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Dedicated to my parents, Robert and Marion

‘The truth leads us down strange roads, each one different I suppose

And many a seeker is left unlearned.

Misery doesn’t come from the earth, trouble doesn’t sprout from the ground.

People are born to trouble and as sparks fly upwards into the clouds,

Just as sparks fly upwards into the clouds.’

Excerpt of ‘The Trials of Harrison Hayes’

by Robert Fisher

Contents

DORDOGNE DEPARTMENT – SPRING 2000

MONDAY AM

SCOTLAND

NETHER LOCHABER / APPIN

THE HAGUE

EPILOGUE

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

TWO MONTHS LATER – SPRING 2001

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

DORDOGNE DEPARTMENT
– SPRING 2000

The dog emerged from the trees and sniffed the air contentedly. From this spot, Trampas could see across the full extent of this large breach in the Forest of Liorac. Four hundred yards away across the fields lay the farmhouse, with outlying sheds and two white-fenced paddocks. A smaller house, a converted barn, lay another four hundred yards along the road to the left, which was east. Equidistant between the two houses, just where the stone bridge crossed a stream, lay a modern building, a one-storey construction of dark timber that served as a restaurant.

This glorious morning of spring had ignited the life in the forest. Trampas’s senses were heightened by the redolence of the awakening plants and the flash of rabbits and squirrels. He had chased everything that moved, but that was his mission over and he was sloping home.

His ear flicked at a fly. He licked a paw and brought it over to brush his head and irritated ear before settling down on his haunches looking down the verdant slope with its scattered groups of cattle to the barn conversion that was home.

Almost immediately the quiet hum around him was pierced with a cry, a high-pitched feminine cry. Trampas grunted and jumped up onto all fours. Breathing settled, panting stopped, his eyes fixed on the restaurant from which direction the sound had come. From behind the left side of the building the figure of a small girl on a bicycle was trying to emerge but she was being held back by her right arm by a dark-clothed figure. The cry came again and this time the Alsatian took off at full speed down through the field. His speed was impressive over the short grass of April pasture; he swerved past a pair of dairy cows that had idled onto his most direct route.

The girl had now been dragged off the bike and was being pulled by her shoulders towards the open rear door of an SUV. As well as crying for help, she was flailing her arms around at her assailant. A low menacing growl switched her vision from her home to the low rise beyond the restaurant, and there he was – only a hundred yards away. Her black and gold saviour was now moving like a rocket, impeded slightly by the need to vault a fence, which he cleared by two feet. Seventy yards now.

The man tried to stifle her cries but was rewarded with a firm deep bite to his right hand. He clouted her across the top of the head. ‘Calm down, you little bisom.’

She screamed at the top of her voice. ‘Trraaaampaaaasss!’

The stranger turned, only to see the angry dog for the first time as it leapt towards him from ten feet away. He had to drop the girl to protect his face but this did little to quell the force of the now horizontal canine. He fell heavily on his back as the dog hit him hard. He tried to roll into a ball and screamed as the dog tore at his forearm and barked savagely in his face.

The driver, anonymous until now, got out of the far side of the vehicle very tentatively, clutching a large rubber torch. He had not escaped the attention of Trampas though, and with Flora at a safe distance, he tore round the back of the car to confront the second threat. The torch came down on the top of his skull and dazed him. Seeing an opportunity, the driver caught the dog on the jaw with a swinging Doc Marten. Trampas went down with a whimper. The first man had managed to climb into the back of the car.

‘Let’s go, Harry!’

Harry, bravery level now having crept up, wandered over to the dog and aimed another kick, this time at the body, but turned in horror as he heard more barking, the source of which was two rapidly approaching sheepdogs bounding over from the direction of the main farmhouse.

He got behind the wheel just in time to see the snarling faces of the two dogs at his window. ‘Right. Bugger this, we’re off.’

Oh no, the dream was back. I hadn’t had it for several months. Serves me right, I’d overslept. Lisa had been up with Flora for hours but I had thought a long lie-in was just reward for painting the outside of the whole restaurant yesterday. But the screams and that bloodcurdling barking were back to haunt me. Why had the years not been more sympathetic? It wasn’t as if I was ever going to forget. So, here it was again – the girl distraught, the dog snarling and barking and then a voice. But… there never had been voices before and the barking had stopped. The girl was still crying and I could hear a car revving.

‘Oh my God, what the hell…’ I charged downstairs to investigate the commotion.

‘When did you want to become a vet, Dad?’

She was getting very dozy now, so I didn’t reply but I wasn’t sure if I could’ve answered the question anyway. Not sure. Maybe I had an innate love for animals. Unlike other students at uni, I certainly hadn’t loved Johnny Morris impersonating camels on television – why did they all have West Country or Welsh accents? Nor had I watched the series about the vet practice in Yorkshire.

I’d had two unforgettable experiences as a child that had involved animals, so maybe that was it. The first of these brought much pain and indignity, but was of low significance.

In our village, not far along the road from our home, lived Jock McAskill. Jock was a merchant seaman and a friend of my grandpa. Loved the sauce, the pair of them, and when not in the pub they could often be found in Jock’s parlour draining a half bottle of Bells between them.

Mrs McAskill had long since moved to the next village but would look after Moss the collie when Jock was sailing the high seas. Jock held a flagrant disregard for Customs and Excise, and would bring all manner of booty back from abroad. Normally inanimate to be fair – rugs, blinds, the odd knife, booze naturally, cigarettes inevitably. Jumping off a big merchant tanker in Glasgow or Liverpool, nobody any longer bothered to stop to check the bags of the small, muscular, tattooed, grey-haired man before he jumped on a coastal steamer travelling up the coast. To do so would unleash a torrent of vile abuse in Gaelic to which there was literally no reply. Better left alone. Psychopath, obviously.

However, on one trip to South America, Jock purchased a small monkey from a street seller in Lima to take back to bonny Scotland. I think it might have been a titi, but I was obviously too young at the time to have any knowledge as to what type it was.

Well Jock and ‘Pedro’ made it back home and the hairy one was imprisoned in a large cage in Jock’s spare bedroom, an exotic temptation for any young kid.

My recollection of ‘that’ day is pretty poor. I would have been warned as I set off with grandpa to not set foot in the same room as the monkey under any circumstance. So, I was playing in Jock’s garden with Moss until the dog, obviously bored with my company and in need of food, worked open the front door by wedging his nose in a crack in the frame. I crept in behind him and snuck along to that particular bedroom door which pleasingly opened easily. What I do remember about Pedro was that he had beguiling black eyes that were set close together within goggles of white facial hair. I must have stuck my fingers through the bars, as the next thing that registered was pain! Searing bloody unimaginable pain and the sensation of my arm being pulled off my body. My scream matched the screech of the monkey, and then everything went blank.

‘You said a monkey, Mrs Cameron… Well… that’s a first for me, and probably for this hospital.’

‘Little Ted has been lucky, actually. There is a lot of swelling of his hand where the bite is, but his wrist and arm are fine. He has no fever. We will give him some anti-inflammatory medicine and antibiotic injections into his bottom, and see him tomorrow on the ward.’

My mother felt the doctor was disappointed that a serious degloving injury had been avoided. Alas, his skills were barely tested.

Before I knew it my trousers were quickly lowered and a huge needle infiltrated my left buttock.

‘Aarrghh, ya bastard!’

‘Good grief, Ted. We’ll have none of that. Where on earth did you learn such talk?’

Much later, I must have been about twelve, I was sitting in the garage watching my father sand down a coffin lid that had been delivered scratched.

‘Dad, remember when Jock’s monkey bit me?’

‘Uh-huh, your hand blew up to the size of a boxing glove. Jeez, these wee creatures can bite.’

‘Well, I saw a story on the news today about a young boy in Devon, who was bitten by a dog. It said the police destroyed the dog… boom, boom straight off… no messing around. Well, Pedro never got shot. He got a bigger cage, did he not? With bits of bush in it to try and resemble the jungle – like a present or reward in fact.’

‘Ah, but you must have been bothering the poor little beast,’ my father reflected. ‘He’d have been terrified by you, some gormless white ape coming towards him. Blinking monkey botherer!’

‘Come off it, Dad. That beast could have killed me if the bite had gone poisonous.’ And then, for whatever reason came over me and I’ve asked myself why hundreds of times over the years, I added bluntly, ‘And then you and Mum would have had two dead kids.’

My father got to me within seconds. His face was beetroot, his eyes bulged. He turned me upside down and smacked me firmly twice on the backside, before throwing me to the ground.

‘You evil brat. Just get out of here!’ he raged. ‘Get out now!’

I ran away crying. It was the monkey’s fault, not mine. It had never been punished. And nobody got punished when we lost Rose. One day I will have my revenge. I’ll kick that little fucker’s arse all the way down to the shore and launch him into the loch. And I’ll find those missing dogs.

‘I’m so sorry, Daddy.’

I shivered as the memories receded and I returned to the figure of my daughter. ‘Maybe it was a case of wanting to try and understand animals, Flora.’

But Flora had fallen asleep and I lifted her head onto a more comfortable position on the pillow, then switched off her bedside light. She had no more tears to give up.

Tomorrow morning, I would cast an eye in on Trampas before she got up. Whoever had beaten and kicked the Alsatian had caused only soft tissue injuries but he would be sore for a while.

Back downstairs, Lisa was still sitting on the sofa, though the effects of the wine had softened her previously shell-shocked appearance.

‘My God, Ted, what a bloody day! How is she now?’

‘She’s fallen over – but much calmer before she settled. Are the police long away?’

‘Ten minutes. They were concerned but mystified. Who frightens a young girl and attacks her dog apart from a bloody lunatic?’

‘Don’t worry, they’ll catch them and wring it out of them. Has your dad calmed down? When he appeared with the shotgun, I thought the police were going to taser him.’

‘Yes, I packed him off home.’ A trace of a smile appeared on Lisa’s face as she recalled pushing Alain out the door. ‘The police are back here sharp tomorrow. If you’re planning to sleep on the sofa, I’ll join you – there’s no way I can sleep properly tonight.’

MONDAY AM

‘Monsieur Cameron? Pleased to meet you – Commander Jean-Luc Lecroix and Commander Camille Vasco, Bergerac Police.’

I showed the two officers to the sofa, where they made themselves comfortable, before opening up a folder and laptop and refusing coffee.

‘If you wish, we’ll carry on in English as we left off last night. Okay?’

I nodded my approval.

‘We established a fairly clear picture of the incident from young Flora. Not a typical attempted abduction but with a large dog involved in the situation, perhaps nothing would be typical.’

‘It would appear that the assailant had a harsh British accent and was enquiring about you before she was seized… Can I call you Ted?’

‘Yes. Please do. Yes, it’s almost as if they stumbled upon the house and restaurant by good fortune and then after a couple of questions provided positive answers, the first man grabbed Flora. When Trampas started attacking, he had to stop and the driver had to intervene by hitting the dog so they could escape. Flora had become hysterical as the definite intention had been to abduct her, no doubt.’

‘We’ll speak to Flora again, but we would like to ask you some background questions first if that’s okay. It is a particularly aggressive approach on a ten-year-old girl, and we must find out more.’

I was impressed with their level of concern. Alain had been less than complimentary over breakfast, accusing his country’s police force of having no interest in countryside folk.

Camille Vasco picked up the baton, putting down her laptop and smiling warmly at me. Embarrassingly, I couldn’t stop myself smiling back, so I sat further forwards in the chair to help concentration.

‘Ted. Tell us what has been happening in your life. You are a veterinarian from Scotland, right? Give me some of your background.’

‘Yes. Eh, this could be a long story.’ Taking a big breath. ‘I met Lisa in Scotland when we were students. She returned to France to teach, and I managed to get a job as an equine vet with Sheikh el Hamady’s stud south of Paris. I loved working there initially… but the distance was a problem as Lisa was teaching in Bergerac.’ I paused but Camille Vasco nodded me to continue. ‘As you may know, Lisa’s father and grandparents have the restaurant and farm here in the woods and having lost her mother as a student, she wanted to have family close by. We got married eleven years ago and I continued to travel up to the stud for a time.’ I was talking very quickly, more nervous than I realised.

I felt myself shuffling in the seat at the table. ‘Then you may remember from the news, doping rumours hit the stud. All the vets came under the spotlight and the management were unsupportive as they tried to maintain the reputation of the business. I was completely innocent. I was on a fixed salary with no facility to improve my income and was happy with that state of affairs. Our personal banking details were closely looked at and everything was in order. However, in my opinion the management recognised that there was doping going on but by keeping quiet and not differentiating between innocent trainers and vets and those parties who had been behaving suspiciously, they hoped to ride out the storm. But the investigations are still going on and it’s only the Arabian money that is preventing the stud from going bust. Eventually I had had enough and resigned. I not only lost my salary but my racing equine vet status. The stud was unhappy with me but it was time to move on.

‘As it happened, Lisa’s grandparents wanted to step down from the rigours of running the restaurant and the farm, so Lisa gave up teaching and with me in tow, we started helping her father, Alain, whom I believe you’ve met, principally with the restaurant; and I occasionally do locum work – mainly small animal stuff in Bergerac. We probably have upset some in Alain’s family who felt the restaurant could be better managed by them, but I think that’s just going to be a short-term upset. We may even end up back in Scotland.’

‘Are you still in touch with Scotland then?’

‘Oh yes, I was back over a couple of months or so ago and I have relatives from Scotland coming over next week for a holiday. My cousin lost her husband recently, and I asked her and her son to visit us… to get away for a while.’

‘Was it a sudden illness, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Camille enquired gently.

I shuffled more and got up to go to the tap for water. ‘Excuse me, I’m getting a bit dry. It was suicide. A real shock for everyone. I know people say they never see stuff like that coming. Now I know what they mean.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Lecroix broke in. ‘You’ve described pretty big stresses there but do you think there is anything that would be an obvious link with yesterday’s trauma?’

‘Oh, it’s been a kind of strange time in our lives, but I struggle to believe there could be any connection.’

He turned to Lisa who seemed to be in a bit of a trance. ‘And you, Mrs Cameron, can you think of anything else in your lives recently that would be unusual or provocative?’

‘We live busy but boring, happy lives. I have no clue why someone should approach our daughter in such a fashion.’

And with that the two officers got up and asked to speak to Flora. Lisa took them through to the conservatory where our daughter was wrapped around a dozing Alsatian blanket on the sofa.

The next few days passed without incident. We kept the restaurant open. Midweek, this early in the year was quiet anyway. Usually, we opened for lunches at the weekend and evening meals from Tuesday to Saturday. We were closed on a Monday, which was market day. Alain brought me down a spare shotgun from the main farmhouse and winked to me as he secreted the weapon on top of the cabinet in the front hall, along with a bag of cartridges.

If I didn’t know better, I would have said Alain was secretly enjoying part of this. He had taken to wearing camouflaged trousers and a dark green long-sleeved tee shirt. His old friend and neighbour, Charles, owned an open-topped Jeep; and the pair of them would carry out early morning and dusk ‘patrols’ of the surrounding countryside with two sheepdogs enjoying the breeze, sitting bolt upright on the back seats.

Alain was overjoyed when Lisa had moved back to Bergerac.

His separation from Beatrice had broken him. Relocating to Nantes with their only daughter was a decision he could never come to terms with. For Beatrice it was entirely reasonable. Whilst she was undergoing treatment for breast cancer, Alain began an affair with a local school teacher for which Beatrice could accept no apology. To this day, he still does not appreciate the damage he caused. He won’t accept he can be wrong in a dispute and becomes gruff and sulky all too readily. He has always been good to me but I think it’s his way of gaining my favour.

Lisa occasionally breaks into a diatribe about Alain and she always seems to have justification. When she lived with her mother in Nantes, she worried for her mother’s security. At one point Lisa was certain Alain had got someone to spy on them to see if there was a new man in their lives.

I had met Lisa for the first time when she and two friends from Nantes came on a holiday to the Highlands of Scotland. They had been hitchhiking from a campsite into our little town, when a couple of pals and I, who had been swimming in a pool up Glen Nevis, were driving by in my old Austin in their desired direction. Lisa was the tallest of the girls and had long raven hair. I was immediately attracted to her but I felt I was a hick in the company of an exotic goddess. We spoke for a while in the Crofter bar, swapped addresses and eventually the evening was over and I went home dreaming of maybes.

Astonishingly, I received a letter later that summer and so started a couple of years of innocent correspondence. By this time, I had started my vet studies at Glasgow but I always made time to write to Nantes. I felt I had won a lottery when I received the news that as part of her own studies, she was moving to Scotland to teach at Hyndland Secondary School in Glasgow for a year. And so began our courtship proper.

Bergerac airport lies on the south side of the town. It is by no means large but recent years had seen a surge in traffic, with budget airlines having scented the desire for middle-class Europeans to leave their cars behind in pursuing their desire to visit the beauty of the Dordogne and beyond. Rather than drive from St Malo or Dieppe, picking up a hire car at Bergerac airport on the way to your gîte or chalet was simplicity itself.

I was meeting my cousin Shirley and her son off the London flight. Unfortunately, the seasonal Edinburgh service had yet to start. However, two flights would not have bothered the pair of them, keen as they were to travel. I had little time to wait and soon I spotted the pair of Mathiesons at Arrivals.

‘Ciamar a tha, Shirley?’

‘Tha ghu mhath, Ted.’ It was good to keep my first language going, even in short bursts.

‘Good flights?’

‘Ach, not too bad at all.’

Shirley was a good natured, caring strawberry blonde who in nursing had found her perfect profession, although recently she had to become more involved in the family business. And Calum, at least in appearance was the spit of his father; skinny but broad-shouldered, black mop of hair – it could have been my boyhood friend standing there with two large holdalls.

‘And how’s Calum?’

‘Not bad, Teddy,’ he offered quietly, but dishonestly, his dark eyes sunken. Only his father had been allowed to call me Teddy. I pulled them both close and suddenly the twelve-week gap since the funeral had evaporated. Shirley released a sob but quickly refrained.

‘I promised I wouldn’t start greeting the minute I hit France.’

‘Don’t you worry about that. C’mon, let’s get to the car.’

We took about thirty minutes getting to the house, during which I recounted the events of the past week, much to Shirley’s horror. Calum seemed very distracted, gazing out the side window at the alien countryside. Lisa was at the roadside with Flora and an enlivened Trampas, as we drew up.

‘Any room for two vagrants, Lisa?’ Shirley enquired.

‘Oh, just about.’ Lisa laughed. ‘It’s getting cooler, come in, I even have the fire on.’ They hugged closely and moved indoors.

I had been unsure of what to expect from their visit, although I had encouraged them vigorously to make the trip. Sure, Calum was quiet, but hopefully, I would get him alone at some point over the next few days to further assess his mood. Over the meal that first night, we tried to keep the conversation light and as the red wine flowed, Shirley fed Trampas off the table and cackled with laughter as we pondered how Alain would fit in a patrol that evening as well as manage the restaurant with less bodies than usual.

Calum eventually announced his fatigue and headed upstairs to Flora’s bedroom; Flora having been made a fuss of, had retired to our double bed an hour or so earlier.

‘He’s kept a lid on it since we left home, but he’s struggling… and he’s angry. He won’t accept it was suicide. I hear him pace the floor every night, he’s never off the phone to Frankie, and he’s not back in school yet. I talk at length with him every day but he bursts into tears when we start talking about why Donnie John did it.’

It was an uncomfortable way to finish off the evening but a necessary evil. Shirley was sitting on the front edge of the armchair beside the open fire, reaching out occasionally for the wineglass at her other side. Lisa and I occupied the sofa, her head resting on my shoulder as I slumped on the seat with my legs pointing to the warmth of the flames. I was fully alert, however.

‘And you, Shirley, are you fully satisfied that there was no doubt about the verdict? We had no time at all to discuss all this in January.’

‘To be honest, Ted. Things had got so bad that it was getting to the stage I was beginning not to care about much at all. Not about the marriage, the business, my own work. To be truthful there were times I wanted out, but Calum needed me, and that was the only priority. Donnie John was drinking so heavily, gambling, letting the business wane – a business that both your and my father had built up over decades. There were rumours of another woman and soft drugs too, but it was the lack of decency shown to Calum and myself that hit hardest. He wasn’t the same Donnie you knew. When we rowed, and since last spring that was a lot, his final threat was always that he was going to kill himself.’

Shirley’s eyes were lachrymose and she gulped heavily at the red wine.

‘Look, we don’t have to do this just now,’ I interjected.

‘Absolutely not,’ Lisa concurred.

‘To be honest, it’s good to get it out. His family have been hanging around the yard like a bad smell… Oh, that’s terrible of me. I think the alcohol intake had already caused some brain damage – his memory, self-care – and remember what a poser he could be! His work ethic and concentration. All shot to ribbons. And I heard him in fits of crying at times. He tried AA and I sent him to the doctor several times. Things would be okay for days then bingo – you’d find an empty whisky bottle down the side of the chair or the bed. So yes, I think he could readily have committed suicide. I would agree with Calum that in the two weeks prior to his death, he did seem brighter. I didn’t see alcohol around and he was making an attempt to be constructive at work and he was spending a lot of time with Calum, like he used to. But to be honest, maybe it was another false dawn, and the police and fiscal were correct in their conclusions.’

‘And Frankie, surely he must have been helpful. What did he say? I didn’t have the time to discuss anything with him at the funeral. Mother was ill, as you know, and Frankie and Liz seemed to be at each other’s throats a lot of the time.’

‘Frankie was very kind and very professional and he felt there was no doubt it was suicide. Personally, I think your brother has not been himself for a wee while but despite being your mother’s blue-eyed boy, it can’t be easy being the local boy who makes police inspector.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Frankie could talk the hind legs off a donkey, yet if I bumped into him in the supermarket or with Calum at the shinty, he would be polite but trying to get away quickly. I know he was angry with Donnie John for being such an arse and didn’t want to embarrass me but I wondered if there was more to it than that.

‘Don’t get me wrong. In recent weeks he’s had to endure Calum phoning him up incessantly with different theories – just nonsense; and Frankie has been patience personified.’

‘Mmm, I’ve got a gut feeling there may well be a marital issue by the way they were when I stayed there.’

‘Perhaps, Ted… perhaps.’

‘Have you decided what to do with the business?’

‘Well, Dad had come out of retirement during Donnie’s slump. I was doing the books and we have two good reliable guys on board with us. If Donnie John was fully functional, we would have been fine. But Dad can’t work forever, and the finances had taken a hit with Donnie John doing his best to bleed us dry at every opportunity. And as you know, when it was both our fathers in harness, it was the reputation of the firm that brought in the business, but getting a pissed-up Donnie on the phone trying to deal with a request from a grieving relative has made us suffer. Still Cameron Brothers Undertakers in name, but not as you knew it. Sad! My dad and I will go through the books over the next month or so, and see what we can make of it. If we thought about selling up, we’d need to get in touch with your dad, as he’s still a director. It’s not the time to care about money, but suicide even impacts on things like life insurance, i.e. I won’t get a penny.’

‘Right! Enough, folks – bedtime.’ Lisa was spot on.

‘How do you fancy a stroll in the woods this morning?’

‘Sounds good,’ Calum enthused.

‘We’ll take a gun with us in case there’s anything edible about. I spotted a couple of massive wild boar at dusk a couple of weeks back, so you never know.’

An hour later, we headed out onto a path into the forest. We left Trampas with the girls for their security and also because he would have chased everything out of sight anyway.

It was a sunny morning and the light dappling through the branches of oak and chestnut was bright enough to irritate the eyes. A couple of red squirrels took flight as we disturbed their foraging in the undergrowth. We had the rifle in a holder but no larger mammals were spotted. Clay pigeon shooting had been a common pastime when I was young, as it had been for Calum – fathers and grandfathers enjoyed a shoot a few times a year, so the youngest generation made convenient dogsbodies to haul equipment for them. To be honest, I didn’t usually partake in shooting wildlife. My grandfather occasionally went deerstalking. However, here in France, Alain would shoot his granny if she had a tail. Nothing with a pulse was safe if it crept into range of his guns.

We had barely uttered a word in an hour when I decided we should stop at a small clearing where a fallen oak made a good seat. I’d taken coffee in a flask for us.

‘Are you keeping up with your music, Calum?’

‘Playing or listening?’

‘Well, I meant playing, but both I suppose.’

‘Not so much playing, but listening, yeah, for sure. And you? Dad used to say nobody listened to as much crap as you.’

‘You see, Donnie John was all about playing, but his taste was in his boots to be polite.’

‘Not like yours then.’

‘Of course not. I’ve currently got a thing about bands starting with the letter P – Procol Harum, Pere Ubu, Pearl Jam and the Pixies – all class.’

Calum laughed. ‘Maybe Dad was right.’

I put down my mug on the ground. Now was a good time. ‘It must be unbearable for you just now. I hope you can get a little bit of peace here but just say the word if there’s anything you want to discuss.’

‘Mum warned me not to bother you too much, especially since this episode with Flora.’

‘Your mum doesn’t need to worry about that. Sooner or later, we’ll get an explanation for those nutters’ behaviour. I deliberately asked you both over, so we can help. Lisa can find solutions to anything, and you’re my family. Okay?’

‘Okay. I suppose I can’t accept he wanted to kill himself. That is the crux of it. We were getting on better than we had for… maybe years. He had stopped drinking. He was back at work. He was back helping with shinty coaching. You mentioned music – he was back on the guitar – that was always a good sign.’

‘I think your mum feels it was empty words and actions… a false dawn. She had heard it too often and nothing changed for long. I’ll be honest with you, Calum. Your dad was one of my two best friends growing up, but I hated the way alcohol got a hold on him, and in recent years it was definitely the cause for us to lose touch.’

‘I realise all of that, but this time it seemed different. I had hated him for the way he spoke to Mum, but I had learnt to trust him again. He seemed reinvigorated. He was going for early morning runs and was wild swimming in the canal. I was warned not to say, but he was very keen to get in touch with you. He said he had huge news for you and that he was just waiting on some more information.’

I was intrigued but was wary of what may follow. ‘And did he give you any clue as to what this revelation was?’

‘Yes, he did, but Mum made me swear not to talk to you about this as it would upset you.’

My head was now spinning a little. ‘Okay… I love and respect your Mum, but you can’t stop now.’

‘But Mum will kill me.’

‘I promise you, she won’t. I wouldn’t let her. Now, come on, tell me.’

‘I must tell you that Dad spoke to Frankie about it, and he chased him. Frankie was really angry – I saw him gesticulating aggressively when they had a conversation out of earshot up at the ski station. But Dad himself was angry at Frankie.’

‘Right my boy, too much. What is this about?’

‘Well… Dad said he had been approached at work by an older man, who had driven up from the Central Belt. The man apparently had spotted the Cameron Brothers sign and had stopped on spec. Apparently, he was looking for relatives of somebody he knew…’

‘Uh-huh. Go on.’

‘It was Rose, your sister Rose. He said she was still alive.’

‘No, no, no, no, no.’

‘Frankie made Mum promise not to tell you the story at Dad’s funeral. He said you had never stopped blaming yourself for Rosie’s disappearance and this would send you spiralling down again.’

I needed to get home quickly, to Lisa and her common sense and reasoning. Was this boy mad, had he come to hurt me? What had fuelled such nonsense in Donnie John? Did Calum realise the enormity of what he had said? Impossible… just impossible!

‘Lord have mercy, Ted, can it be true?’ Lisa was stunned. She had heard all about the young sister who had died as a child.

‘I cannot see how it can be. I told you what a huge investigation there was at the time. My parents were devastated. Extra police were drafted in from all over the Highlands. When there was no body found, hundreds of local volunteers just invaded Haig’s estate to search for her. Then much later there were remains found.’

‘D’accord. Let’s go down and speak to Shirley; I think she’s anxious to know that you’re okay.

‘Sorry, Shirley, I didn’t stomp off in anger, I think I just needed a minute with Lisa. Calum didn’t do anything wrong.’

Shirley scuffed the top of Calum’s head as he sat cross-legged on the floor, and rubbed a therapeutic hand down Trampas’ back, much to Flora’s amusement.

‘Flora, pet. Can you go through to the kitchen and set out the table for lunch like a big girl? Can you do that please?’

‘Right, she’s away, Shirley. We were just talking upstairs about the search – it covered a big, big area. Stuart Haig was fuming but he could hardly say much.’

‘Your dad was certain that he set the dogs on you – that’s criminal.’

‘It’s easy to apportion blame in retrospect but the whole day was a disaster. Frankie, Donnie John and myself were crazy to take that boat out on the Lochy, and to take Rosie with us was just insanity. I will go to my grave devastated by that day, and I know as the oldest there, the responsibility was mine. My father was heartbroken and my mother can barely speak to me without crying, thirty years down the line.’

Calum lifted his head up. ‘I think Dad felt you took all the blame on your shoulders. He said it was his idea to take the boat as he knew how to work an outboard.’

I thought back three decades and could visualise us on the sandy beach on the river at Torcastle. The weather had been glorious – hot and dry – and my parents had taken us on a picnic. Jimmy Faulkner, a gamekeeper on the laird’s estate had refurbished a cottage just a few hundred yards from the beach close to where the road tunnel went under the canal. My parents wandered up to the cottage to review Jimmy’s handiwork, leaving me in charge of the three other children for a short spell. Donnie John had gone down to the water’s edge, the river level was very low indeed, and this spot that normally featured strong currents looked benign and enticing. At the rocky corner of the beach below the outcrop of the old castle ruins, the bow of a boat could be seen poking out of a cave. The water level in normal times would preclude further investigation but to three nosey boys, it was open to inspection.

We pulled the boat onto the sand, checking my folks were still out of sight. DJ said he could get the outboard going no problem, and that we should risk a quick hurl in the river. I looked further out into the river and the water was black, and jagged rocks sprung up across the width of what was a narrow part of the Lochy.

‘I don’t know, Donnie, there could be a lot of rocks under the surface – it’s shallow okay, but it still looks dangerous.’

‘What do you think, Frankie?’ Donnie John sought favour.

‘I think it would be the crack, but we would have to take Rose with us.’

Donnie John announced, ‘Right, I’ll take it out for a spin to check it out.’

With that we pushed him off, a couple of tugs of the starter and Donnie John was speeding upstream, guiding the boat between rocks. A few minutes later he was back. ‘See. A piece of piss.’

Frankie tempted Rose. ‘Will it be fun, Rosie? I think it will.’ She lifted her head back, shaking her black mane of hair and roared with laughter. I remembered smiling at her blatant joy.

‘Right, okay. Five minutes and we’re back here.’

We took off up the river, myself in the bow scouting for trouble, Donnie John on the tiller, and Frankie clutching Rose to his chest amidships. Good grief, the water was low, and the first scrape off a rock came quickly.

‘Steady, DJ.’

‘Gee, you Cameron kids are fatties. Suck your belly in, Rosie.’

We went a half mile further when I called it a day.

‘Right, let’s head back.’

Donnie John took a wide turn taking us over to the Camisky bank before heading back downriver.

It all happened so fast. The noise of a light aircraft from the sky ahead of us made us look up in unison. The jolt as we hit the rock nearly catapulted me over the bow. The other three were thrown down towards me as the back of the boat bucked up. Rose screamed in fear, as the boat flapped back onto the water. A jet of water exploded up through the middle of the boat signalling a breech in the floor.

‘Steer it over to the bank, DJ,’ I said, trying not to panic. ‘We’ll fill up fast.’ We got over to the shore where all four of us were able to get over the side of the boat before it listed as it filled with water.

‘Right, come over and sit down here. Fine. Is everyone okay? Rosie… sure?’

‘Hell, what have we done?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Donnie John confessed, ‘I just didn’t see that below us… and the plane gave me a fright.’

‘Och. I was the same, the water is so dark though it’s shallow. You can see damn all. Dad will kill me.’

‘Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll walk downstream until we’re opposite Torcastle. The river is so narrow there, Mum and Dad will see us if we shout over. Jimmy has his own boat. I saw it beside the bungalow. So I’m sure he’ll ferry us back over… and give me a terrible telling off.’

We climbed up the riverbank as it was going to be easier walking up top than on the river’s edge, and took in the activity that lay to the north of us. Haig’s hunting lodge sat above the river some eight hundred yards in the distance, beyond the old Camisky Lodge. From where we stood, a long flat expanse of grass rolled on to the lodge and beyond. This had been used as an airstrip during the Second World War, Commandos having trained locally. It was known that the Haig family used the strip to transfer family, friends and hunters to the lodge. There were a few figures gathered around the light aircraft and three adjacent vehicles.

We started walking south when we heard voices and barking. A quick look spotted an old Land Rover Defender heading our way.

‘Keep going – ignore the jeep.’

The Land Rover appeared to be going beyond us and it looked as if it may seek to cut us off before we went back down onto the riverside. There was a patch of tall ferns and a long line of pines coming up that marked the top of the riverbank. We snuck into the ferns, then heard the vehicle stop.

‘Right, let’s get back down the bank, now! We must be much closer to Torcastle.’ Donnie John crashed through the ferns and down the bank. Quickly followed by Frankie. I was tailing Rose, when she sped up and tripped over a root and fell flat on the undergrowth just short of the pines. Then we heard the barks.

I heard the dogs crash through the bracken and I decided to throw myself on top of Rose. We lay still and waited. I heard a low growl and could feel Rose tense below me. Closer and closer the animals approached. I could hear Frankie shouting from the riverside. Then a menacing low growl came from straight in front of me. I slowly raised my head and there a foot from my face was the massive ugly head of a dog. This was no dog I had ever seen before. It was a mastiff of some description and I was now in receipt of its fetid breath. A loud bark and I shook in terror. I was going to lose my face in one bite.

But not immediately, first came a sharp jab on my ankle where a second dog had sunk its fangs and shook. Christ, that was sore. This was the only time in my life that I had felt such fear and to this day it remains the case, and yet I knew I had to have a plan to extricate my sister and myself out of there.

The dog at my head was now taking shallow bites at my shoulder. Was that a whistle? The second dog stood off me and started barking. A plan formed out of desperation. I turned my head towards the river and shouted, ‘Donnie, throw stones at these bloody dogs. Don’t worry if you hit me.’

I realised that they were throwing blind – the first two stones hit the earth well in front of us. ‘Left a bit and more depth.’ A howl came from behind me. Bingo. ‘Okay, stop now. I’m going to throw Rose down to you.’

Another whistle sounded and both dogs seemed to back off several yards. I jumped up grabbing Rose under both upper arms, I spun round once like a discus thrower and sent my sister into the air. To my horror, a dog grabbed her round the backside and the combination went into the trunk of a Scots pine. I jumped forwards and kicked the dog a glancing blow to the side of its head. The other dog jumped on my back, flattening me and clenched its jaw around my left shoulder. As I screamed, I saw that Rose had been knocked out when she hit the tree. The first dog went back to her after being kicked and tore at her pink gingham dress. I then felt a lancinating pain in the back of my scalp as the second dog moved its jaws to my head. I crawled forwards, blood running down into my eyes with the mastiff attached to the back of my head. I then started a tug of war with the other dog over my sister’s body. She was limp but was now emitting tears and whimpering. Her dress was being shredded and she was being gradually pulled away from me, into the bracken. I had to get to her. I managed to get up on two legs crouching with the beast digging its claws into my shoulder blades and its teeth into my neck. I took a deep breath and threw myself backwards onto a tree. The manoeuvre worked at first as the dog fell off my back. I charged forwards into the bracken only to be met by my sister’s canine assailant. It hit me in the chest, knocking me over and then sat on my chest, and suddenly its jaws were going for my face. I put both arms up in protection so the teeth sank into them.

Another hail of stones looped over from the shore and both dogs were struck. One headed back into the bracken, the second stood off me, barking and growling at my bloodied face, waiting for me to move.

I then became aware of hands around my ankles, and DJ’s face appeared over the edge.

‘You’re coming down… now.’

I was dragged by the two boys over the edge of the bank. The mastiff had one last pounce and caught my right arm, but it lost its grip as I disappeared into the void. I clattered against the rock and mud of the bank but the relief of escape eased any discomfort. Donnie John and Frankie stared in horror at my wounded body – blood was escaping from my head, neck and all four limbs.

I stood up to address the pair on the shore of the river, when it came, one high-pitched forlorn wail from beyond the trees, followed by further barking and growling, then nothing.

‘Right, get me back up that bank, I’m going after her.’

‘Don’t be crazy, Teddy. You’ll die – you’re bleeding badly.’

‘We can’t leave Rosie behind. Those monsters will kill her,’ I pleaded harrowingly.

Still silence from the direction of the attack. ‘Right, Frankie, give us a hand to get back up there,’ I begged, but I was staggering now and felt light-headed.

‘No, Ted.’ Frankie was gulping in air as he wept. ‘I don’t want to lose both of you.’ He backed into the water.

‘Please Donnie, help me. I’ve got to get Rose.’

‘No, Teddy. Let’s get your dad, he’ll find her.’ I howled with sorrow.

With myself being supported by Donnie John, we made faltering progress along the side of the river for almost twenty minutes until the sound of another outboard engine came into earshot. Jimmy and my father had worked out that we had taken the boat.

‘Where is she?’ he bawled, spotting Rosie’s absence, as they pulled up to us. We blurted out the story, all three of us contributing. ‘Bloody little idiots.’ My father never usually got as agitated as this. He pushed back the hair from his face and eyes shut, raised his head to the heavens. Tears appeared in his eyes, then he quickly engaged. ‘Jimmy, can you drop me where they sank, and then come back and take them back to Rhoda? She will get the police and maybe an ambulance for this fella. I’ll get you all round at Camisky later.’

With that, they hauled Frankie into the boat and headed upstream, leaving the two of us to wait.

Apparently, my father jumped ashore brandishing a heavy spanner from the tool box in Jimmy’s boat, and Frankie and Jimmy watched him scramble up the steep bank, grabbing tree roots for leverage, before charging into the bracken.

‘So, Teddy, you were the last person to see Rose?’ Calum had obviously never heard the full story before.

‘Yes. Frankie and your dad heard the dogs and our cries but couldn’t see us for the bracken. By the time Dad got there, there was no Rose, no dogs, no Jeep, nothing. He made for the new lodge and on spotting Stuart Haig, had him by the throat, threatening to kill him if he didn’t produce Rose. Haig denied everything – that he didn’t know we were attacked, said that we were trespassing and endangering our own lives and those in the aircraft. When the police arrived, Dad got lifted for threatening behaviour. That evening, a cursory search was made. The hospital contacted the police later to say that a savaged child was in hospital, and that prompted a lot more activity the following day.’

‘How long was Duncan in custody?’ Shirley broke in.

‘Oh, just overnight, but the cops didn’t want him back on Haig’s land. So he got hold of Archie and Jacob to start a search. Haig was furious but the police were livid he’d played down the seriousness of the situation the evening before, and they insisted on a thorough search, which as I said, Archie and Jake more or less led.’

‘I get Archie is Granddad Cameron, but who is Jake?’

‘Sorry, Calum. Jake is Jacob Stewart, my mother’s brother. You must have seen him about. After he left the Army, he came home and became a shepherd on the Ardgour estate – a bit of a loner. Lives with my mum now, wouldn’t feed himself properly if he was on his own – so she says.’

‘Do you mean old Aqualung… as in the cover of Dad’s Jethro Tull album?’

‘Eh… a touch harsh young man, but could be.’

‘Anyway, nothing was found. Haig insisted he didn’t own mastiffs, only collies and he said no Land Rover of his went anywhere near us. He said there were feral dogs in the area that went after his sheep and that any vehicle present must have come off the public through road. All absolute bollocks. Weeks later, Haig presented the police with the bodies of two dogs. I was hauled in to look at the dogs but the two mangy corpses were not mastiffs. And that was that; my dad, Jake, Frankie and I continued to search the area for months on an unofficial basis, and my mother never left the house and filled with tears any time she had to speak to Frankie and myself. I was a bit slow to get over the wounds, and I prayed every day for a miracle of finding Rose.’

Shirley laid her hand on top of mine but looked at Calum. ‘Son, it was the worst time in all our lives. God knows I’m heartbroken at the moment but the cloud over the whole community back then was immense – the grief took a long time to abate. Everyone had their theories as to what had happened, even that the boys had drowned Rosie – just ridiculous stuff. Months later, one of Haig’s ghillies found a part of a skeleton – badly charred, and a bloodstained piece of a pink gingham dress, up in the woods above Torlundy.’

I stared at the floor and continued. ‘The forensic guys of the time couldn’t get any worthwhile material from the bones – they’d been burnt too severely, but it was definitely the dress Rose had been wearing. For most people, that was the end of hope; we would never know what had happened to Rose. My father kept trying to put pressure on the Haigs but he kept being warned off by the police. There had been antipathy between my dad and Stuart Haig for years prior to the incident anyway. Dad was a councillor and Haig was always trying to take shortcuts in land deals et cetera, charged locals exorbitant fees for ransom strips, that sort of stuff. So Dad hadn’t made life easy for him. But the mutual dislike developed into a hatred, as you can imagine.’

Images of the small dark-haired girl in the pink dress sitting in the boat beaming with joy came vividly to mind; now part of my life sentence.

‘I feel very nervous by what you’ve told me, Calum; to jump back in and give any credence to this claim worries me a lot. It’s just so implausible. I see why Frankie lost it! I just wish Donnie John had picked up the phone to me to test the water. He needn’t have divulged the story to anyone else straight away.’

‘So what we have is an old man turning up, telling DJ that Rose is alive but he won’t say any more than that. And what he seems to want from Donnie is the knowledge that there is still loving family around who care about her. And obviously Donnie could and did confirm this.’

‘And then he gets back in his car and drives off! Bizarre.’

Over the next few days, I took time away from the restaurant and I drove Shirley and Calum around the countryside and visited the usual tourist sites of the region. We drove over to Rocamadour on one day, rented kayaks in Bergerac for a day on the Dordogne on another and generally filled the time so that the pair of them could go home having had some positive experiences.

Conversations over dinner were relaxed but you couldn’t deny an awkwardness had developed as it was obvious that Lisa and I were reluctant to revisit previous conversations.

Towards the end of the week, Lisa and I got a couple of hours together in the afternoon. Shirley and Calum had accepted Alain’s invitation to use the pool up at the farmhouse. We sat on the decking watching Flora and Grandpa Fournier walking in the meadow across the road with Trampas and the sheepdogs. Alain’s father was nothing like his son – relaxed, patient, eternally polite and very wise.

Lisa broke the peace. ‘Do you want to know what I think? I think Calum wants someone to say his father’s death was connected to this story about Rose.’

‘I think you’re maybe right, but there is so very little to the story. What can be done? If Frankie has knocked it on the head with police resources available, then that says it all. I intend to speak to Frankie at some point but not right now. I need some time to try and make some sense of it once they’ve gone.’

‘You will have one disappointed cousin on your hands.’

‘What can he expect of me? I will promise to keep closely in touch with them from now on.’

We had dinner at the restaurant that night. It meant that Lisa and I could help front of house. There weren’t many covers so it was still relaxed. We chatted away on various light matters from tourism to education via the Lascaux caves and Cyrano de Bergerac, and never strayed to Donnie John’s death or his story of his encounter. About 10pm, Calum excused himself to go back to the house, as he was planning an early morning rise. After we got home, Flora fell asleep in Lisa’s lap as we conversed with Shirley, and then we all retired to bed, planning to get up sharp the following day to help Alain with kitchen duties.

It wasn’t uncommon to be awoken by the sound of gunshots, considering I had a trigger-happy father-in-law residing a matter of less than a half mile up the road and a proliferation of wildlife in the vicinity. However, the shot was followed by a shout from Lisa to get up quickly as Alain and Calum were chasing a man through the meadows towards the woods. I pulled on a tee shirt, my trackie bottoms and trainers and jogged out onto the road. The three men were now out of sight. Lisa was standing beyond the restaurant and beckoning me towards her.

‘Where did they go?’ No response but her right arm continued to wave me on. I picked up the pace and dashed to Lisa.

‘Look, Ted.’ She was looking back in the direction of the restaurant wall.

I turned and looked at the west wall of the recently painted restaurant, and there in white capital letters two feet high were the words ‘RESTEZ ICI CONSHEE.’

Truly, strange days had found me and this changed everything. Now there surely was a link between the local disruption that nearly resulted in the abduction of my daughter and my history from Lochaber over a thousand miles away.

‘Oh God, Ted. Who is doing this?’ Lisa pulled at my arm and then hugged me tightly.

Three hours later, the group of us around our dinner table watched as Camille Vasco planted her laptop in front of her at the top of the table and slipped elegantly into the seat.

‘Back so soon, my friends.’

If I had not already witnessed her diligence, I think I would have shared the wide-eyed surprise that this attractive young woman in a cream tee shirt and jeans represented Bergerac’s Old Bill. I mustered a wink at Calum who went appreciably beetroot.

‘Are you feeling the heat, Calum? We could open the windows further.’

‘Fine, Teddy, thanks,’ he fired back at me.

‘Right, Ted. I got the impression from your phone call that this latest episode offers up a link we did not find previously?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Okay, I will come back to that.’

‘First things – Calum – am I right? You were returning from an early jog when you came across a man spraying graffiti on the restaurant wall? Correct?’

‘Yes… eh Inspector Vasco.’

‘Camille, please.’ She smiled back. ‘Go on.’

He caught my second wink and the beetroot face returned.

‘Well, he didn’t hear me approach all that well – the stream is in full flow after last night’s rain. So he nearly jumped when I asked him what he was doing. And when he replied in a Scottish accent, it was me who was surprised.’

‘And what did he say to you?’

‘He told me to “Fuck off”.’

‘Charmant. And then, Alain, you took matters into your own hands, and fired your shotgun over their heads.’

Alain shuffled forwards in his chair to plead his case. ‘I could see Calum talking to this stranger and I could see the graffiti. I thought it might be the man from two weeks ago, so I thought a warning shot would do no harm. And then he bolted up into the woods, and Calum and I gave chase.’

‘Do you think it could have been the assailant or driver from the other week?’

I chipped in. ‘From my daughter’s description, it does sound like the assailant.’

Camille Vasco looked around our group ‘So please tell me, what does the message mean and what is the link?’

I cleared my throat. ‘I think it is a warning to me from Scotland.’

‘Carry on.’

‘Well, Commander. You may remember that I told you my cousin and her son had lost her husband and his father to suicide recently. It would seem that there may be some dubiety about the accuracy of that judgement. Donald John, the deceased, had caused a minor sensation in the few weeks before he died by claiming he had spoken to somebody who claimed that my sister, missing for thirty years, was still alive.’

‘Wow, that is something.’ Camille studied me breathlessly, her eyes almost in proptosis.

I filled Camille in with the circumstances of my sister’s disappearance as succinctly as I could.

Camille was visibly intrigued. ‘And do you think this message on the wall and the attempt to catch your daughter is a warning to you to stay away from Scotland?’

‘I’m not sure, very possibly. I just don’t know. For a start, I don’t think my sister can be alive. And surely by sending me a warning, paradoxically, is there not a risk of inflaming my curiosity? My brother, the policeman, would not entertain any belief in anything but suicide and felt that the story about my sister was a cruel fantasy. I don’t know if this will change his mind.’

Camille screwed up her nose. ‘Mmm. It is very strange. Now that Alain has shot at them, perhaps you won’t see these guys again. We will check around for hired SUVs and for hospital visits for dog bites. But please – no more guns, Alain, you could have hit Calum in the woods as he was running ahead of you. The fact you fired the shotgun crosses a line for me… as well as maybe for them.

‘Surely to come from Scotland to scare you suggests a serious reason, no matter what that is. Ted, please explain the message to me – what is meant by “conshee”?’

‘It is a long story. My paternal grandfather lost his three older brothers in the First World War and when my father expressed a desire in enlisting for World War Two in 1943, my grandparents were adamant he was not going anywhere. Grandad made a plea that he was a conscientious objector – a “conshee” – and that his eldest son was as well. A big hullabaloo resulted. My grandfather contacted the Clan Chief who knew fine well of the family loss in the Great War to see if he would offer support. But he turned out to be critical of my grandfather’s view and fed the story to the local press. There was polarity of opinion – but there was a vile minority who insisted on demonising my family. Consequently, the word “Conshee” was painted on the side of our house for years. Every time we painted over it, a few months would pass then it would reappear. The irony was my father eventually joined up in fear of being interred for cowardice. He was drafted into the 6th Airborne Division and saw action in Normandy, in the Ardennes and on the Rhine offensive. He was horrified in particular by what he saw in Belgium. The SS had murdered a lot of American prisoners and many Belgian civilians and the bloodied bodies were left strewn around with no time for anyone to bury them.

‘He returned from the War a motivated left-wing pacifist. Not too long after that, at the very end of the 1950s my uncle Jacob did his National Service, and ended up in Malaya and was captured and tortured by Malayan independence fighters who were intent on revenge for the carnage of the Batang Kali massacre. When he came home, he hardly spoke for six months, he was that traumatised. Kept seeing decapitated soldiers and villagers in his sleep.

‘So, Commander Vasco, you could say that my father and grandfather before him had some justification in taking an anti-war stance. Following on from there, my dad and Jake went on a couple of the Aldermaston CND marches – to protest against the nuclear threat. And this triggered another bout of wall painting on our home. Eventually, after my father’s activism lessened in later years, I seemed to inherit the “conshee” tag for a while. I think local families like the Haigs, the MacPhersons and the Grigors just needed another available target. Frankie and I were fortunate and had done quite well at school compared to their kids who were the same age, and so part of it was jealousy, I suppose. Though the reason for them not bothering at school was that their families were so well off financially that the incentive to avoid the family businesses for further education was zero.

‘But everyone who lived locally knew that we despised that nickname or slur should I say. But small-town mentality feeds on weaknesses and discomforts.

‘So I hope that summary helps, Camille. But our artist friend definitely knows some of my history and he is directly connected to the Lochaber area.’

‘Thank you, Ted. It is difficult to rationalise, to be honest. I think it would be worthwhile me contacting the police in Scotland to discuss the matter with them. May I have your brother’s particulars and I will look him up on the Europol network. So is it Francis Cameron, Inspector?’

‘Well, it’s actually Franklin.’

‘Really?’

‘My dad can be a bit eccentric at times – he has a great love of American politics and history.’

‘So you are named after Edward Kennedy, yes?’

‘No. I’m named after the other Roosevelt. I am Theodore – but never use it.’

‘Theodore! Well, well, I like it.’

Calum winked at me, the little bugger, and it was my turn to redden as Camille’s mildly husky tone brought some humour to the conversation.

Camille stifled a giggle. ‘Okay, I will contact your brother to discuss what has happened. We will continue to look for these two men. In the meantime… please… as I said… no more guns.’

And with that she got up and headed to the door. ‘Madame Mathieson, how long are you both here for?’

‘We’re going home in a couple of days’ time.’

‘Well, enjoy the rest of your break and have a safe journey.’

Later that evening Lisa and I huddled together on the sofa lit by the dying embers of the fire, fortified by industrial measures of red wine. I twitched a little as I prepared to speak.

‘You’re not going to like what I’m going to say.’

‘Have worked it out already, Theodore.’

‘Oh, you’re very sharp tonight, Madame Cameron.’

‘Sharp and unhappy. Is there any need for you to go back? Let Frankie deal with it.’

I massaged my wife’s shoulders, an ancient bargaining practice. ‘But that’s the point, he’s been sympathetic to Shirley and Calum but he’s not exactly entertained the possibility of being wrong. And now with what’s happened here in the past two weeks, I need to be able to trust that he will do his utmost to resolve it. And I think with me present, he cannot let anyone down.’

‘And what about your wife and child?’

‘Fancy a holiday in Scotland?’

‘Nope, forget it, not possible. Far too much disruption for Flora – she can’t miss school, the restaurant needs me and what type of break would it be for us anyway? I think it would be selfish of you to go. I have thought about it all day, and no, I’m not going to stop you going on a probable wild goose chase. I just hope that ultimately some benefit is going to be achieved. But first, please promise me that before you book a flight, that you will speak to Frankie.’ With that, a cushion hit me across the face, and the female perpetrator headed for bed.

‘Frankie? Ted here. How are you doing?’

‘Ted. How’s things? I’m literally just off the phone to Commander Vasco. What on earth is going on?’

‘Well, I was hoping that… ahem… Camille has filled you in with the story of both incidents.’

‘She has indeed. Both bizarre and in the case of the attempted abduction of Flora – shocking. She says that you immediately linked both incidents. Is that not a wee bit presumptuous? Based on the description of a child, and a grieving teenager – hungry for retribution.’

‘Aw, come on, Frankie. I’ve been in France for years without a sniff of intrigue and now, a matter of months after Donnie John’s death, I’ve had a nutter trying to abduct my daughter and a historical insult has appeared on my wall.’

‘Child abduction is rare but it can happen anywhere anytime and every effort should be made to catch these guys. The “conshee” thing is odd but could be explained by a holidaying scumbag from here with no other agenda but causing you hurt in what you thought was a haven of anonymity.’

‘Not buying it, Frankie. The would-be abductor asked after me first and foremost. Regarding the story about Rose, did you look into DJ’s story?’

‘Ted, Donnie John was a complete pain in the arse for nearly two years. He was wrecking his marriage, alienating his son and slowly destroying the business. He was no longer good company and he was rarely sober on the occasions I ran into him. I even found out a couple of my young officers had let him off with stuff, as they felt they were doing me a favour. Totally wrong.’

‘Calum says he was fine in the weeks before his death – back to his old self, in fact.’

‘Look, Ted. How long would it have lasted? Another couple of weeks? Personally, I think he had brain damage through drink, and this Rose story was probably formed during a psychotic episode. He latched on to it and it gave him an incentive for a while but how come nobody else at the yard saw this mystery man, and there’s nothing on CCTV?’

‘If I was to come over for a couple of weeks, would you put me up? I just think I would like to satisfy myself of a few things.’

