"Where are we going?"

"I thought I might show you Lochdubh."

"You'll be recognised."

"I've an idea." Hamish swung the car around. He drove back a little way into town and stopped outside a shop. He went in and emerged with a down-the-river hat, which after he had got in the car, he put on. Then he took the wraparound sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on as well. "No one in Lochdubh will recognise me like this," he said.

He drove off again. "When we get to Lochdubh I'd like to take you for a walk about the place but that would be too risky."

"The scenery's incredible," said Olivia. "So wild, so savage."

"Sometimes in winter it can be very bleak," said Hamish, "but the landscape is never the same. The changing light alters the perspective so that the mountains never look the same."

"So much purple heather," murmured Olivia.

"You'll have the heather on the mountains at Loch Lomond."

"But not like this! Miles and miles of purple flowers. And that yellow gorse. So much colour."

The big car cruised towards Lochdubh. "I must admit," said Hamish, "there are a lot of moments when I wish I had minded my own business. I wish right now I were going home, back to the police station."

Olivia looked at him curiously. "You really love it here, don't you?"

"Yes, I'm happy most of the time," said Hamish, "except when I land myself in things like this."

Detective Chief Inspector Blair called in early at police headquarters. Superintendent Peter Daviot espied him and summoned him to his office. "I thought you weren't due back until Monday," said Daviot.

"Oh, you know me," said Blair with a cheesy smile. "Can't keep me away from the office."

"We have a big secret operation going on here," said Daviot, and told him about Hamish Macbeth posing as a drug baron.

Blair listened intently. From Daviot's enthusiasm for what he privately thought was a daft scheme, he knew that any rubbishing of Hamish Macbeth would not go down well.

"And what would you like me to do, sir?" he asked when Daviot had finished.

"There's nothing you can do at the moment," said Daviot. "May as well enjoy the few days off you have left."

Blair went thoughtfully out of police headquarters. He walked to the nearest pub, head down like a charging bull. Once inside, he ordered a double whisky, downed it in one and ordered another. He was in a flaming temper. That Hamish Macbeth should be getting all this glory was almost beyond bearing.

After another double whisky, he began to dream about a scenario in which the drug dealers were tipped off that Hamish was an undercover cop. The silly Highland loon would end up floating face-downward in the docks. After yet another whisky, he began to wonder if he should, tip someone off. That way he would be rid of Hamish Macbeth-permanently.

"And this is Lochdubh," said Hamish proudly, stopping the car on the top of the hill.

"They should have signs in the Highlands with phonetic spelling under the place-names," said Olivia. "I mean do most people know it's pronounced Lochdoo? And what does it mean?"

"Black loch," said Hamish. "Well, what do you think of the place?"

The village of Lochdubh was situated in a gentle curve along the loch below two towering mountains. The lines of eighteenth-century whitewashed cottages with their flower-filled gardens and flapping washing on the lines basked in the sun. A light breeze rippled the surface of the loch. Across the loch lay an expanse of forestry and through the open car window Olivia could smell pine.

"It looks very pretty," she commented. "What's that big building down by the harbour? A private house?"

"It used to be a hotel," said Hamish. "It's still up for sale."

"I'm surprised there are no takers. It's a lovely site."

"I hope someone buys it soon," said Hamish. "It would be a pity if a grand building like that should fall into a ruin."

He drove on, over the humpbacked bridge which spanned the River Anstey.

"Could you envisage living in a place like this?" he asked.

Olivia laughed. "In my dreams. In reality, I would probably die of boredom. Don't you ever get bored?"

"Not in Lochdubh," said Hamish.

"So what do you do?"

"I have a bit of a croft-there, you can just see it behind the police station. I'll circle round by the harbour and then we'll get out of here just in case I am recognised."

Olivia was to remember that afternoon as the calm before the storm as they drove slowly along country roads, stopping for lunch at a small pub, then driving on again until Hamish said reluctantly, "Time to go back. The light is failing."

"Why aren't you married?" asked Olivia.

"The right girl, the wrong time, the wrong place, that sort of thing. What about you?"

"I'm married to my job."

"No yearning for romance, a home, children?"

"No," she said curtly.

They drove the rest of the way towards Strathbane in silence. The companionship that had grown up between them on the drive had evaporated.

When they got back to the hotel room, Hamish asked, "Should we have dinner before we go?"

"I feel too strung up to eat anything. Why don't we just order a sandwich from room service?"

"Anything in particular?"

"Ham and salad."

Hamish picked up the phone and ordered the sandwiches and a pot of coffee. Olivia had switched on the television and was watching the news.

Then her mobile phone rang, making them both jump. She listened intently. Then Olivia said, "That's a much more sensible idea. I never liked Macbeth's plan in the first place. Too risky. I think they'll go for this." She listened some more and then rang off.

"The new plan is this," she said briskly. "We could be in trouble if they think you're some new drug dealer muscling in on their territory. Before I tell you what it is, they did not find any drugs at the Owens place. Now, here is what you are supposed to be. You have a shipment of heroin, prime stuff, all the way from the East and through Amsterdam. Originally out of the Highlands, you nonetheless operate mostly from Istanbul. You mostly sell to France, Spain and Belgium, but now you want to expand and sell some here. But where do you land it? That's what you want to get out of them. Glasgow still has that load of drugs they seized. We can use that as bait. Once they take the bait and say they'll buy, then they'll tell us where and when, and we'll have them. Offer them four kilos of heroin to start with."

"And how much is that?" asked Hamish. "I mean, it can be as much as a hundred pounds per gram on the streets, but a dealer is going to pay less for the raw stuff."

"You'll be selling it at twenty thousand a kilo."

"This means entrapment?" said Hamish. "I don't like it. I'd rather have caught them with their own stuff and get some of that off the market."

"You'll do as you're told," said Olivia sharply.

An actor must feel like this just before going onstage, thought Hamish as he and Olivia with Kevin and Barry close behind walked into Lachie's disco at nine that evening.

The place was full of gyrating couples. The music pounded and beat upon the smoky air and strobe lights stabbed down from the ceiling.

They made their way to the long bar which ran along the far side of the room.

Hamish wondered, before making his order, whether a drug baron would order something showy with an umbrella stuck in it, but Olivia asked for a whisky so he ordered two.

Olivia was wearing a slinky flame-coloured dress with thin shoulder straps and carrying a black cashmere shawl over one arm. Her dress was more like a petticoat than a dress, thought Hamish. It was even edged with flame-coloured lace at the short hemline.

Her hair was worn loose on her shoulders. Her scarlet lips, which had been painted to look fuller and more pouting, gave her a vulgar, sultry look. "What a place," she shouted to Hamish above the din, and then gave a loud, empty raucous laugh. May as well get into the part as well, thought Hamish. He put an arm about Olivia's shoulders and, bending down, kissed her on the mouth. Olivia gazed up at him adoringly and said in a low voice, "Don't do that again."