay ..... somewhere else.’          ‘So when will you do it an' how'll you get in touch?’ said Steve.          ‘I didn't say a was going to do it. I'll think about it. Is there somewhere I can send a letter?’          Again they listened for a while to the wind and to big raindrops plopping on to the roof. Then Chalmers said ‘My sister's address. You got somewhere to write it down?’          *      *      *      *      *          That evening under the hissing Tilley lamp he de-coded the password from his diary. The following morning he posted the letter on his way to work.