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she's not happy about the situation between you and Sarah. Those two are like sisters, you know.'
    Skinner grunted. 'Tell me about it! That's part of the problem. But my daughter's right, I haven't been talking to her nearly enough.' He picked up his coffee. 'Okay. I'l see you then.'
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    'What are the chances of finding the child alive, Chief Superintendent?'
    The radio reporter looked barely more than a child himself.
    Looking at him, Andy Martin wondered whether he might be on a work-experience placement, used by the station as a cheap way of providing Saturday news cover.
    'There's every chance, Mr .. .?' His voice tailed off.
    'Braden, sir.'
    '. . . Mr Braden. In fact, we're very hopeful of finding Mark alive.
    Our ground search has run its course, and so far we've had plenty of support from the public. Sooner or later we'l get a lead.
    'What I am doing today is renewing my request to property-owners to check garages and outbuildings - anywhere that a frightened child might be hiding. Also, I'm asking everyone who was in the Trinity area of Edinburgh on Friday afternoon to think hard, just in case they saw anything unusual, particularly if it involved a child and a grey car.'
    The boy looked eagerly at the detective. 'Is that your most positive lead so far, a grey car?'
    'To be unusual y frank with you, it's our only lead so far.'
    John Hunter waved a hand. 'So kidnap's now becoming a probability, is it, Andy?'
    Martin nodded. 'With every passing minute. We're being as positive as we can in our search, of course. If you're an innocent motorist in a grey car, I apologise in advance for the inconvenience of being stopped by the police. But I'm sure you'll realise that we're only doing what's necessary.'
    He looked at the assembled media. 'That's al I have for you today, folks. Same time tomorrow, unless anything breaks. If that happens you'll be contacted.'
    John Hunter fell into step with the detective as he left the room.
    'Where's Royston?' he muttered.
    'Don't ask,' Martin whispered in return.
    'Oh. I see.' The old journalist paused. 'Listen, Andy. I saw that wee shite Salmon in the bar of the Bank Hotel last night, after you had flung him out of here. He wasn't letting on why, but he looked as 25
    happy as a two-cocked dog in a stand of trees.
    'He's up to something, and whatever it is, I have a feeling that your lot aren't going to like it.'
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    9
    Joseph Hutchison, Professor of Pathology at Edinburgh University, knew Deputy Chief Constable Skinner well enough to know of his loathing of post-mortem examinations. So while he recognised the big policeman, despite his surgical gown and cap, as soon as he stepped into the theatre, it was natural for him to look up in surprise.
    'Hello, Bob,' said the twinkling-eyed little scientist. 'This is a rare honour, having you visit my workshop.'
    Skinner grunted a response, as he strode over to stand between Pamela Masters and Sammy Pye, who seemed to be positioned as far as possible from the post-mortem table. Clearly, the examination had been under way for some time. He glanced down at Pamela: she was slightly pale, and her cheekbones stood out a little more than usual, but otherwise she was impassive.
    'Any surprises for me, Joe?' Skinner asked. 'Or haven't you got that far yet?'
    'Oh yes,' said Professor Hutchison, 'I've got that far. As even the good Doctor Banks could work out, death was due to strangulation by ligature. The hyoid bone was crushed. The ligature was so tight that the blood supply to the brain would have been cut off at once, causing unconsciousness, prior to death.' He paused, coughing suddenly.
    'I've examined the major internal organs. All healthy and undamaged. I'm just looking at the brain now.' He held it up, so that the police observers could see its swirling surface patterns, slicked with blood and fluid. In spite of himself, Skinner looked away. 'As you can see,' continued the Professor, 'no obvious damage here either, other than that consistent