Aaaaand back to the reports.
Tufty raised a finger. ‘You know whatIthink?’
Kick. ‘Youdon’tthink, that’s the problem.’
Actually:
Maybe a keyboard would be better?
One with headphones she can plug in, so we don’t have to listen to her practising.
I does has a GENIUS!
Hold on a minute.
Logan blinked at the last line. Oh, no, no, no, no, no...he hadclearlybeen spending FAR too much time with Tufty.
He gave himself a shake and deleted that bit.
SEND.
The horrible wee spud had his finger up again: ‘I think the press would be happier if something horribledoeshappen to Natasha Agapova. Did you see that thing in theScottish Daily Postthis morning? Flipping wingwang!’
And it was back to the reports again. Forrealthis time.
He turned to Operation ‘Drugs In Lithuanian Teddy Bears’, skimming the complete lack of any progress. Glanced at Tufty. ‘What about thePost?’
‘Well...’ Cranking up the gossipy vibe. ‘Theysaythere was this big plot by some of the people-smuggling gangs – joining forces in a League Of Evil Sticky Foreigners – to kidnap Ms Agapova and torture her and send some of her fingers to her husband with a demand for fifteenmillionquids!’
Steel snorted. ‘Boll...derdash.’ Giving Tufty’s seat another kick. ‘And who told thePostthis rubbish: Princess Porkies theLieFairy?’
‘Apparently it’s because Ms Agapova’s been “leading the crusade to stop the boats” and “save our proud nation” from “woke lefty traitors” who want to “flood the country with—” Ow!’
Steel thumped him again. ‘Stop making quote bunnies when you’re driving!’
The wee loon’s bottom lip poked out. ‘Only going three miles an hour.’ He rubbed at his walloped arm. ‘Sa-arge, she’shittingme!’
‘Aye, well it’s for your own good. Says so in theHighway Code.’
Logan finished the last page, flipped it over, then back again. Frowning as he rifled through the small stack of paper. ‘Where’s the summary for Operation...what was it, “Disappointment”?’ Digging out his phone to call Doreen.
Tufty sniffed. ‘Bet theHighway Codesays you’re not allowed to biff the driver while he’s driving!’
‘Can if he’s a dangerous wee snudgehead.’
‘Boss?’The sound of clacking boot-heels on a terrazzo floor, rattled from the phone.‘Is it urgent, only I’m bursting for a comfort break and the MAPPA meeting kicks off in ten.’
‘Been going through your cheat sheets and I can’t find one for Operation “Find Natasha Agapova”.’
‘You mean “Disenchanter”? That’s cos I didn’t do you one. Thought you were all up to date; otherwise, why leave Biohazard running the MacGarioch interview?’
‘Because you and him are the only trained interviewers on dayshift. Every bugger else is off with The Pestilence.’
Her voice took on a pained whine.‘Guv...?’Then a groan.‘All right, all right, all right.’There was athunkand the sound went all echoey. As if Doreen had bustled into some sort of largish tiled space.‘What do you want to know?’
A smallerclunk, and the sound became a bit compressed. As if she was now in a much smaller room. But still strangely echoey.
‘If I knewthat, I wouldn’t have to ask.’
