Read Shrike (Book 2): Rampant for Free Online

but I'll ring you as soon as I hear from the investigator up in Inverness who's looking into the Elgin murder." 
    Belatedly, I remember he was going to let me know when he heard more. "That's not why I'm calling. Ross MacIntyre," I say. "Works at Hammerton. I've been trying to get ahold of him all day."
    For the second time in five minutes, the pause is louder than words. "He's been arrested."
    I let out an explosive gust of air. "He's what? Why?"
    A shuffling sound comes through the phone line, and I sit back in my chair. Ross. Arrested. Bugger. 
    "The charges are obstruction of justice and aiding and abetting a terrorist."
    " What? " This time I almost yell. "That's not possible, McLean." 
    One of the assistants in the bullpen outside my office looks up. Hurriedly, I hop up to close my door. 
    I modulate my tone. "Tell me you're joking."
    "You don't think he could have done it?"
    "He's my friend, Trevor. He…" I trail off, thinking of how Ross helped me into the lab the day Sophie de Fournay died. He said Stan from maintenance showed him the door, but maybe not. 
    I shake my head. No. Ross wouldn't have done that. Ross couldn't be involved in something like this. 
    "What evidence do they have?" I ask finally. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
    "He admitted to knowing about the lab during questioning."
    "That's circumstantial at best," I say, proud of myself for remembering the word. 
    "There's more." Trevor takes a breath and exhales slowly. "They printed the bomb. They found his prints on it. He could offer no explanation for how they got there."
    I feel like my skin's been frozen. Ross's prints on the bomb that almost blew a million people into chunks. That's anything but circumstantial. "Are they keeping this quiet, or am I going to see his face splashed all over the news?"
    "They're keeping it quiet. Some things don't add up. We're not holding any press conferences until the facts are straight."
    I don't ask how they're crooked, but I want to agree. Ross was my only friend at Hammerton. Could he have been a member of Britannia? "Is there any way to explain his fingerprints on the bomb?"
    "That's one of the things that don't add up. His prints aren't anywhere else in the lab or near it. There's not even a hint of him anywhere else in that building except for the floor where his office is and the bathrooms."
    It's my turn to be quiet. 
    "I'm sorry, Gwen," Trevor says after a beat. "Either way, we'll get it sorted."
    I hope he's right. But if Ross is innocent and getting framed, where else could Britannia have their tendrils? And if he's not innocent, if he is part of this…
    I can't follow that track to its terminus.
    "Can I come visit him?"
    "He's allowed a thirty minute visit three times per week. If you come tomorrow, you can see him. He's already had people in twice this week. Your name is on his list of acceptable visitors. If you like, I'll set it up."
    It sinks in what Trevor's saying. 
    Ross has been arrested and charged with aiding de Fournay in blowing up my city.
    I'll go see him. If for no other reason than to see if I can figure out what the hell is going on.
     
     
    Magda and I go out Monday night, just the two of us. She's a bright contrast to Taog's and my competition for Scotland's Most Glum Personage, and it refreshes me to sit next to her as she flips through a large portfolio of her designs and points out the selections that have been chosen to go into production for her new label. I recognise the asymmetrical blue frock from her gallery show, along with several new pieces. Our table is littered with samosas and papadum before long.
    It makes me want to thank my new boss Francis Duck yet again. Without this new job and the raise, I wouldn't be able to feed myself. David, my trainer, makes me keep a diary of how much I eat. So far I eat about twelve thousand calories a day. Hunger has become a central facet of my life. Even now, with hors d'oeuvre plates strewn about the burgundy