Skinner’s round

Ever go to golf tournaments, Joe?'

`Gawd no!' said the lean American, vehemently. 'Grosvenor Square is the wide open spaces as far as I'm concerned. I'm a city bird; I get dizzy in this much acreage.'

`Pity,' said Ski

At this event we'll maintain a presence, as required, but we're here to assist, or to deter any thieves who might see this as easy pickings. We're not here to guarantee crowd behaviour.'

He looked around. 'It's so peaceful that it's bizarre to think of being here on Sunday to investigate a murder.'

The practice area was set a little off the fairway. It was around 100 yards wide, and 350 long, with marker flags set in the ground at different distances, so that the players could test their accuracy with the different clubs in their bags. Ski

The downswing relied on perfect co-ordination rather than on force, the graphite head of the driver making a beautifully sweet sound as it struck, then carrying the hands on to a high finish. The ball, in its perfect flight, moved very slightly off the straight, from left to right.

Ski

They watched for several minutes, not wanting to interrupt the practice session. Eventually, M'tebe's caddy placed another hundred-ball basket in front of his client, and handed him a mid-range iron. Changing his method only by shortening his stance, the young African began to pepper the 200-yard marker flag. Eventually the caddy wandered towards Ski

`Just call in on your way home, gents?' he asked, in his bag-carrier's whisper. He smiled, proudly. 'Worth watching, in't he? I've caddied for all the big names in my time, for Chuck, for the Eagle, for Cortes over there, even for Darren when 'e was a youngster, but this lad…

You mark my words, gents, this could turn out to be the best golfer ever. If we can get 'is short game about three-quarters as good as what you're watching now, there'll be no stopping

him.

The caddy gave his charge one more admiring smile, then lit a cigarette. He was around the same height as Doherty, but twice the width, with skin the colour of a walnut. It had been more than a day since his last shave, and everything about him was shabby, with two exceptions. He wore tan leather golf shoes which looked as if they might have been hand-made, and as he raised his cigarette to his lips, the sleeve of his sweater fell back, revealing a gold Rolex. 'Nice watch,' said Ski

The walnut face creased into a smile of pride. 'Yeah, in'it. Darren gave it me on Sunday. He had an 'ole in one on the last round, and that was the prize. We were playing with 'im. 'E's got a Rolex, so's Bravo… that's 'is caddy… and so's Oliver, so after the presentation, he gave it to me. "I'd feel a prat, wearing two watches," 'e said. Some bloke, is Darren.'

He fell silent, looking back at M'tebe with an appraising eye.

Ski

The caddy frowned, then glanced again at M'tebe. 'Should be ready to change clubs now. 'Old on.' He sauntered across to the golfer as he was setting up yet another ball and, putting a hand on his arm, muttered in his ear. The young African looked across in sudden alarm, handed his club to the caddy and walked over.

`What is this you have to tell me?' His voice was raised slightly. Tiger Nakamura paused at the top of his backswing and glared over his shoulder in a

`Let's move further away from the rest of them,' said Ski

`Mr M'tebe, please be calm,' said the ACC, slowly and gently. I'm afraid that we have some unpleasant news for you.

It concerns your father. It appears that he was kidnapped this morning, in Durban. He was bundled into a vehicle by two men. That's all that the South African police know. There's been no communication since, no ransom demand from anyone, nothing at all.' He paused, to let his words sink in. 'We have been asked by the South African authorities to find out whether you know anything about your father's work that might help your police? He's a clergyman, a minister of the Church, yes?'

Oliver M'tebe was shocked speechless. His eyes were moist. He nodded his head.

`There's a history of political violence in your home city, I understand. Did your father involve himself in politics at all that you know of?'

With an obvious effort, the young golfer regained his composure. 'No. My father would never come down on the side of either faction. He sees his role as helping to bring the two sides together to solve problems, and he has often succeeded in doing that. He has never expressed a political view, not even to my mother or to my brothers or me.'

`Has he ever been threatened? Say by extremists on either side who might not want compromise?'

`Not that I know of. My father never becomes involved publicly.'

Ski

Young M'tebe shook his head. 'No sir. My father is a man of God. No one could be his enemy.' Without warning he began to sob. Ski

Eventually he wiped his eyes and straightened himself. 'I must go home, to help.'

Why don't you phone first?' said Ski

Twenty

‘Are you normally on day shift, Sergeant?'

Davie Soutar nodded his large head. 'Yes, ma'am. Admin. might be a bore, but at least the hours are regular and there's less stress on the wife. She disna' have to sit at home worrying about armed robbers, or demented junkies, or anything like that.'

He hunched the shoulders of his white uniform shirt as he reflected for a few seconds. 'I always say that far too few polismen think about the effect that their job has on their wives.

They go home and they expect everything to be just so, weans quiet, house neat and tidy, washing done, tea on the table. A lot of police marriages break down because of it.'