looked like a suite in the Sheraton Somewhere.
"He'll be with you shortly, Inspector Wilson," the Secretary looked up from her desk into Wilson face.
"That will just make my day" Wilson said tossing his anorak over the arms of a steel coat stand. He sat in an easy chair and looked at the DCC's Secretary. He had been overcritical in telling his Super that she was pulchritudinously challenged. She was dressed in civilian clothes with a skirt that rode just above the knee. Her blond hair was shorter than the last time he had seen her and she had added several pounds to her Rubenesque figure. He might not toss her out of bed after all. She had already turned to her computer and was studiously ignoring him. Wilson's reputation for scoring with the women constables had been considerable. He had bedded quite a few during his career and none of them had been an unwilling participant even when they knew that he was a 'screw them and leave them' individual. There was a copy of the Belfast Telegraph sitting on a low table in front of him but he didn't bother to pick it up. He was still wondering why Deputy Chief Constable Roy Jennings wanted to see him when the door opened and his jaw dropped. Out of the inner office came a women who was stunningly beautiful and who he had known intimately, in the biblical sense. Katherine McCann was one of those women who had improved with age. She wore a black pin-striped suit with a skirt just above the knee. The dark colour of her clothes set off her blond hair which fell just to the collar of her white blouse. She stood erect on high heels with an air of confidence totally consistent with her standing as a Queen's Council.
Wilson pulled himself together and stood up. The look on Kate McCann's face didn't exactly please him. She looked like she had just discovered something nasty on the sole of her shoe.
"Kate," Wilson said when his voice finally started to work. "I didn't know that you were back in Belfast."
"It's my home, Ian." She maintained the look of distaste.
Wilson started to move but his feet seemed to be stuck in concrete. He felt that he should move to kiss her or at least shake hands but it seemed that there was a force-field between them repelling any intimacy. Kate had been different from all the others. She hadn't been just another conquest. Sure, he had gained huge kudos among the rank and file when it had got out that he was bedding one of Belfast's leading barristers and a beautiful woman at that. Kate McCann was the kind of woman that could get under your skin. Sometimes in those quiet hours of the morning, when sleep would not come, his thoughts had strayed to Kate. Thinking of her gave him a warm feeling. Then the guilt would set in. Why hadn't he pictured his wife during those dark hours?
"You had business with the big man," Wilson nodded towards the inner office.
"I'm still trying to get a Truth and Reconciliation Commission going. I'm doing the rounds of anyone who can make that happen." Her tone was only a degree warmer.
The Secretary was watching them closely.
"We should talk," Wilson said quietly.
"What about? ancient history?" she replied tartly.
"I didn't know that you were back," Wilson moved towards her but she did not reciprocate.
"I'm not back. London is still home but something has to be done here to wash Northern Ireland clean from the stain of the 'Troubles'. A whole bunch of old guys on television saying they were sorry for what they did before they set up their political parties just won't do. We're going to have to find out who did what, to who and at whose behest. That's why I'm back, Ian. And that's the
"He'll be with you shortly, Inspector Wilson," the Secretary looked up from her desk into Wilson face.
"That will just make my day" Wilson said tossing his anorak over the arms of a steel coat stand. He sat in an easy chair and looked at the DCC's Secretary. He had been overcritical in telling his Super that she was pulchritudinously challenged. She was dressed in civilian clothes with a skirt that rode just above the knee. Her blond hair was shorter than the last time he had seen her and she had added several pounds to her Rubenesque figure. He might not toss her out of bed after all. She had already turned to her computer and was studiously ignoring him. Wilson's reputation for scoring with the women constables had been considerable. He had bedded quite a few during his career and none of them had been an unwilling participant even when they knew that he was a 'screw them and leave them' individual. There was a copy of the Belfast Telegraph sitting on a low table in front of him but he didn't bother to pick it up. He was still wondering why Deputy Chief Constable Roy Jennings wanted to see him when the door opened and his jaw dropped. Out of the inner office came a women who was stunningly beautiful and who he had known intimately, in the biblical sense. Katherine McCann was one of those women who had improved with age. She wore a black pin-striped suit with a skirt just above the knee. The dark colour of her clothes set off her blond hair which fell just to the collar of her white blouse. She stood erect on high heels with an air of confidence totally consistent with her standing as a Queen's Council.
Wilson pulled himself together and stood up. The look on Kate McCann's face didn't exactly please him. She looked like she had just discovered something nasty on the sole of her shoe.
"Kate," Wilson said when his voice finally started to work. "I didn't know that you were back in Belfast."
"It's my home, Ian." She maintained the look of distaste.
Wilson started to move but his feet seemed to be stuck in concrete. He felt that he should move to kiss her or at least shake hands but it seemed that there was a force-field between them repelling any intimacy. Kate had been different from all the others. She hadn't been just another conquest. Sure, he had gained huge kudos among the rank and file when it had got out that he was bedding one of Belfast's leading barristers and a beautiful woman at that. Kate McCann was the kind of woman that could get under your skin. Sometimes in those quiet hours of the morning, when sleep would not come, his thoughts had strayed to Kate. Thinking of her gave him a warm feeling. Then the guilt would set in. Why hadn't he pictured his wife during those dark hours?
"You had business with the big man," Wilson nodded towards the inner office.
"I'm still trying to get a Truth and Reconciliation Commission going. I'm doing the rounds of anyone who can make that happen." Her tone was only a degree warmer.
The Secretary was watching them closely.
"We should talk," Wilson said quietly.
"What about? ancient history?" she replied tartly.
"I didn't know that you were back," Wilson moved towards her but she did not reciprocate.
"I'm not back. London is still home but something has to be done here to wash Northern Ireland clean from the stain of the 'Troubles'. A whole bunch of old guys on television saying they were sorry for what they did before they set up their political parties just won't do. We're going to have to find out who did what, to who and at whose behest. That's why I'm back, Ian. And that's the
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