‘You are welcome any time, Ted. But let’s get this straight, you won’t interfere in my work and I won’t be spending any more time looking at this crap. Our sister’s dead, Ted. DJ died a not atypical death of an alcoholic. Right, I have to go. If you’re coming, let me know. Cheers.’

‘Well, how did it go?’ Lisa looked up from the large Belfast sink that sat against the back wall of the restaurant’s kitchen.

‘Predictably.’

‘Mmm, that well!’

‘He is okay at having me over, but he’s not for changing his mind on anything.’

‘Well, what’s the point of going all the way there, if the atmosphere is going to be terrible? What can you possibly achieve by yourself?’

‘A man of my resourcefulness! How can you doubt me?’

Lisa laughed but I could see she was pained by my stubbornness.

‘I think you will be back here with your tail between your legs within two weeks.’

‘Then so be it. I will have done my best. Do you want a hand with the veg?’

‘No, thank you, but you could repaint that ruddy wall, you obstinate pig.’

Saturday morning came and my cousin and her son climbed into the rear of our Renault after a cuddle with Lisa and Flora on our doorstep. Shirley had been very emotional, offering profound gratitude for their stay. She rejected my offer of accompanying them back to Scotland on the same flights, as Lisa’s trawl of travel sites that morning had revealed late availability. Tearfully, Shirley felt that my sudden departure would be too callous on my girls.

The pair of travellers insisted that I just drop them off at the main doors rather than find a parking space and escort them to Departures. I complied and as I headed out to the dual carriageway, for the first time I felt uneasy about my forthcoming trip.

‘If there’s any more trouble here, I’ll be back immediately.’

‘I know that. I’ve just wanted to make you suffer these past few days. You do realise that my father has insisted that he will bed down in the spare room until you’re back – see what you have inflicted on me? His snoring is crazy loud.’

‘I’m indebted to him, but yeah, that’s a thrill for you, I can see.’

‘So you have to bring him back whisky, and you are taking us to Corse later this year, for some beach time.’

SCOTLAND

I lingered a little at the top of the steps – I was last out of the shuttle – and braced myself for the temperature difference that existed between Heathrow and Glasgow. The cheery banter of the stewardesses behind me couldn’t lessen the tremor that shook me. Time to face more than a cool reception.

I decided to hire a Volkswagen Golf for two weeks to begin with. I went for an automatic to make the switch from France a bit easier for me.

The journey up the A82 was never a hardship. As soon as the Vale of Leven has transported you to the shores of Loch Lomond, then the majesty of the Highlands is revealing itself. The road was relatively quiet, although getting stuck behind an articulated lorry brought back memories of frustration and ill-judged overtaking.

The road climbed up to Crianlarich after which I stopped at the Green Welly Stop in Tyndrum for a coffee and a bacon roll to quell my hunger. I listened intently as the girl at the checkout gave me her take on the burgeoning tourist season. The facts were undoubtedly correct but it was her accent I was taken with; the slow, soft West Highland twang brought a warmth and reassurance that the hot drink could not. I smiled and made my way to a window seat. Somebody had left a Herald on the table. Old habits die hard and I turned immediately to the back page. ‘Motherwell Go Top’ was the refreshing if surprising headline, but close inspection of the league table revealed both Old Firm clubs just behind with games in hand. Ah, well.

Back on the road, I soon got to the White Corries. I pulled in at the entrance to the ski centre. I got out and looked out at my favourite panorama in the world. A couple of miles ahead across this open moorland lies the entrance to Glencoe. Mountains rose on both sides of the road with the left gatepost provided by the mass of Buachaille Etive Mhor. I had made this journey from Glasgow to Lochaber on countless occasions in the past and the sight in front of me never failed to enthral. I remember my granddad saying that ‘Every time the redcoats got to the crossing of the River Etive’, that lay in the depression just ahead, ‘they knew they were entering a new version of hell.’ History lessons from Dugald Cameron Esquire had been abundant but often inaccurate as he let his heritage cloud the facts. But certainly it would be fitting if a spiritual force was responsible for the drama of this awesome location.

I got back in the Golf and headed north-west through Glencoe, hitting the waterside just before Ballachulish. Then there was a bit of a tailback south of the Fort. The traffic eased as I continued north before crossing the Lochy, and then the canal. Turning right at that point, I drove for over a mile up the B road past Banavie until I reached Frankie’s home sitting on a wooded mound above the road. I parked at the side of the house, jumped out and was met by Liz, Frankie’s wife.

We embraced warmly. ‘Well, who would have thought you’d be back so soon?’

‘Well, not me, Liz. I hope I’m not putting you out.’

‘Not at all. It’s always a pleasure, Ted. You know that. Frankie filled me in with your reasons. I can’t promise you he’s going to be very helpful. He was in a hell of a mood this morning when he left here.’

‘Wonderful.’

Twenty miles south, Sergeant Willie McKenzie leant over the corpse that he had pulled from the mouth of the River Duror as it enters Cuil Bay, an inlet on the eastern shore of Loch Linnhe. Inspector Frank Cameron joined him on the shore.

‘Well, Willie. What do you think? Dumped in from the shore or off a boat?’

‘I’m getting Angie to go through missing persons, forensics are on their way. Obviously, it would be reasonable to think he’s linked to the operation here. But no obvious cause of death on superficial inspection.’

Frank pondered to himself for a minute. ‘Could be a tragic accident or a message to let us know we’ve been spotted at Keil.’

‘I take it this poor sod had no identification on him?’

‘Just a tattoo on his arm – it means nothing to me, but you have a look, boss.’

Willie rotated the right forearm of the corpse to reveal a shield with writing enclosed.

‘I keep forgetting you’re not a football man, Willie.’

‘Shinty all the way, boss.’

‘Well, Gornik Zabrze are a Polish football team. Not so good at the moment I believe, but a team with a great history. So we have a dead man from Poland… Right, wait for forensics, and I’ll go round to Keil.’

The journey around to Keil cemetery only took five minutes – back out onto the main Oban road and head south for a half mile, past the current cemetery and off down a side road to the loch side.

The church had long been converted into a private house but the adjacent old walled cemetery remained relatively undisturbed and was dreadfully overgrown with thick banks of nettles and brambles. It had housed a covert police operation for the past six months. Camouflaged tarpaulins hid a video camera that was trained on Eilean Balnakyle, a small islet in the loch. The police had been tipped off that the vicinity of the islet was a drop-off point for drugs coming in to the West Highlands.

Four months ago, two men were caught red-handed hauling a load into a dinghy from a point just off the midpoint of the island. The men were career criminals from the Glasgow drug scene.

Following that initial success, it was decided to maintain the unmanned observation post for a period. It wasn’t an idea Frankie was in favour of; leaving valuable equipment out in the open countryside to monitor a site that had already been exposed by the authorities. He had been overruled by his hierarchy in conjunction with the Customs Service.

Frankie got out of his car, skipped over the wall and went under canvas. Two officers were already there.

‘Hi folks, anything to report, any signs of disturbance?’

‘No, the equipment is all intact, sir. We’ll take the tape back to the station and go through it.’ PC Ruth Kennedy was an indisputable asset to the local squad – sharp, great initiative, diligent.

PC Roddy McLaren, the other officer present, was laid back and comical, but his effort was suspect.

‘Is it not about time we’re shutting this place down, Inspector? We’ve been coming down here regularly with nothing to show for it.’

Frankie baulked at rebuking the young officer. ‘I think time will tell, Roddy. Let’s see what’s on the tape.’

He got back to the car thinking, There’ll be nothing on the bloody thing. Ted should be up by now, another source of stress for the foreseeable…

‘Do you mind if I sit outside until Frankie gets home, Liz?’

‘On you go, I’ll bring you out a beer.’

Across the glen to the south lay the giant mass of Ben Nevis, resplendent in the dying light of the sun which was dipping over in the west. Lochaber for good and bad would always be home. It was always sad to leave and it was always a pleasure to return, no matter the circumstance. Despite the tragic events that had occurred in this district, there had been another life too, away from the family – a coming of age through school and the friendships and relationships developed there. No matter what direction I looked in from this bench on Frankie and Liz’s deck, memories were triggered of happy times.

‘Can you ever see yourself back here, Ted?’ Liz had come out to the bench with a beer and a glass of wine.

‘Cheers, Liz. Mmm, you never know. Lisa loves it here and wouldn’t miss Bergerac too much but we’d both need jobs of some kind. There are probably not too many vet jobs here and I don’t see Lisa having the patience to go back to teaching. But Flora comes first now – whatever’s best for her schooling dictates all. On saying that, where are your two?’

‘Lachie has a job after school, then he joins a couple of his pals on a Thursday evening for band practice in an old barn in Camaghael for a couple of hours. Josie Ross, Paul’s mother, feeds the four of them, so he’s not back here till about 10pm. Seonaid is at a piano lesson and will be home fairly soon.’

‘Are they getting on okay at school? Enjoying it?’

‘Oh yes, they both love it and are doing fine. I think they’re trying to make sure they do extracurricular stuff to avoid our bickering.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true, and we all bicker, let’s face it.’

‘Not like this. I’m not trying to influence you, Ted, but Frankie has changed these past eighteen months. Quick tempered, dismissive of people, a couple of disagreements at work and this recent refusal to give time to Donnie John was borderline cruel.’

‘I agree it doesn’t sound like the old Frankie but life is tough at times. I’m not saying it’s something like a midlife crisis, as crises happen all the ruddy time anyway, but perhaps there’s something he feels unable to explain. I think being at the beck and call of my mother for all these years must be tough. Tough on you too.’

‘Well, your mother has noticed it as well to be fair, and she is not any problem to either of us, anyway, Ted.’

‘I’ll see what I can get out of him whilst I’m here.’

‘Oh God, don’t start a rammy!’

‘A whisky, Ted?’

‘No thanks, Frankie. I’m a bit tired, that would wipe me out. That was a lovely meal, Liz. We don’t get the same quality of venison in Bergerac. I’d take some home if I could.’

‘Right, Ted, sports trivia for you.’

‘Oh hell, here we go, okay.’

‘Who did Manchester City beat in the final of the 1970 European Cup Winners Cup?’

‘You have to be kidding?… Anderlecht?’

‘Nope. I’m disappointed. You used to know all this stuff.’

‘The hell I did. Jeez, I was in primary school for God’s sake. Ujpest Dozsa?’

‘Getting slightly warmer but I’ll spare you… Gornik Zabrze.’

‘Okay. Fair enough, they used to be good – the great Lubanski. What’s brought all this on? Slack day at work?’

‘Not supposed to say but we fished a dead Pole out of Loch Linnhe today – apparently a supporter. Poor bugger. Could be drugs-related.’

‘You’re having me on. Serious drug crime hits the Highlands.’

‘It’s been here for a long time. The problem now is that there are competing groups and occasionally brutality breaks out between them. Back in the day it was almost classed as a business crime with one family or company responsible for all transactions. Little harm was done to anyone, even the users kept well on the Highland air.’

‘God, you even sound nostalgic. Lock up as many as the bastards as you can for as long as you can, and that can’t fail to help.’

‘Then somebody new and unknown steps in and life gets that much more difficult for a long time.’

‘So you’d rather a maintenance policy than eradication of the problem?’

‘You see, Ted, there can be no eradication, so you establish a level of activity that is tolerable.’

‘But that’s defeatist bollocks. If the police are happy with that, I’m disgusted.’

‘Yep. Your mother’s son, alright!’

‘Rather that than lie down to it. Without wishing to start an argument on my first night, has this rather tepid attitude you extol extended to the investigation of the death of a dear friend and the very existence of your sister?’

‘Fuck off, Ted. I’m not getting into a fight but you don’t know anything first-hand. Fucking zero. I’m seriously pissed off at the nutters who got to Flora but you can’t come back here expecting to find answers for everyone. I don’t know what your exact intentions are, but please don’t charge around looking for trouble or the doors get locked and you can go and stay with our mother or you can get back to France.’

‘Fine. I’m not looking for any major help from you. I’m just here to ask a few people a few questions. I thought if the need arises you may give me some pointers but alas that seems not to be the case.’

‘We won’t get into any arguments if you just go about things in a low-key manner.’

‘That’s all it’s going to be, Frankie.’

The next morning, I slept a bit late and sauntered down to the kitchen. Liz was sitting at the table, cup in hand, straining to take in morning television.

‘Good morning, Liz – I hope you haven’t got the telly turned down for my benefit. When I’m out really cold, only gunfire wakes me up.’

‘I’ll turn it up a little then. Frankie and the kids were so noisy going out, I was sure they’d waken you. Have a seat, I’ll put on the kettle.’

‘Dead to the world I was. Took several seconds to work out where I was when I finally opened my eyes.’

‘Would you like a fry up?’

‘Eh… no, just tea and toast would be lovely, thanks.’

‘Certainly. So where’s your first stop?’

‘I’m going down to the yard first – catch up with Shirley.’

I felt a sharp coldness as I drove into the small yard belonging to Cameron Brothers Undertakers. How often had I cycled my red and yellow Raleigh Europa through that gate, jumped off and gone into the office to see my dad? I pushed open the door half expecting to see my dad’s old secretary Jinty MacLean, horn-rimmed specs and hair in a bun, sitting behind the desk, suddenly vexed by my appearance. Instead, it was my smartly dressed cousin.

‘Gee whizz, Shirley – for a second I could swear it was old Jinty sitting there.’

‘You cheeky bugger. Just arrived and you’re cruising…’

‘Haha! Do you ever see Jinty around, anyway?’

‘Not long after her husband died, she retired from here and went to stay with her sister in Oban. Gus was such a good mechanic – my dad and Duncan always said the pair of them were essential to the firm.’

‘Definitely. I always loved Jinty’s car – a 1960s pastel green Ford Consul Classic. Gus kept that car pristine. Do you remember it?’

‘Did it have a white roof and whitewall tyres?’

‘That’s the very one.’

‘Very exotic for Corpach.’

‘Right, Shirley – back to business. Can I speak to your guys regarding the day Donnie John met the mystery man?’

‘Just go straight though to the workshop, Ted. Budge and Tommy know you want to speak to them.’

‘Cheers.’

My friends at school used to be intrigued about what went on behind the doors of my uncle and father’s business. Of course I lied shamelessly about the horrors of their occupation, especially to girlfriends. It was not uncommon for Frankie and I to be sent to apologise to parents of distraught girls, who’d picked up the phone to Dad to express their understandable ire at their daughters’ trauma. In reality, I don’t think I witnessed anything that upset me. I do remember there were cold rooms through the back but the main workshop was extremely hot, with empty coffins lined up against the walls with the main central space taken up by a large work table.

I wandered through and was immediately transported back over twenty years – the heat, the smell of freshly cut wood and the slightly subdued lighting. Budge Colquhoun and I recognised each other straight away.

‘Damn me, Ted, you’ve filled out a bit, too much good food over there, good to see you, pal.’

It was good to see him too and I had filled out a fair bit actually, and both of us were showing a touch of grey about the temples since our last meeting. He was still in the habit of putting a pencil behind an ear – no fakers did that.

‘Budge, I thought you might have escaped this hellhole by now – Shirley is obviously paying you too much, ha, ha.’

We embraced warmly. Archie and Dad had taken on Budge in his late teens – he had lost his father in a car accident and was succumbing to a prodigious drinking habit. He gave his first pay from Dad to his mother and stopped drinking on the same day. Now a devoted family man, if he wasn’t working, he helped out with the juniors at Kilmallie, where he was a former captain and served the Free Church as an elder. A couple of years older than me, it was fair to say that in my teenage years he saved me from a couple of beatings from the likes of Roy Grigor or Jackson Haig who knew how to push my buttons. However, he shied away from all aggression these days unless blue shinty strips were involved.

‘Ted, this is Tommy Muir. He’s been with us six years now.’

I reached out and shared a firm handshake with the smiling, dark-blond-haired man, who must have been in his late twenties. He winced a little and I saw the white strapping peeping out below the cuff of his long denim shirt.

‘I’m a mountain biker and fell off a trail over in Laggan at the weekend.’

I acknowledged his injury. ‘Great sport but I suppose it’s one of these activities that no matter how experienced you are, it takes a millisecond of loss of concentration to hit the dirt.’

‘Yip, you sum it up well.’

‘Anyway, Tommy, how do you like working with these relics?’

‘Suits me just fine. Archie and Donnie John were good guys. Like everyone, I can’t get my head round losing Donnie, but Budge and Shirley are machines.’

‘A machine that’s creaking a lot these days,’ Budge interjected.

‘It’s been a tough time for you all. And now I’m here to pester you on a possible fantasy.’

‘Not at all, Ted. Ask us anything and we’ll try and help. Shirley filled us in with the background, and Donnie’s claims. Tommy is not local but I remember wee Rose very well.’

‘Okay then. For starters, am I correct in saying neither of you met this mysterious older man?’

Both men confirmed this – they had been in Ardgour for most of the day.

‘And did Donnie say anything to you about his meeting the man?’

‘Not to me,’ offered Budge.

‘The only thing he said to me,’ said Tommy, ‘was a throwaway remark the next day, but I’m not sure it’s relevant.’

I walked over to Tommy, who was propping himself up on the edge of the table and reassured him. ‘Look, Tommy, I’m not worried if what you tell me turns out to be irrelevant, but please let me know everything.’

‘No worries.’ Tommy drained his can of Pepsi with a stern look on his face. ‘Donnie and I were talking about pets and I said that my mother was thinking of getting an Alsatian for security, now that my father had passed but I was concerned that it was a big dog for a wee lady to manage. Anyway, Donnie agreed and added, “You should have seen the bloody size of the dog that the old boy who stopped by here yesterday had in the back of his car – a massive beast.”’

I couldn’t believe what my ears had just heard. I felt my heart pounding and embarrassingly, I went over and hugged Tommy. He winced in discomfort.

‘Tommy, that could be significant. Did he happen to say what breed it was?’

‘No, nothing at all and the conversation immediately turned back to work.’

‘Did you get the CCTV stuff back from the police?’

‘Aye, Ted but they found nothing on it, and Tommy and I had a look through it before we passed it on and we found nothing either.’

I was feeling a bit giddy and my head was pounding. ‘Would you mind terribly if we look at it again now – not for the day DJ died, but just for the day the stranger was here?’

‘No problem, Ted. I’ll ask Shirley to set it up.’

Half an hour later, the four of us were huddled around Shirley’s screen trawling through unrewarding imagery – the transient presence of various sparrows being the only varying features.

‘There’s nothing on it – agreed.’ I rubbed my stiffening neck and wandered over to the window. ‘So how the hell did the cameras not catch him or his car?’

‘What had Calum said again – that the man had stopped on spec having seen the “Cameron Brothers” sign? Maybe he did but didn’t come straight in, maybe he phoned first. Donnie was the only one here, so would have taken the call, but maybe Donnie arranged to meet him elsewhere. By doing that, he could have gone out the side door and hence didn’t get caught by the cameras. Where’s the nearest café?’

‘There’s a newish coffee place round the back of the High Street near where the bookies used to be – Coffee Cottage, it’s called.’

‘Do you know who owns or manages it? Would they know Donnie John?’

Budge laughed. ‘Oh yes, Anne-Marie Noble runs it and she used to adore Donnie until he got into the habit of nipping down for coffees for us all, when he had a… when he wasn’t completely sober. However, there’s Haig money behind her, so it was straightforward for her to eventually blank Donnie unless he was sober.’

‘I know Anne-Marie Telford as was; she was a school pal, and we shared piano lessons for a while. I’ll pop down now, any orders?’

‘Anne-Marie Telford, how the devil are you?’

The slim woman in the blue overcoat put the empty tray down and gazed my way. It took a second, then: ‘Mon dieu, the boy from Banavie. Well, well, has the Frenchie sent you home, Ted?’

‘Not yet, Anne-Marie, but you never know – could be a matter of days rather than years.’

She burst out laughing and came round the counter to share a hug. ‘Hey, my pet spaniel, Paddy, is just not right – you couldn’t have a quick look?’

‘Well, if you insist, what’s the matter with him?’

‘Just pulling your leg – the staff have been overfeeding the big pudding.’ At that she poked the recumbent canine I’d now spotted under the first table with the toe of her shoe.

‘You’re looking well, Ted. The continental life must be suiting you.’

‘Indeed it is. And you look well yourself, Anne-Marie, if I may say so.’

‘Don’t be fooled, Ted, stress keeps the weight off. The divorce was grim – years I’ll never get back. Anyway, have a seat at this table for a minute – we’re quiet just now, and Sheena will cope on her own.’ Sheena looked over with rosy-cheeked conspiracy.

‘I’m sorry to hear of your divorce, Anne-Marie. I never really knew George.’

‘I shudder in saying this with Donnie John so recently buried, but alcohol is a curse that ruins a lot of Highland communities as well as families. George couldn’t cope with his money from the rigs. We should have been getting set up for life by now. But instead, he’s in a homeless unit in Inverness, I’m working six days a week in here and I spend my home life trying to convince Alan to give up the fish farm and the weed, and try further education.’

‘Life can be brutal, Anne-Marie. Donnie John was such an ebullient character in his youth and his loss has broken us for the time being. We’re at that stage where we’re looking for clues as to the trigger for what happened. And that actually brings me to my presence here today.’

‘I knew you hadn’t come in to chat me up, Ted.’ She laughed. ‘So, how can I help you?’

‘This is completely random, Anne-Marie, but do you remember Donnie John ever coming in for a coffee one morning several weeks before he died, accompanied by an older man, a stranger?’

‘Mmm. I’d almost barred him because he was in the habit of coming in gassed, sitting in the corner talking to himself and being really sarcastic and nasty to the girls and me.’

‘That’s vile, I’m so sorry.’

‘Look, Ted. It didn’t come to that. The Camerons and Mathiesons have credit in the bank as far as I’m concerned. Your uncle Jacob got the job for Alan at the fish farm, and although I might not see Alan there long term, it has given him money in his pocket and a sense of worth. And Donnie John’s mother does a lot of the baking we sell in here.’

‘Really, I thought Stuart Haig would have prevented that.’

‘No, I’m fairly independent as regards stock goes, and anyway for stuff like Eileen’s cakes, I go to Lawrie, and whatever you think of the Haigs, Lawrie is a sweetheart.’

‘No, you’re absolutely right, for a long while, DJ, Lawrie and I were pretty tight.’

‘I remember. Shame when friendships fall apart because of other people.’

‘There were faults on both sides.’

‘Yes, I think so. However, going back to your query – yes, there was a morning when Donnie appeared with an older man, unfamiliar to me. Donnie was in a bright mood and the other man was very polite and gracious, and he had a really distinct accent.’

‘Where from?’

‘Mmm, that’s the thing, I don’t think I could really tell you. I’m hopeless at accents. He was certainly Scottish but the twang was, how would you say… provincial? Definitely not Greater Glasgow or Edinburgh, but also definitely not from anywhere near here. Sorry, that’s not really helpful.’

‘What did he look like?’

‘He would be about five foot nine and had curly white hair and wore glasses. And I reckon this man would be over seventy.’

‘Did you catch a name?’

‘Sorry, no. Sheena, have you been listening, pet?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Carol and you were here that morning too, can you add anything or think of anything else?’

‘Just the thing about Carol walking into the dog at MacSwann’s.’

‘What?’

Anne-Marie swivelled round to Ted.

‘Oh yes! Carol Dundas, my other part-timer who was here that day. I’d sent her over to the post office and bank whilst Donnie and the man were in. She got caught in queues in both places, so both men were gone by the time she got back. Anyway, it was raining hard by then, and she was crossing the green behind MacSwann’s yard with her head down when she nearly walked straight into the same man and this big dog he had with him. Well, the dog growled and I think Carol just about passed out with fear. But the man calmed her down and reassured her the dog was well-behaved and had just been startled by their near collision.’

‘Oh, Anne-Marie, you have made my day! When is Carol next due in?’

‘Glad it’s got you excited, Ted. She won’t be back in till Saturday.’

‘Pity. I’d like to keep some momentum going.’

‘What exactly is this about, Ted? Who was that man?’

‘We don’t know who he is yet, but we’re trying to find reasons as to why Donnie killed himself.’

‘There was no note, was there?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘Oh, poor Shirley.’ Anne-Marie broke down briefly but rapidly regained composure. ‘Let me know if you ever make sense of it, will you?’

‘You’ll be at the top of the queue.’

‘All I can ask for. If you want to speak to Carol sooner, I can give her a phone and explain. She lives in Onich with her folks. She’ll be helping with the B&B or studying.’

‘Ideal. I was going to go down and see Aamir Hussein in Appin at some point. Donnie John was registered with his practice. I could see Carol en route. Final question, is there a bookshop in the town these days?’

‘Oh, we’ve got a lovely new bookshop now. It’s in the High Street about one hundred and fifty yards from here. As ever, it’s run by outsiders but it’s got great stock. Eh… you’ll find the romantic fiction on the ground floor.’

‘Thanks for the tip. Now could I get some coffees and buns for the yard and we’ll arrange for a proper gossip session before I head home.’

‘Four coffees coming up. Send me a list in advance of what you want to gossip about.’

NETHER LOCHABER / APPIN

Where do I possibly start to tell you about one of the finest men I’ve ever known?

Dr Aamir Hussain was born in Peshawar, Pakistan, the same year I was born in Corpach. We first met in the snooker room at Queen Margaret Halls of Residence, Kelvindale, Glasgow. A first-year medical student and a first-year veterinary student challenging each other for the pride of being the 2nd best snooker player in the corridor. Let’s face it, Fat Al Crombie from Perth was never going to allow us to beat him.

Aamir and I bonded over sports, dreams of a better world and a shared infatuation with a stunning student from Stornoway, who shared a Christian name with my mother. Rhoda barely gave us a second glance, but at that age, the mere scent of possibility was strong enough to justify the longing. Only the occasional letter from France quelled that feeling.

Aamir also fell in love with Scotland, its culture and its freedom. After he had collected a number of postgraduate qualifications, he found that he had big decisions to make. Now married to his teenage sweetheart, the pull of returning home was huge – his parents were ageing and a career pathway had opened up in a teaching hospital in Islamabad.

But who could have guessed Nadia, the arts graduate and fellow Pathan, would also fall for the dreich climes of western Scotland, the majesty of the Highlands and Islands, the ambience of Byres Road and the friendliness of the proud citizens of Glasgow.

Unexpectedly, my suggestion of a three-month GP locum in my home town on the western seaboard had turned into, at last count, a seven-year stay in Lochaber.

‘Ted! How are you, you bastard?’

‘All the better for hearing your dulcet tones. I’m sound and up in the Fort looking for a cheap meal.’

‘That’s great! Come down for your dinner. Are you staying at Frankie’s or your mum’s?’

‘With Frankie and Liz.’

‘I’ll give Nadia a phone. Can you come down for about seven? You’ve caught me mid-surgery just now.’

‘Perfect. I’ve got a quick stop in Onich, then I’ll head down.’

Back at the undertaker’s yard, I had a brief conversation with Shirley, then phoned both Liz and then my mother to let her know I would be going in to see her in the morning – she sounded perturbed that I hadn’t been across her threshold yet.

Back at the Volkswagen, I took a call from Anne-Marie. Apparently, Carol Dundas’ father remembered me from shinty, and they would be happy to see me in Onich.

The sun was out but there was a definite chill in the air. I turned up the heating in the car and headed south along the eastern shore of Loch Linnhe. It was good to be alone again. I am not enjoying this, I thought. The goals of finding a sister and challenging the cause of Donnie John’s death were important, undeniably, but onerous, and I was not enjoying the conversations nor the conflict with Frankie, and I was missing my wife and child. I needed to clear my head. After fifteen minutes, I pulled into a picnic site on the lochside. I parked at a distance from a camper van and jumped out and walked down to the shore.

I sat on a flattish rock and looked around. Close to my feet lay the moribund remnants of two jellyfish stranded on the shingle, the four violet gonad rings of the moon species still vibrant to the eye. Moving up to eye level, I gazed over to the Ardgour shore. A few more houses had sprung up over the years. A majority of the bigger properties belonged to ‘outsiders’, who could outbid the local people for land or existing properties. It often led to resentment towards people who were choosing to spend their retirement years in a beautiful area but often brought talents that could enrich and enliven the community. I was glad I wasn’t involved in a similar situation in France.

I scanned the loch back towards my position and spotted the small ‘seal island’. Always an attraction for locals and tourists alike, a few seals were visible rolling about the rocks, far enough off shore to remain safe. I skimmed a couple of suitable stones on the calm surface of the loch and went back to the car.

Within a few minutes I entered the lovely village of Onich, and tracked down the whitewashed bungalow of the Dundas family that sat on the shore side of the road. As I parked in their drive, a red-headed man in a boiler suit emerged from the garage. I got out and offered my hand.

‘Ted Cameron, sorry for any inconvenience.’

‘Murdo Dundas. Not at all, Carol is delighted to be of any help. I knew Donnie John a wee bit – he was coaching at Kilmallie up until… well, very recently, and I coach at Ballachulish for my sins. I actually think I played against you and Frankie when we were kids.’

‘Gee, that wasn’t yesterday, Murdo. Good for you for passing on your knowledge to the young boys.’

‘Anyway, come in and see Carol. She’s made some pancakes for the B&B guests, so she wants you to try them.’

‘Oh, excellent! I’ll just grab a bag from the car.’

A couple of minutes later, I was plonked down on a cosy big sofa, looking out a huge front window at the rolling field down to the loch and the bulk of Beinn a’ Bheithir to the left side across the bay. Carol, a pretty teenager in tee shirt and jeans, appeared with a trolley of tea and pancakes.

‘Please dig in, and there’s strawberry jam in the pot,’ she said, beaming. Her hair was more auburn than the classic Celtic red of her father and her smile revealed a small beguiling gap between her front teeth.

‘This is very kind, and here I am to interrogate you. I take it there are more tourists about now for you to get this year’s bed and breakfast started.’

‘To be honest, we could just about open all year round, but Mum and Dad like to have the house quiet over the winter months. So we just restarted two weeks ago, which is late for us. And the questions are no problem. Anne-Marie is a great boss, and she told us you were an old school friend of hers, and your girlfriend at school is her best friend and is now my music teacher.’

‘Crikey, all correct but don’t believe absolutely everything that Anne-Marie tells you, because I can get my own back. And Caroline Gillies is your music teacher? Well, she’ll be very good, I’m sure.’

‘Anne-Marie is pretty discreet really. I think she must have got a bit excited when you came in – a kindly face for a change!’

‘Eh… absolutely. Right! Down to business, as it were. No doubt Anne-Marie briefed you – the family are all still in shock at Donnie John’s death and while I’m back home I’m trying to find any reasons that prompted his action. And well, nobody knows who this older stranger is. His presence is probably entirely innocent but obviously any information that I can find about him may prove helpful. Did you overhear anything they said to each other before you went out to the bank?’

‘Not really. I did hear Donnie John say something about being careful driving in the dark up here because of deer on the roads, so that made me think he had come up from the south as he would have had to come over Rannoch Moor and the Black Mount. I also heard the man say he would have to get back home that night – he really emphasised that point so it must have been important.’

‘This is all good, Carol. He didn’t mention a destination or names of any people either here or at his own home?’

‘Not that I remember.’

‘No problem. Now the thing that intrigued me most was that you almost walked slap-bang into the guy when he was walking his dog.’

‘Chrissakes, what a fright I got! I was actually running with my head down because it had started bucketing rain. I came tanking round the wall at the back of MacSwann’s yard where there’s a small patch of grass and nearly collided with the guy and this big ugly dog. The dog let out this huge growl that must have come from the pit of its stomach, and I jumped against the wall terrified. The man was really nice and tried to calm me down. He was saying, “I’ve got hold of him and he never bites. He just got a fright.” I was shaking for the next hour, I think.’

‘Did you recognise the breed of dog?’

‘No, I’m hopeless with dogs unless it’s a collie or a poodle. It was mostly black with a bit of brown, quite tall, but really solid with a huge ugly head with small ears. I’m not joking by saying it’s the most frightening animal that I’ve ever seen – like something out of a horror film.’

‘Mmm. Do you think you would recognise one again if you saw one?’

‘Maybe… but I’m not sure – I think a lot of these horrible dogs look the same.’

‘Well, I want to try something. Earlier today I bought the biggest reference book on dog breeds that the bookshop in the Fort had in stock. It sounds like a type of mastiff, so I’ll show you the pictures of the dogs in that category first and you can tell me if any of them look similar.’

I took the big glossy book out of the plastic bag, and thumbed through the pages until I got to the mastiff section. Carol came and sat beside me on the sofa.

‘Okay, let’s flick through a few of these ugly buggers.’

So, we waded through pictures of Rottweilers, bulldogs, boxers, Great Danes, then the Neapolitan Mastiff. Carol remained impassive, her eyes fixed on each picture. I admit to being disingenuous in my selection of photographs – I was saving the two ‘best’ for last.

‘And this is an Italian breed called the cane corso – a nice and friendly-looking fella.’

‘Oh God, I think that’s the one – a real brute.’ Carol was shaking a little and quickly moved her eyes from me then back to the page, in case it managed to leap out of the picturesque Tuscan countryside.

‘Okay, just one more to look at and then I’ll give you a break from this or you’ll be having nightmares about mastiffs.’

I turned a solitary page after which Carol let out a gasp and her right fingernails dug into the flesh of my left forearm. ‘That’s it – that’s the dog! Jesus, that’s it!’

And there it was, the Perro de Presa Canario, to give it its full title. The awesome Canarian Mastiff, one of five pure dog breeds still banned from being imported into Australia, but not currently banned from ownership in the UK.

‘You knew in advance! How did you know – you deliberately saved that one to last?’

‘You’ll need to give me my arm back, I’m beginning to lose feeling in my hand.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Well. I didn’t know actually. There are a few dogs like the Tosa, the pit bull and the Dogo Argentino that are banned here, so I knew it couldn’t be them, then there was your description which was quite specific and finally there’s a connection between that breed and this area. About thirty years ago, a ten-year-old schoolboy from Banavie was severely mauled by two of these blighters. And… you are now sitting beside him, and I still have scars on my legs, back and nape of my neck to prove it.’

‘Good God, that’s horrendous. I hope you’re not looking to meet up with them again then.’

‘Well, it could be a means to an end. Look Carol – you have been a great help and I’ve used up a chunk of your afternoon – this gives me a lot to think about and hopefully something to act on.’

We both got up, performed a perfunctory hug and I returned to my car leaving poor Carol to an indifferent night’s sleep in all probability. I should have played down the war wounds, on reflection.

Still a bit early to arrive in Appin, so I drove down to Cuil Bay and parked above the beach. I’d forgotten that Frankie had said there had been police activity here, hence the yellow tape down at the mouth of the burn. I lowered the back of my seat and closed my eyes for a minute.

It was instructive to witness the recognition in Carol’s face and actions when the photograph of the Presa Canario was revealed to her. I must have elicited a similar reaction all those years ago when as a vet student, on placement at the University Community Vet Practice in Lanark. I loved my spell there, living in a room on the premises, and being part of the community. I remember working and studying fairly hard through most days but being able to go out for a pint at night in one of the local pubs. There were also some nice coffee shops and restaurants too, if one of the partners was feeling flush enough to treat the students.

There was great exposure to Equine Practice which eventually became my career choice. However, there were plenty of farm animals to deal with as well as the usual domestic species.

I remember well that typically heart-sinking Friday afternoon home visit request – aaarrgghh – most of the vets were disappearing home and I was about to make tracks for the station to catch a train back into Glasgow for the weekend.

Celia Drummond was the on-call vet. Celia was an attractive blonde who knew it. She dressed expensively and smartly, and was an outstanding practitioner. She lived in Lanark and having separated from her ex only six months previously was dipping her manicured toes back in the dating game. She had a dinner date with some girlfriends in the west end of Glasgow at 7.30pm as a possible precursor to some clubbing. And here was a frigging house call – her house call by rights.

‘Ted, darling, can I ask a huge favour? And in return I can give you a run into Glasgow and save you a train journey. It’s just that I’ve been looking forwards to this dinner for weeks, but I need time to get ready. I think the call is genuine – it’s a family who breed mastiffs and they rarely bother us, to be honest. One of their bitches has gone down sick – pyrexial, retching, aggressive, seems in pain – and they can’t get it into a vehicle. I’d understand if you wanted to just go for the train.’

‘No worries, Celia.’ She’d bought me a generous lunch two days previously and I felt indebted.

‘That’s fab. Take one of the jeeps and one of the nurses with you… and I’ll see you back here at 6.30. That gives you a couple of hours. Are you sure you’re okay with this?’

‘One question.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Can you take me clubbing with you?’ I joked.

‘Don’t push it, sonny. See you later.’

With that she took off with a flashing smile and a wink.

I grabbed an equipment bag, and Jodie Marshall, one of the nurses took some dressing packs, a razor and a couple of protective collars. We took the keys to the most reliable Defender, and headed off. Corehouse was quite close as the crow flies but being on the other side of the River Clyde, we went in search of a bridge. Despite being held up by school traffic we got round there quite quickly.

I’d not been to this area before. It was very quiet and pretty with various homesteads set back in trees that eventually reached down to the river. Luckily, Jodie knew the family and the kennels reasonably well so no time was wasted in finding the property. I parked at the side of the bungalow, got out and headed in the direction of the howls with Jodie trailing in my wake.

A voice from my left halted my progress towards the large outbuildings.

‘Hello there.’

I turned to see a teenage girl coming towards me. I could just make out dark brown eyes and a smile below a bush of blonde hair.

‘I’m sorry, my gran and grandpa had to go up to the hospital. I can take you to Lucy.’

‘Nothing bad, I hope. But no problem, lead on.’

‘Oh, my mum doesn’t keep that well sometimes. They shouldn’t be long though.’

‘I’m sure you’ll do just fine.’

The girl got ahead of us and strode towards the green shed door, dungarees tucked into yellow wellies.

‘Am I right in saying you breed mastiffs?’

‘Yes, the actual breed is Presa Canario.’

‘Mmm, I don’t think I’ve ever come across them,’ I replied.

‘They’re pretty special. They look quite fierce but when trained well like my grandpa insists on, they make good family pets and guard dogs.’

‘Oh well, let’s have a look at them.’

Now inside, I ambled over to the bars hoping the barking and growling would diminish.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’ The words were out before I could stop them. I grabbed two bars for support as I felt dizzy, nauseous and my knees were buckling. So here they were! I knew that at some point in my veterinarian career that I would surely come across the breed of my erstwhile assailants. I’d gone through a spell as a schoolboy where I trawled through a large number of books to see if I could recognise the breed. But lack of success quelled the desire for identification. And paradoxically, as a vet student, I felt less inclined to research the subject as my whole life was now about animals, so why be so consumed by one particular breed that I may easily come across some time. However, this sudden reaction must have been a form of PTSD. I felt sickness at the back of my throat, was tachycardic and tachypnoeic and a cold sweat covered my face.

So that was their name – the Presa Canario.

‘Are you okay, Ted?’

‘Sorry, Jodie. I think I’m coming down with something.’

The girl shot out and returned with a glass of water and a towel.

‘Thank you very much. Sorry, I’m embarrassed.’ I took a couple of big gulps of water, stood up to my full height and wiped my face and hands. I turned and looked in at the black and brindle dogs. ‘Fine-looking beasts,’ I offered grudgingly and unconvincingly.

‘Lucy is through here. I’ll go in first in case she jumps at you.’

Oh, for f…

There was no chance of that as Lucy was flat out on the straw. Professionalism restored, I went over and knelt beside the girl and her dog.

‘Do you think she will let me examine her, without me losing a hand?’

The girl caressed the dog’s head lovingly. ‘I’m sure she will be fine but if you want to sedate her a little, she’ll be perfect.’

I proceeded to give Lucy a mild sedative and an anti-inflammatory injection whilst our young helper reassured her.

Jodie butted in. ‘Her temp is up alright, she has an infection somewhere, Rosalie.’

‘I felt she was saving her left hind paw yesterday evening.’

‘Okay, I’ll roll her over a wee bit.’ Lucy growled a little as I brought the offending paw forward. Sure enough, there was an obvious abscess present. We opened up the dressing packs, and I injected some local anaesthetic into the stricken paw and within a few minutes proceeded to shave the area and lance and drain the swelling. The purulent discharge was malodorous and blood streaked. We cleaned the wound and then Jodie put a secure dressing on the dog and attached a collar to Lucy to prevent her tearing at the bandaging. Finally, I gave the dog an antibiotic injection.

The three of us eventually left the dog to sleep and we headed outside. The time was now 6.15pm.

‘Right, we’d better shoot. Here’s some antibiotic tablets for Lucy – the instructions are inside the box. It would be good if you can bring her up to the clinic on Monday morning for the girls to check her dressing but she should be fine now.’

The girl proffered her hand to shake.

Mmm, old before her time, I thought, but I shook her hand firmly anyway. ‘Nice to meet you. You’re great with the dogs, you’re obviously very fond of them.’

‘Just part of the family, really. Thank you for coming, Mr Ted.’

Jodie and I shared a smile at the teenager’s homeliness as we drove off.

Celia was waiting in the car park at the prearranged 6.30. ‘Cheers, Ted. Gee, you look pretty pale – was everything okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

I had no more dealings with Lucy and within a month my peripheral attachment at Lanark had ended. I read up on the breed and was surprised to be reminded that the Presa was indeed considered to be a good family dog and effective guard dog, but there did seem to be an emphasis on the need for good training to address a stubborn, dominant streak. I made a mental note to let my father know of my discovery whenever we next met up.

I arrived at Port Appin five minutes early.

‘Come in, my dear friend.’ Aamir always greeted you warmly.

Nadia appeared, looking radiant. ‘Ted, great to see you. I hope you’re hungry.’

Their home had been extended, and they now enjoyed a new living room on the first floor that had huge windows looking over the loch to the north tip of Lismore Island and beyond, across to Morvern.

After a great meal of salmon followed by homemade chocolate pudding, we made ourselves comfortable on sofas looking out on to the darkening seascape.

‘How do your partners feel about you living so far out?’

‘House calls are not as commonplace these days, now we have an emergency out-of-hours unit, and since we took over the Nether Lochaber practice, I’m in there three mornings a week, so it’s fine. Not so much driving up to the Fort is necessary.’

‘So do you think that’s you here for the long term?’

‘Sadly, I can’t say for sure. For the next few years, I think we have to put the children first. They enjoy their school, and they’ve got friends in the village including the ones they are sleeping over with tonight. But the Pakistan connection is strong, so we’ll see. We both love it here, but much as I admire the positive changes in the region as regards general amenities and infrastructure, I’ve started to get uneasy feelings about certain things. And there is a certain stagnation and stifling of development.’

‘’Twas ever thus, surely.’

‘If you two want to have a natter, I’ll go through and do some stuff through the back.’ Poor Nadia had spotted the warning signs.

‘That’s not very fair on you,’ I offered but Nadia had already escaped.

‘That’s the thing though, Ted – I would say no, it hasn’t always been like this,’ Aamir continued. ‘When I first moved here, your dad was still a councillor, and so were folk like Gus Stewart and Louis MacMillan. Things that benefitted the whole community and the tourists got done. The Haigs, Strachans and Grigors would try and scupper other building projects by raising spurious objections, but the old guard on the council remained firm and fair to overpower them. But it’s a different story at present. Young couples trying to build a new home or start a business are impeded. And there have been some sinister issues. This past year the number of young men going missing or dying on the mountains or at sea has increased. It’s been slowly worsening for years. For my part, I find it really strange that there should have been a sudden increase in young men wanting to try potentially dangerous sports such as mountaineering or sailing.’

‘C’mon, you’re not telling me guys are getting pushed off mountains for criminal objectives. Too far, my friend.’

‘Look, it’s just bizarre, I know, but think about it. Yes, people will be attracted to this area because of the scenery – of course they are, but that shouldn’t automatically mean they’ll want to take up high risk activities, and that has been postulated for a number of the deceased.’

‘Have you picked up the phone to Frankie about it?’

‘Tcchh… I’ll save the fallout with Frankie for later. Anyway, Ted, never mind my local concerns. Get me up to speed with your interesting life.’

So I went through everything that had happened in France, the mystery man and his dog, the concerns about Donnie John and my brother’s intransigence.

Aamir took it all in and nodded at various stages.

‘Well, I think I can contribute some additional material for you. As I said, there’s been too many inexplicable occurrences in this area for quite a while.’

‘Okay, go on.’

‘Well, I’ll start with Donald John. As you may know, I’ve got some fairly basic pathology experience and usually if available, I can help out if there’s a fiscal post mortem. However, if my own patient is involved, I have limited involvement – usually just gathering and processing paperwork rather than anything at all practical.

‘The week before he died, I saw Donald in the surgery in the Fort. He had been helping out with shinty at Kilmallie and had received a nasty blow to his left hand, breaking his index finger and was hampered by both his index and middle fingers being very swollen. We put on a supportive strapping and advised him to take it easy for a few weeks. He was in a chipper mood despite his discomfort and left the surgery with a big smile on his face. And at that stage he couldn’t possibly hold a steering wheel.’

‘At the scene of his death in a lay-by on Locheilside, his body was found on a bank beyond his car, and he had his shotgun pointing up at his face fixed as it was between his legs. But get this, there was no strapping on his fingers and in my opinion both his injured fingers were still far too swollen to be able to use a trigger or secure the gun for firing. According to one of his employees, he had avoided driving earlier in the day because of discomfort, but somehow managed to swan off down by Loch Eil later on.’

These were unsavoury details, and I suddenly felt the heaviness of the meal.

‘Oh God! How the hell did all that get overlooked?’

‘At the inquest, that occurred obscenely quickly for my liking, the police surgeon and the pathologist felt that despite Donald being left-handed, the swelling could be overcome by a man in desperation. I just couldn’t concur and pleaded with Frankie to consider why the strapping was off. But he went with their opinion and suicide it was!’

‘Good grief, that seems a tenuous conclusion from what you’ve said. What the hell was Frankie thinking about? And they didn’t even take his mood with you into account.’

‘Kind of my thoughts entirely. But not only that, I reminded Frankie that we had a break-in at the surgery back in September. The only thing that seemed to be taken was Donald John’s medical notes that I had left to be summarised on a side desk. A week later a patient found them left in the gents’ toilet. Before you ask, there is no CCTV outside, and we have no internal cameras. Donald John had been in seeing the trainee, who was left with the job of telling him his notes had been missing temporarily. Apparently, he was pretty nonplussed about it. But it still was a serious issue, and of course may have had some relevance to his demise.’

‘Absolutely. Why had he been in seeing the trainee in the autumn, by the way?’

‘Sorry, Ted. It’s one of these confidentiality issues. I can’t tell you lest there’s any reference to existing family. His post mortem findings are in a different category.’

‘Okay, Aamir. Sorry, I understand. But obviously DJ wasn’t that bothered about it anyway. Does Shirley have the power to demand further inquiry into the certification?’

‘I believe she spoke to a lawyer but the feedback was that there were not enough grounds for appeal. And her in-laws’ devastation and their unwillingness to question events has been a big factor in her relative restraint.’

‘Let me get this right, Aamir. In summary, as far as you’re concerned Donnie John did not commit suicide?’

‘Murder for me, my friend.’

Liz had returned from an early jog and was obviously energised by the experience.

‘Good morning, Ted. Hope we didn’t wake you too early this morning. Frankie was up and out very early this morning – a bit of suspected arson in the town, I think he said.’

‘Whoah, exciting. Shame, I’d hoped to grill him this morning, before he took off to the station.’

‘Oh crikey, give me notice so I can hide, then.’

‘Will do. Going down to see Mother dearest, as soon as I’ve finished this toast. I might need the sustenance before engaging with her.’

‘She’s lost a bit of her bite recently, Ted. I feel sorry for her – your dad may feel his exile is a deserved penance, but in fact, is he not being selfish and a bit self-indulgent, can I say that? Without Jacob there, she would cave in, I think.’

I took a couple of gulps of fresh air and got in the Golf.

I headed back down towards Banavie and just before the canal basin took a small side road on the left that led to an old whitewashed stone house on a small knoll overlooking the canal. I parked beside the east gable wall. As I got out, I reassured myself that no trace of any previous CONSHEE insults were still faintly visible on the expanse of white. I walked around to the front of the house, to the ‘Visitors’ entrance. At the bottom of the steep garden that dropped to the canal towpath, it looked like a tramp was talking to two hikers on the canal bank. I did a double take as the tramp started pointing at the cabins in the fields immediately to his left.

Hell, Jake does look like Aqualung, I mused. As I scolded myself, the front door opened as I reached it and my mother came out smiling.

‘Getting posh? Not using the back door?’

‘I just wanted a quick look at the front garden and the cabins – they’re looking spruce.’

‘Jacob has been busy smartening the site up for the new season. We’re very nearly full right through to mid-September.’

‘Too busy for a shave, obviously.’

‘Don’t say anything, he’s been a godsend round here. Come in and have a seat. I’ll put the kettle on, though I daresay Liz has fed you a big breakfast.’

I expected to see familiar pieces of furniture in the kitchen but my mother had installed updates of kitchen appliances, chairs and a spanking new kitchen table. I was kind of disappointed as I enjoyed the familiarity of old comforts and it would have helped to make me feel welcome, something that had been absent so far.

‘You are looking well. Lisa is taking good care of you. Could the two of them not have managed to come with you?’

‘I’m afraid not – due to work and school, and the very nature of my visit precludes time for fun really. Lots still to be done here and I plan to go up and see Dad – the only thing is that he’ll be gagging for some action once he gets all the naidheachdan.’

My mother burst into tears. ‘He will that.’

I pulled my mother down beside me onto the small two-seater.

‘This was what I was afraid of… You becoming stressed and depressed with no reprieve in sight.’ As I hugged her closely, I didn’t fail to notice how readily I could feel her ribcage. She’d lost considerable weight as well as passion. ‘Hopefully, the old fella will come to his senses and come home now. He has taken the exile thing too far. He should be here.’

‘I’ve tried telling him so many times. He says he stills feels so humiliated and has embarrassed the family and friends beyond repair.’

‘Well, it’s all just crap. He simply has to overcome that – I’ll work on him when we meet. And are you feeling okay? You’ve lost weight for sure – Frankie should keep me up to speed better.’

‘I’m fine. I think the shock of losing Donnie John and then getting my hopes up with these things about Rose. It’s way too much for a poor old woman.’

Now that was more like the mother I knew. A bit of self-pity could go a long way.

‘Be honest with me, Ted, do you think there’s a chance Rose is still alive?’

‘I can’t answer that positively with any confidence, Mum. I know Shirley has been keeping you up-to-date with everything that’s been going on. All I can say is that there are a lot of things that are in need of explanation before anything can be ruled out. And… regarding your age – we’re all getting old, so don’t worry yourself about that. Aamir said something in conversation last night that I wanted to query later in the evening. But I came away without doing it, and now I’ve forgotten what it was. You see – old age starts in your late thirties. A positive from yesterday was finding out that the dog owned by Donnie John’s visitor was the same breed as the beasts that attacked me all those years ago.’

‘A positive result but still tenuous and perhaps just coincidental.’ The deeper voice betrayed the presence of a third person in the kitchen, one who was familiar with stealth.

‘Well, well, Uncle Jacob! Good grief, you sneaked in pretty quietly.’ I got up and hugged the usually reticent character. I was surprised to notice that despite the old overcoat and the bushy hair and beard, there was a distinct and pleasant odour of sandalwood scent emanating from him. ‘You’re quite correct of course – all a bit tenuous.’

‘However,’ and Jacob’s tone warmed, ‘something to work on. We can check online to see where the current Scottish and even British breeders of that dog are based, and make enquiries about buyers from there.’

‘My thoughts entirely, Jacob. Jeezo, you’re pretty quick off the mark with that sort of thinking. You’re obviously up for the challenge.’ Jacob gave me a mildly withering look, as if his involvement was ever in doubt. ‘Anyway, I’m very thankful to you for all you’re doing here to help Mum.’

‘No, the thanks go to your parents. You know fine that they’ve supported me for decades, and now, ironically, your father’s admission to hospital and his subsequent retreat from civilisation have resurrected me. I have had to stand up and contribute. And in doing so, my life has been enhanced and I am maximising my second chance, even this late in life.’

‘It’s true, Ted. I can’t believe what he has managed. Just have a look how Jacob has transformed the old sheds into his living accommodation. And tell him about your studies, Jake…’

Jacob sighed in embarrassment. ‘There’ll be time for all that later. Right, Rhoda, that kettle has boiled, so let’s get some mugs and cakes into action, then we’ll make a start on the computer.’

‘Jacob, are you wearing scent of some description?’

I felt a soft cuff to the back of my head. ‘And?’

‘All good by me, Jake, but as Mum alludes – a renaissance is afoot.’

Stuart Haig sat on the arm of his Chesterfield and carefully sifted through the small pile of cards he had deposited beside him. Birthdays meant nothing to him, as long as he felt good about himself and his world. Seventy-one – that’s nothing to moan about. Admittedly not as good as being seventy in Antigua twelve months ago, but he wasn’t feeling great about his world this morning. However, before Charlie Grigor arrived for a confab, he would just check that the grandchildren were being respectful with their comments about old golden goose Grampa.

As usual the comments from Miriam and Ken’s kids were bordering on insulting and the attached number badge would be going in the bin forthwith.

‘Having their treats curtailed for a while might teach their sponger of a father to be more of a disciplinarian,’ he pondered.

He heard the maid conversing at the front door – that must be Charlie. He placed the birthday cards back along the top of the fireplace, catching his refection as he did. The hair was thick and white and Sandra told him often enough he was still a handsome man. Not that she needed to, sure those girls on the staff always seemed to respond to his advances. He sniffed, checked the mirror one more time before striding to the door to be met by Alina with a suited and booted Charlie Grigor.

‘Failte, Charlie.’

‘Sorry, Stuart. Landing on you like this on your birthday – you should have knocked me back on the phone.’

‘Nonsense, Charlie. Just another day to me, and anyway, you sounded a bit distraught – can’t have that! Thanks Alina, could you go and get us some coffee with a piece of something nice?’

