Capital Offence

Chapter 40

Wednesday 26th June

The morning of the execution

The atmosphere in Jamie’s house in Duddingston was as sombre as he could ever recall. Members of his cabinet and advisers had been invited to meet there prior to joining the official cars for the journey to St Giles’. There was no conversation, just frowned nods of acknowledgement.

Jamie drew Donald aside into his study.

“I’m worried I’m missing something.” Jamie peered out the window. The dawn glow had not yet completely dispelled the blue shades of night. Street lights glowed sodium orange.

Donald nodded. “There’s still time to change the route...”

“No. I’m not doing that. But I keep wondering if this whole thing is bigger than just Tam.”

Jamie looked at his watch, then put on his suit jacket. Then looked at his watch again. Twenty past five. Through the window he could see people on the street.

Ten minutes before they were due to leave. Less than an hour left for Dave to live.

He stood, deep in thought.

Then suddenly...

“Donald - I’ve got an idea. Follow me, and keep your eyes open.”

Jamie strode through to the drawing room. Cammy Russell was there with Fraser Howe and Quentin Ricco. Sir John stood by the fireplace, while Walter Kirkhope stared out the bay window, his hands clasped behind his back. Jamie addressed them quietly, but in a voice which commanded their attention.

“I don’t want to travel alone. I think it would be appropriate to show more consensus here. Any takers?”

Howe and Cammy Russell nodded agreement. Ricco said “Sure.” Sir John looked prepared to go along with this. He started to speak. “Perhaps as Chairman I ought to...”

Almost immediately he was cut off by Kirkhope, who swung round from the window. “No! You’re on your own!”

Sir John looked shocked. “But surely...” Then he seemed to read something into Kirkhope’s outburst and backed off. Kirkhope realised he’d overreacted, and tried to smooth things over. “You’re Prime Minister Mr Maclean. People would expect you to lead the way...”

“Yes, he’s right,” agreed Sir John. “On reflection I ought not to be in your car.”

Jamie looked at each of them in turn, then turned to Donald, who was still taken aback by Kirkhope’s reaction. “Give me a few minutes to think this over,” said Jamie, and turning on his heel, he left the room.

*      *      *

The cell door opened, and a medical orderly in a white coat entered. He nodded to Dave, who sat on his bed in the corner of the small room, his knees pulled up against his chest.

*      *      *

“What the hell’s going on?” hissed Sir John to Kirkhope. The two men had stepped out into a corner of the hall where they were engaged in a frantic whispered conversation.

“Nothing you need to bother yourself with,” spat Kirkhope.

“Why won’t you go in the PM’s car? What in God’s name is going on?” Then a thought struck him like a high velocity bullet. “Tam’s not in Holland is he? You bastard!! This is referendum night all over again! It’s out of control!”