Free The Storm Without by Tony Black Page A

She buried her head in my chest. 'I'm not strong enough for this.'
    I placed my fingers beneath her chin, raised her face. 'Hey, you're plenty strong enough. I know you of old, remember?'
    She smiled, a small smile that suddenly gave way to an uninhibited heartmelter. I didn't know why, or how, but my reassurance had done the trick. I could tell Lyn believed in me as our eyes met and locked again. She quickly pressed her lips onto mine and the fiery sting of Talisker was reignited once more.

Chapter 16
     

    The chips and curry sauce from the Harbour Views Chinese had solidified in the container by the time I got round to opening it. I ' d bought them without really possessing a proper appetite. I had a hunger, but it wasn ' t for food. The streets of Auld Ayr seemed to be closing in on me as I shuffled into the wind that wailed down Fort Street. By the Academy I was nearly bent double. The thought of tackling food deserted me and I loped towards the nearest bin to dump what should have been my comfort food. Any comfort was in short supply. My mind was racing with thoughts of Lyn, the case, and just what I had got myself into.
    At the edge of Cathcart Street I sheltered in the lee of a building I once knew but now only confused me. I looked up and down: it seemed to have been converted into flats. The last time I'd seen it, the place was a tea room; a pleasant enough place called The Apple Tree. They sold scones and jam there; Glasgow Fair punters came doon the water for their fish tea. It reeked of tradition, but there didn ' t seem to be any place in the town for tradition anymore.
    I turned my face towards the Sandgate as a host of shrieks assailed the airwaves. Young girls, their party dresses pitched higher than their voices. I shook my head as I watched them go; the sight of their bare legs made me feel colder; I knew I was getting old. I felt parental, even though I had no children of my own. Something deep inside me said the group shouldn ' t be out on their own like that. Was it the case again? Was it the thought of Kirsty Donald ' s real killer being on the loose? Or was it a wider protective sense I felt towards the town of my birth? I wondered about many things.
    Ayr had changed beyond any possibility I would have entertained only a short time ago; I wanted the old place back, the familiar, the secure. I didn ' t like what I ' d learned about the Auld Toun since my return. I dug into my pocket and removed a packet of Marlboro. I had started smoking the red-tops again, abandoned my usual brand because the local version couldn ' t be relied upon with all the bootlegging in the town. I found I quite liked the taste of the Marlboro once more. It was at the force ' s training academy in Tulliallan that I had last smoked the red-tops; my sergeant didn ' t like the smell, called them ' funny fags ' and so I grew away from them. I smiled at the memory: it was all conditioning; that ' s what the force had really been about. I ' d been taught that my own opinions, my own instincts and assumptions, my tastes, were worthless. There was a bigger picture, a wider understanding that I had no right to question.
    I drew on the Marlboro, blew a thin trail of smoke into the darkness of the night sky. I knew Mason was encountering resistance in the force; the high heid yins didn ' t like having their authority tested. There was a course called the path of least resistance and smart coppers knew to stick to it. I knew that had been my problem — I never fitted the mould of a smart copper. That type, they rose in the ranks and ascended the K-ladder. They made friends and they kept them. In time, their friends kept them. It was a tried and tested formula; even had their own wee club with its own wee traditions to play up to.
    I allowed myself a smile at the thought. I knew I stuck out from the boys in the Craft.
    ' Daft laddie. ' I heard myself say the words. They weren ' t mine, well, not originally. They ' d been those of a DC I ' d