‘Thanks, Stuart, discretion is everything.’

‘Just being careful, these girls take it all in. Take a seat, Charlie.’

Charlie Grigor ran one of the biggest construction companies north of the Central Belt. His family were relative newcomers to the area, his father having moved up in the fifties from Fife. Ronnie Grigor had a reputation for being a ruthless businessman who had gotten on the wrong side of some criminal figures in Fife and the Lothians, but he kept a notebook of friendly contacts for future gain.

His building business took off in the Highlands very quickly – he always seemed to be able to undercut the quotes of his rivals and provide sufficient inducements to accrue experienced staff from other firms.

He made friends with influential Highland figures such as the Haig family, who with their considerable land ownership, hotels, haulage fleet, car showrooms etc. provided openings to other income streams.

Charlie and his sister Denise were packed off to private schools but academia was not for Charlie, and he returned to the Fort to eventually take over the Grigor portfolio. He was as greedy and ruthless as his father but lacked the hubris and was prone to bouts of anxiety.

Stuart reckoned he was still intimidated by his father, who goodness me, must be in his nineties now. Ronnie, that bloody old crook, was a huge man – six foot five inches and still skippered his yacht in the West of Scotland series, and still had a bad habit of sticking his nose into the joint ventures he had with Charlie.

‘Right. What’s happening, Charlie?’

‘I’m just off the phone to the old man, Stuart, you know what he’s like.’

Haig winced imperceptibly.

‘We’re just a bit concerned about a couple of things, Stuart, and wanted your take on them.’

‘Specifically, Charlie?’

‘The café that burnt down in the early hours – both of us had put money into that, but the worst thing was the fire brigade managed to pull out a body who subsequently passed away in casualty. According to a good source, it was a young guy called Tommy Muir. He worked at Camerons’ Undertakers, but we still used him at Grigors for… special activities – and setting fire to a bloody café wasn’t one of them.’

‘Gee, I’m sorry to hear all this. I heard there had been a fire and there was already a suspicion of arson, but I’d no idea a body had been found. I doubt whether that lad would have been on great wages at Camerons’, so maybe he’d broken in, probably drunk, to steal and managed to set off a conflagration. So he was one of your boys, was he?’

‘He was… I think he wanted a regular wage and at the time, we couldn’t promise that. Before I came here, I went down to Camerons’ to get a phone number for his nearest and dearest. Shirley Cameron or Mathieson rather, was in a terrible state, and then the cop cousin came in, hellish angry, only calming down when he saw how distraught Shirley was. This has been a freaky year so far, and it all started to go weird after her man topped himself. My old man pointed out that the cop’s horse doctor brother is back from France and Dad wonders if he may be stirring up about the dead sister again. The old man thinks something is going on that we need to know about.’

Stuart Haig stood up, emphasising the height difference between his six-foot-two frame and the construction magnate who was at least eight inches shorter. He walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up one of his birthday cards.

‘You know, Charlie, there are different types of family – there’s blood family – with bonds that can never be broken. Always there for you, but can they be trusted to give you the best opinion? And then there are people like the two of us, Charlie. We look out for each other and take care of each other’s best interests. And for me that’s what family should be like. Your father is perhaps the sharpest man I’ve ever met and worthy of my total respect, however he shouldn’t be upsetting himself and his family in his golden years as it were. When word reached me that the bloody vet was back, I put a tail on him to see what he was up to, as he is a fucking nuisance just like his father was. I was falsely accused of killing that girl three decades ago by those bastards. It still hurts and yes, I would quite believe it if they still harbour the same outrageous beliefs. However, there is nothing so far to suggest he is here to investigate his sister again, so I’m surprised your father has jumped to this conclusion unless he is privy to information that I am not. Has this Tommy Muir character figured in any clandestine way, for example?’

‘I’m not hiding anything, Stuart. But there’s a bit of smoke about and the old man and myself were wondering if we should be slowing down activities for a while.’

‘Jesus Charlie, we’ve got a bleeding cop or cops in our pocket. What are you afraid of? What is going to happen? The suicide has ruffled up the Camerons and they’re sniffing about, but they will stop, and bugger lugs will piss off back to France. I will speak to my boys regarding this Muir idiot to see if they know anything about him. But tell Ronnie to rest easy; to damp down the drug business right now will just encourage the Clancys to move in on us again. The cops reckon that the Pole who washed up in Duror could have been a Clancy man. So they’re still out there, Charlie. One or two wrong moves and our distribution falters. And that’s when my Jackson and your Roy start whining about their drop in income.’

‘Okay, Stuart. Let’s leave things alone just now. I’ve got to see the lawyers in twenty minutes regarding the new marina in Mull, so I better get a move on. I’ll get a coffee another time.’

Just on cue, Alina appeared with a trolley of coffee with cakes.

‘Too late, my dear, Mr Grigor is leaving.’

‘I’ll just grab one of these delicious looking marzipan apples for the car,’ Charlie slavered as he made his exit.

Stuart Haig made his way to the French doors and watched as Grigor’s navy Jaguar took off down the short drive.

‘And that’s why you’ll always be a wee fat swine and not a big lanky swine like your father.’

Two long-handled ceremonial Lochaber axes stood framing the fireplace. Ten years ago, they had been gifted to him by the Scottish Tourist Board for outstanding service in promoting tourism in the Highlands. He liked to keep them sharp despite the axes being purely exhibits. Haig picked up the nearest axe and went outside via the glass-panelled doors. Sandra had previously identified a rhododendron that had needed pruning. He picked up the axe and threw the blade manically into the bush, splitting branches and scattering leaves all around.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He kept going till he was struggling to catch his breath and he was sweating profusely. He stood for a minute and looked out over his garden. Here on the hill above the town, he was afforded a magnificent view of the loch and the Ardgour hills on the far shore.

Just about every bastard in this area envies me and yet there’s always something likely to come along the road to spoil it. He turned and made his way back to the door where his Romanian maid had remained silent but displayed wide-eyed concern. He had to shuffle his way through the detritus of rhododendron. That blade had sure worked a treat – the young fellow who had sharpened both axes last year had made a good job. Poor Tommy wouldn’t be repeating the task anytime soon.

‘Alina, can you do me a favour? Can you get Jackson, Bruce and Abe Beaton on the phone? I want them all up here tonight at half seven sharp. No excuses. Sandra is going to see Madge Cranston, so could you arrange an Indian takeaway for us, and you have the night off. Okay?’

‘I will do that, no problem. Please sit down, you are worrying me.’

‘Anne-Marie? Ted here. I’ve just heard from Frankie. I’m so sorry – it’s devastating.’

‘Oh, Ted, it’s dreadful. It’s just shattering. That café was just everything to me.’

‘And I heard the young fellow from the undertakers was found in the shell.’

‘Yes, I didn’t know him very well but by all accounts, he was not an obvious arsonist nor thief. It’s just horrendous.’

‘Can we meet up in the next few days? I want to make sure you’re doing okay – not for more questions.’

‘Of course, Ted, that will be fine.’

‘Take care for now.’

I put the telephone down and swivelled around on the stool in Frankie’s kitchen.

‘I hope you’re happy with yourself, Ted. This was so fucking predictable.’

‘And just keep me right, Frankie – because I’m missing a huge chunk of this – what are you sitting on, that makes ANY of this predictable, because nothing is obvious to me? Why should a café burn down and a young guy die just because I’m asking questions? Explain that one!’

‘I wonder if this is just a vanity project for you, Ted. Fuck all to go on, but you just wade in and cause disruption anyway.’

‘Are you fucking listening to yourself? You are the local police. Someone has died and a property has been destroyed, and you’re concerning yourself with my behaviour. What sort of cop are you? You’re a fucking joke! By the way, Aamir says “Hello” and that DJ was definitely murdered. And don’t worry about throwing me out because I won’t spend another minute under your roof… I’ll move down with Mum and Jake pronto.’

‘Is it just the one holdall you have, Ted?’

‘Yes, Jacob – no frills.’

‘Follow me up.’ Jake led the way up a blue-painted wooden staircase at the rear of the refurbished barn. It was astonishing to witness the transformation in the building. As boys, Frankie and I used to hide from Rosie in the old hay barn; the poor wee soul couldn’t manage the wooden ladder to the upper floor where bales of hay obscured her brothers. An old Massey Ferguson tractor took up a lot of space on the ground floor back then.

‘Did you do the conversion yourself, Jacob? It’s a stunning job, Mum’s right.’

‘A lot of it. Budge Colquhoun is a damn good joiner and old Jimmy Faulkner is a good plumber, so they were a great help and I managed the electrics myself. Your mum helped with the choice of furnishings and windows.’

Upstairs lay the bedroom and bathroom. The windows were large and triangular, and opened inwards to allow access to a small but functional balcony that contained a table and two chairs. A king-size bed took up a large chunk of the room.

‘Dump your bag on the bed for now. Come back down and I’ll get the computer on.’

‘And Mum is happy with you moving back into the main house for now?’

‘More than. Makes her feel more secure, I think.’

Back downstairs, I looked around at the transformation of the ground floor. A large sofa sat against one side wall, and a sixty-five-inch television lay across from it. Beside an open fireplace and below the windows straight ahead was parked a table displaying a laptop and printer. Against the back wall and sealed off by a breakfast bar, lay the kitchen – small but adequate.

‘Very self-contained. You can avoid your sister for most of the day, I presume?’

‘Nah, it doesn’t happen, your mum and I usually eat together, and we share the utility room in the main house. I’m currently converting the old shed at the end of the barn into a gym, but I can’t see Rhoda sharing that,’ he chortled. ‘Right, the computer is now on. So I’m looking for breeders of Presa Canario puppies, will that suffice?’

‘Spot on.’

‘Right, here we go… mmm, only three places showing puppies for sale in Scotland – all three in the Central Belt – Strathaven, Tranent and Lanark. Do you want me to check England too?’

‘Nah, we’ll stick to Scotland. Anne-Marie was certain the bloke had a Scottish twang, so he probably bought the dog up here. Did you say Lanark?’

‘Yes, in fact Corehouse, Lanark to be precise.’

‘Hmm, I think I was at that place as a student – I told Mum and Dad about it at the time. Aye, that’s right, a small family affair on a smallholding just above the Clyde. I was home-visiting a sick bitch, and a granddaughter, a blonde teenager, showed us the animal as her folks were out as I remember. Nice, clean, spacious, well-run kennel. I’ll maybe still have contacts in Lanark, so that’s handy. And Strathaven is pretty close. Tranent is the other side of Edinburgh, so if phoning them is fruitless, there’s not too much distance to cover if I’m going to do some visiting. We’re only talking of one overnight stay.’

‘I’ll be coming with you for sure, if you have to visit them.’

‘Not necessary, Jake – it’s likely a case of a couple of quick chats after a long day in the Golf – not too much fun to be had.’

‘Look, Ted, I have a bad feeling about all this. Too much happening in a short time – a suicide, the fire, Frankie’s detachment from reality.’

‘Not forgetting my stuff in France.’

‘Yep, that too. Anyway, before you charge off anywhere, you’ll need to visit your dad first.’

‘Really? Can I not just present him with all we’ve found, when I get back?’

‘No, you’re going up there first… with me.’

‘You’re insistent.’

‘I am.’

‘By Christ, the Shimla doesn’t half do a good curry.’

Bruce Haig, sitting for once at the head of the table guffawed.

‘C’mon Jacko, let’s face it, when the order was phoned in, the buggers would be running about daft trying to make sure they got it right.’

Jackson Haig harrumphed. ‘Are you trying to say your father has an intimidatory effect on the restaurant fraternity, Bruce?’

Bruce licked his fingers. ‘I’m saying exactly that, Dad – not that I’m complaining. When we order a curry from the same place, it not only takes forever, but there’s usually something missing. Now, this… is a frigging banquet.’

Stuart Haig smiled satisfyingly… keeping folk on their toes, that’s all it was.

‘How ’bout you, Abe? Are you getting enough? These two greedy pigs are shovelling it down.’

‘I’m just sound, boss. Cracking food.’

Abraham Beaton could be a hard fellow to please. He was from a west coast fishing family, had left school at sixteen to crew on one of his father’s trawlers but had hated the long hours at sea. His hours on shore had revolved around motorbikes, alcohol and fighting. His father suggested the military as a route to reformation. And initially, joining the Army proved to be a masterstroke in curbing his aggression and establishing discipline. On rising to sergeant and having experienced two tours of Ulster, things began to change. Abe began to bully some of the younger soldiers, got into fights in hostelries from Derry to Dortmund and got involved in the sale of black-market goods. After being dishonourably discharged, he went home to his fishing village. The first thing he did was pick a fight with his older brother, Alec, whom he hospitalised with facial fractures and fractured ribs. The patriarch of the Beaton family was Samuel, a devout Christian. It took him the length of a phone call to banish Abraham from the village and the potential wealth the family fishing fleet might have offered him a share of.

Stuart Haig had first come across Abe at a low point in his own life. Having spent a vast chunk of 1970 refuting allegations of abduction and murder on his doorstep, he was concerned that his businesses would suffer as a result of a diminished reputation. In a pivotal incident, their bond was forged. One day Stuart was driving his Jensen from the lodge on the riverside back to his home in town when he was tailgated on the A82 by some youths in an old Transit van. As he approached a roundabout, the Transit overtook him and braked hard to a standstill causing Stuart to perform an emergency stop, just feathering the rear bumper of the Transit. The van had encroached onto the roundabout clipping on a Triumph motorcycle which subsequently fell over and slid across the tarmac.

Three scruffy lads jumped out of the van and came round to remonstrate with the car driver. Stuart felt like revving up and running them over but decided to count to ten first as they chapped on his window and voiced filth in his direction.

And then, from seemingly nowhere, an arm clad in black leather grabbed the hair of the biggest lad and thrust his head hard down onto the bonnet of the prized Interceptor. A second boy turned but too slowly to prevent a right cross hitting his jaw and causing instant collapse. The third wretch was also grabbed by the hair but the preferred blow on this occasion was an upper cut into the solar plexus causing the victim to bend, only to receive a knee into the face, causing immediate nasal fracture and a luxuriant spout of blood. With the three youths on the ground, Abe picked up his helmet and tapped on Stuart’s door instructing him to lower his window.

‘They won’t be buzzing you again. Tinker boys from down the loch – they’re up to all sorts.’

‘Thank you. What’s your name?’

‘Abe Beaton. Listen, we both better get going. We’re holding up traffic here and the police will be around. You’re the Haig guy from up Cameron Road way, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’ll come up to the house tonight and we’ll arrange getting your car fixed. These boys are wakening up, so let’s scoot.’ At that he muttered an oath about his poor bike, launched a boot into a rising figure, and then was off.

Now that’s my type of guy, Stuart mused.

It hadn’t taken Stuart Haig long to realise that Abe could be a considerable asset to his enterprises. No more would he have to experience any delays in payments, no longer would he ever feel vulnerable on his own turf with his new head of security in place. This was now Abe’s twenty-eighth year of employment and he remained a vital cog in the family’s affairs. Jackson was in charge of the hotels and tourism ventures, Bruce ran haulage, car sales and garages, Lawrie oversaw some retail sites and son-in-law, Ken, based as he was in Edinburgh, worked directly with Stuart on property, estate issues, and the prosperous drug business. However, whenever a problem developed at any branch of the group, it was Abe who eventually appeared in Stuart’s shadow to enforce resolutions. In recent times, it was the drug trade that had required use of Abe’s talents most often, but he responded to all requirements.

Abe had a varied relationship with the Haig family. In Stuart he thought he had a kindred spirit, Sandra was a scatty, kind and loyal wife, but he disliked Stuart’s eldest son, Jackson – a pompous self-styled lothario who had little respect for anybody, and Bruce – a watered-down version of his older brother, but with a gambling addiction. The only daughter, Miriam, was an inveterate snob who had married a corrupt Edinburgh lawyer, whom he found intolerable. As for the two youngest siblings, what on earth had they done to deserve the rest of the bunch? Lawrie was a pleasant, intelligent art teacher who held a perfunctory role in a couple of minor businesses to appease his mother who was fearful of him being squeezed out of the family legacy. And then there was dear Finlay, the youngest, who had Downs syndrome and lived with Lawrie at the insistence of both in a home beside the River Spean. His favourite Haigs, but he feared that distinction was always in danger of compromise.

‘Right! Is that everybody finished? Good – let’s go through to the front room. Some stuff to discuss with you boys.’ Stuart led the way.

On settling, Jackson voiced his displeasure. ‘Christ, Dad – I thought this might be a card school. Business in the evening is bollocks.’

‘Some important matters have arisen and we have to address them as a family.’

‘So where’s Lawrie? Fin doesn’t need him to be home all the time. And Miriam and Ken can show their faces once in a while, surely to God.’

‘Look, Jackson, I can keep those two up to speed if need be from a distance, and unfortunately there’s a specific reason that Lawrie wasn’t invited.’

Bruce held his tongue and took to an armchair, recognising that Abe’s presence put a serious slant on the agenda.

‘Right, let’s get started.’ Stuart remained standing with his back to the fireplace.

‘Charlie Grigor paid me a visit this morning, to let me know that old Ronnie and him are getting nervous about current events and were looking to curb our drug activities. Not exactly what I wanted to hear about our biggest income stream, but Ronnie was always going to go soft in his dotage eventually, and Charlie won’t go against him, the weak bastard.’

Bruce broke in. ‘I spoke to Ken yesterday, and he seemed pretty relaxed about things just now, even after they fished out the Polish lad from Cuil Bay.’

‘Look, Bruce, don’t underestimate Ronnie. He still has his ear to the ground and he’s getting information from someone about every bloody thing that’s going on. This will come as absolutely no surprise to the pair of you, but as soon as things appeared to be getting a bit eh… “unusual”, I asked Abe to go sniffing about.’

Haig senior continued, ‘I think we all agree that Donald John Mathieson was a drunkard who was ruining his life and that of those around him and he was only heading in one direction. I make no apology for not mourning his demise that ended his torment. Tommy Muir, who it now appears was working for the Grigors as well as us, and indeed Camerons’, of course, suffered a horrendous death. But I remind you as your father, that I cannot go through what happened to me thirty years ago again – that is not up for consideration, so horrors may happen. As you know, we still have Inspector Frankie under our control, so I phoned him up expressing my concern about his brother’s presence. He assured me he would take care of it and to be fair, he didn’t let us down at the time of the drunk’s despatch. However, I don’t have a clear picture of everything that is happening and Abe has promised to fill us in a bit tonight on some… unsavoury activity. So the floor is yours, Abe.’

Abe stood up and took Stuart’s position. ‘Okay, guys, I’ve a few things to let you know about. We’ll start with Ted Cameron. He’s back home from France for an unknown period of time and staying with his brother or mother, not sure which – I clocked his car at both houses – he’s hired a white Golf. I followed him and he paid a visit to the undertaker’s yard, he also spent some time at the Coffee Cottage speaking to Anne-Marie Noble, the manageress in there, went to the bookshop and then headed south on the A82. I lost him at Corran due to traffic but guessed he was eventually heading to his big pal Doc Hussein down in Appin. I picked him up again there and followed him back to the Banavie turn off late in the evening.’

Abe looked at the three faces before him, hanging on his words, waiting to be fed morsels of brutality that they wouldn’t be capable of but happy to sanction. He took a deep breath. ‘So now you’ll want to know what Ted was up to, as did I. I decided to pay a late visit to Tommy Muir over in Fassfern. He stays on his own but was still up gaming when I arrived. I got straight to the point after slugging him twice and got him answering my questions fairly rapidly – usually a sign in my book of flimsy loyalty to anyone. It would appear that Ted is over from France for a couple of reasons. One is to try and get more information about Mathieson’s death, as he now shares the widow’s changing opinion of the suicide verdict and the other matter concerns his dead sister. Apparently, he eventually got to hear the story that we know Mathieson had taunted Jackson about – that some old boy from down Glasgow way had supposedly visited the yard and apparently knows that the Cameron sister is still alive. However, there’s nothing on Camerons’ CCTV but apparently someone at the café gave Ted some information, though Tommy didn’t know what.’

Abe took a swig of beer, waited for questions but when none were forthcoming, he carried on.

‘However, I’m questioning the time lag in Ted’s actions.’ The three faces remained blank.

‘Well, the point surely is – why right now? Why is he back here at the moment? I would presume Ted queried the reliability of the suicide verdict when he was back for the funeral and indeed Shirley Mathieson could have expressed her concerns at that time, if it wasn’t for Frankie advising her to play it down. Similarly, he surely did not get to know the story about the old man when he was over last time for whatever reason. And let’s face it, it was the musings of an alcoholic. So what’s happened in the interim to get him riled up and result in this visit?’

‘Anyway, after a while Tommy started getting extremely anxious and evasive. I knew he was hiding stuff and I was getting bloody angry. I admit I had to beat him up a bit, as he wasn’t for talking. His nose was broken and he had blood flowing from his mouth but he still resisted. I eventually had to threaten his mother’s safety before he cracked.’

Jackson never warmed to Abe, feeling that if the circumstances dictated, Abe would readily turn on him with or without his father’s behest. But he had to intervene at a perceived slight.

‘Look Abe, I hope you’re not doubting my recollection of Donnie John’s conversation with me. That bastard knew something – the story of the old man wasn’t a drunken ramble, I can assure you. And you’re mentioning Frankie – but no matter how much of a hold we do have on him, he’s certainly not going to talk about his sister with Dad or any of us.’

‘Haven’t doubted you at all, Jackson. But, whilst we’re on about Shirley, I didn’t think there was any need to get your friend Roy Grigor involved in dealing with Mathieson. I think the guy has a screw loose. We or I, rather, could have dealt with Mathieson by myself with a different outcome. But hey, it’s done now.’

Stuart felt the need to contribute before Abe got to the results of his interrogation.

‘Now, now, lads, before we get any further, I would like to remind you all that Mathieson was dealt with not because of some cock and bull story of a stolen child, but because somehow he knew about Frankie’s tape and was generally a loose cannon. Right, let’s continue, Abe.’

‘Okay, boss. Yes, as I was saying, he eventually cracked. I must admit when we took the boy on and helped place him at Camerons’, I really liked the guy. He came along with me on a few jobs and he was sound, a good team guy. So I was genuinely upset by the turn of events, but there’s nothing much worse than duplicity and that’s how I saw it. I think he had become quite close to Shirley Mathieson and had unrequited feelings towards her. When she asked him to help out with things outwith the normal realms of work, he responded like a little pet dog. Apparently, she indulged him in the knowledge that the son, Calum, was very angry about his father’s death and the verdict reached. She revealed to Tommy that she had discussed her concern for him with a confidant, who suggested, that in the absence of any helpful input from Frankie, that she should contact the old boy himself, Duncan Cameron, directly.’

‘Duncan, of course, was only too happy to get involved personally, but also devised a plan to get the vet mobilised into returning home to help. The plan involved…’

‘Whoa, whoa, just a fucking minute!’ Stuart interjected noisily. ‘Duncan fucking Cameron. What the hell is this? Is he not supposed to be holed up with the Brothers of Timbuktu in a priory in the Black Isle?’

‘Yep, he certainly is, boss. Well, Benedictine I think, to be precise. His physical health has deteriorated a bit, but he’s functional enough to be given a role as an odd job man and helps with gardening. And mentally… he’s fully with it… unfortunately. I’ve heard the reason he won’t come back to Banavie is shame at the humiliation he brought on his family.’

Stuart threw his head back with contempt. ‘Bollocks! Duncan Cameron escaped a custodial sentence and he fucking knows it. When he burst in here, drunk out of his skull, he had a knife at my throat for five minutes, making the same old accusations. If he hadn’t started fitting, he would have killed me. Yet, thanks to fucking Frankie and that bastard Hussein, he ends up getting sectioned. A fucking stitch up. He bloody well should be ashamed to come back here. I reckon he can’t trust himself to behave if he returned, and that would end up in a jail sentence this time around – def… in… itely!’

Bruce broke in, ‘Look, Dad, we’ll sort him out permanently if he comes anywhere near us, but I think he’s realised he’s just a pathetic, broken old man now.’

Abe put his drink down and resumed. ‘I’m not so sure about all of that, Bruce. He managed to contrive a way of getting Ted back to Scotland. According to Tommy, Duncan and his intermediary sent a small team to France with the intention of threatening or even abducting Ted’s young daughter. It went a bit tits up but it had the desired effect.’

Jackson burst into the conversation. ‘Goddamn! Drastic or what?’

‘In Duncan’s mind, son, he’ll feel he has nothing to lose. He knows his son’s level of curiosity knows no limits, and Ted will still feel guilty about losing his sister. Obviously, Duncan felt it was a way of getting him home.’

‘That’s probably it, Stuart. Although in addition, seemingly Shirley and her son were over at about the same time laying it on thick to Ted about their suspicions on the suicide. So, a two-pronged attack on his conscience, if you like.’

‘So, Abe, was Tommy part of the team in France?’

‘Yes, he was, along with a bloke from Oban called Harry Klose, who was the Pole washed up at Duror, and the third man as it were – was Shirley and Duncan’s intermediary.’

‘Anyway Abe, what happened next with Tommy Muir?’

‘Well, Stuart, it was getting late and an ageing man like me needs his bed. He was refusing to name the go-between and I wanted to make a start on the coffee house crew. I drove back into town with Tommy handcuffed in the back. It was my intention to break into the café and do a bit of damage in advance of their daytime interrogation. They have a small storage shed out the back. I jemmied it open, sat Tommy on a stool and shook some petrol about – just enough for a controlled fire and to scare the shit out of him. Next thing I knew, Tommy is up off the stool, hands secured behind his back and charging at my midriff. I took a slight sidestep and diverted him into the door. He went down heavily and I sat on his chest. I pulled out my lighter and set fire to one leg of his jeans. He started screaming so I asked him again who was helping Shirley and Duncan Cameron. He started shouting “Lawrie Haig, Lawrie fucking Haig”. I was taken aback for just a second and the bastard headbutted me, hence this cut on my eyebrow, and I reeled backwards out through the door and knocked myself out on a water barrel.

‘I don’t know how long I was out for, it couldn’t have been long, but when I came to, the whole hut was up in flames. I looked in through the window of the hut as the doorway was impassable with flames but there was no sign of Tommy, so he’d either managed to leg it or he’d gone in through the door that connected the hut to the café, maybe to get water on his leg. He wouldn’t have managed to use an extinguisher. The keys for the cuffs had been taken out of my jacket when I was unconscious and there was no sign of cuffs when they got him to casualty – so he either managed to get the keys from me himself or a friendly police officer had intervened post mortem. It was a shock when I heard he was found in the loo of the café – poor bastard – believe it or not it hadn’t been my intention for him to die. My concentration just evaporated the minute he said Lawrie’s name. The fire brigade and cops were there bloody quickly so I had to clear off kind of fast – I’d disabled the nearby CCTV cameras earlier in the day.’

The four men sat speechless for several minutes, avoiding each other’s gaze. What had Abe just said? ‘Lawrie Haig’. His two older brothers looked on the verge of tears. They had always regarded the two youngest siblings, so indulged by their mother, with a mixture of pity, guilt, frustration and admiration. Finlay, ‘the invalid’, was inevitably treated with kid gloves and the three eldest children and their father acknowledged to differing degrees the lack of time they had invested since his birth in involving Finlay in their lives.

Lawrie was a different case completely. He had studied at school, was a talented artist and musician, made real friends, graduated from art school but still returned home after teacher training. This allowed him to be present to look after his younger brother but to remain financially independent of the family, by working at the high school. He made it clear to his father that he would not take any share of profits from any of the divisions of the family firm that he was not involved in, especially the drug peddling.

He was, on the insistence of their mother, given management roles in a couple of cafés and a tourist shop where he could display and sell his artwork. These businesses allowed Finlay an outlet for his energy, and Lawrie, initially reluctant to get involved in any Haig enterprise, had to admit he found joy in seeing Finlay mingle playfully with the customers.

The other siblings remembered how brutally Stuart had sabotaged Lawrie’s youthful romance as it blunted family schisms. It appeared to break the young artist’s resolve at the time but nowadays he could be envied for being able to absolve himself of responsibility from the murky shenanigans of the family but ultimately was en route to inherit a sharp twenty percent of the pot when Stuart was no longer around. His popularity outwith the family also inspired jealousy, but ultimately, he was their younger brother and they loved him.

So what the hell had happened?

Jackson broke the spell. ‘Do you think Tommy could have been lying, Abe?’

‘Why would he? He was desperate.’

Stuart removed his head from his hands exposing redness and tears. ‘Unfortunately, I believe it. I may need to hear the words of explanation come out of his mouth as I don’t want to believe them.’

‘The problem is,’ Bruce contributed, ‘that Lawrie always feels morally superior to the rest of us.’

Stuart became severely agitated. ‘That’s because the two of them are indeed that! Can someone pour me a ruddy drink till I think about this.’ He broke into weeping. ‘Lord help me, my own boy consorting with that bastard Duncan Cameron.’

‘Here, Dad, get this down you,’ Jackson ventured, pushing a large whisky into his father’s hand. ‘Let’s just take time to take this in. Lawrie has overstepped himself but there will be a reason. He’s never knowingly hurt anyone in this family in his life. But you’re going to have to calm down, Dad or you’re going to stroke out or something.’

He slugged down half the whisky, and then bawled uncontrollably.

‘You know it’s all my fault. I made him stop seeing Shirley Cameron, and he’s never fucking forgiven me. Then she went off and married one of his best pals. Oh Jesus.’ Stuart was now sniffing perceptibly.

Abe stepped forward, knelt beside his distraught employer and offered his handkerchief and put his hand on his shoulder.

‘You’re being way too hard on yourself. Big Archie didn’t want his daughter marrying a Haig either, remember that. But some of what you say holds water – could Lawrie manage to refuse a request for help from someone who was the love of his life?’

‘I think Abe has read it right, Dad,’ interjected Bruce who was sweating profusely from the effects of the spicy curry and the stress of witnessing his father’s collapse, a state he’d never observed before.

Jackson knocked back his own half and thumped his glass down on the table.

‘Well, someone is going to have to speak to Lawrie to get his story on all this. We may all have our differences but the family and our businesses rely on trust and stability, and a breach will irreparably damage that, and to be fair, I can see where the Grigors are coming from.’

Stuart had regained his composure but spoke wearily, ‘We’ll have to act fairly quickly to get on top of all this. I remember how friendly Lawrie, Donald John Mathieson and Ted Cameron were as kids despite all the bile spraying about them. I don’t want Ted anywhere near Lawrie. Have either of you spoken to Lawrie recently?’

Silence.

‘Fucking great family, aren’t we? Well neither have I!’

Abe broke in, ‘I actually spoke briefly to Finlay and him last Tuesday up in Spean, at the petrol pumps.’

‘That’s right, Abe, just shame us all. Thankfully my dear wife sees them every week, so I think first contact should be Sandra; to sound him out, if you like. Abe, I need you to check out Anne-Marie Noble and her staff, if need be, to see what Ted was after.’ Stuart stood for a few seconds, shaken by the news about Lawrie. Abe had warned him of a surprise in advance but no, not this. ‘I’m away to lie down, so let yourselves out. We’ll all catch up after Sandra has visited him. None of this is to be shared with the Grigors at this point, okay!?’

I woke about half past seven to a cockerel crowing and for a brief minute I thought I was back in the forest near Bergerac, then I recalled that my mother loved her precious hens, and I was still in Banavie. I got out of bed and strolled to the window. My goodness, was that still snow on the Ben? Lovely bright morning and the water in the canal revealed a mild wave disturbance thanks to a light easterly breeze. Just at that, Jacob rounded the corner from the garden sheds. I chapped on the glass and caught his attention.

Jacob waved and deviated from heading to the house and came into the barn. A couple of bounds up the ladder and he stood before me.

‘Sleep well?’

‘I still get crazy nightmares after thirty years.’

‘That’s grim, Ted. You know something, I loved and looked after Rosie as if she was my own. I just loved her so much. Every night for the past thirty years, before I go to sleep, I see her face vividly for a few seconds… then, bang, I’m off to sleep really soundly. Strange, but good – better than you. If she is still out there to be found, we have to do it.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Right, go give your wife a phone from the downstairs phone, she phoned fifteen minutes ago – she said to let you sleep on.’

‘Hi honey, you’re early on the go, even with the hour ahead.’

‘I’m just missing you so much, I couldn’t let any more of the day pass without hearing your voice.’

‘Oh, how sweet… you cheeky bisom.’

‘All true, haha, but I’m also under instruction from the lovely Camille, who phoned at 8am to ask you to phone her this morning. Sounded important.’

‘And do you have Commander Vasco’s number?’

‘Yep, got a pen?’ We then went on to family chat – Flora couldn’t understand why I was still away. Alain had been warned by a passing police car not to patrol the main roads standing in the back of his pal’s jeep, gripping the roll bar in one hand and the butt of his rifle in the other. I said ‘hello’ to Flora, which was harder than expected, but the fact she didn’t cry was good. We eventually ended the call when the lumps in the throat were becoming obstructive.

‘Sorry, Jacob, didn’t mean to stay on that long. I need to phone the French police now.’

‘You stay on as long as you like. Now phone those cops, and I’ll get breakfast on the go. Scrambled eggs?’

‘Sound. I’ll put the loudspeaker on.’

‘Commander Vasco, Ted Cameron here. How are things?’

‘Ah, Ted, thank you for calling, I hope you are well and not getting into trouble in Scotland?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, and I’m staying on the correct side of the law. What have you got for me?’

‘Have you fallen out with your brother?’

‘What! Crikey, your detective skills are impressive even from a thousand miles away or was it just a good guess?’

‘Well, when I phoned him yesterday afternoon, I asked him to pass on some information. I thought you a courteous man and therefore thought you might phone back to acknowledge the message. He was a bit brusque and sounded reluctant to comply – so I guess I was right.’

‘God, that’s maddening. I’m so sorry, some example to set to a fellow police officer. We’re having major differences of opinion at the moment. But more importantly, you’ve got me curious now.’

‘Well, our team here managed to track down a rented SUV that needed some minor repairs, and the name on the rental agreement matched the name of a man that was treated for severe lacerations on his forearm at an emergency treatment centre in Perigueux. The name was a Thomas Muir. Is that a name you are familiar with?’

I’m sure I wasn’t as gullible growing up, but I could feel the donkey ears growing out of the side of my head now – is this another sign of middle age? That double-denimed bastard had stood there sharing the inherent dangers of mountain biking as he partially revealed Trampas’ mauling. Fuck me Trampas, I wish you’d got his frigging throat.

‘Ted, Ted… are you still there?’

‘Sorry, Camille. I was just processing my incredulity. Yes, I know that name. I met him the other day and then he died in a fire. This opens up an unexpected can of worms but at least there’s been progress. I’m very grateful to you, Camille.’

‘I’m seriously intrigued! Muir is dead! I think you have a serious investigation on your hands, or at least, your brother has.’

‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t know it.’

‘Did you get all that, Jake?’ I ventured, as I switched off the loudspeaker button.

‘I wish I knew what Frankie was up to. He’s being obstructive to you but not being obviously proactive to this other stuff is ridiculous.’

‘Look, Jake, can you get the ball rolling with the dog breeders, whilst I go see Shirley?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Are you comfortable about the line of questioning?’

‘I think I’ll be fine.’

‘Grand, I’ll see you when I get back. Thanks for the eggs.’

There didn’t tend to be many people out on either canal towpath near Banavie at this time of the morning. The two pedestrians acknowledged each other with a wry smile and conversation was about to start up, when the noise of the white Volkswagen firing up at the side of the Camerons’ house caused Abe to blurt a brief apology and start jogging back to Banavie basin. No worries, he imagined he would be catching up with Roy Grigor again fairly soon. Roy remained static and took the pair of binoculars from his coat pocket and locked on to the white house on the knoll.

‘Shirley, what the fuck!’

‘Sit down, Ted. Look, I won’t blame you for being angry or hostile, but just hear me out first. I know it’s little consolation to you at this moment, but I am so sorry to have put you, Lisa and Flora through this. I was persuaded to go along with a plan, a monstrous plan.’ Shirley was bawling her eyes out and had difficulty articulating her remorse.

I sat down on the only other comfortable seat in the office at Camerons’, across the table from my slumped cousin.

Budge Colquhoun stuck his head in from the workshop. ‘Everything okay here?’

I smiled at Budge’s concern as Shirley replied unconvincingly, ‘We’re all good, Budge. Cheers.’

‘I almost don’t know where to start. As I told you already, things had been terrible with Donnie John for such a long time, and then suddenly a few weeks before he died it all changed. He was engaged at work, sober, communicative, even caring – basically the old Donnie. The timing seemed to be consistent with the appearance of this stranger. He was almost excited and couldn’t wait to tell you, your dad and Frankie. It was my suggestion that he tell Frankie first. I couldn’t get it out of my head that it might be a figment of an alcoholic stupor, as I told you before, so I thought the sensible approach was to go to the policeman first rather than contact France or the priory.

‘After a brief confrontation at Torlundy Ski Station between the two of them, we asked Frankie round to the house one Sunday afternoon. I watched television with Calum whilst the two of them spoke in the kitchen. Things were really quiet for a while and then the two of them raised their voices and there was a bit of banging. I went into check on them when Frankie barged past me heading outside to his car. Donnie made a joke of it, saying “that went well” and started looking for whisky.

‘I wouldn’t let it go and prevented him from looking for a bottle. I asked him what the hell had happened, to which Donnie replied that Frankie didn’t believe the story but would look into it further, but most importantly he was not to tell another soul about it – not you, your folks, Jake, nobody. DJ was livid, absolutely livid.

‘He went off the rails for a few days, disappearing in the car a couple of times. He would sit up to the early hours, and on one occasion after the phone rang at midnight. He wouldn’t talk to me about anything. Then without warning, he was back to good Donnie again, positive and confident, even talking of going to see you in France, he went to play with Calum in a band, all good stuff. And then we spent a lovely tender day out on the coast. We walked the shore from Arisaig round to Camasdarach and back, and he was even threatening skinny-dipping, the silly bugger.’

Shirley broke her speech to laugh. ‘Then we went for a lovely dinner in the West Highland in Mallaig. It was such a great day. That evening back at home, we nestled down by the fire and he told me how much he loved me and said how sorry he was that he had treated Calum and me so badly for so long. And that’s when he said it… “If something bad happens, speak to Lawrie.” I begged him to explain but he wouldn’t. The next day he was scowling, tearful and anxious, and he started shouting at the pair of us again. I was so upset and then two days later, he’s dead. Budge and Tommy were magnificent in here. They worked their backsides off. I think Tommy had a little thing for me, but he knew not to cross boundaries. I probably overshared with the pair of them but eventually Budge implored me to speak to Lawrie.’

‘That must have been a hard one for you.’

‘Considering we hadn’t spoken properly to each other for years, and rarely bumped into each other – very awkward. We had our hearts broken together, then we had travelled down separate roads for years.’

‘I remember the church being so busy for DJ’s funeral, but I thought I might have seen Sandra Haig and Finlay at the back of the congregation as I was going out.’

‘Yes, you did, and Lawrie was there too. They didn’t come forwards to the line; they went out and just went away quietly, not coming to the purvey either, but it was very good of them as their presence wouldn’t have gone down well with Stuart.’

Shirley sat up and regained most of her composure. ‘A few days after the funeral, I was daydreaming in the kitchen when the doorbell went. It was Lawrie and Finlay, with a lovely bouquet of flowers. Budge had spoken to him. I asked Calum to entertain Finlay with a computer game and I poured my heart out to Lawrie. It was weird. In one sense it felt that eighteen years had folded in on themselves and I was back with my dear Lawrie but I also felt uncomfortable, as I felt l was kind of betraying Donnie.’

‘You’re too harsh on yourself. Lawrie and you made a perfect couple; it was the families that drove you apart.’

‘A difficult aspect of it was much that I had adored Lawrie and was wrecked by our split, I loved Donnie John implicitly with only the past two years being tainted, and I miss him terribly. Who knows what would have happened long term if Lawrie and I had been allowed to marry. It may not have worked out.’

‘Well, I tell you what, maybe neither deserved you, cousin.’ Unintentionally, I set off another burst of tears. I got up and crossed over and massaged the back of her neck.

She stretched in response and found a tissue to sooth her burning eyes. ‘I told Lawrie about my ambivalence over both the suicide verdict and the story of the old man turning up at the yard, pleading to him not to say anything to his family. I’m sure he would have kept his word.’

‘There is absolutely no chance Lawrie would have divulged one iota of information from you to another Haig. Unless he’s undergone a personality transplant.’

‘I also confided in Lawrie that Frankie had not been too suspicious and hence was hesitant to take any radical actions, although as I said to you previously, he was supportive, to be fair. And that’s when Lawrie sat me down and said that I must get you involved and if I permitted him to, he would become involved in devising a plan to help Calum and me, and he would contact your father too.’

‘And he obviously did. I can see my old man’s fingerprints all over it.’

‘I think you should speak to Lawrie very soon, Ted. There’s a bit more you should know that I can’t bring myself to tell you. And now that’s two of the team who went to France dead.’

‘Two? Tommy, and who is the other one?’

‘A Polish guy who has lived in Oban for years – Harald Klose.’

‘Not the guy they pulled out of the loch?’

‘The very one.’

‘Frankie told me he was involved with drugs.’

‘No, not according to Lawrie. He was a clam diver that he knew through the painting world. He spoke fluent French, so he was in – poor bugger.’

I couldn’t stop myself from sighing. Shirley stood up and reached for my shoulders. ‘Again – I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for not being straight with you.’

Much although it was tempting to shake my cousin by the throat to assent to her guilt, I could see there was nothing to be gained from enhancing Shirley’s pain in any way. We had to move on quickly. I had to see Anne-Marie next.

Ronnie Grigor had spent half his life in the Highlands but knew he had never been accepted as a local. Over forty years mixing with these ruddy teuchters and he was still ‘that bloody big keelie’. Still, the compensations were not inconsiderable. As he sat on the deck at the front of his grandson’s house, the shore of Loch Leven was only a matter of yards away. Across the loch, some motorbikes could be seen and heard travelling along the shore road, with the mountains of Mamore rising high above. It would be the week of the Six Days Motor Cross Trials very soon and on the main road on this side of the loch, high above Roy’s home, and on the off-road trails on the lower slopes of the Pap, a plethora of trials bikes would gather to compete at various times.

The water was as still as a mill pond, the only audible noise in close proximity rose from his left where his great-grandson, also Ronald, was painting the keel of his father’s yacht with dark red marine paint. A fine boy, if lacking his father’s forcefulness.

Ronnie’s own yacht was already out on the water this season, resting in moorings off Achintore.

‘Hoi, Ronald. When you’re finished there, you can come back up the road with me. The deck on mine needs topped up a bit.’

The fifteen-year-old didn’t reply at first but mumbled something about lack of time and exams.

‘Lazy little fucker,’ the veteran mooted.

Just at that, Roy Grigor emerged from the kitchen door onto the deck and squatted beside his grandfather.

‘That was a good night, last night, Pops. Glad to see you’re still knocking back the scran and the red wine with a vengeance.’

‘Still a big frame to fill even at my age, Roy, but yes, an excellent meal. Thanks again, my boy. And it’s good to get some time to chew the fat over stuff away from a boardroom. Your dad’s getting a stickler for regimentation as he gets older. My neighbours tie themselves in knots over grievances. It’s appreciated how you’re monitoring things.’

‘No bother, keeps myself right too, Pops. By the way, when do you want a lift back up to Torlundy?’

‘Anytime will do really, but I think Norman McCulloch might pop around for a couple of frames of snooker about fourish, so if I’m back home for then, sound.’

‘Tell the good Chief Inspector I’m asking after him.’

‘Haha, you behave yourself!’

I had decided that the café in Glen Nevis was a good place to meet Anne-Marie. The glen was reasonably quiet at this time of year. It was neutral territory – neither Haigs, Grigors nor indeed my extended-family-owned property or business along this picturesque valley. It also was nostalgic. Much teenage courting occurred along the banks of its fast-flowing river, and the twisting road with its spacious lay-bys attracted racing cyclists, weekend family picnickers and meandering motorbikes.

Sitting outside in the cool sunshine, I could see walkers making their way along the path up the Ben, on the other side of the valley. They would already be enjoying fascinating views but in a couple of hours at a steady pace they would be standing on the roof of the Grampian Range with vistas like no other in the kingdom.

I was sure my lunch date wouldn’t be indulging her senses in appreciation of the local panoramas. She would be far too stressed.

Anne-Marie slowly got out of her red Peugeot and headed purposefully towards my table. I was just about to shout to her to lose the shades as it was still spring, when her appearance invoked a spout of reflux to hit the back of my throat. She sat down unsteadily and removed her sunglasses to reveal a startling black eye – a huge contusion filled her right orbit. I reached over the table to fumble my concern in groping at her sleeve.

‘God Almighty, what happened?’

‘It’s too sore to cry, so give me a minute, Ted.’

I looked to the heavens to choke back tears of my own and took in a huge gulp of air. Anne-Marie Telford and Caroline Gillies had been two of the attractive girls in my high school year, inseparable friends who were bright and bubbly, friendly, but yet for the average teenage suitor, always held an air of the unobtainable. It’s true that I had an innocent ‘romance’ with Caroline with whom I had been besotted for a period. However, I never truly felt the desire was reciprocated and in clichéd fashion she was plucked from my grasp by the older boy with money and a fancy car. Roy Grigor was four years my senior and his father had given him a role in the firm as well as a hot hatch – a Volkswagen Golf GTI, if I remembered correctly. Caroline dropped me like a lukewarm potato.

I remember Shirley and Anne-Marie offering me much sympathy, scornful of my deposition by their friend. I remember being sad for quite a while, but I didn’t overindulge in misery. After all, it was always going to happen sometime – it was just a pity it was a Grigor. A violent menace on the football and shinty fields, and an arrogant bully at parties or in the bars of the Fort.

Anne-Marie had a warmth that back in the day, Caroline seemed to lack. She too didn’t entertain unworthy male attention and eventually fell for the charms of George Noble, a lad from Lochyside, who was a year older than us and a gifted sportsman. He seemed to excel at every sport he encountered which was most dispiriting for his contemporaries. He turned down football trials at Tottenham Hotspur, Celtic and Everton, as he wanted to go and study. His life changed on the discovery of the Glasgow University beer bar and on the receipt of a high two-footed tackle in the Alchemists League. Anne-Marie stood by George as he eventually left his course and found work on the rigs, but eventually, as is often the case, their love crossed its white line.

‘What a bloody nightmare! My café torched but not before a dying man is pulled out, and then, assaulted in my own home by hooded thugs.’

‘I’m so sorry. I’ve got the most grotesque feeling that my visit to your coffee shop has been the catalyst for all of it.’

‘Oh, Ted, I think you’re right… but do not, I repeat, do not, blame yourself.’

‘Christ! Of course I blame myself. This is terrible – a man dead, a woman assaulted, a business burnt to the ground… maybe Frankie’s right… maybe I should get out of here, back to France.’

Anne-Marie could see that I was faltering. ‘Look, Ted, if you give up now, I’d lose my faith in you. Something has to be done, and your Frankie seems incapable of reacting. But whatever you’re doing, keep on… because it’s caused one hell of a response.’

‘I don’t want to be responsible for more lost lives, it just cannot happen.’

‘Look, Ted. If your Rosie is still alive by some miracle, well, what sort of life is she enduring? Let’s face it, she would never have received the love she would have got from Rhoda, Duncan and Jake as well, without taking into account Frankie, you and the rest.’

‘The trouble is, Anne-Marie, it could all still be a wild goose chase… one big waste of time.’

‘Then at least get to the bottom of Donnie John’s death – Shirley and Calum deserve that.’

‘I really don’t know any more. I’ll have to take a wee bit of time, speak to Lisa, have a word with Lawrie, speak to my father and then… we’ll see.’

‘Don’t let us down, Ted.’

I got up from the table and stretched my legs. The walkers on the Ben path had made decent progress – no worries to be had there for the Mountain Rescue Team.

‘Tell me about your assailants, Anne-Marie. What happened?’

‘As I told Frankie afterwards, I actually got a visit at home earlier in the day. It was a bit threatening but there was no violence. I wasn’t long out of the shower and the guy kept looking at my cleavage.’

‘Lovely… did you recognise him?’

‘Yes, it was that goon who works for the Haigs – Abraham Beaton.’

‘Okay, I know a bit about him – ex-Army thug, has been with the Haigs forever, sort of an enforcer. Getting on a bit now.’

‘Well, he said how disappointed the Haig family were with me for speaking to you, a known accusant of the family, considering how the family had given me the lease for the café. He said it was terrible what had happened subsequently but Tommy Muir had acted independently and maniacally to the extreme of his own demise; but, and get this, he wondered if it was a judgement on my ingratitude. When he said that, as if the fire was deserved, I lost it and ordered him out of the house. But he just sat there and said he was going “fucking nowhere” until I had told him what he wanted to know.’

‘Don’t worry, Anne-Marie, you were quite right to tell him. These types of hoodlums are capable of anything.’

‘No, hang on Ted. I had to tell him something, as I was worried he might approach my staff, and those girls and their families don’t deserve even the threat of violence, never mind actual assault. But all I said was that you were wondering if I had seen Donnie John with any strangers in the weeks before his death and that I had told you that I vaguely remembered him with an older man, who I didn’t recognise – end of story.’

‘Gee, you did really well. You didn’t mention the presence of the dog, by any chance?’

‘No, I didn’t want to say too much. However, it didn’t end there. Beaton left grudgingly after half an hour, with less information than he expected. Then an hour later, the outside door burst open forcefully. At first, I thought it might be Alan back in early from the fish farm with a drink in him, but then these two hooded idiots came into the kitchen and grabbed me. They dragged me into my living room and threw me onto the sofa.’

‘What a nightmare! And it wasn’t Abe Beaton back with a friend for some strong-arm action?’

‘No, I really don’t think so. These two were taller I’m sure, and they put on exaggerated Glaswegian accents which would have been laughable if the circumstances had been different. And whilst Beaton was constant menace, these two were all bluster and raw aggression. The questions were the same: “What did Ted Cameron want? What did you tell him?” But these two seemed to know about the dog, because one of them said, “Did Cameron think the dog was important?”’

‘Mmm, that’s interesting and odd. Hell, I’m so sorry about all this.’

‘And then on their way out, they warned me not to speak to the police or Alan would suffer for it. I muttered an oath and that’s when the bigger guy just punched me in the face.’

‘Bastard! You must hardly be able to see out of that eye.’

‘Yes, barely. Courtesy of a southpaw straight left, I think my dad would have said in boxing parlance.’

‘So he was left-handed, you think, the bigger guy?’

‘Yip, speaks Moidart’s Miss Marple.’

‘So Frankie was his reticent self?’

‘Beyond hopeless – gave me a row for helping you behind his back, implying that I had received my just desserts.’

‘Fucker! It’s yet to get to blows with me but I can see it coming.’

‘Well, before it does, it’s just a hunch, but you may want to speak to Caroline.’

‘Caroline? Why? I haven’t spoken to her for decades.’

‘It’s just a thought of mine. Anyway, she still dotes on you. She still says quitting you was the biggest mistake of her life.’

I laughed as I spotted the opportunity to lighten the conversation. ‘Fucking right it was, silly bitch.’

‘Oh don’t, Ted, laughing is sore too. Listen, I’m going to have to go. I don’t want to leave Alan in the house by himself for too long, at least for the next wee while.’

‘Sound.’ I got up to go first. ‘Remember – keep in touch. If you have any problems call me first, and I’ll be over along with Jake who still has the skills of a ruddy ninja.’ At least we parted with humour.

I had plenty of time on my hands, so I got behind the wheel of the Golf and headed right, aiming for the car park at the end of the glen. I parked and ignoring the steep waterslide path up the Ben, headed along the trail to Steall Falls. When I was a kid, I remember being in the company of an elderly relative who had served as a teacher and missionary in China. She had been a friend and colleague of the revered Gladys Aylward but unlike Gladys, Rosemary had made it home, to Scotland. Her stories were illuminating: depictions of peasant life in the Far East and descriptions of paths along vertiginous valleys with thundering water courses that needed to be crossed. In my early visits to the narrowing of the glen here, I imagined myself following a line of donkeys somewhere in the mountains of Nepal or Tibet, rather than taking in some pearls of nature on a walk with my dad or Jake in a Highland glen.

My head was clear now, and as the day was still young, I thought I would take Anne-Marie’s advice and visit my teenage sweetheart. Since her marital split she stayed in a house in a relatively new development on the hill above Tomonie. Anne-Marie had indicated that the house was too big for her, but Caroline felt young Ronald enjoyed the space when he was staying with her, on the occasions he managed to escape the clutches of the Grigors for a short break.

As I was carrying out a three-point turn to leave the car park, I noticed a stunning red Honda Goldwing gleaming between two muddied Dormobiles. When we were young, our parents never allowed Frankie and I near motorbikes. My father had a BSA back in the late fifties but he’d suffered a fractured pelvis and leg after one particularly nasty crash and my mother had issued an ultimatum that either she or the BSA would have to go. He became a convert to her cause even before his sons came along.

Jake, however, was reluctant to give up the two wheels even after a few spills of his own. His current steed was a beautiful red Indian motorcycle that he kept immaculate. Just checking my watch, I guessed that if Caroline got away from the school at a reasonable time, she should be back in Tomonie before I got there.

It was a shame to leave the glen, but Anne-Marie’s injury had truly sickened me and it wasn’t going to be pleasant to let her friend know about the attack. I turned off the A82 by crossing the Lochy, and passing my old high school on the right, I crossed the Blar Mhor expanse of peat bog, that in recent years had undergone significant drainage and building development. On reaching the canal at Banavie, an enforced delay occurred due to the passage of a couple of boats necessitating the road bridge to swing to the side temporarily. I lowered the window to freshen the air and briefly caught sight of a red Honda motorcycle in my wing mirror, at about three vehicles back.

