The Pope is returning to his native Scotland, and ACC Bob Skinner wants nothing to go amiss.
The excitement over Pope John XXV’s visit to Edinburgh is feverish and building, the scheduled rally the stuff of headlines. Though security in the rugby stadium is tighter than certain proverbial purse-strings, it’s not enough to deter terrorist activity. The warnings are unmistakable. Even the usually unflappable Skinner (Fallen Gods, 2003, etc.), that still point in a turning world, is biting his nails. The situation is especially tense in the hours just before the celebratory band is due to strike up. “We know where, we know when, and we know who,” Skinner says. But he and his troops don’t know what or how, and time is not their friend. Anxious as he is about the terrorist threat, however, it’s not the only worrisome item on Skinner’s agendas. There’s the murder of a likable visiting New York City policeman, and the sudden deaths of two seemingly innocuous Belgian band members, all of which turn out to be connected. And there’s the more personal matter of Sarah Grace Skinner, his wife, who may have grown weary of that title.
A deft, entertaining police procedural in the patented Jardine manner, with a full complement of sexy, savvy, busy cops.