Me, I don’t believe in coincidences. The bridge reopened and I stepped up my speed to head straight on past my destination and eventually through the village of Corpach. Once on Locheilside, I headed for a lay-by to wait. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes the Redwing roared past, probably unsure of whether he had been detected. I’d chosen this place deliberately as it had been where poor Donnie had died.

I turned the car round and put my foot to the floor and managed to get to Tomonie with no sign of the red motorbike in my mirror. I turned up the hill and followed the road around to the last house where I parked beside a black Toyota Colorado. I got out and after a brief survey on my tiptoes of the main road below, walked to the door.

The door opened briskly and the quizzical look on Caroline’s face revealed that she hadn’t been expecting guests.

‘Hi Blondie, love the house. Any chance of a cup of tea?’

‘Ted Cameron, well, well, what brings you to Tomonie?’ Her strength of hug betrayed our past. I’m sure people didn’t hug each other as much when I was a lad – must be an Americanism. ‘Come straight in – I’ve got a nosey neighbour.’

I sauntered into a large open-plan kitchen diner. ‘Oh, that’s nice, and who might that be? Anyone I’d know?’

‘Indeed you will, Michael Kyle, the pervy history teacher.’

‘God, is he still around?’

‘’Fraid so and still up to no good with susceptible senior girls. Nobody has the guts to get him in front of the beaks. He’s buddy buddy with Roy through shooting, golf and sailing. I’m sure Roy gifted him that monstrosity next door so that he could keep an eye on me. But never mind all that, Anne-Marie had told me you were around. She filled me in a little as to what had brought you back to Lochaber. I saw you at the church at Donnie John’s funeral but I didn’t feel up to going to the wake on my own.’

I sat down at the breakfast bar. ‘Well, I know I can trust you to not to speak to the wrong people but I don’t want to compromise your safety if Kyle reports back to Roy that I was here.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Roy can’t do any more to hurt me that he hasn’t done already.’

‘Mmm, that doesn’t sound good. Have you got good access to your son, if not actual custody?’

‘The custody battle was a disaster, as you probably knew. I only see Ronald every second weekend which saddens the pair of us – he’s a bit of a mummy’s boy – but we have lunch together on every school day.’

‘Can that allocation of time ever be readdressed?’

‘Taking the Grigors on in court? Waste of time. Years ago, I met a really nice Aussie guy who was teaching at the high school on supply. We hit it off and started a relationship. When his year here was finished, he wanted me to follow him back to Brisbane, and we started planning my escape from Lochaber and looked into ways of how to change Ronald’s current custody status. Well, Roy threatened me with violence – I was staying with my mum at the time. Then Andrew – the Aussie – was out on his bicycle with the local club one weekend when he was the victim of a hit and run at Loch Laggan side. Other club cyclists on the day said the van had no number but it had been seen a few times that morning. Andrew was in the habit of being a cycling Johnny Cash – every item of clothing, helmet and bike was black. Not difficult to pick out in a line of cyclists. Anyway, he fractured his pelvis, mandible, shoulder and forearm. Unsurprisingly, he eventually limped back to Queensland thinking that too much madness abounded here.’

‘Gee, that’s hellish.’

‘Yup. In an attempt to keep me onside, Roy built this house principally for a place that Ronald would be in comfort when he came over here. I accepted it as my mother was very ill those last few years of her life and I had space here to move her in with us. She died a couple of years later. So, I’m probably here for life now, but whatever, Ronald is my only priority.’

‘Well, you just never know what the future holds; but at least you should be safe from harm just now.’

‘Should I be? Why do I have a feeling this is going somewhere?’

‘Aye well, I could never be too subtle. I’m afraid Anne-Marie was assaulted in her own home. Two masked men tried to get information from her about my visit. They punched her in the face as a thanks.’

Caroline became very distressed. ‘Oh my God! That’s horrendous. How could she know very much anyway? Vicious bastards!’

‘No, she had little of note to offer them, as probably do I, when I think about it.’

‘I’ll go round and see her this evening.’

‘She’d appreciate that, I’m sure.’

‘Who is doing all this? And I’m sorry to be blunt, but are you achieving anything, Ted, except people getting attacked or killed? Maybe she was being a bit indiscreet but Anne-Marie shared with me some of what’s being going on when I saw her the other day, and I would have to say it’s all a bit speculative.’

‘Fair comment, but if there’s nothing going on, why has there been such a violent reaction to my intervention? Why was a motorbike following me today? Why is my brother acting so ineffectually as the local constabulary?’

Caroline sighed deeply. ‘I’ll put some coffee on. Have a comfier seat.’ She disappeared down a corridor having switched on the percolator, and I could soon hear the gush of the water pipes resonating beyond the confines of the kitchen. I moved over to the sofa opposite the full-length window overlooking the garden. I rested my head on the top of the cushion, closed my eyes and stretched my neck in order to relieve the tension that had built up again over the afternoon.

A couple of minutes passed and Caroline re-emerged and proceeded to set out a tray with mugs, milk, sugar and the jug of coffee. She threw me over a packet of shortbread and then came round to sit beside me. ‘I’ll let you pour your own.’

‘Thanks, this will do nicely.’ Our eyes briefly met and I was jolted by her scarlet cheeks and the redness and swelling of her eyes. The cold water and towel compression had failed miserably to disguise her grief.

‘Hey, I didn’t come here to upset you. I’ve come to realise I am no detective. Leaving Anne-Marie today, I seriously considered grabbing my things and heading for the airport. You’re absolutely right – a lot of hurt has occurred and I’m not really that much further forward. To see Anne-Marie disfigured and in pain is perhaps a step too far.’ I took a deep swig of coffee and fixed her eyes again.

‘I’m just scared. Scared for Anne-Marie, Ronald and for you. And I know I’m being selfish.’

‘Why selfish? It’s only natural to wish to be protective – but I swear to God, I don’t see how this should affect you or Ronald.’

‘Do you know why Anne-Marie got you to come here?’

‘Well, to be honest, I didn’t think there was a specific reason. I thought maybe it was to build up a circle of support for her, as she was proved to be vulnerable, or I guessed that you may have some morsels of information on Roy’s activities, as I take it he’s still hand-in-glove with Jackson Haig. But in truth, I wanted to see a friendly face on this trip as that has been severely lacking, and what better than my first girlfriend – a reminder of teenage innocence and endless sunshine. Halcyon days!’

Caroline took out a tissue from her sleeve and dabbed her moist eyes. ‘I’ve got to tell you something, Ted. Something that you might hate me for, but it might help you understand something of the complexity of your quest or quests, indeed.’

I finished the coffee in a few gulps and no doubt now with a furrowed brow, I switched my gaze back to the swollen features of my first love. Undoubtedly, to me she remained a beautiful woman, but the years of strain would eventually tell. The rinse in her hair to accentuate her blondeness could be there to conceal streaks of grey.

‘Intriguing. I’m almost frightened to ask. What have you got for me?’

Caroline sat forwards and put her head in her hands, obscuring her face from my view.

‘A couple of years ago, I hit another especially low point. Mum had not long died, Andrew messaged me from Brisbane to say that he had met someone new and I was passed up for Head of Department at school despite being a really good candidate. I started drinking heavily to relieve my mood and yes, I was beginning to worry whether it might affect Ronald. Anyway, there was one Saturday evening I was sitting outside with a bottle of red wine and that creep Kyle suddenly appeared at my shoulder asking if he could join me. Well, I just laid into him and told him what I thought of him in no uncertain terms. I was slurring my words as no doubt I’d drank too much, but I was in control and Ronald was safe in his own room playing computer stuff. Anyway, Kyle buggered off. However, the fucker must have told Roy, because when he appeared on the Sunday night to pick up Ronald, Roy started on me – I was “this and that, an unfit mother and a drunken bitch”. So, I started lobbing these bottles of red and white wine at Roy as he scuttled back to his Jag shielding Ronald. There was broken glass and alcohol all over the place.

‘The next thing I knew, Frankie was at the door. One of his officers had informed him that Kyle and Roy had contacted them to say that I was breaching the peace and was acting in a violent fashion.

‘I was mortified. Frankie was so kind but also furious at what they had done. We sat down and had a coffee. I needed a shoulder to cry on and I poured my heart out to your brother. But, and it’s a big but, unfortunately, one thing led to another and we ended up in my bed. I feel as dreadful now telling you as I did on that Monday morning when I thought of Liz and their two children. Frankie had left on Sunday night but he came around later on Monday. He apologised sincerely saying he had behaved terribly. But he had no more reason than me to be ashamed. We then sat for a wee while and Frankie said he would try and bring Kyle to some form of justice and put pressure on the Grigors. I actually felt some good was emerging from a nightmare scenario. That all changed by the end of the week when Roy contacted Frankie, then me, to say that there was a secret camera in the bedroom that had recorded us shagging basically. I felt and still feel sick. Unknown to me, that bastard Roy had fitted this place out with cameras before I ever moved in and came in here that midweek using a key of his own to pick up the tape. Poor Frankie came round like a half-shut knife the next Saturday. He brought a private eye friend from Inverness that he knew. They brought electronic gear with them and cleared the house of a whole lot of cameras and microphones. Bloody nightmare.

‘Of course, that put an end to any plans Frankie had for helping me. I also think it must have forced him to change his attitude to the Grigors and Haigs and God knows who else in order to protect his career and his marriage. Every day I wish I could turn back time and not get Frankie involved. So, Sherlock, does that maybe answer a question or two for you?’

I had to sit speechless with my eyes closed for a couple of minutes to try and take in what I’d heard. There are certain times in life when you can never be prepared for what opens up in front of you, and following Flora’s attempted abduction, this was the second occasion in a relatively short period of time.

‘Can I have another cup of coffee, Caroline?’

‘Of course.’ She got up and returned to refill my mug. I wolfed down the drink in indecent fashion.

‘I’m trying to find the right words.’ I was now back engaged with the lachrymose schoolteacher. ‘You poor sods. I’m just shocked at the sheer villainy of Roy Grigor. He has the outrage to spy on the mother of his child then in all likelihood proceeds to blackmail Frankie. Because I have no doubt that is what is happening here. Everything fits… the timing, everything.’ I could feel myself shaking and my mind was racing – I was filtering through flashbacks of conversations and events from the past three years.

‘I thought you’d be angry, annoyed at our behaviour – the stupidity. And the very fact that I made love to your brother and never you. But believe me, Ted, I couldn’t be more remorseful.’

I reached along the sofa and took her hand. ‘I think you’ve read me incorrectly, Caroline. The only anger I feel is towards Grigor. You and Frankie made serious mistakes but not fit to be punished like this. God, when I think back, there was a time a couple of years back when Frankie was urgently trying to get hold of me several times over a few days. But I wasn’t at home – I was up in Chantilly doing what I can only describe as a lucrative sort of locum. I was working all hours but I was sorry that he couldn’t get hold of me. Anyway, when I got home, I called him and he was a bit down and dismissive but he never explained why. But maybe it was at that time and he was looking for help. Oh what a mess, one hellish mess. I’m just so sorry for you, Caroline, and you’re dead right, this explains one helluva lot.’

‘Will you confront Frankie?’

‘I will, Caroline, but in the right way. You both deserve understanding. But it needs dealt with, as there have to be changes.’

‘What changes can you make?’

‘Well, we’ll see. He’s got to tell Liz for starters – because the atmosphere in their house is beyond toxic at times – and he will have to accept the consequences. Regarding the procedural matters of his office, that will be equally challenging to address. But we’ll see what can be done.

‘I should go now, Caroline, but I’ll say the same to you as I said to Anne-Marie, if there’s any nonsense, contact Jake or myself first.’

At that, I headed back to my mother and Jake.

Jackson Haig looked at the balls left on the green baize – he now needed a snooker to take this final frame from Roy. It was good to chat to his long-term friend, especially after a day of business in Glasgow. It made the final eighteen miles back to the Fort most endurable. He lined up a cut on a red to the middle pocket. He struck, it duly sank and the cue ball span off unintentionally behind the black on the cushion. He quickly tapped up to the black securing a snooker.

Roy walked back into the room and surveyed the table. ‘Did you place that ball there, you bandit?’

‘Just a touch of class, Roy.’

Roy lined up an optimistic long swerve on the last red. ‘That was Mike Kyle on the phone. The buggerlugs vet was up visiting Caroline this afternoon. What a pain in the arse he is!’ The white ball fizzed up the table making contact with the red but only succeeded in putting it perilously close to the left pocket.

‘Really? We could do with him going back to France as soon as possible.’ Jackson had to sink the last red and make an attempt to sink the black. The first part was achieved but the black rattled in the jaws of the right pocket.

‘You don’t seem too alarmed about all of this, Roy – it’s more than a pain in the arse!’

Grigor stood up from the table and laughed. ‘Look, Jacko. What has he got on you or me or any of us to make him a threat? Personally, I think we’re well covered.’ Roy leant back onto the table and rattled in all the colours with minimal exertion. ‘Got a bit close there, Jacko.’

‘Well, it’s bound to happen sometime,’ Jackson mused ruefully.

By the time I reached my old home, my mother was ready to serve the night’s meal – a steak pie with accompanying potatoes, vegetables and gravy.

‘Smells wonderful, Mother. Do you mind if I open a bottle of wine? I think I’m in need of sedation.’

‘I don’t know if I like the sound of that, but of course – open a bottle.’

Jacob was already footering about on the floor of the larder. ‘Is a Malbec alright for you?’

‘Sound, Jake – perfect.’

I went to sit down at what had been my customary corner seat at the kitchen table, but when I pulled out the chair, it was heavy due to the presence of a large cream cat.

‘Mother, is this Hoover or did you get yourself another ragdoll?’

‘No, you daftie, of course it’s Hoover – he’s nineteen now,’ she remarked proudly.

I lifted Hoover up and sat down with him on my lap. ‘Hi boy, how are you doing? God, Mum, he’s in good nick – you’re looking after him well.’

‘Cos he’s treated like a lord, that’s why. He’s slowed down a lot, mind you. He still goes out but doesn’t venture very far now. He still gets a kick chasing the hens, but he spends a lot of time sleeping.’

‘He’s purring like a traction engine, the boy. So good to see him. I never saw him when I was here at the funeral and I was frightened to ask in case he’d snuffed it.’

‘See us all out, pal,’ Jake contributed.

I transferred the cat to the neighbouring empty seat and started on the meal.

‘Did the two of you achieve much today?’ my mother asked pointedly.

‘Bits and pieces for me, Mother.’

‘Just some stuff about dog breeders for me, Rhoda.’

‘Filthy beasts, dogs, still won’t have them around. Have you still got that Alsatian, Ted?’

‘Trampas? Oh yes, still got the good fella. I’ve two cats as well though, Mum, Bleep and Booster. Once we’re finished this delicious meal, Mother, Jake and I will need to retreat next door for a powwow.’

‘Don’t worry. The more I know, the more I’ll worry about the pair of you.’

With that we spent the rest of the meal just swapping pleasantries.

Within an hour we made our apologies and retreated to Jake’s lounge. Jake switched on his big screen television to check for any midweek sports programmes, but he kept the volume down. ‘Right, you go first, Ted.’

I sat down on his sofa and summarised my visits to Anne-Marie and Caroline. His eyes widened at the expected places, Anne-Marie’s black eye and the illicit video exposing Frankie’s crisis. ‘Bloody hell, Ted. You’ve hit the jackpot. Poor Frankie. What the hell was he thinking?’

‘By the way, Jake, are you still involved with the motorcycle club?’

‘Indeed I am, the Linnhe Leatherbacks, no less. There’s not so much activity these days but we used to try and get together for a pint or a rideout once every couple of months.’

‘Does anyone in the club have a red Honda Goldwing with local plates? Immaculate, incidentally.’

‘That machine is owned by “Saighdear” himself, Abe Beaton.’

‘Should have guessed, really. So you still call him “soldier”?’

‘Old habit, I suppose, not sure how keen he is on it, considering how he got kicked out of the Army. Why are you asking about his bike?’

‘I’m convinced that he’s been tailing me all day, up the glen and then over to Corpach. I take it he’s still employed by the Haigs?’

‘Very much so. Enforcer. Mediator. You name it.’

‘Murderer!?’

Jake put his hands behind his head, stretched his neck and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Mmm, I don’t know about that. I can’t say I’ve ever been a close friend of his. We’ve always tolerated each other within the club and we have shared the same opinions on some things. I mean there’s no doubt he’s capable of violence and ruthlessness but actually killing somebody; that’s a further step up, a big step.’

‘Must admit, I always thought he would top his granny in a heartbeat.’

Jake cackled in response. ‘No, he’s a strange one – very soft when it comes to kids, women and animals, and if anyone in the club has a problem, he does make himself available. But right, nephew, let’s move on for now. I’ll tell you what I found out from the breeders.’

‘Right, shoot.’

‘Well, for a kick off it wasn’t straightforward. All three kennels were initially very suspicious about my motives for phoning and started quoting confidentiality issues as being an obstruction to furthering the conversation. However, I quoted your suggestion as to the reason that I wanted to get in touch with buyers; that I was speaking on behalf of a rare breeds pressure group who were trying to glean plenty of information on the safety of the Preso Canaria breed to prevent the UK going the same way as Australia and banning the breed within its borders.’

‘Good job, Jacob.’

‘Aye, varied success, I would say. The fellow in Strathaven, Hugh Galloway, he remained a bit arsey and said he would like to meet a member of our group in person to see the cut of his or her jib. Only then would he personally get in touch with his customers to discuss the issue. If they were happy with it, he would then pass on their details.’

‘Mmm, bit of a pain, but I can see where he’s coming from, and at least there’s a potential way in. What about the other two?’

‘The woman Godsman from Tranent was initially prickly but warmed greatly to your bollocks of a story. She said she was delighted that someone was sticking up for small businesses with small profit margins, and she was all for fighting any suggestion of new legislation that might outlaw the breed. The only problem with the Godsmans was that they had no computerised records and they recently had a fire in their office and may have lost a lot of paper records.’

‘That’s a bugger! Unless they’re masking a tax dodge.’

‘Naw, she sounded too much of a sweetie for that, just hapless!’

‘So a trawl through charred remnants – not so good.’

‘What about Lanark?’

‘The owner there, a Drew Elliott, nice man – I only got through to him shortly before you came in – there had been no reply all day. Same again, appeared a bit sceptical at first. But he opened up as the conversation progressed. He said his record keeping had been a bit lacking of late as he had been run off his feet. He’s planning to retire fairly soon but he would be happy to give us any information we need if we did the leg work at his place ourselves.’

‘Good man – makes life a bit easier.’

‘Here’s the thing, Ted. Just a coincidence obviously, but we were getting on great guns in our chat – I got the impression he was enjoying some banter – and he asked me where was the source of my accent. I said “West Highlands”, and he replied, “That’s where I’m retiring to. I can’t get enough of the fishing up there. I’m hoping to move to Mull – get a wee cottage, a boat for fishing and some creels.”’

‘Well, well, blow me down. You know I don’t believe in coincidences, Jake! How very interesting, how very, very interesting.’

‘Will that be our first stop then?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Right, I’m off to bed. Don’t be that excited that you can’t sleep.’

‘No chance of that. I have difficult conversations with Lawrie Haig and my dear brother to be had and that might have to be tomorrow.’

I was in the shower next morning when I heard my mother’s scream – a bloodcurdling yelp that one would expect to accompany at least one form of hideous carnage. I bolted naked over to the bed, towelled down in a couple of wipes, got my jeans on and pulled my tee shirt over my head as I jumped down the stairs.

She was shaking violently as I crashed through the kitchen door. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Something’s hurt Hoover, he’s covered in blood.’

‘Okay Mum, sit down right now. Where is he?’

‘He charged back outside when I screamed.’

‘Right, take a seat and I’ll go and look for him.’

I ran quickly outside and veered round the side of the house narrowly avoiding collision with my uncle. ‘Geez, sorry Jake.’

‘No bother. We’ve had a visitor,’ as he referred me to the large gable wall of the house.

In large dark red lettering, was painted, ‘FUCK OFF BACK TO FRANCE, CONSHEE’.

‘Well, well, well, we’re definitely upsetting someone, if we weren’t quite convinced of that before.’

At that, Hoover emerged from under my Golf resplendent in red tail and red helmet.

‘Bastards! Poor Hoov! The ignominy of it all.’

As we sat round the table, my mother’s concern for her pet continued. ‘Are you sure that’ll come out, Ted?’

‘No worries. I might need to use a spirit on it, which means I’ll need to get a collar from Charlie Vance in case he starts trying to lick it dry. He’s got nothing on his tongue at the moment but that might change. If the paint won’t dissolve, I’ll borrow a shaver from Charlie.’

‘My poor boy.’

‘Yep, Mum. Vile pig, whoever it was. The paint looks quite thick.’

Jake chipped in, ‘Aye, it looks like industrial stuff; like something you’d paint a boiler with. I’ll need to jet spray the wall, then eventually whitewash it.’

‘That’ll probably do it. Hoover kinda suits the touch up, mind. Classy.’

‘Don’t be such a clown, Ted,’ my mother retorted without looking up from her precious beastie.

‘So does this change what you two get up to today?’

‘I think I might take a run up to Spean to see Lawrie, as planned. I’ll pick up the stuff I need for Hoover from the vet first though,’ I added quickly.

‘And I think I might go and have a word with Saighdear. Nothing too confrontational but his reaction to things might be telling. I’ll take him a picture of our wall.’

At Three Mile Water, south of the Fort, the A82 crosses the River Kiachnish. Most drivers flash along this part of the road, as the short open straight beyond the bridge gives a rare opportunity to overtake slow vehicles before the jam of the nearby town. It tended to be only locals that notice the small road that leaves the main road here and follows the watercourse back up the gulley from which it emerges.

Jake cursed as he negotiated his way past potholes on the uneven surface astride his beloved Indian. It was undeniably a lovely atmospheric spot as west coast deciduous forest blanketed the small river as it made its way down to the sea loch. Very quickly it seemed he came across the small track that led to a bluff sitting above a deep pool in the river. There lay Abe Beaton’s home. A compact modern bungalow – all larch and glass with a covered verandah along the length of its front.

If he so wished, Abe could cast a fly rod from a seat at the table on his verandah into the dark pool below. Fishing licences were required for the length of the river, but a blind eye was turned towards the former soldier who was effective as an unofficial bailiff.

Jacob dismounted and looked back at the view towards the loch and the Ardgour coast beyond. Birds were singing and insects buzzed in the undergrowth. It was difficult to marry the bucolic beauty of the spot with the reputation of the owner of the cottage.

‘Jake Stewart, ciamar a tha?’

‘Tha gu math, tapadh leibh, Saighdear.’

‘Thig a-steach, Jake,’ Abe beckoned towards his open door.

As they got inside the tidy but busy little living room, Abe shook Jake’s hand firmly and clapped him on the shoulder with his left hand. It was difficult to comprehend the warmth of the greeting whilst acknowledging the bitterness that existed between one’s brother-in-law and the other’s employer.

‘Sit yourself down, Jake. What brings you down to Beaton Towers on this glorious morning?’ He turned and went into his kitchen, only to return quickly with two glasses and a suspiciously unlabelled bottle of clear fluid.

‘Is this fresh from the still, Saighdear?’

‘Haha, you know me too well, Jake. I was going to surprise you. Ian McGlashan, the gamekeeper over in Conaglen operates a still up the back. He comes over every so often and I keep an eye on things for him in return for some product. Try a nip.’

Jake sniffed at the glass, ‘Gee, this is like aviation fuel.’ He tried a small sip but winced at the potency. ‘Oh no, Saighdear, enough – that’ll have me reeling.’

Abe knocked back his nip but acknowledged, ‘Maybe a bit early in the day for this, right enough.’

‘To answer your original question, Abraham. I’m afraid it’s that hoary old sensitivity again – family issues.’

‘Och, Jake, why go and spoil a perfectly good Lochaber morning?’

‘Well, I know, it’s not great. But are things not getting a bit too serious?’

‘Look, Jake, like you, I’m not a major protagonist in this stupid game, we’re just minor players. Me, I’m paid to do certain things and keep shtoom. We’ve both survived in territories where life is so cheap that one wrong gesture or word could have ended in torture or death and yet these dumb bastards with their comfortable lives are always content to disrupt the peace.’

‘I share some of your feelings, Saighdear, but I’m biased enough to defend the reasoning behind Duncan’s original actions. Listen, that wee girl was a light in my life too in the few short years we had her at Banavie. Helping to look after her was crucial to me, following Malaya. Duncan and Rhoda were very active in the community then and I often spent hours on my own with her. This will sound daft but I often thought I was protecting her from the same monsters that emerged from my nightmares back then, and in turn it helped me. Of course, I am close to the boys, but they were that bit older. Rosie was special to me.’

‘Look, Jake, I cannot consider you an adversary in all this. As you know, I didn’t start working for the Haigs until that tragedy was past. However, I did say to Stuart Haig that I would no longer be willing to work for him if I ever found out that Duncan’s allegations about Rose’s abduction or death turned out to be true. I suffered terrible cruelty at the hands of my elder brothers when I was a kid. Being dangled over bridges by the foot or getting half drowned in the sea are hard things to forget. Is it any wonder I turned out warped and ran away to the Army, before buggering it up for myself? So, no, I will not be a Haig employee any more if any harm to children is involved. Never. But at the moment, I take wages from the man so sometimes there are unpalatable activities to be carried out.’

‘I take it then, you would draw the line at killing someone?’

‘I’m surprised you’re even asking that, Jake. Yes, I have to admit I’ve resorted to aggression for certain reasons but murder? C’mon. Maybe I don’t do enough to deny things lest it diminishes my eh… reputation.’

‘I just don’t see what Stuart Haig is fearful of, if there is nothing to hide. Why does he need you for any of this stuff? Why are you bothering to tail Ted? Why are we back painting shit on my sister’s house and her poor ruddy cat for God’s sake?’

Abe sensed Jake had begun to bristle but knew there was no point in escalation to open friction. He had a lot of time for the bearded fellow biker. ‘I know nothing about the vandalism of your home on this occasion, Jake. I’m both surprised and disappointed. And violating a pet cat is beneath contempt. As for tailing Ted, I plead guilty. I was simply asked to do it. I have little idea of the purpose or benefit of it.’

‘I just wanted a sense of where you stood in all of this at the moment, Abe.’

‘I daresay we’re not going to give each other’s secrets away, Jake. It will all die down again some time. Maybe it’ll take Ted going home for that to happen but we’ll see. I can’t say much more really.’

‘Fair enough, Saighdear. I’m looking forwards to getting out fishing again and getting some long trips done on my bike.’

‘Yeah, maybe we can get together and try a trip to the continent at a future date.’

‘Could be a plan – a club run to Scandinavia. Now that makes sense.’ Jake sighed and stood up. ‘Right, I better be off. I want to try and get that scrawl off the wall before Rhoda cracks up. See you around, Saighdear.’ They both headed outside into the brightness. The gauge on the Indian showed a temperature of eighteen degrees. They gave each other a clap on the back, then Jake headed home.

Abe looked to the heavens wistfully. Just who the hell had sanctioned the graffiti on the Camerons’ wall? Bloody stupidity. No doubt Jackson had been involved.

Later that same morning, leaving Hoover shaved, collared and smelling of solvent and my mother dumbstruck, I got into my hired car and headed for Spean Bridge, a village about nine miles away, north on the A82. I had phoned the high school earlier to ask to speak to Mr Lawrence Haig only to be told that he was not teaching today as he had been granted leave of absence as his younger brother was ill.

On reaching the village, I took a road on the right before the hotel and headed for the area of Killiechonate. I had only been up this single-track road that followed the river on rare occasions. What had possessed Lawrie to move up here? He seemed to be happy in Corpach. Jake had informed me that I couldn’t miss his new home and that it was signposted ‘Riverbank Lodge’. I seemed to have driven a couple of miles beyond the village through mixed woodland when suddenly on negotiating a bend there lay a wooden house on stilts that extended out over the River Spean. There was no hiding that Lawrie must have designed his home himself. His artistic eye had always been one to envy. The parking area was small and it took a couple of manoeuvres to make sure I was off the road.

The noise had brought the tall, lean owner to his door, ‘What a racket! Aye, make sure you’re well off the road, you mental Frenchman, you never know when we’re going to get a big convoy down this road.’

‘Oh, shut up, you sarcastic bastard. How the devil are you?’

Lawrie let out a guffaw, jumped down the two steps and enveloped me in a warm hug. ‘Great to see you, Ted. Starting to get some grey about the temples, like myself.’

‘On the slippery slope, pal, I’m telling you. Great to see you, bud, honestly.’ I felt myself welling up. Lawrie’s warm greeting had transported me back nearly twenty years and all that was good about my upbringing rose up inside and caught me off guard. Why should I have doubted that our friendship would ever deteriorate. ‘How’s Finlay? Your school secretary said he was ill.’

‘Aye, come on in. He’s a good bit brighter, thanks. I was up through the night with him, his temperature got up to near forty and he was hallucinating. I’m sure it’s a viral thing that will settle, but I was caught out a couple of years back when he went down quickly, and the poor blighter ended up in the Belford with sepsis. I was lucky not to lose him.’

‘So, it’s nice to see you moved to the back of beyond to make it easier for the emergency services to locate you.’

‘No more of your bloody cheek, Cameron. C’mon, it’s a lovely spot, the colours are fantastic for painting and I get further away from the family.’

The noise of our conversation brought a bleary-eyed Finlay through an internal door into Lawrie’s stunningly decorated living room. ‘Good morning.’

‘Hi Finlay, long time no see. How are you feeling?’

Finlay had never seemed to let his Downs syndrome define him, but this morning the viral onslaught rendered him a bit bemused.

‘Well Fin, do you remember this guy?’ Lawrie chanced.

Finlay switched his gaze from his brother to me. He studied my face slowly and tucked his red pyjama top beneath his red pyjama trousers with careful deliberation. You could gradually see the recognition registering in his eyes and smile. He rushed forwards to hug me. ‘It’s the monkey man!’ Finlay loved that story of pain and humiliation.

‘It’s great to see you, Finlay. Shame you’re not so well. Wish you’d forget that ruddy story, mind.’

Finlay and Lawrie laughed heartily, before the elder brother slowly escorted his sibling back to his bed. ‘You’re still pretty wabbit. I’d rather you got more rest just now, you’ll see Ted another time soon.’

‘You’re quite right, Lawrie. He’s obviously under the weather, but you can tell he’s still as sharp as a tack.’

‘He is, Ted. Even I was expecting him to slow down a bit when he hit thirty – the cardiologist warned us it might happen, but so far, so good.’

‘Do you get any help with Finlay’s care?’

‘To be honest, he doesn’t really need very much. What he needs is a presence, someone familiar he can turn to and who can keep an eye on him. My mother is a star and so are the girls at the shop in town. I drop him off with Mum if I’m teaching and she then dictates the course of his day. It all works out well.’

‘And what about you, Lawrie? Do you get enough time for yourself?’

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way, believe me. Right, c’mon, I’ll put on the kettle and we’ll go sit out on the seats on the decking. It’s too nice to be stuck inside.’

As Lawrie busied himself in his kitchen, I surveyed the walls of the room. Stunning watercolours and a couple of large black and white period photographs of European cities filled three walls. Most of the paintings appeared to have ‘LH’ in the bottom right corner. The fourth wall was mostly taken up with large windows and a sliding glass door that opened onto the decking over the river. I opened the door and sauntered out into the sunshine. The babble of the river offered a salving tranquillity in this delightful piece of countryside.

Lawrie eventually appeared with two mugs of tea and a packet of Wagon Wheels tucked under one arm. ‘Brought you out an old favourite, I bet you can’t get these tuck shop favourites down in the Dordogne.’

‘Sadly true, you’ve got me salivating now.’

‘I’m so chuffed you’ve managed to get up here, Ted. Seriously, it’s been far too long since we’ve chewed the fat. DJ’s funeral was just too sad a time for everyone – just awful. Hell, the three of us were virtually inseparable for such a big chunk of our lives.’

‘Indeed. But if anything, life seems a bit more unreal now than it did even those few months ago.’

‘You couldn’t be more correct and I’m afraid I can chuck in a couple of revelations just to mix things up further for you. I hope you were heading my way anyway but I wondered if someone or other might have steered you in this direction as well.’

‘Yip, everyone and their frigging dog have been pushing me in your direction.’ I laughed. ‘All a bit mysterious, I might add.’

‘Really? God, what a shower!’

‘I’d take it as a compliment. Folk must appreciate we’re still tight despite all the crap that goes on between the families.’

‘And they would be right.’

‘You know what, if it wasn’t that time was a bit precious, I’d love to borrow Jake’s fly rod and join you on this deck for a day of casting. You’re right, it’s glorious here.’

‘Now we’re talking, Frenchman! I’ll hold you to that if you can spare a day sometime.’

I took some time to finish my drink and biscuit, then moved my seat to allow me to face Lawrie and not be distracted by the sunlight.

‘Right, for a kick off,’ Lawrie ventured. ‘I have to apologise to you for the charade in France – I presume Shirley has now told you about my part in things. Your dad was convinced it was the only way of getting you home. I must admit I thought it was too drastic but maybe the old bugger was right.’

‘It’s going to take a long time to forgive him, just so crazy and thoughtless. Alain, Lisa’s father was all for blowing the guys to smithereens and wee Flora was terrified.’

‘I can’t apologise enough for my part, Ted. So much had been happening and your father can put up a convincing argument. Of course, it’s all gone haywire and now Harald and Tommy are gone.’

‘I came across Tommy but didn’t know of your Polish mate.’

‘So sad. Harald was a lovely guy. He was quite a talented artist – I’d met him through a class I’d given down in Benderloch and we got him onto our five-a-side football team when we found out he was a tricky forward. He ran a prawn boat, usually out of Oban, but lived with his girlfriend in Appin. They moved here from near Quimper in Brittany and were fluent in French. He offered to help after he overheard me planning on the phone to Shirley one evening. The night he disappeared he was due to meet me with some information – I think about Tommy.’

‘What a waste of life. I hope my father thinks it’s worth it, because this just sickens me, Lawrie. When was my old man going to give me the big reveal and let me know he was the… eh… mastermind behind all this? At the moment it looks like good people have suffered for no return. What on earth lies behind the death of those two guys?’

‘Look, Ted, it gives me no pleasure to say this, but a lot of people have suffered at the hands of my family and indeed the Grigors for decades, so maybe it is time things change a bit. I can only guess it had been found out that they’d consorted with the enemy as it were. But it has seriously rattled me and I have suffocating guilt that I allowed the pair of them to help. I just didn’t think my family would be capable of murder if that’s what it’s been. But things have to change!’

I let Lawrie’s words sink in, trying to evaluate what he was imparting. ‘But really, Lawrie? You want things to change? Would you be willing to become a family outcast and risk losing all you have, just to help a fanciful venture by the Cameron family? I don’t like a lot of your family but you don’t deserve to suffer. You can stop now.’

‘Ted, I have already strayed too far from family lines. There will probably be no way back to anyone bar my mother and Finlay, if things pan out as they may.’

‘My God, you’re worrying me now, Lawrie. For heaven’s sake don’t give up your current way of life for a Cameron scheme.’

Lawrie stood up and went inside, only to reappear within minutes with a thick notebook and a twelve-inch carboard tube.

‘There’s a fair amount you need to know, Ted. And you should know that I’m extremely unhappy with a lot about my current life and I am more than willing to take steps to help change that.’

‘I hope this won’t render me any more perplexed than I am already.’

‘Well, wait and see what you think. About three months back, Shirley got in touch with me. It was after Donnie John’s death and it felt really odd at first but I must admit I came to relish it, especially the way things had previously come to light. DJ had come to see me several months ago after years of little contact. He was miserable, but at the same time, determined. He said he needed to speak to someone he could trust and you were too far away.’

‘I can only imagine Shirley was delighted with that sentiment.’

‘Ah, but there’s the rub, he said he couldn’t speak to Shirley at that point and he said he had a funny feeling about Frankie, as he’d seen him coming out of my dad’s house on two separate evenings that he’d been up in that part of the town giving guitar lessons. Anyway, DJ said he’d felt physically unwell for the best part of two years – just “vague stuff” in his words – tiredness, general muscle weakness and loss of libido, which had been a delicate issue as Shirley had wanted more children for a long time. He went to his practice and saw one of Aamir’s partners who ran a batch of tests. To get the results he went back in, but got a quirky GP trainee on that occasion, who DJ thought was on the spectrum. Anyway, his blood sugar was borderline high and his blood pressure was up, but the doc said they’d continue to monitor both issues but basically nothing sinister had shown up. However, as he was going out the door, with typical DJ wit, he ventured, “I don’t suppose you can do anything about my man-boobs?”’

‘The doctor got him back in the chair and stripped him off there and then, and agreed that his chest did seem flabbily enlarged for an otherwise tall, skinny malink. To DJ’s alarm, he then checked his scrotum and felt things were a bit on the small side down there. Next thing he knew the doctor was sending off more blood for genetic tests.’

‘Oh-oh! Jeez, I don’t like where this is going.’

‘Well, horse doctor, if you were thinking Klinefelter’s, you’ve just won a watch. Obviously, vet medicine crosses over a bit.’

‘Well, no, it’s not that. Lisa’s cousin, Thierry, has the condition. Similarly, only diagnosed as an adult; so he and his wife are in the middle of infertility management back in Nantes. Bloody hell, poor DJ. What a bombshell, no wonder he went off the rails.’

‘Exactly! And then of course, he started thinking about Calum. The doctor felt he couldn’t say more on that without DJ speaking to Shirley and Calum, and commissioning more tests.’

‘Mmm, I’m just thinking… about the timing of things back in the day. We never really chatted about very intimate stuff then, but without trying to put you on the spot, am I right in thinking there’s a realistic chance that you’re Calum’s father?’

‘Bloody hell! Typical Ted bleedin’ Cameron – getting to the point via the most direct route. Well, the answer is yes, and it’s been a bit mind-blowing since DJ told me all this.’

‘Well, well, Daddy Lawrie, what can I say? Sounds fine. Although all rather surreal.’

‘Hardly ruddy fine, you oaf, and you know it! I thought DJ might have wanted to kill me, but then again, I had absolutely no way of thinking I could be a father at the time. Shirley and I had finished abruptly in a very painful manner as you’ll remember, and she got together with Donnie so quickly, which I found very difficult to accept initially. DJ and me were both tall, dark-haired skinny nerds, so a child growing up fitting that description should hardly be a surprise.’

‘So why do you think DJ confronted you like that?’

‘He said he had become depressed, was drinking too much and that this information had brought him to the edge of despair. He said he wouldn’t let Shirley know. He was adamant that she couldn’t have known she was pregnant when they got together – she doesn’t know how to be dishonest. I exclude the stuff with you in France as she was against it until she got on the plane.’

‘I share that sentiment entirely. Shirley has her faults, but she would draw the line at that type of deceit.’

‘Absolutely. I think the silly bugger should have spoken to her though. Instead, he made her and Calum’s lives miserable. He came to me as he had no place left to turn. He was desperately seeking solace in our friendship. He even stole his own medical records from the practice for perusal and to prove to me he was telling the truth, not that I doubted his word at any time. Just totally irrational – he should have gone directly to Aamir and asked for a counselling or psychology referral and that would have been the only reason for going back to the surgery, not breaking into the flippin’ place.’

‘Aamir wouldn’t suspect Donny of it at all. He was mortified that they’d lost the notes, albeit temporarily.’

‘DJ was just so wired at that point; he’d even got hold of some cocaine from somebody and I threatened I would give up on him if he continued with its use. I tried taking him down to see some football at Fir Park, and to a couple of gigs but he couldn’t settle at them. I must admit I feared more for him back then rather than when he did pass. I was on the verge of going to see Shirley and spilling the beans but I felt I couldn’t betray his trust. And then all of a sudden, a cause came to light. I don’t know how much you know, but you have to be told no matter what.’

‘Christ Almighty, what’s this now?’

‘It’s Frankie, Ted, he’s being threatened by my father and the Grigors – they’ve got a sex tape of him.’

‘I’ve literally just found out. He’s my next destination.’

‘Well, go easy on him, the bastards have corrupted him for their own ends. I discovered the matter by accident. I had cycled up to see Mum one day about taking Finlay and her down to see a play at the Pitlochry theatre. I fell asleep in the wee snug by the kitchen whilst waiting for her to finish off in the back garden. Next thing I knew, the internal kitchen door flies open and I hear my dad and Roy Grigor cursing and swearing about Frankie. From where they stood, they couldn’t see me around the corner next door. Basically, what they were discussing was increasing the amount of drugs coming into Lochaber by utilising the airport at Oban. Frankie had apparently vetoed it as being too risky, but the pair of them were apoplectic with rage at this; and that’s when I heard my dad say that he would tell Frankie that footage would be sent to Liz. I guessed from the vulgarity expressed by the pair of them that it was an “in flagrante” tape with Caroline.

‘I was totally disgusted but didn’t know what to do with the information, so I sat stewing on it until I felt sharing the information with DJ was the right thing to do.’

‘I can see how the matter would have got Donnie John fired up. But did the pair of you do anything concrete about it or even speak to Frankie?’

‘Well, we sat down and tried to work out a plan of action. We reckoned the tape would either be in my old man’s safe or in Roy Grigor’s. Not in Charlie’s possession, I would reckon. Charlie is a strange one. I think he finds all the illegal activity distasteful but he can’t help himself, because he likes the profits of criminality too much. Old Ronnie is an irascible rogue like his grandson but he wouldn’t want the hassle of looking after anything plus I always feel with the Grigors and with Ronnie, especially having witnessed him at meetings, that they’re always keen to abdicate a lot of responsibility in the direction of my father. My father doesn’t see it but I think it’s their way of avoiding the worst sanctions if things go tits up somewhere down the line.’

‘It all makes sense, certainly. So how far did you get with things?’

‘Unfortunately, not very far at first, as Donnie John died. He’d been very upbeat too when we last spoke, although we had a minor spat. He had been out drinking in town with the guys from his work when they ran into Jackson. From what he said, DJ inferred that he had let Jackson know that he knew about the tape.’

‘Oh my God! Do you think that was him signing his own death warrant?’

‘Look, Ted. I’ve thought about it a lot and despite my feelings about my family on other matters, I can’t see my father getting Donnie killed. He is a right old bastard but you don’t have to go back very far, just to my grandfather’s days, when the Haigs and the Mathiesons were very friendly. And remember, as teenagers, my mother would treat the three of us as brothers and have us round at the house quite often. My father couldn’t have been overjoyed with the two of you being there but he enjoyed the nonsense of the teenage patter, so for him to arrange the death of one of you decades later is too big a jump for my brain to compute.’

‘Perhaps. So you are not dismissing the suicide verdict?’

‘From what Shirley has told me and from my earlier meetings with Donnie John, no, it is hard to dismiss.’

‘Do you think DJ could also have told Jackson about the old man’s visit?’

‘Very possibly. He was certainly very outspoken about it being something he intended to pursue as a group, but alone if necessary.’

‘And do you know how much of everything he and Shirley told Calum, because he is adamant it wasn’t suicide and his father was basically on some kind of mission?’

‘As far as I can gather, he was trying to keep him out of things, and certainly he knows nothing about the paternity issue or the true nature of the French debacle.’

‘And on the “paternity issue”, how is Shirley processing things? You did the right thing telling her about it, after Donnie John had passed.’

‘Desperately badly, she can’t really bring herself to talk about it just now, which I entirely understand, and maybe my timing could have been a bit better. She thinks it has been the major factor in Donnie’s demise and the guilt is killing her. I’ll be honest with you, Ted, I’m hoping that one day Shirley and I might be a couple again. But maybe it’s too much of a pipe dream.’

‘You’ll definitely get my support, pal. But tell me this, what are the black book and the tube all about, ya arse?’

‘Calm down, I’m getting there. You’ll agree that getting your brother off the hook has to be a priority. So what I’ve got here is a plan of my parents’ house with the position of the safe, fuse box and downstairs alarm PIR sensors. And the book contains something I’ve compiled myself. As a family director, I get open access to the files that list all the legal and illegal transactions that the family have been involved in going back many years. I have copied down relevant parts including bank account details and have photocopied signatures.’

‘Jesus, Lawrie, you can definitely forget ever worming your way back into the bosom of the family for sure. Gee, I don’t even know if your mother could forgive you for this one.’

‘Fuck ’em all, they just patronise me and ignore my objections to their drug trade. And Mother, bless her, she’ll never give up on me.’

‘So have you and Frankie got together to plan your eh… robbery?’

‘We’ve only met briefly but we were planning to get together this week, when you appeared. Frankie is understandably keen to move on it as soon as possible, and can’t wait to take the families down, after what they’ve put him through. He was cursing you a bit for coming and potentially stirring up trouble before we acted.’

‘Well, I get his point but maybe he should have shared a bit considering the enormity of the separate issues. I presume Frankie was never involved in the French farce.’

‘No, Frankie was appalled and really angry at your dad. But all this stuff has changed Frankie, he’s talking about leaving the force early even if he isn’t forced to, that’s once the dust dies down on whatever happens.’

‘Shame. It’s been his life but maybe doing something like private investigation, working on his own, might satisfy him. However, that’s a long way off yet, as whoever carries out the robbery will undoubtedly be putting themselves in peril.’

‘I think Frankie and I will be the two robbers – stripey jerseys and all.’

‘Good grief, it’ll be like a Carry On film with the pair of you.’

‘Cheers.’

‘Right, I think I’ll get out of your hair now and go and see little brother – perhaps we can arrange to synchronise our activities for best effect. I might be heading down to Lanarkshire soon.’

‘Could be a plan. Remember, next time – bring a fly rod and some lager.’

‘It’s a date, my friend.’

I got back in the Golf and took the A82 back south to try and pin down Frankie at the local police station. Unfortunately, on this occasion, I had not spotted the red Honda Goldwing, which I later learned had been tucked behind a dense thicket, one hundred yards short of Lawrie’s property. The short journey to town wouldn’t allow me the time for everything that Lawrie had told me to sink in. The meeting ahead of me now held no fears. Frankie had fucked up, but his subsequent behaviour was explicable and he was now seeking retribution. There would be no shouting match in the foyer of the cop shop as I had previously envisaged.

‘Have a seat, Mr Cameron,’ the amiable young PC instructed. ‘I’ll just check if he’s free to see you at the moment.’

He returned after a couple of minutes.

‘You’ve just to go in, Mr Cameron. Third door on right.’

The two of us locked eyes and we both recognised the previous dynamic between us had changed.

‘Have a slightly more comfy seat, we don’t have any chairs in here that are luxurious as we don’t like folk hanging around too long. Obviously family aren’t included in that.’

‘Frankie, I must confess that I’m eating humble pie. If I’d known for one second what these bastards were putting you through, I would never have breenged back into Lochaber without checking in with you first. I’m just so sorry for you.’

Tears filled my brother’s eyes. ‘It’s just been a shambles – an absolute nightmare. I’m probably going to lose everything. I tried contacting you at the time when the video’s existence was revealed, but you were away from home with work. I couldn’t go to anyone else so I’ve had to stew in my own guilt since, at least until Lawrie got in touch. I’m just so, so ashamed, Ted. And poor Caroline, what was I thinking? My brother’s childhood sweetheart. For fuck’s sake – it’s pathetic. Poor Liz, she’s absolutely lovely. She may never have had Caroline’s mystique but she is and always has been a smart beautiful woman.’

I leant forwards to try and get into my brother’s space. ‘Look, Frankie. You were stressed and tempted and you were caught out. You were remorseful immediately by the sound of it. And the Haigs and the Grigors have got to pay for what they’ve done to you, both of you. And regarding Liz, I feel you’re going to have to tell her everything as soon as you can. She will hate you, she might even leave you but there might, just might, be a future. But if you don’t tell her and she finds out anything from another source… you’re fucked!’

‘You’re right. I’ve just been a coward about not telling her up till now.’

‘Well, make that right soon. Then you and Lawrie get your heads together as there’s no point in any vacillation – people are dying. I take it you’ve been a bit economical with the truth about your thoughts about recent events.’

‘I’ve deliberately kept you out of it for your own good, Ted. I’ve been noting things down to help build a case against the two families and I keep the info at home on my own laptop and in log books. I think there’s a mole in the station who’s feeding back stuff on me to the lot of them, so my PC here is squeaky clean. But yes, when the time is right, you’ll realise I’ve not been keeping my head in the sand.’

‘A mole? Bloody hell, mate. God, I bet you could throttle them.’

‘It might start with that, yes. So, what about you, apart from finding out about your brother’s sins, have you been productive in your quest to find the stranger?’

I related the contact with the kennels with our uncle’s help.

‘You might be onto something there. I mean, you should know your dogs, right?’

‘Well, aye, but it’s still all a bit flimsy but I think I have to act on it.’

‘Fair enough.’

What a relief it was to hear my brother almost sanctioning my actions – we’d come a very long way in a short time.

‘Did you hear that Jake has arranged a visit to see Dad for the pair of us?’

‘Yip, Mother mentioned it – you must be euphoric about that. Don’t start a fight with him in the priory, you’ll get turfed out by the brothers.’

‘I think that’s why Jake has insisted on accompanying me.’

‘When is all this happening?’

‘Eh tomorrow, be damned. So we’ll need to arrange a grand powwow for when we get back – you, Lawrie, Jake and myself.’

‘Absolutely. Right, off you go. I’ve got to see Harald Klose’s girlfriend again, now that Lawrie has filled me in with more exact information.’

‘Hoover’s still not himself yet, Ted,’ my mother revealed as the three of us sat around the table finishing off the night’s meal.

‘Give it time. He probably hates the collar but keep it on till after you give him another soak tomorrow.’

‘Do you want me to go up with the pair of you tomorrow? I’ve always liked the Black Isle – lovely bit of coastline.’

Jake pounced before I could offer her my berth. ‘Not this time, Rhoda, I don’t think. We’re going to be pushed for time, so it won’t be very relaxing.’

My mother rose and headed towards the door. ‘Right, I’m off for an early night. I’m going to get up early to make you guys some food for the journey.’ Her voice broke up a little. ‘Just try and get him to come home soon.’ She ruffled my hair as she passed, heading for the stairs.

Jake and I exchanged sombre glances. ‘She’ll be fine,’ Jake professed candidly.

‘Abe, please tell me I’ve just fucking imagined what you’ve just said… Hang on, here’s Jackson.’ Jackson, ruddy of face and sweating from jogging along the street from his own home crash-landed his bulk in the biggest armchair.

Abe stroked his chin and took a deep breath. ‘Some bad news, Jacko. I tailed Ted Cameron up to Lawrie’s this morning. I’ve got a fairly primitive listening device – a bit of a Heath Robinson contraption, imagine an old TV top aerial that you can fold down – and I managed to catch the tail end of a conversation between the pair of them. It was really difficult to make things out exactly, but what I did hear was Lawrie saying he had filled a book with copies of all business matters and photocopies of financial statements complete with signatures. And I also heard Ted saying that he was heading to Lanarkshire shortly on some matter and that they must coordinate activity. There was other stuff about plans but I couldn’t hear it well enough.’

‘Holy God in heaven, we are fucked! Forget my previous softness on Lawrie – he needs seriously dealt with. I’ll volunteer to shoot the fucker myself.’ Jackson was convincing at incandescence.

‘What the hell has got into your brother? He must know this spells catastrophe. Why has he collected all this stuff? Bloody idiot. Right, we’ll need to send your mother up to Spean tomorrow to try and get the background, tell him of our awareness of things and to put the clamps on him. What else do you suggest, Abe?’

‘Look, Stuart, you know I’ve tried to stay out of your immediate family matters. If this was an employee or an outsider, I would have dragged him in by the scrotum by this point to establish the motive for his actions. I really like Lawrie. This must be deep and personal for him. Personally, I think you’ve got to proceed as gently as you previously mooted. Asking Sandra to intervene is perfect for now. Let’s face it, the three of us here at the moment are three of the most despised people in the county. Sandra, on the other hand is viewed entirely differently. I would give Sandra the floor. If nothing changes, we’ll have to put pressure on your gentle boy. I would advise you still not to inform the Grigors at this stage nor, despite the Lanarkshire comment, let Tom Landells know we have a potential leak up here.’

Jackson shook his head. ‘I’m going to have to disagree with you there, Abe. The Grigors are long-term partners. They have a right to know if someone’s gone rogue. And similarly, we wouldn’t have a drugs business without Tom Landells; he has to be warned.’

Stuart by now was ashen. ‘I think Abe may be right, Jacko – at least for now. Ronnie and Roy Grigor have it in them to resort to levels of violence that we have never reached. And as for Tom Landells, his reputation for retribution is legendary. I can’t expose Lawrie to that.’

‘He’s asking for it, Dad.’

‘Just leave it, Jacko! I’m telling you.’

Jake was an accomplished musician and had been a stalwart on drums in backing our teenage garage bands and latterly a wedding band we had. Various cousins and friends had joined and left Frankie, DJ, Lawrie and me on our… ahem… musical odyssey over a few years but Jake had never let us down if required. Despite the near twenty-year age difference, he enjoyed the younger company, such was his love of music. He had an enviable music collection and regularly made up compilations of favourite tracks.

One such compilation was in my Golf’s CD player as we pulled out of Banavie; subjecting us to the masterful JJ Cale’s ‘One Step Ahead of the Blues’ at full blast. It was a stunning morning as we motored up the A82 along the Great Glen. The road along Loch Lochy appeared to have been upgraded since I last traversed it, resulting in us making good time. At one point an RAF jet seemed to shave the treetops as we went through the community of Laggan.

Jake and I initially didn’t talk much. I’d phoned Lisa before we’d set off and I’d tried to summarise recent events and conversations for her. She sounded enthralled and I realised I was missing her warm reassurance and wit. It probably didn’t help when she said, ‘Maybe I could’ve come with you after all.’ It transpired Alain’s martial law of the forest lands had become overbearing.

Jake read my mind. ‘When it’s all done and dusted, Ted, you won’t regret the input you’ve had, even missing your family an’ all.’

‘Jake, that’s kind but I just feel so unsettled seeing other people’s lives floundering. I’m just getting a bit tired now and we’re just getting started.’

‘I can drive.’

‘No, I’m sound, the insurance is only in my name anyway, but thanks.’

We carried on further, past Loch Ness with Castle Urquhart standing dominant above its western shore. The traffic concentration had not increased ensuring the journey was most pleasant. Jake’s CD player had unleashed some of Montrose’s first album on a forecourt as we hit the outskirts of Inverness. We soon went over the Kessock Bridge to the Black Isle and then quickly took a right.

Jake suddenly announced, ‘I’m a bit hungry. Mind if we head for the beach at Rosemarkie to sample Rhoda’s sandwiches before we go up to the priory?’

‘Sounds good. They’ll be tuna mayonnaise, no doubt sniffed by Hoover for quality control purposes, so don’t get too excited.’

‘She’d boot your backside for that, you cheeky bugger.’

We parked at the golf course on the point and walked until we found a couple of large dry rocks above the shore to sit on. A young family were noisily playing on the pebbles below us as they waited for bottlenose dolphins to put in an appearance at a common site for them.

‘There’s a cheese and tomato lurking at the bottom if you’re wary of the tuna, Jake. Turns out I’m not that hungry – the prospect of meeting the old boy has got me vexed.’

Jake rounded on me. ‘Look, Ted, just let it go, ok? Your old man’s not perfect but he’s done his best for you all for a long time. I deliberately haven’t told you before now, but your father is not well. Your mother doesn’t know too much and Frankie has only maybe got an inkling. And before you go off on one, I’m not talking about a psychological issue, I mean a serious physical illness – he has something called idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. I’m sure your knowledge of it will be greater than mine. So there’s no assured cure. He’s on some drug that helps to a certain extent but it ravages his guts. He also uses oxygen sparingly – he has to be wary of not being dependent on it. As well as acting as a referee between the pair of you, another reason for me coming up on this trip is that I’ve said we’d pick up a couple of portable oxygen cylinders from the chemists in Fortrose. The bigger cylinders are delivered directly to Balmungie.’

I didn’t go ‘off on one’, but it was sorely tempting. What was it about my family and secrecy? Undoubtedly, in my mind, this distinct breakdown in communication on important matters just led to ill feeling and frustration. As it happens, I do know about IPF, from the fact that poor wee Westies are known to be more predisposed to the condition than other canines. And similarly, as in the case with humans there is no happy ending. So was this the explanation for my father’s recent irrational decisions; he was terminal and having seen the white light had waived on common sense?

Again, Jake read my mind. ‘His actions don’t seem as unreasonable now.’

‘C’mon, let’s get the cylinders and go see the old devil. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re back on the road home.’

Balmungie Monastery is home to a community of Benedictine monks and has close ties to the better-known establishment at Pluscarden Abbey in Moray. Balmungie was built on some of the original structures of an old Dominican friary, that suffered dissolution at the time of the Reformation.

It is an impressive stone complex with a central courtyard and garden with well, surrounded by adjoining stone buildings on three sides and a low wall with a gate on its westerly end. We pulled up adjacent to the impressive stepped entrance and got out to be met by an avuncular middle-aged man clothed in an ankle length habit. His ruddy cheeks betrayed his days working outside in this part of the country with its biting onshore wind, that I’d just responded to by buttoning up my jacket.

The man extended his right hand to me. ‘Good morning, I’m Geoffrey, you must be Theodore. Jacob and your father let us know you were coming.’

‘Good morning to you too, Geoffrey, but please, it’s just Ted, I’m not one for formality.’

Geoffrey beamed, obviously well aware of my father’s eccentricities. ‘And how is my friend Jacob this morning?’

‘I’m just grand, Geoffrey.’

‘Well, the man himself is down at the cottage waiting for you. He insisted on some gardening first thing but he’s back in having a break now. I’ll send you down some tea and scones.’

Before I could argue, Geoffrey had turned on his heels and was heading back inside and Jake was loping off towards the gate. Heading around the rear of the monastery we soon came across a collection of small buildings adjacent to a spinney of mixed deciduous trees. Jake knocked on the green door of the cottage ascribed ‘Gardener’s Lodge’, and proceeded inside without any obvious reply forthcoming.

‘Well boys, how was the road up?’ I looked for the source of the welcome and saw the figure of my father rising from a straight-backed dining chair beside a large round table. We hugged warmly and I did note he had seemed to have shrunk in mass since we’d last met a couple of years ago. His absence at DJ’s funeral accounted for at the time by an acute illness had been significantly inaccurate.

‘The journey was fine, Dad, but how are you doing? Jake’s just told me about the fibrosis. That’s ghastly, I’m so sorry.’ His face was more lined and his hair was as white as a Santa now.

‘Look, Ted, I’m not too bad at all most of the time. Yes, I do get breathless after prolonged exercise but I manage. It’s going to kill me, I know that, but the docs at Raigmore always say you never know what’s around the corner in medicine, so I’ve not given up yet… as you’ve noticed.

‘Jake wants me to come back to Banavie as soon as he has made some adaptations to the house. I’ve not been so sure about that. I’m still embarrassed by all the boozing and the certification but the thing is, the brothers will need this cottage to house a properly fit gardener, so I must walk before I’m pushed.’

‘Well, good, because my mother will dement if you can’t get back soon.’

My father burst into laughter and tears, and I realised my planned diatribe over the events in France would have to be parked.

A knock at the door brought a younger monk into our company, carrying a tray of tea and treacle scones.

‘Lads, this is Brother John, help him with the small tables.’ A cursory glance at the large table revealed a large collection of dark blue and grey toy soldiers with assorted extras of cannons and horse carriages.

‘Yes, Ted, I’m enjoying taking John through the Battle of Gettysburg right up until the Union decided not to pursue Lee’s retreat.’

‘That’ll be a joy for you, John.’

‘Well, actually, despite the gory aspects, I’m enjoying your father’s teaching. I did history and theology at Durham but my tutors had no appetite for the more gruesome details of war. But I’m afraid I have a guilty fascination for certain theatres of conflict.’

Jake remarked, ‘Thank you for the spread, John. Most kind. By the way, I’ll leave the portable oxygen cylinders in the office.’

‘Great, Jake. I’ll leave you to catch up.’ And with a warm smile, he was gone.

‘In with the bricks, Dad. They’ll miss you. Bet their next gardener can’t talk them through Austerlitz.’ My mother had made it a regular observation over the years that her dearly betrothed, the undoubted pacificist, liked little better than to expound to his stupefied family about the brilliance of Napoleon at the battle of the Three Emperors or Hannibal at Cannae. On the domestic front however, he effectively barred his two sons from supporting Rangers or Celtic football clubs by not allowing us to own scarves or jerseys belonging to either club. He believed such attire would attract unimagined violence if worn by us especially during the Glasgow Fair holiday in July, when many lowland Scots holidayed in the Highlands. Obviously, we would be beaten up or intimidate younger ‘true’ fans. As a consequence, Frankie and I started following Motherwell FC, the club supported by our rather wild school friend and neighbour Davie and his father, Reverend Malcolm Chisholm, who was a native of the Lanarkshire town. So no football wars ever visited the Cameron abode.

The three of us left in the cottage proceeded to chew the fat on the recent events with my father getting noticeably excited as we came around to discussing my upcoming visit to Lanarkshire.

Eventually, I couldn’t help myself. ‘Dad, you do realise that I would have been back sooner had I known of your illness, or Frankie’s nightmare or the dubiety about DJ. There was no need to subject us to that trauma.’

‘I needed you back, son. Frankie had been neutered and here am I fading away. I knew DJ was onto something with this man and his dog. But I didn’t think you would come back without a reminder of what loss or the threat of loss felt like. I know you. You’ve never stopped blaming yourself for what happened to your sister. You must know that in all the intervening years nobody else has felt like that for one second. But here is your chance for redemption in your own mind, if that is still needed.’

I couldn’t argue that the old fella wasn’t correct – just thinking about my sleep pattern alone was enough. I sat and thought about Flora and her squint smile and how scarily similar it is to the twist of lips that Rosie used to display when happy.

We spent the next hour chatting about my father’s current routine helping out the monks. Eventually, I became a bit anxious as the time began to drag. I was beginning to stare into space when I rose.

‘Right, Dad, we won’t wear you out. We’ll leave you to the Johnny Rebs getting a shellacking. Jake and I will hit the road. There’s a lot to get sorted. The next time I want to see you, it should be in Banavie having a pint on the front grass looking over at the Ben.’

‘You’re on.’

The two of us headed out to the car, after a three-man huddle.

In Killiechonate, Lawrie Haig was clasping Finlay to his chest, as their mother’s Saab performed a three-point turn and headed back towards Spean. Finlay’s sobs were alarming and Lawrie was discomforted by awareness of his own palpitation amplified by his brother’s firm hold. Neither of them had seen their mother so obviously distressed.

They turned indoors and after disentangling sat close together on the sofa.

‘What was she talking about, Lawrie? Did you make her angry?’

‘No, she wasn’t angry, Fin. She was just very upset that I might be getting into trouble with Dad about stuff. So she is very worried about me, and you actually.’

‘What have you done, Lawrie?’

‘That’s the thing, Fin. Can you believe me when I say that I’ve done nothing wrong? But your dad and your other brothers don’t like it when I try and stop them doing bad things. That’s maybe a pretty basic explanation, Fin.’

‘What can you do to sort things out?’

‘I have to be very careful, very, very careful.’

It was only having seen Finlay to his bed that Lawrie realised his shirt was wringing with sweat. Right, so this is stress, methinks. Okay, so I can’t find my mobile, I can’t use the landline lest that bugger Abe Beaton has maybe tapped the phone; if he’s using listening devices outside the house, God knows what else he will resort to. I can’t drive to Ted’s in case I’m followed.

Lawrie switched the lights off and sat in the dark. There was a full moon tonight and there was a shimmer visible on the river as he gazed out beyond his deck. Over the other side of the river ‘Slink’ Dunwoody must have had a card session on. Slink and the other gamekeepers got together once a month to part with some of their wages on drink and gambling at Slink’s cottage. Lawrie had an open invitation but his last attendance six months ago resulted in an incapacitating hangover and an unscheduled dip in the river.

Lawrie and Slink had become friendly because of a shared interest in woodworking. Slink had a sideline on the estate making amongst other things intricate shepherd’s crooks but with Lawrie’s instruction his manufacturing skills had escalated to spectacularly carved furniture and objets d’art in the style of Tim Peek or Grinling Gibbons. With greater exposure, Lawrie was convinced Slink could become a successful full-time wood sculptor but Slink was resistant to change. He loved his current lifestyle, and it allowed him to keep a close eye on his widowed father, ‘Slinky’, who lived with him.

Lawrie caught sight of his fishing waders, dry again and just visible in the dark in the corner of the living room and a thought flashed through his mind.

‘Come in, Lawrie – don’t wait on ceremony. Did you just wade across again, you daft bugger. You’ll get caught out one night and end up down at the Lochy. What’s the spade for? Anyway, I’ll get you a can. Find a seat, you know all the boys – we’ve got a poker hand on the go at the moment, but you’ll be able to sit in shortly.’ Slink always spoke ten to the dozen.

‘No, listen, Slink, I wonder if you can do me a favour?’

‘Of course, Lawrie, anything. Are you not coming in?’

‘It’s a long story but can I borrow your jeep?’

‘Aye, of course, but what are you up to? You’re not going to bury a body, are you?’

‘Nothing so extreme, Slink. I can’t tell you just now, but when I’m back I’ll join you for a couple of hands.’

‘Alrighty, pal. I’ll get the keys. It’s parked up in the usual spot just before the main road. Watch the clutch, it’s a bit iffy.’

‘Cheers, Slink, see you shortly.’

‘Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you, Slink. I was trying to be as quiet as possible. Just looking to get some water down me before I go back across to get Finlay up. I’ve got a hell of a drouth – too much booze last night.’

‘No worries, pal. Three of us have to be up sharp – we’re taking a group of Japanese photographers up beyond the Grey Corries. There’s been known to be an albino stag up there for quite a while, and apparently in Japan white deer are considered to be divine messengers.’

‘It’s a long way to come to take photos of a stag even if it’s a divine messenger.’

‘Nah, they’re going all over Europe taking pictures of all sorts of wildlife. They’re away to Spain after this to “shoot” Iberian lynx. I’ll get some tea on – it’s just gone six, so we’ll need to get a shift on.’

‘I’ll just head back – no tea for me. Do you mind if I leave my spade here for now, I’ll pick it up through the week?’

‘Of course, no bother. Sure you don’t want a lift round?’

‘Nah, I’ll be fine.’

‘Why are you not coming today? Has it something do with Mum?’

Finlay knew something was up. His brother never appeared to be the most engaged member of the congregation at Kilmonivaig Parish Church but Finlay and his mother appreciated Lawrie’s willingness to take Finlay to church most Sundays to allow Finlay to indulge in the communal singing.

‘Partly that, I just need some time to myself to think about what I’m going to do about some things. Nothing for you to worry about. Anyway, Mr Dunwoody has taken you to church lots of times.’

‘I like Slinky, he always makes me laugh.’

‘I’d prefer you’d call him Mr Dunwoody or James at a push. A wee bit of respect, please.’

‘But everyone calls him Slinky.’

‘Don’t argue with me, please – I slept with a lurcher for company and I’m a bit tired. Now, have you got that folder for Mrs Chisholm?’

‘Yep.’

‘And what do you say to the minister?’

‘I say, “Lawrie gave me this folder for you to please pass on to Ted Cameron, Lotte.”’

‘Hang on, where did all this informality come from. Certainly not from Mum or myself – it’ll be those blinking girls in the shop. It’s Reverend Chisholm or Mrs Chisholm… remember?’

Lotte Chisholm met her husband, Malcolm, on a summer course at Glasgow University many moons ago. As a young Dutch divinity graduate, she was keen to explore Europe beyond the rural tranquillity of Drenthe and was taken by the rugged bleakness of the West Highland coast. She was never going to be satisfied with bringing up children, and therefore when a vacancy arose in the adjacent parish to that of her husband, she was delighted to take up the role. The Chisholm family were also the Camerons’ closest neighbours in Banavie. Over the years the couple became close friends and confidants. Lawrie was now going to take advantage of that friendship to deliver plans to Ted and Frankie.

Lawrie wondered if he was overthinking his mother’s warning. Maybe nobody was keeping tabs on him.

‘Right, Jacko, I think you’ve shown admirable common sense talking to me about this. I understand your father’s family loyalty but this is potential dynamite to all of us. Did your mother find out from Lawrie as to what’s behind this sudden betrayal, because that’s what it is?’

The other two men in the room with Roy Grigor had been exchanging increasingly pained glances since the phone conversation had started.

‘Of course, Jacko, she’s suddenly put into a situation that is beyond her. I mean, was your dad thinking it was a bit of strife down at the rural? Let’s be realistic about this, we are all going down if this somehow reaches the authorities. And what’s your father’s plan now?’

Roy’s facial expression remained entirely passive as he digested more of Jackson Haig’s narrative.

‘Okay, Jacko, we’ll leave it at that for tonight – but we’ll stay in touch, obviously. I think for the time being, I wouldn’t tell the rest of your family that you’ve been in touch with me, and after all that’s what your father wants anyway; so why disappoint him?’

‘Good night, Jacko. Chin up, we’ll get it sorted.’

Roy took time to pour himself a stiff whisky before responding to the clamour from his sofa. He then proceeded slowly to fill in the obvious gaps that the two men had recognised in the phone call.

‘We need that book of his, Roy, and as soon as possible. I’m an old man, I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder during my last years on this earth for the drug squad to arrive.’ Ronnie Grigor had never been prone to anxiety but his voice was tremulous.

‘Listening to Jackson there, it would appear Stuart wants to sit on things for another day before having a go at Lawrie himself with Abe Beaton keeping a close eye on him in the meantime. Frankly, I think that is bullshit. He still sees Lawrie as his special wee boy. I see him as an affront to his family, leeching off them without deigning to get his hands dirty.’

‘Couldn’t be more right, Roy. I hate the arsehole, he barely looks at me in the staffroom. He thinks he is so superior. I’ve got no involvement in any of this stuff, but by God, he needs taken down.’ Michael Kyle wasn’t known for his reticence.

‘Right, I think I’m going to sort something out.’ Roy gazed into the distance and eventually a thin smile developed on his lips.

Abe cursed as Roddy McLaren’s patrol car left the Spean Bridge Hotel car park ahead of his Goldwing. He acknowledged it was beneficial to the families to have a junior police officer on the take but he never could take to this tall slimy officer. If he was willing to rat on a senior officer without compunction, how strong were any of his loyalties? However, Abe supposed he should be grateful this morning – some dickhead from the estate had obviously been burning heather on moorland near Abe’s home and as the flames headed for the house, another panda car had spotted the fire and phoned it in as well as to the fire brigade.

‘Shouldn’t take long to check up on things unless the house has gone up,’ he pondered.

The two masked men decided that they would persist with their attempts at the Glaswegian accents they had trialled on Anne-Marie Noble. As they approached the house on stilts, the heavier-set man who was struggling to keep up with his partner moaned his exasperation as he picked a tick off his forearm that had got there from an adherent sprout of bracken.

They reached the door and kicked it in, screaming as they went to startle the occupant. Lawrie Haig stood up from his desk only to receive a gloved fist to the solar plexus that sent him down to the floor. The second assailant moved round and delivered a fierce kick to his left kidney.

Lawrie, badly winded, tried to stand but took a glancing kick to the right temple, sending him flying onto the sofa. The second man got behind the sofa and grabbed Lawrie by the forehead and throat, pulling his head into the back of the seat. The first man sat beside his prey and slapped Lawrie viciously across the face.

‘Right! Don’t move or talk, just fucking listen. We know you have a book that you’re planning to give to the Camerons. We want that book now or we’re going to seriously injure you. Goddit?’

‘Fuck off,’ Lawrie managed to whisper.

He received a straight left that bloodied his nose instantly. ‘Okay, maybe you didn’t understand. I’ll try again. I’m going to seriously incapacitate you if you don’t serve up that fucking book, ya tosser. We’ll take this ruddy house apart if we need to and beat up that feeble brother of yours whilst we’re at it.’

‘No, just piss off.’ Lawrie felt dizzy and sick and barely got the words out.

‘Fucking twat! Right hold him like that, squire and I’ll have a look about. Knock him out if you have to.’

The aggressor got up and went to Lawrie’s desk in the corner and dumped the drawers’ contents onto the floor.

‘Hell, not much in the way of books, just pishy sketch paper and pens. Your art stuff’s overrated anyway, ya prick.’ He went through to the bedrooms and rifled through the wardrobes and drawers. Nothing of note. Frustrated, he went back through to the living room where the second man was just succeeding in keeping a choking Lawrie conscious.

‘This will be over much quicker if you tell us where that bloody book is.’

Lawrie managed a barely perceptible shake of his head.

‘Right, you fucking bastard. Free his head a bit for me.’ The leader of the antagonists then pounded Lawrie’s face with punches, studded leather gloves raining down on both cheeks. Eventually Lawrie succumbed to unconsciousness.

‘Shite, what a fucking idiot!’

Both men stood up to their full height and let their bloodied victim slump down face first onto the sofa.

‘A car’s pulling up!’ The second man got to a window first. ‘Aw bollocks, it’s the mongol and some old fucker.’

Finlay got to the door as it opened with a masked man knocking him backwards down the steps. Slinky was getting on in age but assessed the scenario in a heartbeat. The two masked men had rushed out and were aiming kicks at the prone Haig brother. He sounded the horn of his car repetitively until the attackers left Finlay alone. The two men then approached both front doors of the Escort to try and get in and subdue the older man. But Slinky was now looking to start his car, having successfully managed to lock the doors.

‘Open up, auld yin, we’re having your car.’

The hooting of the horn continued as Slinky realised he had dropped the keys in the footwell as his hands shook and his fingers became thumbs. All of a sudden, the one loud howl emanating from Finlay, received a backing chorus. As one intruder found a large stone and smashed Slinky’s front windscreen, the second man turned to the river and saw a posse of men in green jackets wading across towards them carrying sticks.

‘For God’s sake, let’s get out of here.’ Both men turned to check the river. As the group of men got nearer, the second man recognised some of them as local ghillies but the others looked oriental. ‘This is one fucking bad dream.’

The Escort coughed into life just as they managed to get the driver’s door open via the smashed windscreen. The two of them managed to haul Slinky out, giving him a couple of kicks for good measure.

The first of the chasing pack scrambled up the bank and ran at the slowly moving car. And indeed yes, some of this bunch were definitely from the Far East and were brandishing shinty sticks as they threw themselves at the bonnet of the car, aiming the blades of the camans through the gap where the glass had been.

‘Put the foot down or we’re toast.’ The Escort managed a wheelspin and then eventually took off down the road, pursued by a blur of tweed and hickory.

‘Jesus, we should just lose them before we make the switch to our own vehicle. But what the hell was that all about? Fuck me, it’s like being chased by the cast of Monkey or The Water Margin.’

‘Haha, you’re spot on. I recognised young Dunwoody and two of the Sutherland boys but as for the Asians – God knows. Let’s go get a pint once we’re back in the Fort – I’m shattered. The book will have to wait but maybe we put the wind up him enough for him to reconsider his ideas.’

As the Escort disappeared, Slink stopped and returned to see how his father, Fin and Lawrie were doing. He entered the house to see the younger Haig wailing in tears at his brother’s bloodied body. His father had a wet towel and was trying to stem the blood from Lawrie’s mouth and nose. He had regained consciousness but was only able to emit a low moan from his deformed face.

‘An ambulance is on its way. I think he’s swallowed and inhaled a lot of blood, son.’

‘Okay, Dad, you’re doing well. I’ll be back in after I see the Japanese boys off.’

Slink went back outside by which time the Japanese contingent had regathered and had lain down their borrowed camans, property of Mr Dunwoody junior, whose carpentry sideline included the carving of shinty sticks for sale to three teams in Lochaber. The hunt for the white stag earlier in the day had been very successful with the Jeeps finding the beast within an hour. With their equipment, the tourists had obtained plenty of footage of the rare deer. In fact, they had been about to depart when Dunwoody Senior’s alarm call had sounded from across the river.

The leader of the group thanked Slink profoundly for the trip up the mountainside, and also for the unexpected treat of an exciting chase and skirmish. They could assure him they would be back in Lochaber another time for more action.

Abe Beaton let the blue light ambulance pass him, his heart sinking as he pulled out of the passing place again behind it. Up ahead he could see there was a commotion at Lawrie’s home and no surprise the ambulance had stopped. He cursed himself. No doubt something very bad had happened and there would be questions to answer. He stopped the Honda, turned round and went home. The awkward call to Stuart could wait half an hour, surely.

Later that day, I was lounging upstairs on my borrowed bed sifting through the annotated plans of Stuart Haig’s home above the town. I heard a car pull up and quick footsteps reaching the door.

My mother’s face soon appeared above the top step. ‘Ted, can you come down please, that’s Lotte back.’

‘Hi Lotte, back so soon? What’s wrong?’ I’d bounded down the stairs and charged round to my mother’s living room. Lotte Chisholm was the calmest of individuals – this was not a spurious visit.

Her countenance was in stark contrast to the cheery smiles she had exhibited an hour earlier when she and I swapped stories about her aberrant son, Davie, or ‘Sinful’ as his pals called him.

‘Oh Ted, terrible news. I’ve just had Jim Dunwoody on the phone. Lawrie Haig is in intensive care in Raigmore. Jim and Finlay arrived back from church to surprise two masked men in the house. They’d beaten Lawrie up badly and caused a lot of disruption to his belongings. The paramedics thought both his jawbones were broken and decided to take him straight to Inverness.’

I sat down bewildered. What the hell was going on? Surely to God, Stuart and the brothers wouldn’t have got Abe Beaton to work Lawrie over for passing over this ruddy plan.

‘I’m stunned, Lotte. Lawrie was in such fine form the other day. Without going into it, I’m a bit surprised he sent that paperwork to me via yourself, rather than just come over himself. Something overwhelming has happened in the interim. It’s gross. How’s Finlay?’

‘Jim thinks his nose might be broken from a flying boot but otherwise he’s physically fine, but he’s very distressed about Lawrie. Alan and Jim are going to look after him until Sandra gets there. Stuart and Abraham Beaton are going up to Raigmore; Jim thinks Sandra would collapse if she saw the state of her son. This sort of violence has no place here, Ted. Have you two unearthed some deadly secrets?’

‘I swear to the good man himself, Lotte, I have no idea what’s REALLY going on. I continue to be mystified by some of the events. I’m devastated by this, though. Lawrie is a good man to his very soul. I’ll give it an hour or so, then phone Raigmore to check how he’s doing. Thank you for coming round again.’

‘I knew you’d want to know. Poor Sandra, she’s such a good woman. She lives for those two youngest lads – so proud of the pair of them. So shocking – it seems like yesterday that my Davie, you boys here and Lawrie were up to teenage nonsense together. Our Lord has unusual paths for us all.’

With that, Lotte left, leaving the three of us in the living room speechless.

Eventually, my mother broke the silence. ‘Son, can you give Shirley a phone. I couldn’t help but notice that she and Lawrie have become quite pally again. I think that’s a good thing, and my goodness she’ll be horrified by this.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that. Frankie probably knows by now, but I’ll give him a buzz too.’

The rest of the evening passed in slow motion. Raigmore informed me that Lawrie was stable. I explained to my mother and Jacob that I wanted to clap eyes on Lawrie, even if it was through a window. We agreed we would travel up to Inverness together and chance our arms at visiting him.

Shirley was devastated and became barely intelligible. I promised to keep in touch.

Frankie found the whole situation incomprehensible. And he had his own news. He had told Liz of his one-night stand with Caroline. How we hadn’t heard the resultant ruction from a mere half mile down the road was extraordinary. The fallout so far was only extending to sleeping in different rooms. They decided not to tell their children at this point especially when Frankie revealed the burgeoning plan to extricate the video from the Haig lair.

The school staffroom the following day was stunned by the news of the hospitalisation of one of their favourite sons. The popular art teacher was unfailingly polite, friendly and accommodating, to all but Michael Kyle. Lawrie was the antithesis of Kyle; he was always available for charitable activities, for helping with after school sports or projects and very professional with his colleagues and students. A few of the single female teachers were dreading the day that Lawrie announced he was in a relationship. Bereft, wouldn’t touch it. Some dabbed the corner of handkerchiefs to catch tears as the conversations proceeded quietly.

Michael Kyle sneered as he passed through on the way to his room. He remembered his first encounter with the art teacher. Lawrie had entered Kyle’s usual classroom after school hours looking to borrow some extra seats for a department meeting. He heard muffled noises emanating from the cupboard and decided to investigate, fearing an intruder. He came across Kyle’s naked backside rising and falling rhythmically, as he writhed on top of a semi-naked senior girl pupil. He shouted his disgust and slammed the door. He proceeded to address Kyle and gave him a minute to let the girl get dressed and get out.

Within thirty seconds a beetroot-faced blonde shot past him. ‘What the hell are you playing at, man?’

Kyle was furious at being caught. ‘Just fuck off. You’re here five minutes and you think you can lecture me.’

Lawrie stormed out saying he was taking the matter to the headmaster in the morning, before flicking a blue prefect’s badge in Kyle’s face. ‘Here, you can give your conquest her badge back.’

But the headmaster reneged on the correct course of action. Kyle remained in post as rumours abounded about his powerful friends. A protest by a number of teachers and parents led by Lawrie resulted in a temporary suspension but Kyle seemed to be back teaching in no time at all, completely unrepentant. As he climbed the last flight of stairs to his classroom, he rubbed the back of his left hand with his right thumb, still tender after his bout of pugilism. He had arranged a private lesson with that buxom fifth year girl, Alice, for after four o’clock, and if things went well, he didn’t want to be in any discomfort. She was a bit on the big side, but he had to admit to himself that he was getting on a bit and couldn’t have his pick of the girls any more. He found it bizarre that the art teacher who was popular with women, didn’t take advantage of this. Sexuality issues there, obviously.

Unfortunately, as expected, the Banavie contingent were limited to viewing our stricken friend through the window of his room in Raigmore. At one point Lawrie had turned his head our way triggering an automatic waving response from the three of us. We speculated whether we had witnessed a nod of recognition but the truth was he must have been so sedated that he must have felt that he was in a forest of tubing.

We consoled Sandra and Finlay by briefly hugging but few words were exchanged as they made their way in to see the patient. We felt this was a good time to depart the depressing scene.

On the way back down Loch Ness-side, Jacob and I felt it was a good time to tell my mother of her husband’s illness that had warranted him spending a fair bit of time in the establishment from which we had so recently departed.

Her reaction was interesting – obviously shocked and upset, but by the time my uncle and I had explained that this development was going to expedite his return to Banavie, she became very positive, indeed adding in her own anecdote by saying she knew someone in the Women’s Guild from down in Salen whose husband also had pulmonary fibrosis and he had far exceeded his prognosis.

As we got back to Banavie, I felt in the need of a drink and the need to buckle down with Jake and Frankie to plan an immediate response to what had happened.

Sandra had put Finlay to bed in his old room, then when reassured that he was asleep descended the stairs to confront her husband in their living room, with fire in her belly.

‘Oh Sandra, what on earth have we done to deserve this? One of our boys set upon by psychos.’

Stuart had already knocked back a couple of whiskies but remained unprepared.

Sandra towered over his reclined position on the sofa and lowered her face in his direction. With a low growl she addressed him. ‘Are you happy now?’

Stuart was taken aback and blustering. ‘Sorry, dear. I’m not sure what you m—’

‘I said, are you happy now? You bloody, bloody fool! This is all on you and the rest of this bloody family!’

‘Now, come dear, I think you’re being ridic—’

‘Do you want to know what I think is ridiculous? The fact that you have the cheek to defend yourself. What the hell have you done? You made me try and convince Lawrie that he should go against his principles and stick with your twisted values. And when he doesn’t react quickly enough for you, he ends up on machines to help him breathe and eat.’ Sandra’s voice was a loud shriek now as her anger blazed through. ‘You are a bloody disgrace! An excuse for a father!’

Stuart tried to regain some ground. ‘What we should be concerned about and be angry about, is who is responsible for this. I mean those Camerons have gotten away with crimes before and this is likely to be another example.’

‘Are you out of your fucking mind, man? Just listen to yourself. This afternoon I witnessed for myself Rhoda Cameron openly weeping, and Jacob Stewart and Ted with their eyes brimming with tears and just about speechless. So shut up about the Camerons! They’re Lawrie’s friends and always have been. And where’s our shower? Your daughter hasn’t returned my call and your two oldest sons are skulking about like the lame dogs they are.’

‘Those Cameron bastards shouldn’t be anywhere near my son – he’s obviously reneged on a deal with them and…’

‘Right, that’s it! Leave now – just get out of this fucking house now! I can’t listen to your bloody nonsense any longer. If you don’t go, I’m going to phone your pal Norman McCulloch at home and that’ll teach you – me embarrassing you to the good Chief Inspector.’

By this point, Stuart, weakened by this unique tirade felt retreat was the best option. Grab an overnight bag and get over to one of the boys or even better Abe, if he has room. Make new plans and get home by the weekend. By that time, she should have cooled off.

In Banavie, there had been no such fire in our activities. As hoped, Frankie had joined Jake and me for a debrief and planning session. Much to my shame and to Frankie’s credit it was decided that it was imperative that my mother should be present too. We first mulled over the facts we knew of in the attack at Killiechonate.

I then further opened up the conversation. ‘Well, I know Lawrie was doing this off his own bat and he knew the dangers, but seeing him like that today is a hell of a reminder of the sort of people whom we’re dealing with.’

‘I’m glad I wasn’t there to see him, knowing he’d got the house plans out to us for my benefit. I owe him a lot.’

My mother was worried. ‘Frankie, do you think you should still go ahead and go anywhere near the Haig’s house right now? They could be waiting for you, son, if they know these plans got through to you.’

‘I’m desperate, Mother. And I feel I would be letting Lawrie down if I didn’t try with him now lying in hospital.’

Jake anticipated my question. ‘So when are you thinking of doing it?’

‘Tomorrow night, there’s no moon – I’ve checked. And why hesitate?’ My mother’s sharp intake of breath was all too audible and Jake and I shared a knowing glance. ‘And not only that, but I thought you’d make a good getaway driver, dear Mother.’

The levity was therapeutic and it was good to witness Frankie’s buoyancy in particular.

‘Right, tomorrow it is. I wish we could have got the financial statements too.’

‘Aw, Ted, trust you!’ My mother slapped me over the head as she headed out of the room for the night.

‘And when are you heading south, Ted?’ Frankie enquired.

‘Within twenty-four to forty-eight hours. As you say, why waste time now? The wasp’s nest has been well and truly kicked.’

‘I’m coming with you, by the way.’

‘Look, I’ve told you, Jake, there’s no need for that. I’ll be fine on my own – at the end of the day, it could be just a case of going through paperwork and making some phone calls.’

‘You’re being tailed, Ted – what next? I can’t let you go on your own,’ Jake implored.

‘Actually, I’ve just found you another travelling companion,’ Frankie interrupted.

‘What the hell, Frankie? It’s not a jolly to the beach. What’s this?’ I was beginning to get tense again.

‘Shirley came to see me this afternoon after she and Archie made it back from Inverness. She was in a terrible state. You know what Lawrie means to her. Anyway, she was saying that Calum is acting up, threatening to attack any of the Haigs he can get his hands on. She feels that you’re the only one he will listen to. You must have made a good impression on him in France. I told Shirley you were going to the Central Belt for a couple of days, and that you might take him out of circulation to quell his temper a bit.’

‘Frankie! For God’s sake. This could be a dangerous trip…’ I looked over at the pair of them, both with their arms folded and eyebrows arched.

Aggrieved, I looked over at Hoover in his basket. ‘What about you, old fella, you might as well make it a full ruddy car!’

‘Thanks, Abe, you’re a gem. I’m sure it’ll be only for a few nights.’

‘No worries, boss. There’ll be a charge of course and there’ll be a rota for using the shower and doing the dishes.’

‘Haha, you’re very welcome to be the boss at the moment, Abe.’

‘It’s absolutely no problem. Nice to have some company now and again. Since Mary passed, things have been a bit lonely at times. Just dump your bag in the spare room and come back through. I put a dish from the freezer in the oven after you phoned. It’ll be just about ready.’

The two men sat down across the table from each other and reached for their glasses of red wine simultaneously.

‘Well, what do you think of my theory that Lawrie’s attack is the work of the Camerons? Lawrie has had a change of mind after Sandra’s approach, and they’ve gone ballistic and they’ve worked him over.’

‘Not a chance in hell, Stuart. Honestly.’

‘Really? The Clancys, then?’

‘Ever so slightly more possible, but still highly unlikely. Why would they hit on practically the only member of the family who is not involved in any of the illegal stuff and wields no influence on those matters? Doesn’t make sense.’

‘Any theories then?’

‘None you’ll like.’

‘That makes me uncomfortable, Abraham. Can you expand?’

‘I think I’ve expressed the same reservations in the recent past, Stuart. You didn’t like them then. It’s not going to be any different now.’

‘Are you talking about the Grigors again?’

‘I am indeed. You know that I’ve never trusted them. The old granddad is a crook, Charlie is weak but scheming and Roy is a certified sadistic sociopath. Plus, I’ve been hearing more stuff about Denise’s current squeeze – an ex-squaddie like me but without my boundaries or charm obviously, haha.’

‘Have you anything to go on, Abe?’

Abe got up and fetched another bottle of red. ‘I think we’ll need this.’

‘Just a couple of things, Stuart. After I woke up after being knocked out by the barrel at the café fire, I was about twenty feet from where I had landed and as already discussed the handcuff keys had been removed from my pocket. I had convinced myself it was our helpful junior policeman, whom I bumped into up at Spean today, who had kindly moved me; because as I was getting away from the flames on the night, I did spy a police car and the fire brigade, both of them there helluva quickly! However, PC McLaren confessed it wasn’t him who took the keys or moved me; he only happened to be about as he was heading to get a fish supper. Now, if Tommy himself had somehow managed to get the keys out of my pocket, in all likelihood he would have preferred to move me nearer the fire afterwards, and he definitely wouldn’t have rushed back into the blaze to hide in the toilet. He would have headed for the loch to cool his singeing breeks. So there was somebody there who we don’t know about, who made sure I lived and would maybe carry the can, and very much made sure Tommy was going to perish.’

‘Tell me more about the squaddie.’

‘His name is Hector Dunbar, but everyone and their aunty call him, “Swank”, because he loves himself and parades about in expensive clothes and flash cars. He’s from a very humble background in Stranraer. I believe Swank currently lives in a riverside flat in Glasgow but he works all over the place doing personal security: Middle East, Central Europe. Unlike me, he was invalided out of the Army, some years back now. PTSD. He was out on manoeuvres on the Irish border one night when they came under fire from a Provisionals unit. They were surrounded and had to call a chopper in. The chopper landed and threw a rescue net out to help get the injured in first. But the gunfire was heavy and the pilot got anxious and started to take off. Swank had to throw himself onto the net as last man, and got his foot stuck in the mesh of rope. He fell backwards as the chopper took off, and ended up dangling upside down by one foot with bullets zipping past him. They travelled like that for twenty minutes before it was safe to land. He was screaming at first but by the time they made it to the ground, according to my mate George Ferris who knew his sergeant, Swank was laughing uncontrollably. He had a lot of time off and underwent psychiatric assessment, but when he did get back to duty he was a liability, as he wanted to kill everyone on sight. So he was pensioned out. However, the unscrupulous private security sector loves these types – the fear has been squeezed out of them and they don’t have limits on their behaviour. His first job outside was as a bodyguard to a rich sheikh who loved his ruthlessness apparently. He made a packet and they didn’t want to lose him but he came back to the West as he missed the drink and women too much.’

‘He sounds a bit of a character, right enough. How did he hook up with Denise Grigor?’

‘I believe through Michael Kyle. As you know, Roy got friendly with Kyle through golfing and shooting, and it was Kyle who helped establish your drug network as he is Tom Landells’ cousin, both of them being brought up in Ayr. Landells used Swank as a bodyguard on a dodgy trip to Eastern Europe once and was impressed with his general thuggery. Anyway, Tom Landells helped promote a boxing night and dinner dance in a hotel down near his farm in Lanarkshire. He gave a table to Kyle who invited Roy and Jackson as well as Denise who was a bit down as she had not long separated from that former footballer guy. Swank was at an adjacent table and they all got talking. Apparently, Denise let it be known that her ex was looking for more money from their separation. Swank offered for free to dissuade the lad from this notion. Well, it worked and Denise was smitten by the muscle man’s powers of persuasion.’

‘How do you find out all this crap, Abe?’

‘Your Jacko is a veritable fountain of gossip from the underworld. I know we don’t get on that well, but on some of these long journeys we’ve shared, trying to get hotel stuff sorted, he opens up to pass the time.’

Probably because he’s just a little bit terrified of you and innocuous conversation brings some lightness to the ordeal of sharing a flight or a rail trip with you, Stuart thought.

‘Aye, I think maybe Jacko is a bit wary of me, actually.’

‘You think?’ Stuart offered wryly. ‘Just respectful, maybe.’

‘Going back to Swank and the rest, I think he, Roy and possibly Kyle are all capable of demonstrating the level of violence that was inflicted not only on Lawrie, but also Tommy Muir, the Polish boy fished from the loch and going back further, also on Donnie John Mathieson; especially with them egging each other on.’

‘Jacko insists he and Roy basically talked Mathieson into suicide.’

‘Do you really believe that, Stuart? I thought it was bollocks at the time and I still think it is. Sorry.’

‘My head is spinning with all this stuff, and I feel shattered. I’m away to bed.’

Less than twenty-four hours later and back in Banavie, the Golf that I had earlier moved to the relatively narrow path at the front of the house was being loaded with bags and an excited second cousin. Most prying eyes would have difficulty spotting what was going on due to the obstruction provided by the house itself and adjacent foliage. My mother and Shirley were tearful as they saw the two of us off. The plan was for Calum and I to head for the A9 by following the B road from the house north-east. Changing roads at Gairlochy and Spean Bridge, we would head roughly eastwards until we joined the A9 just beyond Dalwhinnie. We had booked a family room for the night in the delightful Moulin Inn which lay in the centre of the hamlet sitting high above Pitlochry. The third single bed was to be occupied by Jake who had planned to tail us on his beloved Indian, having spent part of the day by himself in the Fort.

I liked the Inn, having stayed there on two previous occasions. Good food, a good bar, but not a rowdy establishment. Calum had his excitement tempered only marginally by the absence of a pool table and slot machines, a bona fide boon in my book. We sat in an alcove near the counter and were contemplating the need for food, when a blue tweed-jacketed man came through from the reception area. He was clean-shaven with collar length salt and pepper hair and had an authoritative air. He approached our table.

‘Thought I’d dump the leathers in the room before I joined you.’

I spluttered into my pint. ‘Good Lord, Jake, I barely recognised you – you’ve taken twenty years off.’

Calum was also shocked. ‘Crikey, what a difference! Twenty years right enough… mind you, that only takes you down to seventy, to be fair.’

‘Remind me again, why have we taken this cheeky wee fucker with us?’

‘Nothing to do with me, blame his mum and Frankie.’

‘I apologise, Jake. I’m just stunned to see you look so smart.’

‘No worries, just messing. Another pint, Ted? Shirley warned me to stick with soft drinks for you, Calum.’

‘That’s no fair.’

‘Sorry, pal, I’m not risking your mother’s wrath.’ All three of us then sat quietly wondering about what could be happening back in Lochaber.

Shirley reached across to hug the figure dressed all in black as he made to leave the passenger seat of her Peugeot, sat as it was at the kerbside in Cameron Road.

‘Just be very careful, Frankie. Your mum’s right, they won’t hesitate to kill you.’

‘Cheers for those encouraging words, Shirley, but this needs done so I’ll have to accept the consequences. Okay, all being well you’ll get me in the car park at the side of the hospital in two hours.’ Frankie grabbed the torch from the glove pocket and headed out.

He had to creep through a couple of gardens before he could get up onto Stuart Haig’s street near his home. Apart from a couple of barks from alert housebound pets, the short journey was uneventful.

Frankie headed to Stuart’s back door stealthily and entered the kitchen using a copy of Lawrie’s house key. Lawrie was adamant in his instructions that there was no point in trying the front door as his parents were in the habit of leaving the key in the lock. He switched his torch on, flashed the beam around the room briefly and then produced the house plan from under his hoodie. The study was just a matter of yards away – so far, so good.

In moving from kitchen to corridor, the flooring changed from wood to thick-pile carpet; very lush and perfect for a bit of random burglary. A quick flash of the torch highlighted both the study door and the alcove under the stairs that stored the control panel for the alarm system that he had twenty seconds to get to and deactivate, now that he had entered the PIR-equipped part of the house. Frankie had memorised the five-number sequence and he punched the figures in assuredly, exhaling his relief as the blinking red button disappeared. He pushed the study door open and flitted across the carpet to the safe that sat against the wall behind Stuart’s mahogany desk. He almost felt like whistling to celebrate the procession this was proving to be. He knelt beside the safe and brought out the plan again. The instructions for the safe were on the back, red numbers for clockwise rotation of the dial, black numbers for anti-clockwise.

Whoa, was that a noise? Frankie froze, switched the torch off and held his breath. He knew his hearing could be better, convinced the impairment was a legacy of too many trips to Glasgow to see metal bands. Nothing. He checked his watch – tons of time before he was due to meet Shirley.

I’ll just take five minutes and then get on with it, Frankie mused.

Four minutes elapsed, then Frankie flashed the torch at the door. It looked more ajar than he thought he had left it but no need to stress. He placed the torch on the ground shining on the instructions and set about opening the heavy door. It only took a couple of minutes to complete the various rotations until the door could be swung open. He flashed the torch into the cavity and could see dossiers and a few small boxes that on inspection held watches and jewellery. He moved things around but there was nothing there that resembled video cassettes. However, what he did locate was a solid metal box on the floor of the safe that resembled a standard hotel room safe. Lawrie had made no reference to this in his notes.

There’s that ruddy noise again. He froze again but this time something wet touched the back of his left hand as he leant on the floor to support his weight.

‘You’re up late, Gramps – has all this business caused you insomnia?’

‘It has, Roy, I’m afraid it has. Current liaisons could fall apart. We’re in danger of incarceration. For the first time in my long life, I feel a bit scared. Those Cameron boys are smart and well-motivated – it’s a strong combination.’

Roy sat down by his grandfather and pinched the sleep from his eyes with his index finger and thumb. Heavens, was that a hint of daylight already edging over the Mamore hills to the east?

‘Do you want the light on?’

‘No, keep it off for now, Roy. It’s grand looking out on the loch and the dullness helps me think. A wee rum might be nice though.’

‘Coming up.’

When Roy returned to the conservatory with two glasses, Ronnie was enlivened.

‘I think we’ve got to continue to act independently of the Haigs. Stuart is relentless in his bitterness towards the Camerons but he is strong and reliable. The rest of them, Jesus, they can’t make a decision about anything and they will wilt like dead flowers if the going gets tougher. Mind you, Abe is a diamond, but his power is limited as Stuart has the final say on everything. It’s regrettable about Lawrie but the seriousness of the situation seemed a wee bit lost on all of them. Now that we haven’t managed to retrieve this book of his, we have to inform Tom Landells that Ted appears to be heading his way. What Ted is hoping to achieve is debatable. Is he hoping to persuade Tom to turn against us as they have all of Stuart’s financial records, or is he going after Tom too?’

‘Almost certainly the former. We get on fine with Tom Landells but if he thinks the folk up here are stupid enough that they can’t maintain reasonable security, then he will have no compunction in changing partners to Ian and Luke Clancy and their merry men. I’m now regretting handing that tape of Frankie’s misdemeanours over to the Haigs for looking after, because thankfully that is great leverage. I just hope the buggers don’t lose it.’

‘You always talk sense, Roy. Your ruthlessness is disguised by the simplicity of your argument.’

‘Right, I’m off to kip. When we get up, we phone Tom Landells about his impending visitors, and we send a small team down to Nemphlar headed by Swank to curtail Ted’s activities. There will be no shortage of volunteers to help Swank shut his smug face.’

‘Fighting talk, m’boy.’

The light now filling the room temporarily blinded Frankie as he gazed down to see that the source of moisture on his hand was the nose of an inquisitive little Shetland collie. Despite the diminutive nature of the canine threat, Frankie felt overcome with nausea.

‘Louie, come here right now!’ Sandra Haig’s voice carried a gentle authority. ‘He’s not much of a watchdog, I’m afraid. As far as I’m aware no one has ever been licked to death by an animal, Franklin. At least I think it’s you, Frankie.’

Frankie stood up to his full 5’ 11’’ and took his ski mask off. ‘For God’s sake, Sandra, I thought I was going to pass out, and my sphincters were about to fail. So much for the cunning disguise.’

‘Lawrie and Finlay share everything, and the wee man predicted you would come.’

‘I’m really sorry I’ve disturbed you – even if you do know the background story. I’m just hoping Stuart’s not going to appear down the stairs with a double-barrelled Purdey.’

‘No, you’re fine. Come through to the kitchen to swap stories, you’re looking a bit grey and I’ll get the kettle on.’

Frankie shook his head with laughter as he followed Sandra into the kitchen. ‘From a police perspective you should not confront an intruder the way you did, Sandra. God knows what nutters are about. And don’t then offer them tea.’

As they sat across the kitchen table, the conversation flowed freely. Sandra told the story of Stuart’s expulsion and then continued ardently. ‘I wish there was a way to stop all this… hell. People forget your mother and I are distant cousins. What’s happened to Lawrie has nearly ended me, Frankie.’

Sandra brought out a paper hankie and dabbed her tears as Frankie reached over and held Sandra’s right forearm.

‘And that bloody fool of a husband thinks your family are responsible. I know that’s nonsense. And I promise you if I’d known that this house held these videos of you, I would have burnt them myself immediately, long ago.’

‘Thank you. It is strange. As I broke into the kitchen tonight, I recalled being here as a kid with Rosie and Ted. Finlay and Lawrie had offered us ice cream from the fridge. One of us dropped a bowl and it just got everywhere. Dolly, your old poodle, got right into the middle of it. Stuart came in and skidded onto his backside and went ballistic. All the kids were struck dumb, but you saved the day by howling with laughter at the whole stramash.’

‘I remember it like yesterday. Even Stuart eventually found the funny side. It’s been all downhill since then – losing wee Rosie was the turning point. A true tragedy.’

‘You read it all exactly the same way we do, Sandra. And for what it’s worth none of us see anything but goodness when we consider Lawrie, Fin and yourself. It’s like a separate family.’

‘Try being in my place, Frankie. Och, don’t get me wrong, a lot of the time I’m proud of them but they’ve drank poison from the well and things are unlikely to ever be right between the two extended families. Talking of Rosie, before he got assaulted, Lawrie did divulge to me that Ted was going on a lead that she may still be alive. Is that at all possible, Frankie?’

‘I would be wrong to say that any of us were confident that is the case. However, if there is any hope at all, we are duty bound to explore it. I’ve kind of changed my tune somewhat as it is invigorating seeing Ted behave so purposefully. Ted to this day blames himself for losing Rosie, so he won’t relax until he’s been down every avenue.’

‘Well, I wish you all the best. Now come on, let’s get the wee safe open for you. Stuart was bumming when he got it put in that this was a maximum-security option that nobody would anticipate being present. But the silly bugger left the access code on a label in the top drawer of his desk.’

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later the two recordings of violation were in Frankie’s hands. He offered up a look to the heavens and a tear broke through on each eye.

‘Right, you’re a bit tight for time for your rendezvous with all my talking, so I’ll give you a lift down to the hospital.’ Frankie started to venture a protest, ‘Right, come on, I insist, my car keys must still be in my coat pocket.’

Shirley had reversed her car into a space in the shade of the conifers that lined the car park so no light reached the back of the car. She reckoned Frankie would avoid the main entrance and would climb over the wall that lay behind the trees.

‘It’s taken him at least the predicted time so far. Please God, don’t let him be caught,’ she mused. ‘Oh God, here’s a car now! Get your bloody headlights off, you’ve overshot the entrance going at that speed.’

The car pulled up almost in front of her. Alarmingly so. Next, and not so alarmingly, a small Sheltie hopped out of the now open passenger door. Strange. Frankie then got out of the vehicle and chased the dog back in, waving at Shirley as he did so. Sandra then did a smart three-point turn and took off. Frankie walked over to Shirley’s passenger door in a fit of laughter holding a small package in his right hand. Just as he went for the door handle, he caught an astonished Shirley mouthing, ‘What the f…?’

‘So when will we find out if Frankie managed to get the tapes?’ Calum was fully refreshed and ready for action as he confronted a full breakfast.

‘Well, I don’t think the whole dining room needs to know.’ Jacob scowled.

‘Don’t spoil the fun, Jake. It would be great to see the look on that bastard Haig’s face if Frankie’s pulled it off.’

‘Jake’s right, Calum. You’re far too wound up. Let’s just settle on our own task.’

The three checked out with hardly another word being said, and soon Jake was away down the hill on his bike.

‘Are you still grumpy, Ted?’ The conversation started as the Golf pulled out of the car park.

‘Look, Calum, it’s got nothing to do with that. Jake and I are a bit tense about the next couple of days. And like it or not we do feel a hell of a responsibility looking after you. Don’t get me wrong, this trip is likely to be a few boring hours going through paperwork looking for clues. Be yourself for sure, it lightens the conversation and passes the hours but just tone down the rhetoric a wee bit.’

Calum glanced towards me. ‘Okay, I’ll try and rein it in. Don’t want to be a pain in the arse.’

‘That’s the game.’

‘Right, I’m in charge of the music for today, Ted.’

‘Oh really?!’

‘Aw, come on.’

‘Okay, what have you got?’

‘“Surfer Rosa” to kick off.’

‘Okay, you’re hired.’ So we rolled into Pitlochry to the growl of ‘Bone Machine’ and we were best mates again.

A heavy rainstorm slowed the traffic down as we headed down through Kinross aiming for the Forth Road Bridge, so we pulled into a services for a coffee.

‘So who is this bint we’re cadging rooms off in Lanark?’

‘Have you forgotten this morning’s conversation already?’

‘Aw, come on, just a bit of patter.’

‘She’s a delightful lady who was one of my bosses when I was a student there many moons ago. Her name is Celia Drummond, and she’s a divorcee who lives with her teenage daughter. She’s putting the three of us up in a converted garage in the garden that she has used for doing self-catering from time to time. It’s extremely kind of her considering I haven’t clapped eyes on the woman for about eighteen years.’

‘Maybe she had a thing for you, Ted.’

‘Hardly, she is an elegant sophisticated lady who had no interest in poor, scruffy students from the sticks.’

‘I wonder what the daughter’s like?’

‘Don’t even think about it, bud! Or I’ll boot your skinny backside all the way back to the Fort.’

‘Calm down, just jesting.’

My mobile lit up as it received a text to the ringtone of ‘Thunderstruck’. I checked the small screen and let out a deep exhale.

‘Well?’

‘Frankie’s got the videos back. He’s put in – “with Sandra’s help” – which is eh… odd, but we’ll get the full story tonight when I phone him. But that’s just… just spectacular! Deep down, I was pessimistic, to be honest.’

‘That is just so frigging good. Both my dads would be delighted.’ Tears appeared in Calum’s eyes and I realised how on edge he was. Before we had set off, Shirley had told me that she had felt duty bound to tell Calum the full story of his parentage. Calum had already been displaying atypical hostility, so by discussing Donnie John and Lawrie, she felt it would allow Calum to see the bigger picture of what she was going through in case he wanted to withdraw from this trip south if he so wished. However, it was apparent Calum had been stimulated by his mother’s address and despite obvious sympathy for her, felt he could genuinely contribute something to help Jake and me. He would need close attention though, I thought.

‘You just have to say the word, Calum, and we can abort this trip… I can come back down by myself next week instead. It must be really difficult to process your paternity issue – you’re bound to be fired up. And now we have Frankie’s success – it’s a fillip for sure…’

‘Thanks, Ted, but no. I feel a momentum and I’m least qualified to say that. But these guys might have robbed me of two fathers. And I won’t forgive them for that. Let’s batter on and find this hound owner.’

We dodged past the puddles back to the car and got comfortable for the last leg of the drive. ‘Right, Calum, what have you got to take us to Celia’s?’

‘I thought I’d go for a CD that my dad, DJ that is, said was an underappreciated pop gem – namely – Genesis – “And Then There Were Three”.’

‘Interesting – did you play along with Donnie to a wide selection of songs?’

‘Oh God yeah, tons of songs, it used to drive my mum crazy if we played in the house. So often we went down to the yard and played there. That brought some odd comments from the neighbours. Ha, it was just great. We used to do songs that you guys did when you were my age and when you were older and had that wedding band on and off. I learnt all the songs. Even when I was in Bergerac, I asked Lisa if she could copy your setlists from your French band.’

‘Good grief! A bigger music nerd than Donnie or the rest of us put together. Okay, so Genesis it is, let’s shoot.’

‘Tom, I’ve told you all we know. It’s not ideal and it’s not like me to go behind Stuart’s back, but I’m sure you’ll agree we need to be wary of Ted Cameron – he can be resourceful.’ Ronnie Grigor felt the receiver hot and slippery in his hand. He glanced over at Roy and received a nod of reassurance.

‘What a bloody carry on, Ronnie. You need to get that book back pronto. You would think that the Camerons probably don’t have it yet or why the urgency to come and see me. Ted’s a brave man if he thinks he can wander down here, break in and steal any incriminating material. I think he may well feel he can talk me into dropping you guys. And… I have to say, Ronnie, you’ve taken a risk telling me of the incompetence up there, a real risk, as you may be vindicating his idea. However, as it stands, we have a missing log of extensive criminal activity. Until that book is recovered, I am not for changing the status quo. But find that ruddy book, grab the art teacher out of hospital if necessary and he can write down where he’s put the bloody thing if his jaw’s still wired; just do something, anything! Who are you sending down to me, who can recognise Ted from frigging Adam?’

‘Swank Dunbar, Roy, and I thought your cousin Michael should suffice alongside your own men.’

‘Mike can get on my nerves but he knows the lay of the land round here, I suppose. Right, grand, we’ll await the bold Teddy. I’ll be in touch.’

Ronnie put the receiver back down and let his eyes drift up to meet Roy’s gaze. ‘That definitely wasn’t a vote of confidence, but on balance, I still think it was right to contact him.’

‘For sure.’ Roy’s mind had already flitted on to ideas of threatening Lawrie now that he was conscious again.

Tom Landells had already left the confines of his home and had wandered round to the front paddock where two teenage girls in jodhpurs, tee shirts and riding helmets were on horseback loosening up a couple of his Arabian horses on a short jumping course. The fences were low but the girls were encouraging their mounts to clear the hurdles with plenty to spare. Jessica didn’t need to be told twice about the value of his prized steeds.

Tom smiled warmly. He was so proud of his daughter and the character she was turning out to be. The divorce hadn’t dimmed her glow. She still stayed with her mother a fair amount of the time but the allure of the horses resulted in Jessica making Nemphlar Moor her base. Her best friend, Marlene, also a pretty girl and competent rider, had similarly endured a parental split. He had tried it on with her mother once at a Lanimer Ball but Celia had given him short shrift. Another smile came to his lips as he recalled the incident.

‘Hoy, Jessie, are you girls staying for dinner? Just let Mary know, the kitchen will be jumping tonight as we’re going to have a couple of visitors down from the Highlands on business. Someone can run you home later, Marlene, so please stay, I think it’s Mary’s own chicken curry – it’s fabulous.’ Mary Greig had been originally recruited by his uncle and she continued to be a crucial employee.

Tom looked up at the sky, huge as it was from this hill in the south of the county and he marvelled at his success. The dark clouds coming in from the north would only be a temporary inconvenience.

THE HAGUE

Home of Escher and the ‘Sugar Palace’ that houses the Girl With a Pearl Earring, the home of the Dutch parliament has a lot to commend it to visitors. The city on the sea has a thriving café culture in addition to its world class art galleries, but today the two giggling women in their early thirties had made the short journey down from the residential Belgisch Park area of Scheveningen, one of the eight districts of The Hague, to the glorious windy beach with two large sport kites.

Soon, they both had a multicoloured kite dancing in elaborate patterns high above the sand, with much better control than the efforts of yesterday. It was good to register some recreational time away from the Justice Court.

Connie De Jaager had only known her Scottish house guest for a month, but the two women had hit it off immediately. Her father, Robin, was a lawyer with the government and her mother, Sonja, was a teacher, and now that both of Connie’s brothers lived abroad, their home was certainly large enough to accommodate a New York-based lawyer with the UN on a secondment to the International Court of Justice.

For Robin, having three lawyers in the house wasn’t an obvious recipe for relaxed and interesting conversation but he was impressed with this five-foot-seven blonde from across the North Sea. She was smart, confident and chatty but at times quiet with a warm depth to her. It had been very difficult in the autumn when Connie first came back home after the collapse of her relationship with that bloody surveyor in Amsterdam. It was hard to witness his daughter’s low mood and loss of trust in people. When she was ready to return to the workplace, he managed through contacts to find her a minor legal role at the International Court. For now, it was more of a liaison role but it might lead to bigger things with time. The new job proved to be a success, but the masterstroke was taking in the Scotswoman who had acted as a catalyst in Connie’s recovery by her incessant questions and her quest for activity beyond the workplace. He and Sonja were baffled by the sight of their daughter accompanying her new friend out the door at 6am most mornings for a 5k jog. Had it been that long ago that Connie wouldn’t budge off the sofa to get herself a drink?

Robin was a bit concerned at what the pair of them had lined up for the weekend after next. A women’s rights demonstration in Dam Square in Amsterdam was the attraction. A truly worthy cause and he had always approved of and indeed shared Connie’s political and moral views but events such as these always enticed an unsavoury minority element just hellbent on causing disruption. However, the two young women were adamant of the necessity in travelling to show support. No explanation was required for Connie’s attendance considering her recent breakdown but Robin sensed the Scotswoman had equally as strong motivation to make the trip. She couldn’t be more pleasant in conversation but she displayed a firm resolution in matters that didn’t encourage discussion. He recalled their first meeting when he was proudly showing the lawyer around his home. He made the understandable mistake of calling her American. That notion was crushed succinctly. ‘No, Scots, Mr De Jaager, definitely Scots.’ Later, after his guided tour was finished, Sonja had appeared with welcoming glasses of prosecco on a tray.

‘This lovely paragon of hospitality is my wife, Sonja. Sonja, this is Rosalie Elliott from Scotland via New York City.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Sonja. But it’s Rosie, always Rosie.’

To the point, but delivered with a killer smile.

As we reached the far side of the former mining village of Forth, the landscape opened up in front of us in the mid-afternoon sun. I’d forgotten how green and glorious this part of the world was. On the horizon to the left lay the foothills of the Southern Uplands and at the ten o’clock position sat the isolated cone of Tinto Hill, like a mini Mount Fuji. Our destination lay straight ahead across a slowly rising plain of farmland and bog.

‘Want to hear anything else, Ted?’

‘Nah, just leave it now. We’re nearly there, Calum. With any luck, Jake has already arrived and made his introductions.’

‘It’s funny, Ted. I would never have guessed having seen Jake dodge about Fort William looking like a tramp half the time, that he was in fact this knowledgeable, capable and funny bloke. I mean I knew you could be a bit of a feisty bastard at times… according to Mum and Dad anyway; but with a good heart, Mum always used to say.’

‘Not quite the ringing endorsement I would have anticipated from my beloved cousin. But as regards Jake, he is a bit of a curiosity or wonder I should say. However, as no doubt you’ve heard, the defining moment in his life didn’t come at the altar or a university graduation, but as a boy, one year older than you are now, in the jungles of Malaya or Malaysia as we know it now. The communist MNLA guerrillas had him hostage for a few months. It was at a time when the British were using Agent Orange on the foliage and had brought in guides from Borneo who were head and scalp hunters. Therefore the MNLA were never going to give Jake an easy time. Don’t try and ask him about it, he won’t tell you anything. But I know he was tortured – my mum got that out of him at one point. Just horrendous. In some respects, he’s still rehabilitating. Hence the Open University degrees, the multilingualism, his practical skills et cetera. But he really warms to young folk like yourself despite the banter – I think he never wants anyone to suffer the empty years that he did when he first got back.’

‘Mmm… pure nails. Respect to the man. And he was close to Rose?’

‘God yes, the daughter he never had. He’ll never leave my side now until this wee venture of ours has seen its course. Right, here we are… Cleghorn Road, Lanark. We take a right along here. Gle Mhath!’

‘Well, well, look what the cat’s dragged in… Ted Cameron. Lovely to see you after all this time.’ Celia’s hug was warm and genuine.

‘This is so kind of you, Celia. I hope we haven’t put you out in any way.’

‘Not at all, it’s a pleasure. Come on in. Your uncle arrived about an hour ago – what a charming and fascinating man – and the flowers are beautiful!’

‘Are you sure it’s Jake you’ve got in there?’

‘Sorry, young man, what was that?’

‘Oh, this is my young cousin Calum, Celia – don’t listen to any of his teenage snash.’ I fired him a warning scowl behind Celia’s back as we made our way into the front hall of the property.

‘Yes, I’ve only got the one teenager, but my daughter can be a real handful. She is away at a friend’s farm this afternoon. Marlene has a horse up at their farm and the girls spend the time looking after the beasts. We’re often away at showjumping competitions at weekends – a bit of a busman’s holiday for me, I’d rather stay in my bed, but she has me wound round her finger.’

At that, Jake appeared from the right side with what looked like a double whisky. ‘Hi, gents.’

‘You made good time, Jake. Celia is obviously looking after you.’

Beckoning towards Ms Drummond, Jake smiled. ‘You didn’t clarify what a delightful woman Celia is, Ted. Very negligent of you.’

My eyes probably narrowed a bit. ‘Some things are best judged first-hand, Jake. I wouldn’t want my former boss blushing, for heaven’s sake.’

Celia, now scarlet-faced, led us through to a large dining table in her kitchen. ‘I assumed you guys would be hungry, so I put on some homemade lasagne for you if you want to take a seat. And afterwards you can tell me as much as you can about your plans. It sounds so intriguing, my goodness.’

A couple of hours later, just over four miles away, Michael Kyle stepped out of Roy’s Jaguar and glanced around the familiar surroundings of his cousin’s farm with not a little trepidation. It had been years since he had been here and the memories from that time rushed back into his consciousness – one being Tom’s face contorted with anger pressed close to his own. However, when Ronnie Grigor himself summons you for a trip, no hesitation could be involved. The questions would have to be delayed.

Roy got out of the driver’s side and stretched as he surveyed the landscape. ‘Gee, Tom doesn’t exactly hide his wealth.’

‘Roy, ya wanker, was that you chickening out of overtaking that M5 on the Clydeside?’

‘Well, Swank, the Jag doesn’t have the horsepower you have, and I promised Ronnie I’d get here in one piece.’

Swank jumped down the front steps of the house, kissed the bonnet of his Porsche and then high-fived the two new arrivals. ‘So, a mission be-damned. Right, let’s get inside and get to it.’

There was no concealing the frostiness between the two cousins but in general, the evening was going well thanks to Swank and Roy’s joviality. The curry was splendid and the beer was hitting the spot. Michael couldn’t help studying the two seventeen-year-olds across the table. They were returning his smiles, so maybe there was a chance of engagement. After all, girls like this don’t usually get the chance of meeting men with the experience of how to treat a woman correctly.

Tom had spotted his cousin’s leers but was beyond comment this time due to the effects of the alcohol. And after all, Mike would only succeed in making an arse of himself and getting a right good slap into the bargain.

Tom was reluctant to discuss much in front of the girls, so as soon as the meal was finished, he motioned to Marlene. ‘Right, my dear, I’ve arranged for Mary to drive you home. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of your mother lest I need her for my precious boys at some point.’

Mike Kyle stood up. ‘I’ll go with the pair of them… a bit of male security… and I could do with some fresh air anyway.’

‘Are you sure, Michael? I’m used to taxiing all kinds of wastrels for Tom. I don’t need an escort for a sweet wee girl like Marlene.’ Mary could spot a charlatan at a hundred paces.

‘Well, we know there are some scoundrels from the Highlands coming down here to create mischief.’

‘Enough, Mike! Thanks for the reminder. Mary, would you mind taking my cousin out for a gander round the town? Jessie will be getting off to bed and I’ve got some stuff to run past the rest of this crew.’

Tom sounded a bit exasperated, so Mary nodded her consent and gestured to the door, ‘Right, coats!’

As soon as the three of them had left, Tom checked that his daughter had retired upstairs, before he addressed the four remaining men in the room, Swank, Roy, Tom’s foreman Doog Hardie, and his chief farmhand, Rab Sillars.

‘Right, guys, just quickly before we all hit the sack. Thanks to information from Abe Beaton, Stuart Haig’s henchman, it does indeed seem that Ted Cameron is no longer in Lochaber and is probably heading my way, with or without his uncle who is ex-military. We can fill in Mike tomorrow but the plan is to get hold of Ted and bring him up here under force if necessary to thrash some things out with him. How far we go with this idiot depends on what his response is. But this matter needs stamped out as quickly as possible. As Roy is down here for now, Abe has recruited Jackson Haig in the task of dealing with the injured brother up north, to get him to reveal where he’s hidden his log book. Hopefully that will be fruitful but till then, I need guys trawling the roads looking for a white Golf. Rab, you organise a bunch of the farmhands and go about with Mike. Roy, Swank and Doog, you stay up here with me till we get the bugger.’

Mary Greig was unhappy that Tom’s cousin had twisted round in the passenger seat so that he appeared to be kneeling on the seat. Yes, it did allow him to engage more directly with his driver and the girl in the back seat but as neither were seeking his attention, his posture was redundant, and did nothing but stretch the material on her seat.

There were no streetlights on this stretch down the hill to the main road, so Mary had to keep her eyes on the road, but couldn’t help noticing Kyle was staring at Marlene.

‘Are you okay there in the back, Marlene?’ Mary addressed the mirror. Marlene mumbled an assurance.

‘I can give you a bit of company, if you like.’

‘No need for that, Mr Kyle.’

‘It’s Mike, we’re all friends here.’

Marlene felt her stomach begin to churn at the unseemly attention from the creepy teacher. She felt the urge to deflect. ‘I overheard you saying something about scoundrels coming down from the Highlands, Mr Kyle, and thought gee, a real exodus is hitting Lanark.’

‘How do you mean my dear – you’re very sharp?’

‘Well, obviously there are you guys up at Mr Landells just now, there are the people you were referring to and then there are the guys who are going to be staying with my mum and me for a couple of days.’

‘Really? That is a coincidence – what are they down for?’

‘Oh, I’ve no idea, think they’ve got something to do with Mum’s work.’

‘Mmm, okay. Well, don’t let any of them chat you up, now. You’ll be far too good for them.’

Mary reassured Kyle that Marlene’s mother would be more than a match for any such suitors as they hit the main road and drove into the attractive market town built on hilly land above the River Clyde. Soon they were turning left from the main thoroughfare along a street that Mike Kyle noticed had a couple of official-looking sandstone buildings then a fire station. Another left turn at a park saw them descending down a road and onto a back road on the fringe of the town. The housing had thinned down and there were now only larger dwellings set off the road looking on to surrounding fields. Mary signalled left and they soon pulled up in front of a large modern villa sitting in well-manicured grounds that extended to the back.

As Marlene got out of the back seat, Kyle caught her right forearm in an awkward clench. Marlene could only stare angrily at him for the unwarranted grasp. ‘Good night my dear.’ There was no reply as Marlene shut the door firmly and walked to the figure of her mother who had appeared out of the front door. The two women turned towards the car and mouthed, ‘Thank you, Mary,’ simultaneously and waved at the driver, who was performing a three-point turn.

As the car manoeuvred away from Celia’s home, a triggered security light revealed a white and a blue car at the side of the house but Mike was more interested in signalling his displeasure in their recent company to Mary.

‘Shitty little girl, won’t get far in this world if she doesn’t respect proper manners.’

Mary suppressed a smile. ‘Och, Mike, some people just don’t know how to behave.’

However, this was lost on him. ‘Right, Mary, can you find a pub for a quick half, before we head back up the road? I seem to remember The Jump Jockey used to have music sessions.’

‘You’re in luck. Most of the pubs have music on this week. Tom has sponsored a music week in the town to go along with his Nemphlar Stampede Festival. Tomorrow there’s a sheepdog trial and an exhibition of heavy farming vehicles up at the farm.’

‘Not my thing really, Mary. Let’s just stampede to the pub.’

Rosalie looked at the bedside clock again to check she wasn’t mistaken. No, she wasn’t dreaming, it was only 4am. The message must have been sent from New York at 10pm – at least it hadn’t been a call. Her friend Carolyn must have been on a late session at headquarters and picked up the message at the desk as she left for home. Carolyn had decided the message from Scotland would be better passed on without delay.

Rosalie sat up in bed and read the few lines twice over. Since her grandmother had died last year, her grandfather had begun to display an emotional side that had never been apparent before. She supposed when you lose a life partner, it was only normal for such a huge disruption to change your life and cause profound grief. And yet…

Rosalie sniffed and wiped the tears away. She would go down to the kitchen and have an instant coffee. She planned a jog along the beach at 7am today, so maybe it was caffeine that was needed.

She was soon perched on a high stool sipping her coffee and ruminating on her grandfather’s words: ‘Please get in touch soon. I’m ready to give you the answers you’ve always wanted.’ The dysfunction she had experienced had been nullified by the breadth of the Atlantic, and she had no wish to revisit the negativity of her previous life. But, still there was a niggle, an itch to be scratched. She wiped more tears away.

‘Rosie! It’s far too early to be on the move this morning.’ Sonja’s natural warmth evolved into concern. ‘Oh, my poor dear, you are crying. What has happened?’

Rosie found that being treated with genuine sympathy usually succeeded in exacerbating any tears, and so she sobbed heartily as the older woman wrapped her in her arms.

Less than ten minutes later, the two women sat on a sofa in the living room looking at each other over the brim of coffee mugs.

‘I’m so sorry about this. It’s just a pile of emotions that rage through my mind when sufficiently prompted.’

‘Of course… and there is no need to apologise. It could be that your history has not been an entirely happy one but things can be salvaged. I remember my grandparents recounting tales of the Hongerwinter, the famine that occurred here in 1944–45 during the German occupation. Tens of thousands of Dutch died. It affected the west of the country, where our families lived, in particular. My grandparents gave up everything and walked north east to Groningen, stealing cabbages from farms for sustenance. It was a harrowing experience for them that they never forgot, but they forged a life for themselves in that part of the country, and the nation was liberated a little later, and eventually they led happy lives.’

‘God, Sonja, I would never compare myself to your family who endured such horror. I was safe, well-fed, well-schooled, over-protected if anything, but unfortunately, I never felt truly loved. My mother had me when she was very young and always seemed to resent me. She had issues with her mental health, developed a drug habit and died ten years ago. I never knew my father, though I asked them repeatedly over the years who he was. My grandmother treated me like a prized possession. She was caring but very strict and hurtful at times. And my grandfather, the man who messaged me, was affable but just a bit cold. He taught me a lot about the smallholding but he was never jocular or light-hearted with me. There were no jokes in our household.

‘Gran was stronger in many ways. She was the one chasing away any boyfriends or discouraging unsuitable female friends. I remember once, a couple of men came down to look at the dogs. One of them came on to me very strongly in our barn to the extent that I was frightened of being raped. My grandfather walked in on it, but after they had exchanged insults I didn’t understand, he just left. Then just as the guy had pulled down my jeans, my gran came in with the guy’s companion. They wrestled him off but he thumped my gran after she started hitting him about the head. The men took off, but no police were called and my grandparents had a screaming match that seemed to go on for days. I just feel there’s never been anyone special there for me. At university and then at work, I appear to have further developed a problem with trust.’

‘Hardly surprising, really.’

‘That’s why coming here to a warm family has been empowering. Putting in an appearance at the demonstration next week is important to me and I think Connie feels the same.’

‘Yes, I understand completely. Robin and I will still worry over the pair of you though.’

‘Good morning, cousin. You must have got in late last night.’

Mike Kyle had insisted on remaining until closing time in the pub. Mary had gone back to her cottage in a neighbouring village at 10 o’clock but had given him her spare key for Tom’s back door and directions for the taxi office. He had enjoyed the drop-in session in The Jump Jockey. He had got chatting with a few Lanarkians who had no hesitation in making their feelings known about his cousin. The general feeling was that he was a bullying but benevolent crook. Better not spill that one out over porridge.

‘Mary kindly dropped me at a bar that was taking advantage of your musical sponsorship. Oh, here’s your key back, Mary, by the way,’ he said, setting down the gleaming metal instrument next to her, as she poured coffee out for the two men.

‘Where are Roy and Hector?’

Tom looked up from digesting The Scotsman at the far end of the table. ‘Roy is away out for a walk and Swank has already organised a couple of posses and headed off. They’re away to check all local hotels, guest houses and B&Bs to start with. We’re expecting a fair bit of traffic up here this morning with the various activities that are on. Not ideal, but you never know, Ted might get caught up in the congestion.’

Mike Kyle felt a bit parched but his head was clear. ‘Tom, what’s the score with all this? I was saying to Roy coming down in the car, are we sure Abe and Stuart are not mistaken in what was heard? I mean Ted’s hardly a master burglar if you were worried about theft, and anyway he won’t know all your records are kept down at New Lanark. However, I find it only marginally more believable that he would come here to convince you to dump the Haigs and the Grigors because of their carelessness. Unless of course, you sneaky bugger, that you’re very open to that and just want to see what he has to say.’

‘Look, Mike, I’ve invested a lot in my business concerns and have a lot to lose. I reserve the right to do what’s best for me. I know from Hector that he has been used by the guys up north for some nefarious deeds but first and foremost, Swank is my employee and down here what I say goes. I like Roy but I don’t really need his presence here nor yours for that matter, cousin. Help if you wish, but don’t get in the way.’

‘This sounds more like you, Tom. Last night, I thought you were sounding a bit softer.’

‘You’ve known me long enough, Mike.’

‘Your Jessica has grown up to be quite the young lady, by the way.’

‘Right, Mike, don’t start that fucking nonsense again – you know where it nearly got you before. Fuck me, man, you’re nearly a pensioner – time to act like it. You know I’d break your jaw if you said one inappropriate word to Jess. I saw you making eyes at the vet’s girl last night over dinner – it turned my ruddy stomach. Just cool it!’

Mike Kyle slowly put his coffee cup down and stared into space for a few seconds. He suddenly felt sweat on his top lip and looked to Mary to see if she had been similarly impacted, but of course she wouldn’t be and indeed she was buttering toast intently.

‘What did you just say, Tom, about a vet’s girl?’

‘I’m just busting your balls, Mike. I think I trust you enough not to get into trouble this time round.’

‘Aye, fine, but did you mean that girl last night has got something to do with vets?’

Tom now could see the alarm in his cousin’s face.

‘Yes, Marlene’s mother is one of the local vets. Why, what’s the matter? You didn’t say anything salacious to the mother when you dropped Marlene off, she’s a good-looking woman?’

‘We’ve got to go.’

‘What? What are you on about, Mike?’

Mary suddenly shot up out of her seat, only now apparently engaged with the dialogue, as the realisation hit. ‘I’ll go find Roy and a couple of the lads.’

Tom was mystified, and irritated by the lack of explanation from Mary as she shot out the door.

‘What the fuck is it? What’s happened, Mike?’

Mike Kyle was now up and searching for his jacket on the wall rack. ‘I’ve fucked up, we’ve got to go.’

Landells, weary of the vagueness, twisted his cousin round and held him by the shoulders against the kitchen wall. ‘Are you going to tell me what fuck up has happened? Because it’s pretty obvious I’m going to be annoyed no matter what.’

Mike Kyle stuttered to get his reply out. ‘Th-the girl, Marlene. She said to us before we dropped her off that her mother had guests down from up north who would be staying with them for a couple of days. The girl said that they were something to do with her mother’s work. To make things worse, I think I saw part of a white car parked at the side of their house.’

Tom Landells stood off the wilting form of his cousin and put his hands behind his head and smiled sardonically. ‘Hell’s bells. It never ceases to amaze me how fucking thick some people can be. That lassie has basically given you the answer to the only thing we’ve talked about since you guys arrived and you failed to put two and two together. Fucking astonishing!’

‘It’s only half past nine – we might still catch them cold.’

Tom Landells tore his jacket off the peg as he launched towards the door. ‘You better be right.’

Calum and I had been invited to go for breakfast in the main house. Jake had got up an hour earlier, drained a cup of tea in our cabin and then headed off on his Indian for what he described as reconnaissance. Celia had appeared at our door shortly afterwards and insisted on the two of us joining her for a cooked breakfast.

During the meal, Celia took a call from her practice then offered her apologies for having to depart so rapidly.

‘Right, Ted. What’s the plan for this morning?’

‘I’m going to give this fellow Elliott a phone to see if it’s okay to go see his books sometime today. If he agrees, we wait until Jake gets back, then the three of us will head on over. Celia said we’re welcome to stay in the main house until we head out. Marlene is still in her bed, apparently, so we’ll try and keep the noise down.’

Calum went over to the sink to rinse his mug and just caught sight of the rear end of a white van turning past the side of the house. ‘Ted, we’ve got visitors.’

I barely registered the comment as I tried to follow an article on the BBC News at low volume. It was a small television for the size of the kitchen.

Celia’s doorbell sounded, so I jumped up and made my way to the door as repetition of the sound could easily wake the girl upstairs.

I pulled the door open and was dumbfounded to see two men dressed all in black with ski masks on. I half turned to shout a warning to Calum, when I received a heavy blow to the solar plexus. It caused me to bend over and that’s when I received a strike to the back of my head and blacked out.

When I regained consciousness, the first sensation experienced was the unmistakeable chafing of my skin on dry hay. I could hear no voices so I thought it would be safe to open my eyes. So, I was in a barn, a large barn at that and holy cow, my head was throbbing. I attempted to move my hand over the back of my head to inspect the damage but was prevented in doing so as I realised my right hand was handcuffed to a chain that was in turn attached to the barn wall. I moved slowly to free up some length of chain and moved my hand to the back of my skull. There was an area of severe tenderness coinciding with a patch of dried blood and matted hair. A fleeting thought occurred to me: my assailant must be well practised in thuggery that he could render me unconscious but didn’t kill me.

‘Ted?’

‘Calum?’

‘Oh jeez, thank God. I thought you were dead. That cut on your head was pissing out blood all the way here in the van. I tried to stem the flow with my hands but the heavy guy kept poking me with a baseball bat.’

I turned around to thank my cousin face-to-face. ‘What the hell did they do to you, Calum?’

‘I started screaming when they attacked you, and shouted up to Marlene to call the police. But she never appeared despite me bawling like mad and the first guy just came up and punched me in the face. I think he’s broken my nose. Bastard.’

‘Bastard, alright!’

‘Who are these guys, Ted?’

‘I’m just trying to work that out. I could kill them for hurting you, Calum. Your poor mother would be horrified by this. How long was I out for?’

‘Just under an hour. It’s past eleven now.’

‘Did you say we were put in a van? How far did we travel, do you reckon?’

‘Yeah, it stank of animals. We could only have gone a few miles. I was face down and sore with it, but no, it wasn’t that far.’

‘What the hell else have we done to kick this off, I wonder? We’re obviously more a cause for concern than I had originally believed.’

Calum had no time to provide a suggestion even if he could have, as overhead lights blinked into service and a side door swung open. In came three men, two of whom had their faces covered by masks. The more heavyset of these two carried a baseball bat, the end of which was bloodstained. The third man to enter stood about the same height as his companions, approximately five foot nine, but carried more weight about his girth. He was dressed in a lightweight green chequer tweed suit, a white shirt open at the neck and brown brogues. Quite the gentleman farmer until he opened his mouth and instead of the lowland burr of the farming stock that I was familiar with from my student days, out came a hard clipped west central Scottish accent.

‘Good morning, lads. I hope my boys weren’t too hard on you.’ His head rocked backwards with laughter displaying impressive and expensive white dentition and a bull neck. He must be in his mid-fifties, because his hair was auburn but greying and his plethoric facies betrayed a fondness for alcohol. He pulled forwards a stool to mount.

‘Anyway, let’s cut to the chase. What the hell do you guys think you’re doing here?’

I had to think fast. I had no idea who this was. My head was thumping but I had to react rationally. There absolutely had to be a connection and I had to work it out as survival might be at stake. I started with some truth to gauge the reaction. ‘I’m sorry, but I think there’s been a mistake. I have no idea who you are. We’ve just come to Lanark to visit friends.’

‘Do you think I’m buttoned up the back, Ted? I know exactly why you’re here. I just want to hear your version.’

Right, I’ve made some progress. Despite having never seen this man in my life, he knows my name. He claims to know why I’m here, yet this is most definitely not Drew Elliott. He is too young and bears no resemblance to the kennel-owning smallholder as described by Celia, and Elliott doesn’t even know I’m in the area yet, so it’s hardly likely to be a connection of his. I was racking my brains to think of possible links to our activities of the past days.

‘Come on, speak up. You’ve come all this way, so I expected a passionate pleading of your case.’

I needed more to go on, I needed to buy some time. ‘Listen, is there any chance of some water and some paracetamol? My head is that sore, I can hardly think to speak.’

‘Fucking lightweight as well, be damned. Rab, can you go and ask Mary for some stuff for this pathetic creature.’

Might be getting somewhere now. The masked man without the baseball bat left the barn. Pleased to meet you, Rab. If I ever get the chance, Rab, remind me to punch your face really hard. And Mary, where did I hear that name? It was just last night. It was a Mary that delivered Marlene home safe and sound from her pal’s dad’s farm.

‘C’mon, Ted, let’s hear what you’ve got to say.’

‘Okay, okay!’ Just give me a couple or more minutes to keep working this out. So the farmer is the guy in the suit. Who the hell is he? He obviously doesn’t know the real reason why we’re down here – so we’ll need to maintain that status quo. But I’ll need to come up with something if I don’t want to subject the pair of us to more punishment. Bugger it, what else had Marlene said when she came in? I wasn’t paying too much attention. She said something about a sleazy older man in the car who was pestering her. He also was from up north and… was a cousin of the farmer. That’s definitely what she said.

The door opened and Rab appeared with a tumbler of water and some tablets in foil.

‘Thank you,’ I replied genuinely as I knocked back the two co-codamol tablets with the water.

And then, eureka! It certainly fitted – was this the one and only Tom Landells, notorious Central Scotland drug lord of whom Frankie had previously talked? His cousin was that shifty fucker of a history teacher back home, Michael Kyle, the kiddy fiddler who stayed next door to Caroline. According to Frankie and Lawrie, Landells was the main distributor of drugs to the Haig – Grigor organisation and his name would have featured on those accounts that poor Lawrie had access to.

I twisted my head about as if gravity was delivering analgesia to the crevices of pain, but it was all still about buying time. Calum was as quiet as a mouse crouched down to my right looking at the floor.

It was extraordinarily bad luck that our journey had brought us so close to Landells’ lair. However, I’m not a man for coincidences so there must have been a deeper link I couldn’t figure right then and couldn’t waste time on as we were in deep shit. I hoped all would be revealed somewhere down the line but now was the time to bluff for our lives. They must not know the real reason for our trip, that I could sense, but I had to offer up something plausible.

‘If you don’t start talking, the bold Hector here will injure you on a permanent basis.’

Right, Hector, that’s your beefy bod just entered the memory banks for retribution.

I had to gamble now and it had to be good.

I sat up and rested my head against a bale and stared as hard as I could at our chunky captor. Here goes, I thought. ‘Well, Tom, it’s just like this. I’m here to discuss revelations about the Haig and Grigor families’ drug network.’

Landells would always lose a fortune in poker. The sneer on his face was replaced by a brief look of shock but he riposted reflexively. ‘What the fuck do you know about it, you twat?’

‘Enough to put you all away for a hell of a long time, actually.’ Now was the time to play my joker. ‘However, my fight’s not with you. I’d be willing to put today’s activities down to a pure misunderstanding.’ I could feel Calum’s eyes piercing my very soul.

Landells got up and paced around the barn. ‘I think you could be a bluffing son of a bitch, vetman. I’ve got no proof that you know fuck all about me or indeed even if you did, how would I know you won’t sell me down the river with those fellow teuchter pals of yours?’

‘Well, you don’t, but do you seriously think I would casually walk into your abode with the notion of turning you into the authorities?’

‘But that’s the thing, you didn’t simply walk in. You were dragged here.’

‘Hang on, you’re creating your own narrative. We were planning to come here amicably to see you today. I’m very sorry if we didn’t give your violent masked intruders a better welcome.’

‘So why come? Did you hope I would sacrifice my long-term associates in order to help you frame them or maybe make me dump them?’

‘To be honest, that was going to be gist of the discussion I hoped to have with you. To bring them down without it affecting you.’

The Hector figure was getting more agitated the more I spoke. Landells had noticed it too.

‘Right, Ted, this is where I am. I don’t trust you a fucking inch, but I’m going to have to speak to my colleagues about how to proceed. I think you and fucking Robin here, are still likely to lose your lives, so feel free to start praying. Just don’t disturb my horses next door.’ Landells laughed for only the second time and disappeared out the door followed by Rab Sillars and Hector ‘Swank’ Dunbar.

I exhaled deeply and stood up to stretch my legs. Calum also got up and performed perfunctory exercises. ‘I’m not exactly sure what was going on there, Ted. I presume you’ve earned us a stay of execution, so I thank you for that. I’m now seeing why you didn’t want to take me down here – this is crazy stuff.’

‘Sorry again, Calum. I should have put my foot down when your mum and Frankie were pleading to me. Now, we’re on death row judged by a crook in the guise of a farmer and his brutal henchmen. They don’t know what we’re here for and we’ve got to keep it that way. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this trip now – Jake had tried to convince me before we set off that we could be in jeopardy, but I kidded him that was his age talking. Now I’ve got to somehow try and talk our way out of this or pray for a miracle. Right… let’s go over what we know and what we can do.’

Two miles away, a possible miracle was slowly winding its way through pedestrian traffic heading for some farming events, on a red Indian motorcycle with a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl riding pillion with an equestrian helmet on.

‘Grandpa, can you hear me alright?’

‘Rosie! Is that you? The line’s not great.’

‘Yes, it’s me, Grandpa, sorry about the line. I got your message, so I thought it best to phone you. I’m in The Hague in the Netherlands just now, getting in the way of staff at the International Court of Justice. I told you at the turn of the year that I was going to be seconded here at some point but it was rude of me not to confirm that it had happened. The plan is to take a break with you for a while when my initial attachment is complete and before I go back to New York.’

‘Oh, that’s great, dear. Goodness me, you’re such a high flier.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, Gramps. It’s just natural career progression. Many hundreds have done it before me and many hundreds will follow me. But it’s nice of you to say.’

‘Well, I’m very proud of you.’

‘Of course – I understand that. I’m just a bit curious and worried about the timing of your message. Has anything happened? Are you okay?’

‘This line is poor, Rosie. I’m ready to tell you all you want to know. When we lost your grandmother, I felt the time wasn’t right. She was always so adamant not to worry you about anything.’

‘Well, Grandpa. You already know my feelings about the whole thing. I’m not going to get into another argument with you just now, as you do sound a wee bit frail to me. But, as before, you should trust me to act sensitively. I think I have a right to know all that you know. I’m not going to say any more just now – the line is really too bad to have this discussion and as I said, it won’t be too long before I’m over in Scotland. If you need to phone me in Holland, I’ll give you the number of the mobile phone I’ve got at the moment.’

‘It’s been so good to hear your voice. Hang on till I get a pen…’

Jackson Haig and Abe Beaton wandered down the ward in Raigmore Hospital to Lawrie’s single room. They had reassured staff at the nursing station that they were indeed close family members.

Lawrie had his eyes closed as he sat up in bed. He no longer needed intubation and his breathing rate appeared normal. He still has a naso-gastric tube in situ for feeding, thought Abe. His face was horribly discoloured. When the door clicked shut behind them, Lawrie opened his eyes and assessed the two men in front of him. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and then shook his head.

Jackson ventured some conversation. ‘It’s terrible to see you this way, Lawrie. Don’t worry, we’ll catch whoever did this to you and they will pay.’

Lawrie managed to grunt a low ‘Piss off, Jackson.’

‘No point in getting on at me, Lawrie. I’m only here to help. We’ve got the police involved obviously. I spoke to that fucker Frankie Cameron this morning. He seems to have got a bit bolshie with me again – anyway, he said that there’s no new leads at the moment. Lazy bastards.’

Abe went forwards to the edge of the bed and took Lawrie’s hand. ‘Do you have any idea who it was, Lawrie?’

‘Aw, come on, Abe, give my brother a chance. He wouldn’t have had a chance of spotting who it was.’

Lawrie was staring into Abe’s eyes and he saw a glimmer of humanity that he had not seen before. Was Abe to be trusted? That look was authentic, surely.

‘Sore!’

‘Aw pal, you must still be in agony,’ Abe acknowledged.

Jackson pushed in front of Abe to confront Lawrie. ‘Look, Lawrie. Everyone is sympathetic towards you but I can only voice Dad’s pleas. What have you done with the book that you copied down all the transactions in? We need to find it, brother. If that gets in the wrong hands, we are all seriously fucked – and I mean you and Finlay as well.’

Lawrie looked up at the ceiling but did manage to catch Abe subtly shaking his head in disdain at Jackson’s words.

‘Sore!’

‘Right, do you want painkillers, is that it? Well, I’ll go get you some – see if that loosens your ruddy tongue. I just don’t think you fucking get this, brother – if we don’t get that book back, your mother, who you worship, will be on the bones of her arse, as the rest of us do time. Do you get it?’

Jackson took off to the nurses’ station in pursuit of analgesia and Abe moved closer to the young man he had watched grow up untarnished by the dark palette of criminality. He felt his eyes moisten as he thought of all the occasions he had witnessed Lawrie rebuff family holidays and excursions in order to look after Finlay.

‘I will find them,’ Abe mouthed quietly.

Just a touch of a smile loosened Lawrie’s tight jaw. ‘I believe you will.’ Lawrie tightened his fingers around Abe’s grip. ‘Careful, Abe, I think one was Roy.’

Abe reeled back, startled at Lawrie’s revelation, his hand slackening its hold.

The door surged open and a pale blue uniformed staff nurse entered carrying a bottle of liquid anti-inflammatory medication with Jackson blustering behind her. ‘This will do the trick, eh, nurse?’

Abe stood up and walked to the window. The view was tremendous; he could see the town spread up the hill to the south of Inverness but his mind was not on the scenery but on the complications of what lay ahead.

Tom Landells decided to hold court in his conservatory. South facing, it had an impressive outlook over the Clyde Valley towards Hazelbank. In the far corner of the room sat a binocular telescope and stool. The rest of the area was taken up with three large sofas on which were reclining some of Tom’s inner circle. Landells and Dunbar sat together with their back to the windows and relayed the conversation from the barn to Tom’s right-hand man, Doog Hardie, and Roy Grigor, Michael Kyle and Mary Greig, who sat on the facing seats.

Swank took over the lead in the conversation. ‘Mr Landells, Tom, I just want to say that as an employee of both you and the Grigor family, I am finding I’m a bit conflicted. I think we shouldn’t hang about deciding what to do with these two guys. They obviously say that they want to ruin the Grigor and Haig families and not affect you, but can you trust them? What if you move your business to the Clancys and the Camerons release that information to the press and the law anyway? Safer to dispose of the pair of them now.’

‘That’s all and well, Swank, but can I remind you that I pay the majority of your wages. It’s good of you to be loyal but what is going to happen when these fellas don’t return home? The book’s details could emerge and everyone would be up shit’s creek.’

‘Roy tells me that they’ve got a sex tape on the policeman, Ted’s brother; that’s bound to count for something.’

‘I’ve already told Tom all about that, Swank,’ Roy interjected.

‘Yes, I’ve had a think about that, Roy. If people start going missing and dying, Frankie Cameron will kiss his current life goodbye and seek revenge. Guaranteed. Another thing that is guaranteed is that I won’t be able to trust the Haigs again on grounds of security, so can the Grigor family provide an alternative solution? Can you, Roy?’

‘We’ve acted unilaterally in coming down here, Tom. I’m very friendly with Jackson and he knows we had to act. When Stuart retires or snuffs it, Jackson takes over. I believe he has the strength of character to deal with Lawrie, or whoever, before situations get out of hand.’

‘Are you trying to tell me that day is not far off?’

Roy inserted the index finger behind his collar and ran the finger around the edge to let air find itself to the clamminess of his chest. ‘Who can tell, Tom? But the future is always closer than you think.’

‘Can I put my oar in, Tom?’ Mike Kyle suggested.

‘On you go, cousin, fill your boots.’

‘I’ve known and hated Lawrie and the Cameron family a long time and, undoubtedly, it’s a mutual dislike. But you do get an understanding of where they are in life. They are all very close and are supportive of each other but outside of that, as regards the big picture, they are not schemers and don’t possess the heart or inclination to bring down major crime and I include Frankie in that. If his community is generally safe, he won’t see the need to get every criminal off the street. It’s an “easy life” perspective. When their old man went over the top in losing the rag with Stuart a while back, he was certified, but rather than fight their corner, the rest of the family were mortified, and everything has been quiet for years.

‘Lawrie’s actions would appear to have driven this current situation, but apart from helping a good pal, what has Ted got to gain in all this? Or Frankie, who has a damning tape to contend with? And why involve a schoolboy who so recently lost his father? I understand your worries re loss of money and imprisonment, but could there not be something else going on? I heard Rab say that the pair of them seemed genuinely mystified as to who you were when you grabbed them. Why was that the case? They’ve come into the fiefdom of one of the biggest drug barons in the country to talk turkey and yet they’re puzzled about an early engagement. And yes, it sounds like Ted talked a good game in the barn, but the fucker is well known for that. Gift of the fucking gab.’

‘Fair points perhaps, Mike, but no matter what, they’ve still travelled halfway down the country and they’re in my barn, and unless someone can give me another reason as to why, we have a problem. At the moment, I’m leaning towards Swank’s suggestion of execution but I do see the merit in trying a bit of torture to see if that will clarify things. Start with the kid first, get him squealing and Ted should fold.’

At the edge of Nemphlar hamlet there is a crossroads and the red motorbike took a right turn heading along what is termed as the Moor Road, that takes you over two miles along the top of the hill until you descend to the village of Crossford. The term moor is a misnomer, as in fact along the length of the plateau of a summit on both sides of the road lies prime land for either growing crops or grazing livestock. Halfway along the plateau, a patch of mature forestry lies on both sides of the roadside for a distance of a few hundred yards. According to Marlene, Landell’s home lay down a road on the left-hand side fifty yards past the start of the forestry. Jake’s plan was to drive past the entrance and if possible, hide the Indian in the forest on the right-hand side of the main road, as this wood was common land and in fact had rights of way through it. He had swithered over Marlene’s wish to accompany him. Her knowledge of the terrain swung the decision which helped to assuage her guilt over not helping Ted and Calum resist abduction. The truth was she had been terrified.

She had jumped out of bed on hearing Calum’s scream, and from looking over the banister could see him being dragged through the hall and out of the house. Marlene then had the presence of mind to go to the spare room and hide under spare bedding in the wardrobe. Sure enough, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and carrying out a perfunctory search of the rooms and she remained undiscovered. On hearing a vehicle roar into life, she rushed to the window to see a plain white van heading off the property. She took a few minutes to gather her thoughts and reduce her heart rate before deciding to try and get hold of her mother at the practice.

‘No, sorry, she’s just gone out to Dolphinton.’ Before leaving a message to phone back, she heard an engine outside and hung up. From the window she saw Jacob dismount and head for the door. Oh thank you, God.

Clinging to Jake like a limpet she recounted the frightening events of the past hour.

Jake implored Marlene to go and get dressed, and he would put on some breakfast. She was surprised at his impassiveness – bloody hell, does this happen all the time in the Highlands?

When she reappeared back in the kitchen in jig time in a pale blue tracksuit and wet blonde hair, he was just in the act of scrambling some eggs and toasting bread for the pair of them. ‘Perfect timing, Marlene, I hope this will suit you.’

‘Great, I normally only have cereal if Mum’s left.’

‘I’ve been trying to think of what could possibly explain what happened here. The only thing I can think of, that’s at all feasible, is that it is something to do with that couple who dropped you off last night.’

‘Oh, definitely.’

Jake was perplexed by the teenager’s confident response. ‘What? You sound pretty sure.’

‘I am. I’ve seen that van at Mr Landells’ farm loads of times. There are stickers for Carluke Rovers and Biggar Rugby Club on the back doors.’

‘Well, well, young lady, good observation. Did you say Landells, by the way?’

‘Yes, Tom Landells is my friend’s dad. He’s a bit of an arse actually, but he’s kind enough to me although that might be cos I’m friendly with Jess and I think he fancies Mum. Do you know him, Jacob?’

‘Let’s say I know of him. I am not sure why he would grab the two guys like that. I’m going to have to find out. Can you give me directions? And no, you can’t come with me, before you ask.’

Usually a very quiet thoroughfare, the journey there after leaving the main A road was busy with cars looking for the car park in a field just beyond the hamlet crossroads. In addition, there were a lot of pedestrians to negotiate past on the motorcycle, who had walked the reasonably short distance from the town to visit the entertainment provided by Landells. This particular year a sheepdog trials with an accompanying all-day bar was proving to be an additional attraction in the north-lying fields. Across the road lay an exhibition of monster farming vehicles that was already enticing father and son combinations. An unmasked Rab Sillars and a couple of young farmhands were directing interested groups to climb aboard the vehicles for a close inspection.

An air of happiness abounded amongst the visitors but this was not the sensation in Jake’s mind as he steered his bike past the last of the traffic. They passed a road junction on the left before they entered the shade of the woods and drove on a further two hundred yards before Jake stopped. Marlene jumped off and he pulled the heavy machine into the undergrowth, away from any obvious spectators. He then removed a small backpack from one of his panniers.

‘Just my bag of tricks.’ He winked at Marlene.

The pair of them retraced their journey a short distance until they reached the opening to Landells’ property within the woods. The trees provided a natural curtain to screen his home from the road and any activities taking place on his extensive farmlands. The two of them passed through the modest gates, before Marlene took Jake’s arm and led him left onto a narrow bridlepath that ran parallel to the main metalled drive separated by a twelve-foot border of mixed vegetation of low bushes to mature trees, both deciduous and evergreen. This was the first time Marlene had not been on the back of a horse whilst traversing this route. She explained to Jake that Tom Landells chose to keep all his horses in a stable close to his house, not just the prized stock.

They walked down the path for a hundred yards until the forest opened up above sloping fields, firstly in the form of a banked grassy hollow where lay Landells’ impressive house built from wood and brick in a central position with adjacent outbuildings, identified by Marlene as a barn and a stable block. A small but well-structured garden skirted the front of the house and on the left side so as not to spoil the view was a fenced off sandy arena containing some equestrian obstacles.

They skirted around the top of the hollow, dodging between rhododendron bushes providing camouflage, hoping to get a view of the front of the house. Marlene pointed out that the large conservatory protruding out from the front of the house seemed to be hosting a meeting of sorts. Jake produced a pocket telescope from his pack and passed it to his young companion.

‘How many do you recognise, Marlene?’

Marlene got the instrument in focus and studied the room for a few minutes. ‘I know the majority of them actually; there’s Tom Landells himself, Mary, that sleazy teacher from last night, Doog Hardie, who is Tom’s sort of deputy. I don’t know the other two men.’

Jake took back the telescope and checked the gathering. Jake immediately recognised Mike Kyle and Roy Grigor. Four of the figures were unknown to him but the broad-chested suedehead seated opposite Roy, one of the two men Marlene couldn’t identify, owned a face that rang a bell. It’ll come to me, he thought.

If there was one place here that Ted and Calum were being held, it was surely that barn. Five minutes later, Jake and Marlene had worked their way around to the other side of the hollow just above the outbuildings. On the far side of the buildings and now in view was the white van that had so recently been in Lanark. Marlene claimed that she could wriggle under the wall of the stable at one corner to get inside. This could be important as the stable and the barn shared a wall. Jake started to get twitchy again. Did he really want to put this schoolgirl at a greater risk, despite Landells’ familiarity with her? He felt that acting quickly was a necessity for the two abductees, assuming they were still alive. So he allowed the lithe teenager to contort her way out of sight. ‘Really quiet now, Marlene.’

A minute later the bolt of a small back door slid open and Jake joined the beaming girl inside the stable. He smiled in recognition of her actions and offered her a quick cuddle of gratitude. Marlene’s beam widened as her secret agent persona was confirmed.

The pungent odour of horse was powerful. Marlene had switched the lights on and they made their way down the central aisle, with the schoolgirl pointing out the expensive Arab steeds as well as both teenagers’ beasts. The separating wall between the stable block and the barn was made of coarse pine. Jake put his right index finger to his mouth and further gestured to Marlene to join him at an open part of wall halfway down the building. They both stood silently and cupped their right ear to the wall. Initially nothing was heard, but then Jake was aware of a sporadic rattle. He tapped Marlene on the arm and mouthed ‘Can you hear anything?’

She shook her head but whispered, ‘Just a chain.’

‘Here goes,’ thought Jake. He lifted his right fist and banged the wall firmly. ‘Ted, are you there?’

‘Fuck me, it’s the cavalry,’ I concluded. ‘Jake, we’re in here.’

Calum jumped up and banged the wall with his free hand.

‘We’re alone for now, Jake, but we’re each handcuffed to a chain attached to this wall. They’ll be back, though. I spun a story to Landells, but I can’t see him let it lie at that.’

‘There are some tools in here, Ted. Forget the handcuffs for now. Do you think you could lever the chains off the wall if I can get a tool through to you?’

‘We can only give it a try.’

Jake went to the back of the stable again where he had noticed hardware and various implements. He grabbed an axe and a jemmy without missing a step, Marlene observing admiringly, and walked back to the wooden partition.

‘Marlene, could you check if any of these jerricans back there have any petrol in them, and bring one down if that’s the case?’

‘Step back, guys… I found a big axe.’

Seconds later, as Marlene identified a likely container, Jake struck the wall with considerable force and the blade penetrated the wall easily. The disturbance unsettled the horses, instigating whinnying from both sides of the room.

‘Can you try and keep them calm if at all possible, Marlene?’ Jake implored as he nodded towards the horses.

Marlene skipped over to the nearest stall. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Jake swung the axe above his head and heaved it down upon the wall again, this time fracturing the wood to such an extent that the figures of the two bedraggled captives could be seen crouching on the hay. Without hesitation, Jake climbed through the ragged gap with the jemmy now in his right hand. He reached the fixture holding on Calum’s chain first and with a brief but strong snap he severed the shackle from the wall. Addressing my restraint in the same manner, Jake made short work of removing the securing link from a broken piece of wood.

Marlene climbed through to the barn having successfully pacified her equine pals.

I gave my uncle a quizzical look but he responded without hesitation, ‘Couldn’t have managed without her.’

‘Okay, no bother, now what do we do?’

There was no time to plan anything as the large barn door opened and in walked an unsuspecting torture detail of Swank Dunbar and Rab Sillars, both re-masked for the purpose. Fortunately, the masks afforded limited vision and Jake sprang into action, picking up and inverting the axe in one motion before swinging the wooden handle with considerable force to the gut of Dunbar. He collapsed instantly. Sillars, who had been carrying a tray of small implements, dropped it and had turned to run back out of the door, but was floored by the lassoing effect of Calum’s chain as he sought to gain a degree of revenge on his captors. Jake then moved in to flatten Sillars with a heavy blow across the shoulders with the axe handle.

The heavyset Dunbar rallied a little and pulled himself to his knees but Jake had the situation assessed and moved forwards to club his foe with an almighty upper cut that felled the former soldier.

I moved forwards to grab Sillars by the throat, tightening the metal handcuffs across his Adam’s apple. ‘Right, you evil bastard, we haven’t got time to waste. Have either of you got the keys for these cuffs?’

Sillars responded by spitting in my face. Jake moved over and punched Sillars in the solar plexus and then flipped him upside down. He reached into his pockets and quickly found the keys. ‘Bingo!’

‘Right, pour petrol on the pair of them.’ Jake winked.

After removing our manacles, Jake remained in charge and with Swank still unconscious, cuffed both men behind their backs and chained both their legs to a heavy woodchipper parked against the main door of the barn. Calum and Marlene stared speechless at each other and then at the oldest man in the room, as he displayed such slick authority of action. I must admit if I had not been aware of his military past and his strict fitness regime, I too would have been surprised at my uncle’s performance.

‘Right, everyone next door,’ Jake barked.

I got up slowly as my head still throbbed and I felt dizzy. Calum grabbed my arm and pulled me through the gap in the wall.

‘Right, Marlene, I want you to lead all the horses out that back door to safety in the woods. When you’ve done that go back to the motorbike and wait for me.’ She nodded in agreement and started on the first stall.

I clocked the first of the animals being led out and was impressed. ‘Bloody hell, top notch stallions. Our pal Tom’s good to himself.’

‘Right, guys, let’s follow after Marlene and sprinkle the petrol on all the hay you see.’ Jake then went back to the shackled pair who were now beginning to regain their vocal prowess. He fervently sprinkled some water out of a bottle on them to curtail their shouts as their nostrils deceived them, but he did ensure the big barn door was still unlocked and ajar by a couple of feet. He was not prepared to kill anyone; those days had ended in his twenties.

‘You’re going to get really hot in a couple of minutes, lads.’ Swank remained still but Sillars began to whimper.

Back next door, all the horses and Marlene had left, leaving the three of them in a space reeking of petrol. Jake waved Calum and me outside before reaching down into his bag of tricks and retrieving a lighter. He bent down and lit a couple of sodden bales that inflamed immediately.

Jake then rejoined us outside. ‘Right, guys, we all have to fly. I’ll take Marlene home on the bike but I’ll meet up with the pair of you in a couple of hours. Ted, do you remember the pub, The Girnin’ Dug in Castlegait from your student days?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Well, we’ll meet there. It’s central and there are all-day music sessions going on there this weekend. Be really careful. Landells seems to have a lot of guys working for him. Initially I would keep off the road – head up the middle of the fields towards the big tractor display. There’s a straight tarred track the whole way up to the village. I wonder if Landells uses it as a runway. Once you’re up beside the village, get back into Lanark, one way or another. The saving grace is that there are a fair number of people around to mingle with because of this fête or whatever it is. Okay? Right – time for a warning shot. You guys push off… now!’

Calum and I scrambled up the grassy slope into the foliage. I had the prudence to pick up the remains of the water to splash on my face and scalp and to try and reduce the blood staining on my shirt. On reaching the top of the bank, the pair of us looked back to check on Jake. He had produced a small collapsible crossbow from his bag and had snapped it into operation. He retrieved a bolt from a side pouch, slotted it into position and took aim at the glass of the conservatory.

Jake caught sight of us and frantically pointed at us to get moving through the woodland. But we couldn’t miss this. Jake was now at the top of the bank fifty yards to our right. Flames were now visible licking out of their exit from the stable and smoke was seeping out all along the roofline. Jake steadied himself and then there was a whirring sound, then an almighty smash of breaking glass. We turned back to look at Jake but he was gone. We looked at each other, then broke directly into the bushes to our left. The foliage was fairly dense but the light of the fields was visible not too far away.

Landells, Roy Grigor and Michael Kyle slowly picked themselves up off the floor of the newly ventilated conservatory.

‘What the bloody hell was that!?’ ventured Landells. ‘Watch your hands for glass.’ The three of them watched as a couple of Tom’s workers ran through the garden towards the barn. Tom reached the side door first and ran outside to see his barn and stable block in the early stages of incineration.

‘Aw Jesus! Save the horses, God please save my horses.’

He ran towards the barn with Kyle and Grigor in close pursuit but was rugby tackled to the ground by a tall fair lad he’d only recently employed.

‘Don’t go further, boss. The boys have got Mr Dunbar and Rab out and the horses have gone.’

Landells got to his feet and clapped his tackler. ‘Okay, son, thank you, okay.’

The boy then produced a phone and was heard by Tom contacting the fire services. Initiative too, Tom thought.

Within a few minutes, Tom felt his anxiety lessen though his anger was somewhere stratospheric. His boys, led by Doog Hardie had quelled the severity of the fire, the horses had been found by the stablehand in the woods and Rab and Swank had regained their strength and composure. Tom gathered everyone who was free of activity together in front of his workers’ cabin that lay just beyond the corral at the east side of the house.

‘Right, I want you to break up into groups, grab a couple of tracking hounds if you need them and get after these bastards. I want them back here dead or alive, I’m not fussed. Don’t stop till you find them.’

‘What about the girl? It was the Drummond lassie,’ Rab offered.

‘No, not the girl. She needs handled separately with her mother involved. That will be a challenge, but it can be done later. For now, I just want those three teuchter bastards capital D, E, A, D, dead. Please don’t come back here without prisoners or corpses. Now, off you go, keep in touch by mobile or walkie-talkie.’

The wail of a fire engine siren could be heard from the direction of Nemphlar as the two groups of men set out in different directions from the yard, each accompanied by a bloodhound and a yet-to-be unmuzzled Dobermann Pinscher.

Calum and I had headed directly east through thick trees and bushes, until after only a hundred yards a low fence blocked us from reaching a road. We crossed the fence safely and were out into open country. The road headed down the hill to another farm at ninety degrees to our chosen path, so we crossed it and negotiated another fence that took us into a huge field that in this lower part housed a large but otherwise unimpressive building, dark olive of shade.

My headache had improved and I felt fresh enough to sprint over to the cover of the shed and keep up with Calum. As we touched the metal wall, the roar of a motorcycle taking off could be heard coming from an approximately west direction from where we stood. Calum and I allowed ourselves to share a smile, recognising the likely escape of our senior partner.

I had been up to Nemphlar and environs as a student in pre-Landells days, but I was having difficulty recognising our current location and I definitely didn’t remember any huge shed. We made our way around the bottom side of the edifice as we could now hear shouting coming from back in the woods. There was a small window on this wall and a quick look found a man in overalls attending to the explanation for this building. The hangar, as that indeed is what it was, contained one light aircraft – it might have been a Cessna, but I am no expert, and a small helicopter, perhaps a Robinson, again I have little knowledge of such machines. Tom Landells was indeed very good to himself. The mechanic was engrossed in his work and the front of the hangar was shut, so we could safely go around. From there we identified the road up the middle of the huge field climbing very gradually uphill in the direction of the hamlet. Jake’s impression of it being a runway was exact.

‘There’s no cover, Calum, but I think we should head straight up the runway till we get to the top fields beside Nemphlar. That’s obviously where the exhibition stuff is going on. There could be enough people around to hide ourselves. I can hear some disturbance in the woods, so maybe we should start with a light jog.’ I’d hardly finished my sentence when my cousin took off up the tarmac. I broke into a run to try and catch him up when the sound of a fire engine emerged roughly from our direction of travel.

So Tom must use this airstrip for clandestine activity lest the nearby Cumbernauld or the bigger city airports provide too much scrutiny. Reasonably well concealed in the middle of a barley field, the scant passing road traffic wouldn’t be fully aware of its presence.

Back at their Camisky residence, adjacent to another minor airstrip, the Haigs had their business headquarters. Stuart was looking down from a large window onto the car park where Abe had just pulled up on that ruddy death machine. Stuart made a waving gesture to his enforcer to encourage his entry and climb up the stairs. There were some beef cattle grazing in the fields beyond the airstrip before the land rose up into a low ridge, the other side of which lay Grigor land and somewhere further back amongst the trees near the A82 road, the large home of Ronnie Grigor himself was to be found. The proximity of the head of their closest business partner was a matter of historical chance rather than by design. Sometimes it did feel claustrophobic living beside such an intimidating character in this small rural idyll. On a day when the weather exposed the majesty of the Ben Nevis massif for examination, Stuart couldn’t enjoy any such pearls of nature in his current mood. Sandra, who was yet to respond to his latest protestation of regret, once said that he took nature for granted. As usual, she was probably right.

The knock on the door lifted Stuart from his dwam.

‘Jackson tells me that Lawrie wasn’t for revealing where he put his “wee black book”.’

‘The state of him, boss, it’s hardly surprising. He’s getting his faculties back pretty slowly. You can’t expect him to be ready for co-operation yet.’

Stuart dipped his head. ‘I can’t handle this, Abe. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at him again until he looks normal. Where the hell did it all go so wrong that we are no longer a functioning family? God knows I have my faults, Abe, but I hadn’t bargained for the decimation of my family and maybe our businesses.’

‘I am not the best person to comment, Stuart, even though we go back a long way, but what’s done is done. Yes, we all have things to regret and I think the only answer is to look forward. Anyway, I think you will have to park all such thoughts for now, because we have a new major issue and I won’t get any pleasure in telling you what it is.’

‘Oh God Almighty, what now, Abe?’ Stuart fumbled for the arm of the chair as he leant backwards to sit down again.

‘When Jackson was absent from the room for a minute, Lawrie told me that Roy was one of his assailants. And that in turn tells me we have a leak… and that must be Jackson.’

He wasn’t punched but Stuart might as well have been, as he slumped off his chair and started thumping his thick pile rug repetitively. Abe sat quietly and waited for his employer to fully vent his ire. The groaning made the former soldier uncomfortable; he knew his ability to console anyone was hopeless. His limited experience of leadership in the military was not something he found enjoyable, and after all was compassion not something soft people demonstrated?

‘What you should do, in my opinion, is shut out all the excess. You have to look ahead and only decide what is best for you and your family. For now, folk like me, the Grigors, the businesses, the Camerons, shouldn’t matter a damn. Concentrate on getting Lawrie, Sandra, yourself and the rest of the family in a good place. Speak to Lawrie yourself; find out what he wants to happen. If you’ve been honest with me over the years, Stuart, yes – you’ve got your failings, but you don’t have the evil streak your business partners have. A new start, that’s what it may have to be.’ Abe paused for a second, then joked, ‘But you see I’ve got all the answers and that’s why my life is so perfect.’

Stuart raised his head and smiled weakly. ‘It’s even just difficult knowing where to start. Do I bring in Jackson and throttle him for going to the Grigors? Do I challenge Roy over his brutality?’

‘No, leave the Grigors out of it for now. Maybe we should pretend for the time being that we don’t know Roy is involved – just play dumb until you’re in a more confident place with Lawrie. I wouldn’t put it past them to go to Tom Landells behind your back about Lawrie’s actions. Honestly, Stuart – get Lawrie back onside before anything else.’

‘My head tells me you’re right, Abe, but my fear is a lot is going to be lost in the process.’

‘Better something being lost, than everything going awry, and that’s the way it’s currently going.’

We reached the brow of the hill where we had to climb a gate to get into an adjoining field. As I looked around, perched on top of the barrier, the countryside was looking a lot more familiar. Straight ahead beyond this field, in which was laid out a selection of decidedly oversized farming vehicles with a throng of a couple of hundred people wandering amongst them, lay the hamlet of Nemphlar. In the near distance beyond, about a mile and a half away was the town of Lanark, spread out on another hill. Tinto Hill grew large in the far distance beyond the town. On either flank at present, the land slanted down to the River Clyde on the southerly side and down to the small partially wooded Lee Valley to the north side.

We had to proceed straight ahead to Lanark. I remembered there were one or two roads leading down from the hamlet to both main roads heading into the town. Undoubtedly, Landells would have employees in this field and he would also have sent a posse of men up the main thoroughfare to try and cut off our path. Looking backwards, there was also some activity by figures down at the hangar.

‘Calum, slow down now to fit in with everyone else. Head for the side of the field by the main road – there are a lot of parked cars and a couple of catering trailers over there. We can dodge about between the vehicles.’

Although trying to appear relaxed as we mingled, it was obvious that our bedraggled appearance was attracting some attention, the bloodstaining of my shirt especially not proving to be helpful.

‘Okay, Calum, this won’t do,’ I whispered. ‘Let’s get onto the road off the hill now. I’m sticking out like a sore thumb. There still seems to be enough cars and pedestrians coming up from Lanark to help conceal our presence.’

We got out of the field and started along the road. The meadows on the Lee Valley side were hosting what appeared to be a sheepdog trial complete with an all-day drinks tent. It was tempting to go in and join the spectators who seemed engrossed in the activities but the ground underfoot would make for slower progress along the periphery of the field. Better to stick to the surfaced road.

‘Ted Cameron!’ The shout was very loud but not threatening. I had to turn.

The face was familiar, but rounder than my memory afforded me.

‘I thought it was you. How the devil are you?’

‘Sam Douglas! I’m sound, thanks. How are you?’

My fellow Glasgow alumnus and former flatmate in Lanark had put on a few extra pounds, but that had only seemed to accentuate his exuberant personality. We were never close, the family farm in Stirlingshire and his former schoolmates had been his social scene. And I had heard years ago he was back combining practice with the family business.

‘I’m down with Dad and a couple of dogs for the trials. It’s a good day out for him. Gee, Ted, what happened to you? Your shirt’s bloodied.’

‘I was climbing up on one of the harvesters with my cousin here, and I slipped and bumped my head, but I’m fine.’

Our conversation had attracted attention and I caught a glimpse of fear on Calum’s face as he looked past me back along the road. Two men were heading straight for us.

Sam had seen through my lie and had quickly assessed the approaching threat. He slipped off his lightweight cotton jacket and handed it to me. ‘Right, Ted, you’re in more need of this than me. Catch up with me in Gargunnock some time – you can give me my jacket back and we can catch up properly and… you can tell me what you’re really up to. Now bugger off.’ At that, he winked and turned to one side.

The two men, both around thirty, were carrying heavy spanners and broke into a jog just as they were fifteen feet away. Not quick enough to avoid the clutches of ex-amateur boxer and product of Bridgehaugh, home of Stirling County Rugby Club, and now experienced veterinarian and gentleman farmer, Samuel John Douglas.

A right hook sank the taller man and before his red-haired buddy could swing his spanner at Sam, he was felled by an upper cut. Sam casually removed the weapons from both flattened men and repeated his order. ‘Go on, bugger off. I’ll catch you later.’

A woman shrieked behind us as we reached the crossroads and headed down the road to our left. We broke into a light jog again, as we avoided people walking up the road towards us. A quick glance to my left located Sam in the field stooping to speak to an older man in a wheelchair whilst waving a pair of spanners in one hand in our direction.

‘A lot of the trendy guys in my halls used to take the piss out of him as he was always going home at the weekends. Thank the Lord I wasn’t trendy.’

‘That’s true.’

We seemed to be making good progress down the road, when all of a sudden, a thunderous roar of an engine up ahead followed by shrieks of anguish stopped us in our tracks. We had reached a narrow section of road that was bordered on both sides by thick beech hedging and banking. As I caught my breath, the biggest tractor that I have ever seen appeared a hundred yards ahead of me. A couple of pedestrians were running towards us in front of the vehicle hindering the progress of the monstrosity. As the tractor sounded its booming horn, the couple threw themselves frantically into the hedge on their right. A huge tyre appeared to clip their unprotected legs as they merged with the undergrowth. We had seconds to act.

‘Calum, get through the hedge and run over to the woods on the other side of the valley below the main road. I’ll come and find you – I’ll try and get them to come after me.’ At that, I pushed him towards the hedge and picked up a large piece of broken-off tarmac and advanced on the tractor. This was going to be tight. There appeared to be two men in the cabin of the tractor who were gesticulating wildly at me as they ignored the now bloodied innocents who I could see falling out of the hedge. Onwards the huge vehicle came.

At a distance of thirty feet, I started to run. With my life flashing before me and the tractor bearing down rapidly, I hurled the lump at the cabin window and veered to my right to clutch a tree root on the bank. I hauled myself upwards propelling myself feet forwards into the border of beech. A smash of Perspex, then a heavy dunt to my left shoulder happened within seconds. The injury from the giant tyre was a little painful, no doubt, but more importantly it helped thrust me through the foliage and into the field beyond. I heard voices shouting clearly now as the engine noise of the tractor had dropped. I retreated further into the field as it rose behind me. Tractor and hedge seemed to have merged – the driver having steered too enthusiastically in my direction. I ran forwards along the side of the low hill parallel to the road but at a height that I could still see back to the cabin. Two figures eventually emerged, one clutching at the front of his chest perhaps from the effects of a lucky hit and the other shouting belligerently and clutching a stick above his head. I looked over at the cultivated floor of the Lee Valley and I spotted Calum haring over the fields towards the trees. He should be safe for now.

I voiced a loud obscenity in the direction of the tractor to ensure they spotted me and then I quickened my pace. I had to get to the end of this field to find cover.

I lurched forwards and as I did so, I noticed that I was sharing the field with a sparse herd of inquisitive cattle. The border of trees at the end of the field seemed for a second to be getting further away, when I was distracted by the actions of some of the cattle. They appeared disturbed, suddenly displaying short staccato movements as some of them staggered up from reclined postures. And then came the noise, a whirring sound, escalating in volume and suddenly above the row of trees I was heading for, emerged Tom Landells’ helicopter.

‘What the hell next!’

Gunshots, that’s what.

Apart from the obvious concern regarding self-preservation, I was alarmed at the brazen hubris of Landells to think he could get away with such a public discharge of firearms. Someone in that chopper was managing to fire off shots that were bringing up turf just to my right. I saw the cockpit rotate clockwise, so I bolted to my left for twenty yards before hitting a straight line again. The movement worked as a couple of bullets hit the ground way to my right. One final spurt and I was in the border of trees.

I ducked and dived my way back onto the road that was now free of all forms of traffic. I ignored the steep descent off down to the River Clyde hoping my pursuers would follow that route. Instead, I climbed over the wall at the impressive East Lodge of the Lee Valley estate and headed through their garden and then back on through the fringe of trees that would take me round to the other side of the valley where my cousin should be waiting.

A couple of minutes later, I threw myself into the undergrowth beside Calum.

‘Thought you might have been a goner there when I heard the shots. Your man Landells is an absolute psycho, obviously.’

‘Seems like it. Fair to say we’re a bit unprepared for this sort of malarkey.’

‘What now?’

‘We keep going – get into the town and meet Jake. We can stick to a border of trees for the next hundred yards but then we’re going to be hellishly exposed as we try and cross Cartland Bridge.’

‘Is there no way round?’

‘Not without a tricky detour, as the bridge crosses a steep ravine.’

‘Brilliant. At least the chopper’s gone for the moment.’

‘Right, let’s go.’

We assumed a crouched posture as we threaded our way through the woodland that took us to the road junction and the aforesaid bridge. We heard no evidence of our previous captors – we were due some good fortune. As we fell off the wooded bank onto the road, we nearly collided with a couple of stragglers making their way up to the events in Nemphlar. They looked at us suspiciously before venturing, ‘Do you know what that commotion up ahead is, boys? Sounded like gunfire.’

Eager not to provoke further anxiety, I thought I’d try and allay their fears. ‘A couple of big beasts got out and were chasing some folk about. Landells’ guys were a bit heavy-handed in herding them up.’

‘Oh rightie, mental, these farming types.’

‘You couldn’t guess the half of it, pal. Anyway, enjoy your day.’

‘Cheers, now.’

We slowly approached the bridge and mounted the pavement that only ran along the right side. I was relieved to see the road and pavement ahead was clear.

‘Bloody hell, Ted, you were right about the ravine. That’s one hell of a drop.’

‘Thirty-nine metres. We’re on the highest bridge over inland water in Scotland. When I lived here, I was told it was infamous for being a relative hotspot for suicide attempts, and I remember some poor soul took their own life during my months in the town.’

‘Crikey, what a way to go! Oh, oh, what’s this?’

As Calum spoke, a Land Rover appeared from around the bend in the main road a short distance from the far end of the bridge and came to a sudden stop.

‘Keep walking, Calum. When I say run, run like hell towards them. When you reach the point where the side of the bridge changes from railing to wall, get up on it and throw yourself over into the foliage – try and grab a tree to break your fall.’

‘Are you sure about this, cuz? I’m panicking. Oh hell, they’ve got dogs!’

‘Very sure, just follow me. Oops, here comes the chopper.’

‘What’s the plan, boss?’ The walkie-talkie was far from ideal as it crackled intolerably but Rab Sillars made do as he contacted his employer in the helicopter.

‘This is perfect, Rab. Round them up with the Dobermann and then get the pair of them tossed over the side. To the cops, it’ll just be another couple of jumpers that have suffered painful loss in their lives. Hurry though, the other Land Rover is holding up the traffic at Cartland village junction for the time being and Doog Hardie is still up the road blocking anything from the town.’

Sillars got out of the passenger door behind the straining Dobermann and started to detach its collar from its leash.

‘Right, now! Run!’

Calum bellowed an unintelligible response.

The two of us took off along the remains of the pavement like our breeks were on fire. Our sudden shouts and movement caused a very short but vital hesitation in Rab and his canine accomplice. But then, with a mighty leap forward, ears pinned back and ferocious fangs displayed, the dog was on its way. I reached the wall first and with a surge of adrenalin jumped on top and immediately threw myself onto the trunk of a tree that had its base twelve feet below me on the precipitous bank. I swivelled to just witness Calum hurtling onto an adjacent tree or perhaps sapling would be more precise, as despite its height it was younger and much slimmer of girth than my saviour.

Terrifyingly, Calum had a large dark appendage clinging to the back of his sweater. However, as the sapling cracked with the sudden excess weight, it suddenly drooped and the jolt caused the dog to lose its grip and fall. It hit the ground hard, and unable to find a grip, tumbled down the bank until it found a sheer drop and it smashed onto the rocks way below.

I hurriedly shinned down my own tree so that I could try and catch Calum as the inevitable happened and his support snapped altogether. It took a couple of rolls but the two of us managed to stop before the cliff.

There were shouts above us but no movement to suggest anyone was attempting to follow us.

Calum managed a few quiet words in the wake of the turmoil. ‘What on earth now, Ted?’

‘Right, I suppose we better get a shift on. I was sure we were going to follow that beast over the edge.’ I took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Okay, I noticed they had a bloodhound with them as well as the hellhound. They’re never going to follow us down this bank. So they’ll retreat a bit and descend around the bank where there is a gradual slope to the river and try and cut us off.’

‘Right, let’s move.’ Calum took the lead as we worked our way along the steep forested banking, gradually descending as we progressed.

Eventually we reached the Clyde tributary that is the Mouse Water. We traversed the water course as soon as was possible to try and deceive any tracking dog. The vegetation thinned down significantly as the land flattened out, so we more or less jumped from thicket to thicket to afford ourselves a little level of screening. I could hear voices emanating from the field up on our left. As we reached a wall hiding us from a road that would lead us back up to Nemphlar, we recrossed the Mouse, whose course we had hugged, thus getting our feet wet again. It was worthwhile as no sooner had we got up onto the bank and found some bushes, than a different Land Rover pulled up. Its passenger jumped onto the wall of the small road bridge and stared up in the direction from where we’d come. He waved his left arm and spoke unintelligibly into a walkie-talkie in his right hand. After a brief exchange he jumped back down to converse with his driver who had wound down his window. I only caught the word ‘wait’ which suited us as I was in no mood to face up to the two dogs, the shape of which I could make out in the rear of their vehicle.

We made our way carefully along the back wall of the mill house and then dashed between trees until we hit the main road. We crossed the road and walked uphill a short distance until the pavement led us to the road down to the sewage works. We started to descend to the works on the bank of the river when the noise of the helicopter caused us to jump into more foliage. After managing to reach the end of the road, we were able to ascend the steep narrow bridle path that had plenty of overhead cover until it reached the end of St Patrick’s Road, a residential dead-end street on the edge of town.

At last things seemed to be going more smoothly. Cautiously we walked along the street trying to keep in the shadow of the roadside hedge that borders the gardens of the sizeable properties that were built further down the slope of the hill. The cottages and villas on the topside are also very attractive and have stunning valley views.

Within a couple of seconds our luck changed. Having ascended a small rise in the road, we walked into the path of two fellow pedestrians, overdressed for the mild weather and equipped with sizeable backpacks.

‘Hello there, gents.’ So, polite walkers at least.

‘Hi, there,’ Calum and I replied in unison.

‘I wonder if you can help us? Are we on the Clyde Walkway?’ the man in khaki shorts queried in an unmistakeable West Country burr.

I answered, ‘Yes, you certainly are, just follow this road, then the path down to the river and follow the signage, it’s fairly plentiful, if I remember correctly.’

The man’s companion who might have been his daughter smiled at Calum and produced a map. ‘Perhaps you can clarify a couple of queries we have about the route nearer Motherwell?’

‘We’ll do our best,’ Calum chipped in, radiant at the girl in front of him.

‘That’ll be my job, then.’ I seized the map slightly aggressively which was poor as they were charming souls, but I was feeling anxious again.

I quickly satisfied their questions but just as we were sharing adieus, the ruddy chopper appeared from behind us. ‘Gee, you don’t expect to see any of them around,’ the man ventured.

‘Absolutely. Bad for the environment.’ We shared a laugh and went our opposite ways.

‘Right, Calum, twenty more yards then go like hell again. They’ll know it’s us already.’

As we bolted, the aircraft banked round again but fortunately for us we were rapidly approaching the end of Castlebank Park, where tall trees prevented the machine getting close to us or landing.

Just within the park we stopped and regained our breath. ‘Bollocks, I thought we might get away with getting into the town unseen. Assuming they’ll be on the radio to the vans, we only have minutes to get to the pub unnoticed. It’s close but we’ll have to horse over the hill and up a backstreet or two. Even at that, the chopper might land in an inconvenient place for us.’

We jogged through the rest of the park that is wooded but then climbed over the wall to St Patrick’s Road again once the landscape opened out. Running hunched over behind the wall we reached the main park entrance. We could hear the helicopter but couldn’t spot it. We sprinted across the road and jumped a low wall that took us up into the grounds of some small cottages. This was good as for once we had solid cover.

‘Do you think that girl fancied me, Ted?’

‘God Almighty. Of all the things I could have predicted you might have come out with just now, that was not on the list. And no… I don’t.’

‘Aw, come on, Ted. I’m just trying to cheer myself up. I mean she was smiling really intensely at me.’

‘I once took my wee Flora to La Palmyre Zoo in the west of France. Amongst other animals, she was entranced by a young tapir – she beamed at it from ear to ear – had to fight to get her to move on. Well, that lassie’s smile was exactly the same as Flora’s. A mixture of wonderment, curiosity and confusion – yes. Lust – nope.’

‘Thanks, cousin.’

‘No worries. Look, you’re doing incredibly well – you’ve turned into a ruddy commando. If we get out of all this, there’ll be tons of time for chasing girls back in the Highlands.’

A screech of brakes saw one of the Land Rovers come down and take the corner just shy of the park entrance at a ridiculous speed. Narrowly missing the wall, the vehicle sped along St Patricks Road in the direction we had just lurched from. It then suddenly stopped, and on cue, the noise of the helicopter landing over in the park took over. We stood back from the wall, both took deep breaths and then I announced ‘Right, we’re off. Over the back here, up the backstreet and we’ll be at the pub in two minutes.’

Thankfully The Girnin’ Dug Tavern was jumping. I’m sure Health and Safety advocates would have had a field day remonstrating with the owners about the safety capacity of the pub. We tried moving to the right first where lay a large alcove with a piano sitting in the middle of it with a variety of tables around it plus some seating against the wall. An arm shot up at a table backing onto the front wall and a frosted window. Not much got past my uncle’s attention. We manoeuvred our way politely through the standing crowd till we reached him. Much to my surprise, Marlene Drummond was still with him. There was just enough space to seat the two of us in a tight squeeze around the table.

Jake answered my quizzical expression. ‘I couldn’t drop off Marlene at home as Landells had a couple of thugs parked outside her house by the time we had circled the town on the bike. However, it’s good news as this young lady has come up with a solution to our next move.’

We were barely warming the seats when two pints of lager appeared in front of Calum and me, courtesy of an auburn-haired teenager.

Marlene piped up cheerily, ‘I had my barmaid friend primed for when you arrived.’

‘Well, thank you kindly my dear, you are your mother’s daughter, no doubt. And I’m even going to let my underage cousin indulge himself as he’s risen to this nightmare today.’

‘Thank you, Marlene,’ Calum chirped.

‘Was it an eventful couple of hours, then?’ Jake offered.

‘A chopper, a hunting rifle, a Dobermann, avoiding a cliff – aye, sort of. We’ll just take a few minutes to get this down before we start all over again, no doubt.’ I looked around the clientele in the pub – it was a mixed bunch – a few older bikers, some buoyant local teenagers, a couple of pensioners with a patient corgi between their chair legs and a couple of intense-looking men examining two acoustic guitars that were propped up against the piano.

‘So Marlene, is this an annual music festival that’s spread across the pubs?’

‘This is the third year. I think Tom Landells feels it’s a way of ingratiating himself to the locals as he’s aware he’s unpopular. He calls it “The John Landells Music Week” after the uncle he inherited the farm from years ago. John Landells was a very popular man, I believe. Just a normal hard-working farmer, never stepped on anyone’s toes and he used to play the fiddle in bands, going round all the pubs for many years. His nephew seems to upset someone regularly.’

‘Now I do vaguely remember the name John Landells from my student days here. But I never crossed paths with him.’

‘No, you wouldn’t have. According to Mum, he led a quiet life, his wife died very young and they didn’t have any children. A couple of nephews and a niece used to visit him with their parents quite regularly, but according to Mum, the younger crowd were a bunch of troublemakers. When he died, he wanted his farm to survive intact so he left it to one nephew, Tom, and Mum said she reckoned the others got money from the sale of land he had over Strathaven way.

‘Tom certainly has expanded and developed the farm, but most Lanark folk don’t understand how he has become so well off.’

Jake and I exchanged knowing looks as we supped.

‘Tom Landells is quite into his music, so he enjoys this week. To be fair, he is generous in providing instruments at most of the sites, so that any enthusiasts can have a go and he books professional bands for the evening sessions. Here, for example, there are the piano and guitars you can see and just up the road a wee bit is a church hall, where a couple of bands will be playing shortly.’

‘Marlene,’ Calum broke in. ‘Can I ask a question?’

‘Of course, Calum.’

‘What does “girnin’ dug” refer to?’

‘A perfectly good question, in fact. It’s a snarling dog. It refers to the small statue of such a beast that sits on top of a building further up this street. The dog’s owner believed his pet was poisoned by a neighbour across the street, so in revenge for its death he commissioned the statue of a snarling dog to stare over at the neighbour’s house for eternity.’

‘What a great story – an evil poisoner.’

I shifted in my seat. ‘Speaking of evil, I think I recognise a couple of the guys who’ve just come in. Bugger it!’

‘Right, Jake, any thoughts on how we get round to see our dog breeder friend?’

‘Well, that’s where Marlene might have come up trumps?’

I smiled at Celia’s daughter who was proving to be more than a worthy companion. She smiled back coyly.

‘Marlene and I had some time to kill from being unable to get her into her house until meeting up here. I tried to take us down to New Lanark to check out possible river crossings but we were stumped by a checkpoint at the end of eh, Braxfield Road, is it?’ Marlene nodded surely. ‘Landells’ doing, no doubt. Anyway, Marlene revealed to me a way of getting over to Corehouse by an alternative method. Though it might be better achieved a bit later when the light has gone down a bit.’

‘Sounds promising. Sitting tight and not doing anything daft is the key for now then. One of those guys has disappeared – no doubt to tell his boss that we’re spotted. Still, they’re not likely to do anything dramatic in a heaving public bar. I wish I could figure out why exactly Landells thinks we are a threat. I reckon he doesn’t know why we’re down. If so, he would have let us alone by now. We don’t have anything on Landells himself because Lawrie never got round to that, but my guess is that he thinks we do. But why block the New Lanark road?’

Marlene piped up assuredly. ‘That’s where Landells has his offices – in one of the refurbished mills. He even has the audacity to land his helicopter on top of the building – much to the annoyance of the villagers.’

‘Mmm, that’s interesting, maybe he thinks we’re after something of his. Okay, I’m going to the loo for a minute to splash some water on my face. Sit tight, remember! But if you’re getting another round, here’s some dosh. I’ll have the same again.’ I put down a twenty pound note and mooched off to have a wash and a think.

‘Right, Mike, jump in. We’ll take the chopper down to the office. We’ve got the bastards cornered in there. We’ve got enough men about now – we can pick them up at any time, then bring them down to New Lanark for a hiding – maybe including that treacherous little bitch.’

It was simply an up-and-down journey, such was the close proximity of Castlebank Park to his offices. The two cousins and the pilot took the stairs down from the roof garden and helipad to Landells’ suite of rooms.

‘Can you get us some coffee, Bobby? It’s been a long day – I need a caffeine boost.’ Bobby disappeared down a back corridor.

‘You’ve almost got a small private army here, Tom.’

‘Not really, Mike. Most of the guys are estate workers or work for me in more than one capacity. But they’re not trained in the dark arts as it were – you probably saw that for yourself today. That’s why having Roy and especially Swank along is essential. Both hardnosed evil bastards. That’s why I left them up there – to keep control of the rest of them. Of course, it’s because of you that I got to know the bold Roy, and in turn Ronnie and Charlie before eventually the Haigs. Yip, your enforced sojourn to the Highlands led to a nice piece of business expansion.’

‘I suppose I should be glad that something constructive came out of something negative. And I suppose I did get a fair bit of cash from Uncle even if you did get the lion’s share of his estate.’

‘I’ve been thinking that I might need to have a complete rethink of my Highland distribution after all this crap is done with. Maybe I should be straight with the Haigs and dump them for incompetence but, and it’s a big but, there’s a lot to think about. The Haigs have that airstrip, the police inspector on tap – aye, there’s a lot to weigh up. In the short term we have to recapture these arses up in the pub and bleed it out of them as to what exactly they’re up to. By the way, you must remember you were lucky to get any cash at all in Uncle Johnnie’s will – he was so furious with you.’

‘For what it’s worth, I think we might be on the wrong track about these arses as you call them, and why they’re here. I wondered if it was to do with something that happened years ago. As Ted was here as a student maybe it’s got something to do with a connection he made here at the time. For example, now that you’ve cast it up, I even wondered if he’d found out about that business with Roy and I and the Elliotts and was going to use it to get back at us. But that’s literally a dead end now with nobody left.’

‘Sorry, Mike, what do you mean?’

‘Drew Elliott. I take it he’s passed now – he would be a fair age; he didn’t look that braw when I saw him last year not long after his wife died.’

‘I’m afraid you’re wrong there, cousin. I bumped into him up at Lanark Mart a couple of weeks ago. Sure, he’s a bit frail, but he was looking forwards to retiring, selling up his place and moving up north; somewhere he could go sea fishing every day. I think he was hoping to get the lawyer girl home for a while to help him with stuff before he made the final move.’

Michael Kyle felt the blood leaving his body and a cold sweat develop all the way down his back. He sat down slowly on a large padded leather seat. He could barely get the words out and they were emitted almost in a whisper. ‘Tom, are you saying that the young girl is still alive?’

‘Yes, of course, Mike, why wouldn’t she be? Not so young any more. She must be early thirties now. She’s done really well apparently – she’s out in the States, I believe. Are you okay? You’ve gone a bit pale.’

‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that Elliott told me last year that the girl had died a while before he lost his wife, and that he was on his own now.’

‘Are you sure he was talking about the granddaughter and not his daughter, her mother? Surely there’s no need to remind you of her – with her mental illness and drug habit. There were even rumours you’re the granddaughter’s dad, by God. Unless of course, he deliberately told you a lie so you wouldn’t ever go near her again. I mean that stuff you were alluding to when she was a teenager, when you assaulted her in Drew’s barn. For fuck’s sake, Mike, that was unbelievable. What the hell were you thinking about? Drew Elliott and Uncle Johnnie saved your ruddy skin back then. If Drew had gone to the cops first instead of Johnnie, you were fucked, you would have been locked up. Their friendship saved your bacon. But as you know, Johnnie never forgave you, and that’s why I got the farm. But listen, why did you go and see Drew last year anyway?’

Kyle seemed lost in his own world.

‘Mike, are you listening?’

‘What? Oh, nothing much, I wanted to apologise for the barn stuff – a misunderstanding really, and after I’d heard that Mrs Elliott had died, I wanted to pay my respects.’

‘Bollocks! I’ve never heard you apologise for anything in your life. Are you sure you didn’t pop over to Corehouse to finally try and get your leg over with the granddaughter and old Drew got a whiff of it and told you a porkie. That’s more like it. Tell me I’m wrong.’

Mike Kyle had achieved the dramatic colour change of a chameleon in going from ashen to scarlet in under a minute. ‘You’re totally wrong, Tom. Totally.’

‘Ah well! Anyway, I can’t believe Ted and the ruddy whole Cameron family would bother that much about something from years ago that didn’t concern them. The answer regarding Ted’s trip might lie down here but I can’t think it would have anything to do with Elliott or else why didn’t Ted take the opportunity to spit it all out up at the barn?’

Kyle shuffled restlessly on his seat before going to take in the view of the river from a window.

‘Listen, do you need me here, Tom? I feel like I need some air. I want to go back up to the town and see if I can be of use to Swank and Roy.’

‘Sure, please yourself. I’ve no jeeps or cars down here at the moment. You’re welcome to take Jessica’s scooter up the hill, save you a walk.’

‘Perfect.’

It was nice to be alone for a couple of minutes. The cold-water douche to the face was revivifying, even though it brought me clarity that the small bathroom window would not represent a viable emergency exit.

As I dabbed down with paper towels, I could hear some tinkling on the piano. It would be nice to hear some live music. I left the loo and started to make my way across the bar. The keys were offering up the intro to a song I thought I knew and just at that my recollection was confirmed by the opening lyrics of Billy Joel’s ‘Just The Way You Are’ for sure! Easy listening for the masses, but classic nonetheless.

I smiled as I negotiated the huddle. This was a song Donnie John took lead vocals with in our wedding band incarnation and by Jove, as I got nearer our table, it almost sounded like DJ belting it out. I then felt slightly sick as I eventually burst through to our table to see Marlene sat on her own. Suddenly, Jake was at my shoulder. ‘He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He got up when I was getting the pints in. Arse!’

I stared in horror at my cousin as he crooned. On catching my eye, he delivered a big salaam in my direction accompanied by a cheesy grin. I mouthed to him, ‘I’m going to fucking kill you,’ but he seemed lost in his euphoria.

I sat down heavily. ‘I would have paid you very extravagantly to stop him, Marlene.’ Jake nodded in agreement.

‘Aw, he’s really good! He’s getting some attention!’

‘That wasn’t really on the agenda though, Marlene.’

However, my agony wasn’t being shared. The customers of the pub appeared to be shifting slowly en masse up to our end of the pub. Additionally, the background noise appeared to be increasing in volume as my fellow drinkers nodded and exclaimed their appreciation of my cousin’s talent.

Just as I was reappraising my intention of dragging him out by the scrotum if necessary, the song finished and a rapturous applause broke out around us.

Well, bugger me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

‘Here’s another one for you,’ Calum proclaimed as he twisted around in his seat, grabbed one of the acoustic guitars and spun the microphone to its required direction.

‘Thanks for the clapping by the way – very kind. This next song is for all the bikers in town.’ A roar went up from the leather-clad fraternity. ‘Thanks! I couldn’t help but notice the Harleys and the BMWs in the street. So sorry, but I’m not up to “Born to be Wild”. This song I’m going to play has a resonance with my family. My granddad and his brother, whose eldest son is here with me tonight, both rode Beesa 350s back in the late fifties and early sixties. However, after a number of accidents both their wives got together and delivered an ultimatum to their spouses. They were told happy families and motorbikes weren’t complementary,’ – boos erupted around me – ‘and that widows would have no time to learn how to ride with young children to look after. So the men gave up their bikes and refused to let their sons and grandsons take up where they had left off. But that didn’t stop them talking about their beloved bikes with fervour. This song is about a guy called James and a girl called Red Molly.’ A cheer went up. ‘And it’s about an almost mythical make of bike that my two relatives still enthuse about to this day. Here’s Richard Thompson’s “1952 Vincent Black Lightning” for you guys.’ More cheers went up and Calum began to pick on the guitar and swirled into the lyrics.

I looked over at Jake who was smiling as he supped. On catching my eye, he winked, then shook his head in resignation. A lump was developing in my throat. There was no doubt by now – even from me – that Calum had talent but it seemed that he had obviously taken care over cherry-picking songs from old set lists provided by Donnie, Jake and indirectly by me.

More cheers as the song came to an end, whereupon a jocular bearded man emerged from the crowd and he and Calum indulged in intense conversation. At one point, Calum gestured over at Jake and me, causing the man to turn and smile at us. ‘Oh hell, what now?’

With the conversation ending, the bearded man took the microphone and announced, ‘Good afternoon, folks, I hope you’re all enjoying our hospitality and especially the contribution of young Calum here. Well, we have run into a problem which I’m delighted to say has been resolved with the help of Calum and his band.’ I nearly vomited my pint back into its recent receptacle. ‘Yes, unfortunately the first of the two groups due to play at the church hall practically over the road have had to call off at late notice and the main draw, “Claw Hammer”, won’t be in town till about half seven. So Calum and his friends have agreed to transport their talents across the street where there will be a lot more room for everyone and we have a temporary bar set up in the back, so nobody will go thirsty. Of course, anybody wanting to stay put and perhaps have a go at the piano or guitars themselves are welcome to do so. Thank you for being understanding.’

Calum reappeared back at our table having shared a couple of hearty handshakes. He burst out laughing. ‘Look, I’m sorry – I know what you’re going to say. I just couldn’t help myself.’

‘Jake and I, aka your band, drew straws to see who would boot your backside first.’

Calum couldn’t suppress his elation. ‘I bet Marlene thinks you’re joking.’

Jake cracked first. ‘Okay, okay, I think you managed to turn us both.’ He smiled, glancing at me for reciprocation. ‘But these calls really should be discussed amongst us all first, Calum. It’s only fair as there are four people at this table now who could suffer for one’s daft decisions. However, this might just open up an opportunity for us later on.’

I shook my head wearily but confessed ‘Yip, I agree with Jake despite myself. God, you are so like your mum and dad. No wonder we go grey early in our family. But anyway, I’m sure it’ll be lovely being members of your band. Are you thinking of stuff we can all play?’

‘Yes, I thought getting a load of people in the pub on our side would be beneficial to us escaping, I honestly did. And aye, with the playlists I wangled off you both, we should be able to rattle out a few numbers.’

‘Heavens above. What about you, Marlene? Any musical talents?’

She went crimson. ‘I used to sing a wee bit.’

‘Sorted. Let’s drink up and head over.’

Mike Kyle had once taken a girlfriend to Rome for what he anticipated would be the evolution of a romance. Instead, the bickering started in the transfer from the airport and never let up. One of the dire memories that resulted from the holiday was his inability to cope with riding a Vespa, whilst Lauren looked like she’d been born to ride the ruddy machine. Cue constant teasing and thunderous moods.

Picking up Jessica Landells’ scooter, he offered up a quick prayer, and then exhaled as the ignition fired. With both feet on board, he pointed the chugging scooter in the direction of the road up the hill from New Lanark. He so wished the helmet fitted better. The afternoon was passing by and he needed to speak to Roy quickly to share his theory. The hill was steep and the scooter struggled to cope with the increased weight of its current charge. The road took a few sharp turns but Kyle reached the checkpoint at the junction with Braxfield Road, the top of the hill, with no untoward incidents. A quick chat revealed that Roy was in a jeep in Castlegate car park, a matter of yards from the Girnin’ Dug and the church hall. He jumped back on the scooter and took off in that direction, reaching his destination within a few minutes. He spotted Roy alone in the vehicle and went round the back of the vehicle to park, before jumping in beside him.

‘Didn’t expect you back up. Fed up with your cousin’s banter?’

‘Nope, got used to that a long time ago. No, I think I just might have worked out why Ted is down here. Although I didn’t manage to convince Tom as much as I would have liked.’

‘I don’t think Tom appreciates the wisdom of others terribly much, as you know.’ Roy winked. ‘Alright, let’s hear your take on it. Though I’m a bit worried – you look a tad nervous for my liking.’

‘Well, I’ll start with the crux of it – Elliott’s young girl is still alive.’

Roy was not a man who was readily shocked but his concern was obvious immediately. His brow furrowed and his voice rose and spluttered perceptibly. ‘What the fuck? I seem to remember you telling me she’d died.’

‘Yes, I did, because that’s what old Elliott told me. I had no reason to query it as he seemed so bereft – just desolate. It all seemed to fit at the time when I saw him – his wife had recently passed and although it was cancer that took her, he explained quite plausibly that he felt a broken heart should also have been on the death certificate, as his wife had never come to terms with losing the girl in a car accident. I bought it hook, line and sinker. The way he was that day, I thought he himself might not see the year out as things had spiralled down that far. Lying old bastard.’

‘So how did you find out the truth? Tom?’

‘Yes. He saw Elliott up at Lanark Market recently. Tom hasn’t seen the girl for quite some time but he’d heard she was doing well as a lawyer somewhere, maybe abroad.’

‘You know Mike, this whole thing has been like that saying – the sword of Damocles, is it? Just something constantly hanging over us for years. What a bloody nightmare!’

‘Well, over me more than you, I would say, Roy.’

‘Yet, it still doesn’t fit all that well. I get now that the unknown man who appeared to Mathieson at the undertakers could be explained by Elliott trying to reach out to the Camerons, but why at that point after decades of nothing? And up at the farm this morning when Ted and the boy were under severe duress, why did Ted not tell Tom his business was with Elliott and not him? Why did he risk their health? Tom was never involved with the Elliotts and he’s never known the full background story.’

‘And I think, at least for now, it should remain that way.’

‘Absolutely. Ted can only have some of the story at this point, but yes, Mike, you might have got the answer. However, I would agree with Tom, that getting hold of this shower again to try and get the truth out of them is imperative. But maybe you and I can organise a way of getting Elliott away from Ted as an essential extracurricular activity, without Tom’s knowledge.’

‘That sounds about right, Roy. My plan for now was to get over to Elliott and suss him out before getting him away from here if necessary.’

‘Sounds fine. You can keep me posted. I’ll follow on once things are sorted out here. Christ knows what Ted thinks he’s doing entertaining half the town with his crap music but hopefully we’ll grab them soon enough. Are you going to manage with the scooter just now? It’s just Tom won’t be chuffed if we need all the Land Rovers and you’re off on a potential wild goose chase with one of them.’

‘I’ll manage for now, but I’ll let you know what’s happening and whether you might need to bring a gun with you too.’

Roy summoned a smile. ‘You’re no spring chicken, Mike, but you should still be able to subdue the old boy without the need for that. Right, I’ll need to let you go as there’s some activity down at the pub door.’

The church hall was obviously an excellent facility for its parishioners and the Lanark community in general – a voting station, a mother and child centre, a Pilates hub, a site for local sales of work. Whether it had ever witnessed such a ragtag group of amateur musicians take its stage was extremely doubtful.

Calum produced a crumpled piece of paper with a list of songs scribbled on it. ‘I think we should start off fast. The instruments look quality and the organiser boy with the beard says everything’s been tuned up, and that he’ll do the sound from the desk at the back.’

I was a bit anxious about the thought of playing in front of people for the first time in three months but everything about this day had been so bizarre that why not further embrace that?

‘Okay, sound.’

‘What about this one next? There are quite a few old rockers here.’ Calum gestured to the list. ‘Dad said you liked to play guitar on this, so I’ll take the bass with Jake on drums. We’re short on numbers so no piano, but we’ll wing it.’ I picked up the guitar and plugged in.

Once ready, we counted in and I set about the intro to Procol Harum’s ‘Whisky Train’. Jake battered in on drums and we were off. I knew the lyrics but was relieved when Calum started singing. Flipping heck, this song must have come out about fourteen years before the lad was born.

Well, we rumbled along and were astonished to receive great applause.

Calum and I then had a quick look at all the guitars at our mercy. He grabbed his microphone and announced to the crowd, ‘Since we’re in a church hall, it would be remiss not to do a track by Ministry. Here’s “Jesus Built My Hotrod”.’

A loud fun track where Calum channelled his inner Gibby Haynes in vocalisation and mannerisms; bug-eyed intensity not obviously hampered by his bass duties. Well, the folks in the hall were now just about climbing the walls. This could be the start of a long set so time to bring it down a bit. The three of us had a quick parlez, after which Calum brought a nylon-stringed classical guitar to my attention. We nodded on Marlene from the side of the stage and asked her if she knew the lyrics to one of the last songs on Calum’s lengthy list, the one that had ‘SOFT’ written after it.

Not only did she know and love the song but she knew the bassline. We shuffled instruments – I sat down at the piano and hooked up a harmonica rack around my neck to allow me to play the Larry Adler contribution, Marlene slung on the bass and twisted the microphone to her height, Calum caressed the guitar and Jake stayed on drums.

Calum was swaggering by now. ‘Thank you everyone – very generous of you. We’re going to drop the pace a bit now. We have – for one night only – one of your own in our ranks to sing and play. A big hand for Marlene Drummond, please.’

As the crowd cheered, I thought I spied an angry looking Roy Grigor at a make-do bar on a table at the right side of the hall.

We started Sting’s ‘Shape of My Heart’ a bit shakily but eventually got momentum. My goodness, that girl could sing – delicate soulful stuff. Calum’s playing was exemplary. Donnie John would have been so proud to witness his fine touch. The applause was rapturous. I started to experience another lump in my throat and had to shake myself to remember our true circumstances.

Another huddle and another song Marlene knew and could play. We decided she could share vocals with Calum. I went to drums with the mouth organ still in place, as Jake loved this song so much that he needed to take lead on guitar with Calum on rhythm.

The two youngsters started in unison then alternated and soon ‘Mary Jane’s Last Dance’ was ringing out from the stage. I started to feel guilty that I was enjoying this. I pictured Lisa and Flora worrying about me – burning the candle at both ends – having to deal with the heavy lifting our normal existence engendered.

The song ended with now customary acclaim and we gathered centre stage. Marlene said she wanted to nip off for a short while and check out something about our escape route. I think the rest of us needed the reality check lest our enjoyment mask the fact that we were in great peril. We bade her good luck and turned back to our audience. Calum was brimming over. ‘Right, folks, our talented bassist and singer is taking a short break. So here’s an old Kevin Coyne number to thank her for her excellent contribution. This is “Marlene”. I’m on guitar and vocals, Jake’s on the keys and Ted’s on drums. Here we go – just a short one.’

A couple of hesitant stabs on the acoustic guitar but then Calum was firing again. I was surprised our wee group was kind of working. Even accepting all three of us knew these songs very well but there should have been little cohesion considering it was the first time we’d all played together. In short, a bit messy, but our crowd loved it.

‘Next up is my dad’s favourite folk song. He’s no longer with us so this is a bit special. Please be patient with me though, I find it a bit tricky. “Canadee-i-o” by Nic Jones.’

I could see he was in tears, but there was a determined look on Calum’s face as he slapped and plucked the stunning instrument along to the beautiful song. Jake and I were redundant as he got through it with only a couple of minor slips. The church hall was now jam-packed as word had spread that a young virtuoso had wandered into town. The cheers were deafening in this small venue when he put the guitar down. One wipe of his eyes with the back of his sleeve and he was on the prowl again.

‘Anyone like Jane’s Addiction?’ A few shouts went up. ‘Whoa, perfect taste!’ Calum responded. Jake went back to the drum stool, I picked up a guitar off the rack and Calum got back to bass.

I loved the band and it was a pure joy to perform the fast and slow grooves of ‘Classic Girl’. Not a patch on the original obviously but a decent stab.

It was after 6pm by now, so not too long for us to keep the customers satisfied. We stuck to Calum’s suggestions running through ‘Ooh La La’, Family’s ‘Processions’, Nils Lofgren’s ‘Can’t Get Closer’ and The Go Betweens’ mighty ‘Head Full of Steam’.

Through the corner of my eye, I spotted that Marlene had returned and was crouching at the back wing of the stage. I winked to Calum who nodded and in turn gestured to Jake. Calum addressed the throng in conversation as I shuffled back to speak to Marlene.

She spoke first. ‘That’s the other band arrived, Ted. And I’ve sorted out the ride with Derek, so we can go anytime.’

‘Great, we’ll wind up and get off.’ I walked over to Jake and Calum and informed them of the progress. Calum pointed at his list for the final time and whispered, ‘These two, then we’re off.’

‘That’s fine, Calum, but make it unclear to the audience that we’re going for good.’

‘Gotcha.’

‘Okay everybody,’ he spoke into his mic, ‘I’m sure you’ll all know and love this pretty recent one. Join us in the chorus if you wish.’

I started the opening guitar part on ‘Scooby Snacks’ and sure enough the crowd erupted with glee. Calum reproduced Huey Morgan’s drawl to a tee and we sailed through the next few minutes with chopping guitar and a thumping rhythm.

Taking advantage of the elated mood and keeping the noise and momentum going, Calum was correct in ending our contribution with a nice loud one.

‘Thank you, everybody. Here’s a loud one before we take a quick break.’ So resuming on bass and vocals, Calum howled as I struck the first chord of ‘Fire Woman’ and Jake thumped in heavily again.

Gingerbeard had done us a favour by dimming the lights and switching on a swirling scarlet strobe that I presume was a request from Claw Hammer. From the admittedly low stage, all I could make out was a seething mass delighting in some hard rock. We banged along for a few minutes, rose to a crescendo then set our instruments down and made the agreed dash for the back. Following our new blonde friend, we shot through to a back room whose main window was wide open. It seemed as if we’d been playing for hours but it was still very bright outside and indeed late May in Lanark would still provide us with another couple of hours of daylight.

The three of us followed our girl out the window onto a low grassy bank that led down to an expanse of parkland dotted with mature trees and houses visible up to our left and larger looking buildings about one hundred metres away straight ahead downhill through the park.

‘This way,’ Marlene shouted. ‘Run like hell!’

Roy Grigor wasn’t fooled by the abrupt announcement of a break. ‘Let’s get to the doors, Swank, they’re making a run for it.’ He pushed past a mass of cheering bodies on his way to the main door at the back of the hall, flicking on the main lights to a chorus of boos as he hit the swing doors hard and was quickly in daylight. He nearly ran into one of Tom’s men stationed at the pavement.

‘Stay here for now, I think they’re doing a runner out the other door.’ Roy went round the corner of the hall and ran almost the length of the building where the side door lay, manned by another Landells’ employee. As Roy reached him, Swank Dunbar emerged out the door.

‘No sign? Right, round the back! There are no doors there but there’ll be some accessible windows.’

The three of them got to the back wall to see their prey fifty yards ahead of them speeding down a track in the park. Swank bellowed, ‘Hughie, get the other two and follow us.’

We reached the door of the clothing factory where Marlene’s friend Derek pulled us in and slammed the door behind us, locking it in the process.

‘Right, upstairs to the top we go.’

I vaguely remembered this building but for the life of me couldn’t yet work out what we were doing here.

‘Shite! Where have they gone?’ Swank and Roy had come round the corner of the wall out of the park and emerged onto a backstreet. There was nobody to be seen. A large building took up a sizeable chunk of the other side of the street that descended to the right. From the old signage it appeared to be a knitwear factory of some sort but a few yards up the street in front of a large adjacent car park stood a colourful new sign. ‘I thought I heard a bang like a door slamming shut but looking at the opening hours on the factory door, it looks like it closed hours ago, and why hide in there anyway?’

‘The local boys will be here in a jiffy.’

Just at that, three men careered around the corner to join them, as a cranking noise came from above them.

‘What the hell is that?’ Swank bleated.

On regaining his breath, the tallest of the three newcomers stared skywards. ‘They’ve got up to the roof. They must be using the chairlift to get down to New Lanark.’

‘What!?’

‘They’ve not long opened up this ride to the public.’ He pointed to the jazzy sign that Roy and Swank had yet to read. ‘It goes from the top of this building over the deep gulley down to the primary school at New Lanark. They’re currently building a faster zip wire from there curving through the trees down to the Clyde near the hotel.’

Roy had to shelve his bemusement. ‘Right, okay. How do we get up there and stop them?’

‘We’ll need to go up the fire escape. That door’s too heavy to break down. You better phone the guys at Braxfield Road and get them to send someone down to the school.’

Roy felt in control again. ‘Okay, take us to the fire escape, and I’ll radio the boys at the checkpoint. Can one of you get a Land Rover and take me down there? Swank, can you try and get a hold of them on the roof?’ Swank was already running into the car park looking for the steps.

‘No effing way, Ted, I’m not getting on that. It’s a glorified park bench.’

‘Look, Calum. I can hear them coming up the fire escape. They’ll get over that metal gate in seconds. Come on, we’re putting Derek in danger too, he’s got to get back inside and hide.’

To be fair, I was feeling a bit squeamish about setting off into mid-air myself. Marlene had done her best to reassure us. ‘I’ve been on it a few times – it’s good fun, not too fast – and what a view!’

‘Fuck the view – I still want to live. That bridge and cliff carry-on this morning has made me realise I’m too young to die. Me and heights just don’t go.’

Jake cracked and grabbed the reluctant teenager by the collar and manhandled him onto the seat beside him. I carefully guided myself down on one end and Marlene skipped into place beyond Jake.

With a jolt that caused a flutter in the stomach our conveyance jumped into motion and headed for the edge of the building. Derek, an elder brother of one of Marlene’s confidantes and manager of the town’s new tourist attraction, had already sent the rest of the carriages down to the lower station to prevent an aerial chase.

Just when Derek thought his overtime was complete and the laden chair could not now be stopped from its destiny, a burly figure flashed past his cabin in pursuit of the four escapees. Swank Dunbar didn’t give up easily – a few more strides and he threw himself out into space.

It was Marlene who screamed first as she had momentarily turned to wave her thanks to Nicola’s big brother, only to see the hulk of Dunbar reaching out and then catching the lower back stand of their seat. This set off Calum who was in danger of damaging those precious vocal cords as he voiced his terror as our seat plummeted. Jake and me were simply struck dumb as we both grabbed a teenager with one hand and the back of the seat with the other.

A sign on the roof stating that the maximum load was four persons or 300kg was proving accurate as we sank quickly towards earth. Swank was hurling oaths at us as he endeavoured to make his hold more secure but as we reached a nadir the cable tension maximised and we suddenly started to rise again. This change proved too much for our unwanted passenger and he could not maintain his grip.

He fell downwards into a thicket of rhododendrons. Unfortunately from our point of view, from a height that would not render him sufficiently incapacitated.

The chair, regaining its rhythm, carried on down to the schoolyard. As I looked back after half a minute or so I was certain I could see Swank brushing himself down on emerging from the bush.

Straight ahead was all quiet but worryingly, over on our far left there was a heightened level of activity around the checkpoint that resulted in a couple of figures running down the road towards our destination. This was going to be very close.

Jake voiced his authority as we approached the bottom station. ‘Okay, when we come to a stop go down to our right. They won’t expect that. They’ll expect us to descend the platform and head left in their direction where we would pick up the main road or paths down to New Lanark.’

The front bumper hit its buffer and we jumped off, descending the wooden stairs two at a time.

‘So what’s over this way, Jake?’ I ventured.

‘Thirty yards and you’ll find out.’ We were running on a road now and heading towards some tall trees and a terrace of housing.

Some shouts from behind us signalled our route had been spotted. Jake reached what looked like a sentry box and turned to the rest of us. ‘Get in and climb to the platform. I’ll catch you up.’

Just then a whoosh and a bang to the top of the sentry box occurred.

‘What the hell was that?’ Calum proclaimed.

‘I think that was a rubber bullet,’ I suggested. I ushered the two youngsters through the door in front of me, unlocked thanks to Derek, as Jake nodded and turned on his heels to seek out our pursuers.

The inside of the box opened onto the trunk of a large tree on which was secured a steep wooden ladder. I went up first but briefly had to brace myself as the thud of another rubber bullet hit the trunk above me. If I was correct, that might be the last bullet that sod would get off tonight. I heard a moaning sound in the near distance and smiled as I took off up the ladder with Marlene and Calum on my tail. We reached the platform in no time and marvelled at the sturdy rope walkway ahead of us winding its way through the canopy.

Jake was as good as his word. Having flattened the two chasers and smashed their walkie-talkies, he came after us. Retrieving a small axe from his trusty backpack, he took out the lower rungs of the ladder below him, before appearing at our tail on the first part of the walkway barely out of breath.

‘Do we just keep going straight?’ I enquired.

‘Yip, Derek showed me on a map this afternoon. The trees follow the back of the houses before angling to the left. Then there’s a hilly bit to go down. Finally, we’ll reach a junction where we head down to a beach on the river rather than head left to the main part of the village.’

‘This is great. Are you okay, you two? We are up a bit high.’

‘I’m okay,’ voiced Marlene. ‘This has been a favourite excursion for me since it was built.’

‘Marginal,’ offered Calum. ‘The thick ropes to hold on to help, but the planking underfoot is a bit slippy.’

‘Good, lets fire on.’

Tom Landells was unimpressed. ‘In the name of God, Roy, how could you let three teuchters and a wee lassie get this close. Looks like they’re coming for me right enough. Right, get them to drive you down to the hotel end of the walkway to cut them off. I’ll send Bobby up to meet you there. Since they’ve sabotaged the ladder, get a couple of boys to follow the line of the walkway down from the new primary school on foot to check their progress and maybe get a few shots off. I’ll stay here but bring them to me as soon as you’ve got the fuckers.’

Tom looked out the window on the end of the building and gazed at the throng of people and vehicles that had managed to get down to the village centre despite the hassle of negotiating the road block, no doubt in anticipation of the ceilidh that would start in the old school hall in just over an hour. The traditional music and dance evening had been the highlight of the music week every year. He had been looking forward to it but that yearning had gone for this year.

Marlene spoke up to break the silence that had accompanied our journey through the canopy. The occasional rubber bullet breached the foliage close by to remind us we had company. ‘On this next bit we need to be really careful, it’s a bit steep as we head towards the river.’

‘Oh, magic!’ retorted Calum sarcastically. However, the surface underfoot had changed to an overlay of a roughened texture that provided a decent grip and we reached the junction without any accidents.

‘This is the last bit now,’ Marlene proclaimed as we were suddenly aware of the roar of moving water ahead of us that was the River Clyde. Below us and easily forty yards back in the gloom, some voices were audible as they picked their way over uneven terrain with sparse bracken.

We descended the ladder at our destination on the riverside beside a small beach and remained silent as we judged how close Landells’ men might be. But there was no sound yet.

I spoke first. ‘Do you think they’re heading towards the village?’

‘Very possibly,’ offered Marlene. ‘I’d expect every local will know of the existence of the old chain ferry, but how many would realistically consider it as an option for transport these days? I take it you know of it from your time here, Ted?’

‘Aye, I do. I remember a smallholder who lived on the other side offered to ferry over a prize Texel that had deteriorated rapidly if it meant his animal could be seen quicker. But I just went round by road anyway. However, way back in the day it must have been handy for such things when plenty of folk didn’t have vehicles.’

‘A ferry – is that what you call that thing there?’ Calum had assessed our next transport harshly.

‘Indeed, yes. The river’s a bit high but we should be fine. Marlene, my dear, it’s been a pleasure. Thank you kindly for getting us here. We’ll thank you and your mum properly at a quieter time.’

‘Are you sure you don’t still need me?’

‘We should be fine. And it could get a bit more dangerous from here on in – we might need to hightail it out of this area without being able to deliver you to safety properly.’

She hugged the three of us in turn and then took the riverside path downstream a little before watching us dislodge the 3x6 metre vessel from its mooring and slide it over the sand into the water. It was a very basic mechanism – one fixed chain acted as a guiding line and the second looped chain that the three of us would pull as the method of propulsion.

‘They can’t have fucking disappeared, Roy, that’s obviously impossible.’

‘Well, the first two of your guys have arrived here and they say they were nearly on their heels. Is there another exit somewhere?’

Tom sat down at his desk overlooking the river and took a deep breath to try and help his concentration.

‘Hang on, I just wonder. Earlier on Mike was wittering on to me something about Drew Elliott, inferring that Ted and his gang would be interested in Drew because of his apparent knowledge of the assault you and Mike carried out on Elliott’s granddaughter when she was a teenager. Mike thought the circumstances might be used as some form of leverage against your family, I presume. I thought it was all a bit spurious but the existence of the old chain ferry down below the viewpoint on the river makes me wonder. Using that ferry would get you over to fairly close to Drew’s smallholding on the track to Corehouse. Still a bit tenuous, though.’

Roy felt pangs of anxiety again for the second time within an hour. Anxiety was a sensation he had rarely experienced but he felt he was being squeezed and perhaps relaying the truth was going to be the only way to proceed. Undoubtedly, he needed Tom’s help for this matter to go away.

‘Listen, Tom, are you sitting down? First of all, I would just like to point out that I personally did not assault Elliott’s granddaughter but stupidly I didn’t do enough to stop Mike attacking her. I regret that now. However…’ Roy took a deep breath ‘There’s something much more serious that happened that you don’t know about. But I feel it could explain things and now is the time that you need to know about it.’

We had just pulled out onto the water with the three of us trying to pull in time on the steering chain. We were managing to keep quiet and I had begun to think that we might have eluded the claws of Landells’ team. A flash of light from high up on the walkway we’d just left followed by a localised bang ended that prospect immediately. A splash behind me signalled the unplanned entry of my cousin into the Clyde.

Jake acted fast. He locked the chain on a stay pole to preserve our place on the river and then reached into his bag for ammunition as he slung his crossbow round off his back.

I screamed Calum’s name as his head eventually breached the surface. I could see blood on his head, but he was conscious as he shouted my name and attempted to tread water. I’ve never been hit by a rubber bullet but even a glancing head blow must be very painful as well as disabling.

Just when we needed her, Marlene came to the rescue. A purposeful dive, a few strong strokes and her arms were around Calum’s shoulders.

The shooter from the walkway got down to the bank in jig time and started to line up his second hit of the evening. Of course, he couldn’t be expected to allow for the crouching figure in front of me to be a marksman from a forgotten war. A whirring sound followed and a small arrow hit Calum’s assailant on the left thigh.

‘Stay here,’ Jake growled as he plunged into the river.

I watched on ineffectually as Marlene dragged Calum ashore and my uncle lamped his victim and appeared to secure him to the ferry cage. Words were exchanged among my three allies and before I could catch cold, Jake was climbing back on board.

‘Let’s get moving, Ted. I think the guy with the gun was a straggler but he’ll be missed soon enough. He’s KO’d now but he won’t bleed out unless his pals leave him there all night. Calum is not bad, he can walk but he’s dizzy and a bit bloody, so Marlene will get him down to the next village and they can get him up to casualty at Law Hospital from there.’

‘Jake, are you quite sure you’ve never missed the Army?’

Jake laughed, slapped the back of my head and retorted, ‘Let’s get pulling.’

I felt shocked by the sight of my stricken cousin being led gingerly along the path, but succumbed to Jake’s instruction.

Drew Elliott had fed the dogs, fed and secured the hens and had tidied the chalet he rented out for self-catering. He sat down in his living room and switched on the television. He’d never been a fan of Saturday night terrestrial programmes but there was always a chance there would be some interesting sport on one of the satellite channels. When he retired, he would have to relinquish his subscription but for the time being he would make the most of the choice. He’d been in a good mood since his last contact with Rosalie. It sounded like she would be back home soon and although the promised conversations would be tough, a tremendous weight would be off his chest no matter what the consequences may be.

But what was that ‘phut phut’ noise from the road? Nobody round this way had a scooter or even a small motorbike. He got up, went to his door and on opening it was confronted with a figure he’d last seen over a year ago. Since returning from his trip to Lochaber, Drew had known this day might come before his plans were complete. Perhaps making contact with anyone in the Highlands before he had spoken to Rosalie had been a mistake. Certainly, when he had read about the suicide of his Highland contact only a couple of months previously, the urge to see Rosalie had intensified.

‘Hello, stranger, I didn’t think there had been any north winds recently that could have blown you down here.’

‘You know exactly how it is with families, Drew. I was missing cousin Tom’s wit and repartee. It’s been too long to go without it.’

‘Obviously, but what brings you over this side of the river, Michael?’

‘Just a wee bit of a catch up to where our last conversation ended, Drew. I think there may have been a bit of misunderstanding last time. Maybe you could ask me in to chew the fat for a wee while just to put things right in my own mind. I would hate to think any wrong of you, so, sat up there on Nemphlar Moor, I thought I would be sociable and take a trip down to see how you were doing.’

‘Well, that’s very kind of you, Michael, especially on a Vespa or a Lambretta whatever it is. I was just about to watch a rerun of the rugby, but come in. I daresay you won’t want to be here too long.’

Drew pointed to the armchair on which he wanted Kyle to sit and then sat down on an opposing large chair whose back faced the kitchen door. He decided to leave the television on with the sound muted. He certainly didn’t want this creature to feel too welcome.

Making himself comfortable Mike Kyle opened up. ‘A couple of things, Drew. First of all, the last time I was here, you lied to me and told me young Rosalie was dead. Now, why would you do that?’

Drew stretched his hands behind his head to the back of the chair and then leant all the way forwards again to stare intensely at his visitor.

‘For God’s sake, Kyle. You’ve got the sheer audacity to ask me that! You were caught in the act of trying to rape the girl as a teenager. You’d taken advantage of Lorraine at practically the same age, got her pregnant and then took no interest in my grandchild. You might not have killed my daughter or young Sophie in the eyes of the law, but be in no doubt that I hold you responsible for both their deaths.’

‘Aw, come on, Elliott, your daughter was a druggie with mental illness who couldn’t look after her child and she suffered with malnutrition. At least when Lorraine came over to me in Ayrshire, she got regular meals and I kept her off the smack and the booze. I agree it was all very sad but I’m fucked if you’re still going to blame it all on me. You and Sarah were no saints yourselves – just take time to fucking remember that, you old bastard.’

‘Just get the hell out now and bugger off back to Nemphlar.’ Drew was writhing in his chair trying to quell his rage.

‘I’m not finished yet, auld yin. I want to know where Rosalie is at the moment, and I want you to tell me if it was you who spoke to Donald John Mathieson up at his yard in Fort William a while back and if so, what the hell did you say to him?’

‘You better leave right now, Kyle, or I’m getting the police.’

‘Piss off, Elliott, Tom has them in his pocket down here.’ Kyle got up and reached over to the empty fireplace to his left and picked up the poker from the companion set. ‘You’ve got one minute, or so help me God, I’ll bust your head open.’

At that threat, Drew reached behind his head again but only this time his arms reached further down the back of his chair. He located the end of the barrels and in a flash had swung the shotgun round over his head into his lap. A quick reposition and the butt was fixed under his right arm and his finger was on the trigger.

‘Put that poker down, Kyle, or the police will need to scrape you off the floor.’

Mike Kyle stared at his adversary and wondered about the sequence of events that could have caused Drew Elliott to open up after all these years. But did that matter anyway? It seemed like a custodial outcome would be inevitable for a number of individuals. His life as he knew it was going to change, so why not try a Hail Mary play here?

‘Shoot if you like, you decrepit old fuck.’ He launched the poker with all his might at Drew’s head and simultaneously tried to throw his body to the left. The shotgun went off and Kyle couldn’t defy physics as the lancinating pellets ripped open his jacket and shirt and tore into the flesh of his right upper arm and shoulder.

Both men were rendered deaf by the blast of the gun but this mattered little to Drew for the moment as he slipped into unconsciousness following the fracture of his frontal bone. He rolled sideways in the chair and vomited over its arm.

Kyle stood up, racked with pain but grateful to still be alive. ‘You bloody old bastard.’ Just at that, Drew’s landline rang out.

Tom Landells’ face was the very portrait of incredulity.

‘For fuck’s sake, Roy, just when I thought things were already moving past the point of belief, you hit me with this absolute fucking outrage. You guys are nuts, why the hell did any of you think you were never going to be caught out? I am truly shocked at all of you – Mike, you and your family and not forgetting Drew and Sarah as well. All of you deserve the jail if the truth be told!’

Roy pinched the lax skin above the bridge of his nose and checked his watch.

‘And by association, Roy, you’ve fucking well dragged me into it. If I had a big enough backbone, I’d speak to Ted and get all this sorted out. But, as my ruddy name and signature is all over those papers that the rogue Haig brother has hidden, this is what we’re going to do instead. Get onto Mike pronto and tell him to get Drew and himself into one of their outside sheds and lock themselves in. Ted and his uncle will be up there in no time. It’s too dodgy to take the chopper – it’s getting dark and there are so many trees over there. So all of us, we leave now in the vehicles we have handy and get across to Corehouse as fast as we can. We meet up at Elliott’s house. Keep in touch if anything comes up en route. But things have changed now. There’s no way back for any of us with the seriousness of the situation. Forget the rubber bullets, we need to kill the three of them. The girl is tricky – we’ll keep her alive, but we go now!’

This was not turning out to be the most agreeable of phone calls, but Mike was glad he had picked up.

‘Why did you have to tell him, Roy?’

Roy turned over his phone as if he could see Mike’s face on the keypad. ‘Eh for chrissakes, Mike, the situation is going to hell and you’re asking that, about the only guy who can save us all. Now, can you please try and drag Elliott out to a shed or into the woods nearby until we reach you. We won’t be too long. Just get going – Conshee boy and Jake will be there before you know it.’

Mike’s attention was drawn to the window at the edge of his vision. ‘Fuck it, Roy, I think I saw torchlight out on the road beyond the garden.’

‘Okay, okay, listen… if Drew is still out for the count just leave him for now. But get yourself hidden ASAP. You cannot get captured, remember that. There must be a back door – even if you’re really sore – get out. We’ll be there soon. Don’t interact with them unless it’s essential, now go!’ At that, Roy switched off and nodded to his chauffeur. Bobby wasn’t used to driving the Land Rover with such abandon but his instructions had been very clear.

The two men looking in the window could see blood on a wall and an armchair as well as part of a body slumped in the other armchair just at the periphery of their view.

‘I’ll go in first with the bow armed,’ Jake whispered quietly.

I followed him and made for the stricken body. It was a man in his early seventies, I reckoned. He was groaning and blood was seeping out of a nasty deep cut on his central forehead that had caused blood to creep back downwards onto his thick grey-white curls. This must be Drew Elliott. His weapon lay on the carpet below him but the recipient of the shot, that they’d heard from deeper down in the woods, was nowhere to be seen. Jake gestured that he was going to inspect the other rooms.

I shook Drew’s left shoulder gently. ‘Drew, Drew, it’s Ted here, the vet you spoke to on the phone. We’ll need to get you up to hospital. What on earth happened?’

Drew’s eyes opened slowly but his voice sounded stronger than expected. ‘Ted, I’ve worked out who you are. Car keys in top drawer.’ And then he shut off again.

Jake re-entered the room, retrieved the keys from the sideboard and squatted beside me. ‘We’d better get out of here. Whoever he shot has gone – no doubt hiding nearby. Tom’s crowd will be here soon.’

‘Yip. We can carry Drew to the car between us.’ We managed to get Drew standing and eventually mobile with an arm each around his waist and his arms trying to grip our shoulders. This allowed Jake to hold his bow primed. He was drowsy but we got him over to a Nissan Patrol. After laying him in the back, we got aboard with me driving. I spun the car into reverse, then shot forwards at full throttle towards the gate.

It was then that Mike Kyle decided he would try and stop us escaping. His figure stepped out of the darkness clenching an axe in his unaffected left hand. His target was the windscreen but I hit the brakes hard causing him to be spreadeagled on the bonnet. Hitting the accelerator again and tugging the wheel sharply to the left, I managed to deposit him on his backside on the drive.

I got out onto the backroad junction to the sound of gunfire coming from the right. I headed left and grimaced as bullets hit our vehicle, shattering the rear window. I tried to keep the speed near the maximum as we bolted through the open countryside heading for the M74. Luckily the chasing vehicles were unable to keep up with us.

We reached the motorway and headed north, aiming for the A71 turn off.

Rosalie Elliott and Connie De Jaager were ensconced in Connie’s favourite restaurant in Regentessekwartier. The clientele tonight was the usual mix of wealthier students and young professionals and there was a lively buzz in the eatery.

Connie had finished her starter; she dabbed her lips with her napkin and addressed her Scottish friend. ‘Are you still okay for going up to Amsterdam midweek, rather than waiting till Saturday?’

‘Absolutely, it would be good to get to some of the traditional tourist sights whilst I’m there.’

‘The only minor issue is that we would have to change accommodation on Saturday morning. I’ve promised Petra that we’d stay with her over the weekend in Plantage. But she can’t put us up before then as her parents are visiting from Limburg and will still be there. So I’ve checked and my old school friend Jackie Wouters who lives in Jordaan is keen to meet up. She used to be wild and her flat was party central but she’s calmed down with age. But I can’t tell my mother we’re going to see Jackie as Mum thinks she’s the devil incarnate, so shtoom on that.’

‘If you insist but I don’t like disrespecting Sonja.’

‘Just for an easier life, Rosie.’

‘Well, alright. I have to tell you that I’ve got my small rucksack set out already.’

‘Excellent. The plan is to dump our stuff at Petra’s early on Saturday. There are a few people meeting up there, and then we’ll all go down together to Vondelpark for the start of the march. I think it will be quite exciting.’

The casualty registrar yawned as he looked witheringly out from the nurses’ station at the ever-increasing clientele gathering before them for attention.

‘Tired already, Ewan? That’s not a good sign. Did you not get a decent sleep today?’

‘Yes and no, sister. My five-a-side team can’t do without me… obviously, and then I promised Julie I’d paint the spare room in the afternoon. Managed to get a couple of hour’s nap in front of the TV after that.’

‘It’s not enough, son, but who am I to tell you? Anyway, we’ve had some crackers in already that Colin and Nuala have seen but they’re a bit unsure about disposal. You’ll soon see why.’

‘Sound. Are these the notes?’ Dr Macrae queried, as he gathered three sets of notes on the edge of the desk.

‘The very ones.’

Ewan Macrae sat down on the free seat and put his feet up on the desk, to the irritation of Sister Russell. ‘Will just be a minute, Sister.’

Ewan flicked through the papers with increasing consternation, illustrated by the furrowing of his forehead and the muttering under his breath. He rechecked the front page of each set of notes then swung to his feet.

‘Right, Sister, crackers as you say. I’ll start with the two who’ve got the same named responsible adult, the more serious first.’ He was led to a room down the corridor where the name Drew Elliott was felt-penned onto an inset card on the door.

The doctor breenged in as if to gain an element of surprise. He initially ignored us sitting on the chairs and went to the snoring patient on the bed. He produced an ophthalmoscope and carefully checked Drew Elliott’s eyes. Satisfied, he turned to Jake and me.

‘Has he been asleep for long?’

‘About ten minutes,’ I responded.

‘He was wide awake before that,’ added Jake.

‘Okay. I don’t know how much Dr Doran has told you, but Mr Elliott has sustained a severe blunt trauma injury to his forehead where the scan has confirmed a fracture of his skull. The scan has not confirmed any significant contusion of the frontal lobe beneath but the worry over these types of injury is the possibility of delayed issues. In this case, a big concern would be the development of a blood clot on the brain. His condition is stable with no sign of clot at this time. That’s just as well as Nuala checked with the Institute in Glasgow and they are full, so there is no prospect of transfer for the time being as things lie. So until further notice, Mr Elliott will be staying here under close observation.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

‘But here’s the thing, I need answers to a few important questions or I’m fetching the police constable from the other end of the corridor as regards suspicion of criminal activity.’

I felt a bit sweaty under the collar but perhaps not terribly surprised at the doctor’s insistence.

Jake probably looked more anxious than me, but then again, he did have his crossbow secreted in the boot of the Patrol.

‘I understand, Dr Macrae, go ahead.’

‘Just to clarify why there is curiosity among my juniors and myself. We have three patients attending casualty within thirty minutes of each other, all from more or less the same post code and all with nasty injuries but with nobody claiming assault of any description. Two of the patients, one of which is Mr Elliott here, have offered up the same next of kin or responsible adult, i.e., I presume one of you two gentlemen. And here’s another thing, I’m from Oban and from both your accents I would say you hail from up my way. And indeed, the teenager next door has put down his home address as in Lochaber. Am I on the right track, gents? And if so, what the hell has been going on? Because we have another guy down the corridor with a nasty injury who isn’t saying much at all and wants to go home quickly.’

I picked up the baton for the pair of us. ‘You are correct in your summation, Dr Macrae. The pair of us, and my cousin next door are down from Fort William on business to buy dogs from Mr Elliott here whose acquaintance we have made only in the last few days. We found Mr Elliott in his stricken state this evening and decided he needed to come here urgently. My cousin was assaulted earlier in the evening after a disagreement with a local lad. As regards to the guy along the way, we certainly don’t know who he is. Speaking for my cousin, I think he would rather not be involved with the police as his mother may skin him alive, then maybe me too for taking him with us.’

The registrar grinned. ‘Okay, that’ll do for now. I’ll see the other patients and have a think. Drew is going to stay here for now. I’m happy for you to stay with him. Catch you later.’

Ewan Macrae left the room thinking Mmm, plausible to a degree, and went next door. A blonde teenage girl was laughing with the bedbound patient.

Calum sat bolt upright in bed, spilling the tea he’d been given earlier.

‘Nasty gash on your temple, bud.’ Calum’s shoulders relaxed somewhat with the registrar’s informality.

‘Aye, it bled like stink at first, but luckily Marlene was at hand to put some pressure on it.’ Marlene flushed at her reference.

‘Well done, young lady. Good first aid skills.’ Marlene’s cheeks were now a fetching fuchsia shade.

Ewan liked the two youngsters immediately, with Calum reminding him of his own younger brother back up in Connel.

‘Right, Calum, your radiology is clear, so no deep damage, so we just need a proper dressing on that. A question for you, though. Your cousin said you were assaulted by a local, but it’s a strange injury, like a violent kind of sclaff. What happened?’

‘Well, I don’t want to get into trouble or get other people into trouble.’

‘No, that won’t happen. I’m just curious as to the type of contact.’

‘I think it could have been a rubber bullet… maybe.’

‘Oh, bloody hell! Eh… that would fit I suppose; though rather extreme for rural Lanarkshire.’ Ewan paused for a few seconds. ‘Mind you, on saying that, I’ve heard reports from colleagues right enough, about some nutter of a landowner up country somewhere using rubber bullets on trespassers and poachers. Should be locked up!’

‘Perhaps I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I’m fine now and I don’t want to cause a fuss.’

‘I was just telling your friends next door that I haven’t ruled out getting the police to go over your stories. I haven’t decided yet… both the police and myself have better things to do on a busy Saturday night than compile reports, especially if nobody is willing to make a complaint… and obviously you’re all just psychos.’

With that, Ewan left the room to a now smiling Calum, impressed as he was with the departing medical man’s attitude.

Ewan reached the end room in the casualty ward, knocked once and entered. A thickset man in his late forties or early fifties stood up and offered his hand.

‘Good evening, Doctor, Hector Dunbar.’

Roy Grigor frowned at Swank, remained seated and spoke with distaste. ‘And I’m Roy Grigor, a friend of both Hector and our injured colleague. We’ve been here a while now so maybe you could tell us what the plan for Michael is. Perhaps you could speed things up. Since the Irish bint gave him the opiate jag, he’s quietened down. Just give us some tablet equivalents to take away and we’ll bugger off out of your hair.’

Ewan swallowed hard and walked over to the comatose figure of Michael Kyle. As he exposed Kyle’s injured right shoulder, Ewan turned to face the second middle-aged man.

‘Not the best way to start a conversation, Mr Grigor. The Irish bint is in fact my valued colleague, Dr Doran, who has been comprehensive in the examination and assessment of your friend. Any more comments like that and the pair of you can get the fuck right out of my hospital.’

Swank was never one keen to lose out in a verbal or physical skirmish and he moved directly forwards into Ewan Macrae’s space. ‘Hang on a second, doc. We’re stressed out and you should be a bit more professional.’

‘So stress results in attempts at intimidation in your world,’ Ewan countered as he stepped nose to nose with Dunbar.

Grigor rose to try and defuse the situation. ‘Just leave it, Swank. It wouldn’t look good if you beat up a precious NHS minion, no matter how much he deserves it.’

However, the saying about the size of the fight in your dog proved true as the eleven-stone registrar pushed Dunbar backwards abruptly causing him to fall backwards over his stool onto the floor.

‘You may as well stay down there, Swanky, until the cops throw you out.’ At that, the doctor opened the door and beckoned to the police officer standing fifteen yards away.

‘Officer, can you remove these two gentlemen from the premises, please. As you do, it may be worthwhile asking them to account realistically for their mate’s shotgun wound and whether they dabble in rubber bullets.’

The two men sauntered past Ewan and brushed past the policeman heading for the exit.

‘Just hang on a ruddy minute, you two.’ Lanarkshire’s finest wasn’t for letting it go.

Ewan stepped back into the room to address the now alert but cowering figure of Michael Kyle.

‘Good evening, Mr Kyle, at least that wee episode has brought you around. Now tell me how you managed to shoot yourself in the shoulder before we get rid of you, too.’

Drew Elliott was transferred to a single room in one of the surgical wards some time after midnight, well after Michael Kyle was discharged with analgesia and appropriate dressings. I spent the night in a chair in the same room under the cover of a duvet provided by Celia Drummond’s mother from nearby Carluke, who also provided accommodation overnight for Jake and Calum. Jake was given instructions to contact Frankie and my mother with the developments so far.

I’m exactly six feet tall but despite the creased position of my body under the duvet, I slept like a log; the first awareness of morning I had was an auxiliary nurse presenting Drew and me with some breakfast.

Drew and I shared some light banter as we ate, but he became emotional as his fingers lightly touched around his ugly head wound.

‘It’s not great just now, but it’s amazing how tissue heals,’ I offered.

‘Thank you, son. You’re very kind. It was good of you to stay overnight with me.’

I dodged my ulterior motive at first. ‘You obviously had nobody else to help you and you’d been viciously attacked.’

‘However, in the circumstances I couldn’t expect you to be so kind.’

‘I’m not sure exactly what you’re getting at, but you did say that you had worked out who I was.’

‘Yes, I’ve known of you for a very long time, Theodore.’

Mmm, this conversation had suddenly taken an unexpected and disquieting turn. Elliott sensed my unease.

‘Look, it’s alright, it would just be preferable if we were completely honest with each other, Ted. I worked out that the story you gave me on the phone was a ruse. To be honest, I expected contact from your family before now. I had obviously not given the unfortunate Donald Mathieson enough information about myself before he died. When I read about his death, there was no way I could go back up north to reintroduce myself. There would have been a price on my head and until I had told her personally what was happening, I had to keep a low profile. I appreciate it must have even further torture for yourselves.’

I picked up the mug, took a swig of tea and leant back on my chair with my eyes closed. I could feel a mixture of emotions. I was experiencing a degree of confusion and mounting anger towards this frail pensioner lying to my left. But I was also beginning to feel excitement that was gradually overcoming the negative thoughts.

‘You’ve gone quiet.’

‘It’s a lot to take in, Mr Elliott.’

‘Of course.’

‘So to make it clear – you are the man with the big dog who spoke to Donnie John at the yard in Fort William those months ago?’

‘Yes, that was me… and Coco.’

‘So are you telling me my sister is alive?’ I felt my mouth dry and I went a bit dizzy. My heart was pounding – surely audible to my roommate.

Drew Elliott dragged himself up into a more erect position in bed and lifted his eyes from the bedclothes to meet mine. Some tears gathered in his eyes but all I could think was Get on with it, man. Answer me for f—

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you, Ted.’

My head was really spinning now. I bolted to the window and looked out on a glorious Lanarkshire Sunday morning. Then I exploded into tears, choking myself as the raw emotion overcame me. I braced myself against the window, forehead and both palms placed hard on the glass. I stood and sucked in huge breaths until eventually I could feel my heart rate dropping. It took a couple of minutes before I was fully composed and I returned to my seated position, wiping away the last of my tears.

‘I really am so sorry, Ted. Along with several others, I’ve caused you and your family inestimable heartache.’

‘Correct, Mr Elliott, you have. Let’s just get down to the main facts for now. You will need plenty of time to fill in the missing thirty years for me. So where is Rosie and is she well?’

‘She is very well. She is a lawyer based in New York at the United Nations but she is currently in the Netherlands on secondment at the International Court of Justice. Her education did not suffer for the changes in her young life.’

I felt flushed as this septuagenarian started to answer my simple questions coated with efforts at exoneration. I would need to phone France and Banavie soon to share my elation and help douse the growing animosity I was developing apace towards Elliott.

‘Just the facts please, Drew. Spare me any elaboration. Have you alerted Rosie to recent events?’

‘Not yet. I wanted to speak to her face-to-face. She is planning to come to Scotland in the very near future.’

‘Okay, that’s understandable, but not now very helpful.’

‘I was thinking that myself, Ted.’

‘Without getting the whole background story, judging by the hostility we’ve experienced so far, basically since Donnie’s now probable murder, makes me think that a lot of people have been involved in some way in the atrocity of my sister’s abduction. Inevitably these people will face prosecution and internment, so they will be trying everything to get rid of evidence. Until I can get my sister home safely and in front of the police, I will be extremely worried about her security. I presume we can rely on your co-operation despite your involvement.’

‘Of course you can. I know I will end up in court and pay for my sins, but that won’t stop me from helping you in any way I can.’

‘Good. There’s obviously a need to keep you safe too. After hospital, you can’t go home. I’ll need to speak to my brother about finding you a place of safety. I presume you have a phone number for Rosie in The Hague?’

‘Yes, she gave me her new number and I wrote it down and added it to my phone just the other day.’

‘Excellent. Well, can you give her a ring just now please and inform her what’s happened. You can pass it over to me at some point if that’s okay.’ I was feeling almost euphoric as my mind raced anticipating the first conversation with my sister for thirty years.

‘I’m afraid my phone is back on the desk in my front room.’

Deflated, I still responded brightly. ‘No worries, I’ll give Jake and Calum a ring and ask them to head back over and pick it up. The desk will be easy to find, yeah?’

‘Oh, yes. It’s the only desk in the room. It sits beside the door – I can picture my phone just sitting on the top of it. The house will still be unlocked as it was last night.’

‘Great, give me five minutes and I’ll give them a ring, then I’ll speak to my wife and the folks up north.’

As I couldn’t get a good signal, the staff nurse in charge let me use a public phone on the ward. I had to be brief though, which didn’t matter for my urgent message to Jake, but it would have been lovely to spend more time talking to Lisa about Rosie’s confirmed existence. We shared bursts of tears over the mythical sister before it was time to speak to my mother and Frankie. Their exultation was tempered by concern for my well-being, so having reassured Frankie, I fired questions at him.

Swank, Doog Hardie and Roy Grigor looked out the windows of the Defender furtively as they made their way back down the hill towards the Clyde bridge on the way back to Nemphlar. The police car that had passed them had provided a heart-stopping moment and now it was essential to get back to the hangar to get the vehicle scrubbed. The smell of petrol in the cabin was overpowering.

Jake and Calum approached Drew’s smallholding in the recovered Golf from the south, crossing the Douglas Water tributary of the Clyde at Sandilands and following the same backroads they had travelled the previous evening in the opposite direction.

It was Calum who spotted the smoke and flames first. ‘Oh bloody hell, Jake – fire! Step on it.’

Unfortunately, by the time they reached Drew’s small drive, his cottage was showing signs of implosion, engulfed as it was in leaping flames. There would be no recovery of any phone or pieces of paper; but helping the couple of neighbours present to frantically move dogs from the nearest kennel to one by the woods was a task that would no doubt be appreciated.

Tom Landells looked out on the partial reconstruction of his stables with a critical eye. ‘I mean, you pay these bastards double time to come out on a Sunday and they’re on their second break already. Where’s the ruddy work ethic these days?’ He realised he was only muttering to himself, as Doog Hardie cleared his throat to announce their return.

‘Well, did you find it?’ Tom implored.

Doog held up the phone triumphantly in response.

‘Right, who is the most tech savvy of us? If we can track her down by her phone that makes life so much easier.’

‘I’ll have a look at his stored numbers,’ Roy announced, taking the mobile from Doog.

He switched it on and was delighted Drew had not secured it with a password. He worked his way on to stored numbers and lo and behold there were two numbers for ‘Rosalie’. The second number had only been added very recently. The number had thirteen digits. The first four numbers, -0031-, looked like an international dialling code. Roy asked Doog to check Tom’s directory.

‘Looks like she’s in Holland.’

Tom was initially unimpressed. ‘Holland! What the fuck is she doing in Holland? Mind you, on saying that, it’s a good deal better than her being in the States.’

Roy’s motivation had increased exponentially. ‘We need to form a plan of action rapidly. I’ve spoken to my grandfather and to Jackson Haig – they’re shattered, and they’ve given us carte blanche to use any method available to shut this down.’

‘Oh, that’s very generous of them. But just remember I have no involvement in the original crimes and I’m being forced to help you guys because of association. It’s all going to come out now, the drugs, everything. Haig’s boy, Lawrie, has seen all this coming and his stuff puts me in jail. What is happening with him anyway? Did Jackson tell you anything about that? Because if he is not dealt with by you guys, I’m sending up Swank to fix it. Understood?’

‘Loud and clear, Tom. We’ll sort it, but Lawrie is still in hospital at the moment and he apparently hasn’t given up his information to anyone so far, so there’s not quite the same urgency with him as there is with this. I promise you, Tom, if you can help us with getting the girl and her father quietened, we then won’t stop until Lawrie is strung up.’

‘That’s better. Right, let’s think – Elliott can’t now warn her by phone directly. But he obviously knows whereabouts she is and what she’s doing, so he will still manage to track her down eventually. Now, are you guys sure that Drew and the boy are in Law Hospital?’

‘Pretty sure, Tom,’ Roy countered. ‘The cheeky git of a doctor we had to endure with Mike made a random comment about rubber bullets. That made us think the kid was certainly there and therefore likely Drew is there too.’

‘Agreed. Ted is smart, so he’s probably interrogated Drew about his sister’s whereabouts already. I still think we’ve got to get in there somehow and shut him up. If we can manage to get any information about the girl’s exact whereabouts at the same time, it will be a bonus.’

‘I’m afraid we can only allow the three of you in here with Mr Elliott for a very short time, gentlemen. Okay?’

Jake smiled at the staff nurse. ‘I’m sorry, I promise you we won’t be long.’

The door shut and I processed the news my confidants had revealed to Drew and me.

‘Terrible news for you, Drew. These bastards have no conscience.’

‘This is a nightmare for sure. But I’m pleased the dogs got moved in time. I’m retiring very soon and the smallholding was going on the market. Now insurance will have to cover things. I’m far more worried about Rosalie.’

‘Can you think of anything else that might help track her down, Drew?’ Jake queried.

‘We’ll have to try and act quickly. We’ve got to assume they have your phone and they will contact her with some disingenuous reason to meet up,’ I added.

Calum then made a telling point. ‘Do you think they would try and find her over there or would they wait until she was back in Scotland?’

Jake was adamant. ‘They’ll plan to get to her in the Netherlands, for sure.’

‘I’m sorry I’m responsible for all this.’ Drew put his head in his hands and lay back on his pillow.

Jake and I exchanged looks.

‘We’re going to leave you for a while, Drew. Maybe some more sleep will be beneficial.’

The three of us retreated to the canteen for a coffee.

‘What’s Frankie saying from a police point of view, Ted?’ Jake opened.

‘After being initially ecstatic about Rosie, Frankie is terrified that there is not enough evidence for any prosecution at present. He agrees that Rosie and Drew are in jeopardy and he’s insistent we should push for Drew to make a statement as soon as he is physically able. Frankie has already spoken to someone in the CID down here to discuss the matter but was reminded that the health angle must be watertight and that Drew is fully alert and competent. Frankie is going to try and get co-operation from the police in The Hague but it’s difficult as he is still suspended and so much is supposition.’

Calum couldn’t help but display the frustrations of a youthful perspective. ‘This is crap. Why can’t more be done? I mean we’ve been hunted, shot at, imprisoned and assaulted, and that’s just all in the past forty-eight hours.’

‘I do agree, Calum. But who knew that we’d end up with Tom Landells up against us? The Grigors are obviously intrinsically involved with Rosie’s disappearance and my guess is that they have cleverly used Lawrie’s evidence as a tool to recruit Tom.’

‘Unless Drew can come up with something helpful, the first thing we do tomorrow morning is contact the courts in The Hague directly or via Frankie and the Dutch police to try and track Rosie down.’

Jake’s thoughts had ranged farther afield. ‘We need to get over to Holland ourselves. Perhaps your mother can speak to Lotte Chisholm. Her brother, Cobus, and Davie of course might be able to help us there.’

‘Good thinking, Jake. Can I let you get on with that?’

‘You can indeed, Ted. I’ve also had an idea about someone who can help us protect Drew and Lawrie.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Yes, it could work, but I have to do some sounding out.’

‘I feel I need to hang about here a bit longer, but you guys could get back up north. Apparently Dad has hastened his return to Banavie to gaffer us. Okay, I’ll catch you back here in a couple of hours before you make any moves. I’m going back into see Drew with this Dictaphone that the redoubtable Dr Macrae has lent me.’

‘Are you ready to answer some questions, Drew? If you don’t feel like it – say so. This recording won’t be admissible in court but it will certainly help Frankie, Jake and me, as well as the rest of the family.’

‘Yes, I’m fine with it, and I dare say it will serve as a good dry run for when the police do interrogate me.’

‘Exactly! A question for you, though, before I start recording. I visited your kennels to see a sick bitch when I was a student in Lanark about eighteen years ago. You and your wife weren’t in, so a blonde teenager helped us out.’

‘That was your sister, Ted. She was going through a bit of a teenage rebellion at that time after an incident, so the dark brown waves disappeared for a while.’

‘Oh my goodness me.’ I smiled as I recollected the slim polite girl who was rather old-fashioned in her manner. ‘That’s just incredible.’ I was ruminant for a couple of minutes and then resumed with a barely concealed smile.

‘That’s it on now, Drew, so I’ll start. How on earth did it all come about? The abduction, everything involved with it.’

‘Looking back, Ted, it was a culmination of stressful events. I had a couple of buyers in the Highlands at the time. The breed was not well known but I think people in remote rural areas like the idea of a dog that appears fearsome for security purposes but if well trained could be perfectly reasonable family pets. So, I was up north quite a lot, and loved to do a bit of fishing when I was there. On one occasion, one of my regular customers in Argyll put me in touch with a business contact of his in Lochaber who was interested in buying a couple of pups – this was Ronnie Grigor.’

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the very mention of the old bastard’s name.

‘He was very affable when we met at his big house in Torlundy. I’ve always believed in checking out potential owners and their properties, as in the wrong hands these beasts can be killers. I was happy enough in that respect, so I agreed that we’d meet up again in a few weeks and I would take up a couple of young dogs. He said to bring my fishing gear as a pal of his called Haig had a beat on the Lochy.’

‘Can I just interrupt you for a second, Drew? Roughly, what year are we talking about?’

‘Oh, about 1965, I guess. Anyway, it was the school holidays and my sixteen-year-old daughter, Lorraine, begged me to take her with me. And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I had already promised my old friend John Landells from Nemphlar, Tom’s uncle, that I would take his wayward nephew, Michael Kyle – a foul excuse for a human being, up north to do some fishing. So the three of us headed up the road with the pups and Ronnie Grigor put us up for a couple of days. I did a bit of fishing and did some dog training with Ronnie and his team. Lorraine and Kyle meanwhile were being shown around the area by Ronnie’s grandson, Roy, who I disliked immediately.

‘There was a party on one of the nights we were there. Roy’s parents, Charlie and Kirsty were away with their daughter in London, so their house was the scene of my Lorraine’s introduction to drink and drugs, and indeed sex, as it turned out.

‘Kyle got Lorraine pregnant and then initially refused to have anything to do with her. Lorraine had to leave school, all her ambitions up the spout, and she came to resent her baby, Sophie. Sarah and I doted on Sophie but that almost gave Lorraine an excuse to go out boozing and seeking drugs. There were a couple of attempts by her to settle down with Kyle, but by all accounts, he was cruel to her.

‘When Sophie was not with us, she was not being fed properly. Just short of her fourth birthday, she died suddenly, we believed from the complications of malnutrition. My wife developed a depressive psychosis, hid the dead child and ended up needing ECT in Hartwood Hospital. Lorraine was very depressed too and she struggled to cope with the guilt, but instead of seeking medical services, she resorted to even more alcohol and drugs.

‘I found it hard to deal with the hostility and the dark moods of the pair of them once Sarah got out of hospital. And that’s when it all happened.’

‘I don’t think I’m going to like this.’

‘No, you won’t. And you will never understand the desperation I felt for Sarah and myself. I think eventually Lorraine had moved on with the crutch of her addictions. If I could turn the clock back to that weekend in summer 1970, I would do so in a jiffy, Ted, I promise you. Anyway, I got a call from Ronnie Grigor querying the temperament of the previous Presos I had sold him. It irritated me greatly, as in these sort of stories, it’s usually not the dogs that are the problem. However, it offered me a chance to escape the misery of home for a short spell.

‘I drove up on the Friday afternoon and spent a quiet evening with Ronnie. I think his wife had died by then, so it was just him rattling about in that big house. He apologised straight away for the fact that Michael Kyle was up visiting Roy and that I might bump into him over the following days. Kyle and Roy had stayed close over the years, probably as drug supplier and consumer to be honest, although they were both involved in rifle clubs and junior shooting competitions.

‘Leaving Ronnie in bed, Jackson Haig and Roy took me down for an early morning cast on the river. We had taken the two Presos with us on leads so I could cast an eye on their socialising. We were only away a couple of hours when I caught Roy kicking one of the dogs nonchalantly then half choking the dog when it had turned on him. I was appalled and stopped fishing straight away, demanding to go back to Ronnie’s. Just at that, Ronnie appeared in his big Transit, shouting like a madman. Apparently, I had wandered onto Haig’s runway and a light aircraft was due to land. His reaction all seemed a bit over the top to me, and I later wondered if there had been drugs on the plane. The plane landed successfully as I was busy deriding Ronnie and his grandson for the treatment of the dogs.

‘Then all hell broke loose as a few kids were spotted further up the fields nearer the lodge right beside the riverbank. We could make out Stuart Haig jumping around at the side of the plane pointing aggressively at the children. The next thing I knew, Roy had set the dogs on the children. I screamed at Ronnie but he just laughed. I charged after the Presos but they were way ahead of me.

‘By the time I got to them, they had managed to hunt down Rosalie. They had dragged her back from the top of the riverbank though the undergrowth and she was now unconscious and bloodied. I worked hard in the bushes to call the dogs to heel. I fastened the dogs leads to my waist and carried your sister back to the vehicle. The rest of the children were nowhere to be seen although I could make out some shouting. As soon as I got the dogs, the girl and myself into the back of the vehicle, Ronnie took off like a bat out of hell, with those two grinning idiots in the front with him.’

‘Excuse me for a minute.’ I didn’t realise how much this would upset me. I retreated to the bedroom’s small bathroom and splashed water on my face, drinking some mouthfuls down as I proceeded. I wiped my face on a towel and checked that the mini tape in the recorder still had capacity. The kindly registrar had given me a spare cassette just in case.

‘Resume at your leisure, Drew.’

‘Sorry again, Ted. We got back to Ronnie’s with me shouting to get the police. Ronnie called in a horrified young maid, telling her that we’d found her at the roadside. She took Rosalie away to clean and dress her wounds. By this time her conscious level was coming and going but she was mute with terror, and tears filled her eyes. Tired of Ronnie’s pleas to calm down, I went through to the back parlour where Rosalie lay in an old bathchair. The maid had rustled up some kiddie’s white pyjamas that had once belonged to Denise Grigor and dressed the child in them. She looked angelic lying there, albeit with gauze dressings obvious on her forearms. I sat beside her and stroked her head for a while until she fell asleep again. At least an hour then passed.

‘I could hear activity in the background, loud voices, and the telephone rang at least twice. Eventually, I was beckoned through, despite being loathe to leave the young girl.

‘I went through to the lounge to find Ronnie, Roy, Michael Kyle and Jackson Haig. They sat me down with Ronnie taking the lead in a sinister discussion. I’m paraphrasing Ronnie now but he started by saying that he had found a solution to the issues that had arisen. He asked me how Sarah was, knowing full well that she was severely depressed. “What about a new grandchild for Sarah and yourself? A new daughter for Lorraine?” offered Kyle.

‘What they were suggesting was so monstrous that I remember just shaking my head and moaning “No” over and over again.

‘Ronnie, backed by Roy and Jackson, went on to say that the girl was from a troubled household who had caused a lot of problems in the local community and that it was always thought that the girl was the victim of neglect. They continued to wind up the narrative. If the police were involved, I would lose my breeders licence, my dogs would all be euthanised. I could face prosecution for not controlling the dogs.

‘I still can’t offer you a reasonable explanation as to what persuaded me to agree to such a hideous plan to take your sister back to Lanark. I tried to convince myself that she was being neglected, but most of all I knew how my wife would be transformed by the addition of your sister to our lives. Ronnie insisted I take the maid with me to make the journey easier and to help Sarah in Lanark for a while. So eventually with mixed emotions, I headed south with a four-year-old girl, two dogs and a maid.’

I snapped eventually. ‘For God’s sake, man, did you not think properly about the devastation you would go on to cause my family? The years of pain. It was all there for you in the newspapers and on television. How could you ignore our hurt?’

‘It may be impossible for you to believe, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it every day for the past thirty years. As it happens, her abduction didn’t solve all our problems. I was correct in predicting that Sarah would flourish. Her mood changed instantaneously and she perfected the bluff that your sister was in fact the Sophie that had disappeared from public view for a while. Sarah managed to convince the health visitor that Rosalie was Sophie, helped by the fact that Sarah had burnt all photos of Sophie and that she had never gone to nursery, either. The ages matched, as did the hair and eye colours. We even changed the Christian name on her certifications, stating that one of Lorraine’s reasons for her dark moods was deep unhappiness with her child’s original first name. We also convinced the health visitors that the reason for Rosalie’s initial unhappiness and incessant crying for her mother for a time was because Lorraine’s drug use had crushed her maternal instincts, leading to rejection. We pleaded that social work not be involved as Sarah and I could easily provide for Rosalie and Lorraine’s needs. The ruse worked and your sister stayed in Lanark. Sadly, Lorraine never could accept Rosalie as her daughter.’

I was on top of the bed now and was gripping Elliott by the throat. ‘Of course she fucking couldn’t, it wasn’t her bloody daughter. Were you mad and bad? Did you not see my mother and father being interviewed on television?’

Drew was limp in my hands. ‘Of course, son. It was beyond cruel.’ He couldn’t look at me as I swung off the bed, disappointed that the pensioner hadn’t retaliated to my assault.

‘There were many occasions in the years that followed when my conscience couldn’t handle the guilt and I would end up having blazing rows with Sarah. I expected her to share the same level of culpability as me, but she didn’t. She was brazen and had no sympathy for your family at any stage. Time passes and confession became more complicated. Rosalie settled down eventually. She did well at school, had a few friends and enjoyed working about the smallholding. She loved sports but Sarah was over-protective and very much a disciplinarian – really tough love. For my own part – mainly because of guilt, I don’t suppose I was as loving as I could have been, and Lorraine never gave a hoot about her.

‘I’m ashamed to say that in the aftermath of the abduction, we handed over Sophie’s remains to the Grigors to help mislead the police. After burning her mummified corpse to hinder DNA studies, her skeletal remnants were scattered on the edge of Leanachan Forest. The intention was to create a scenario whereby a feral dog or a fox had violated the burnt body left by a vagrant.

‘That established the final breakdown of any relationship that I’d had with the Grigors. Only to be compounded several years later when I came across Michael Kyle attempting to rape Rosalie, who was barely into her teens, in my barn. It was a horrendous experience for me as Kyle was threatening to reveal part of her stolen history if I didn’t let him have his evil way. Luckily Kyle’s uncle, my friend John Landells, found out and went ballistic.’

I shuffled in the seat uneasily for the umpteenth time that afternoon. ‘I’m going to kill Michael Kyle, so help me God.’

‘Let the courts deal with him, Ted. He won’t enjoy the experience of prison.’

‘Did Rosie ever have any suspicions about her early life?’

‘Oh, yes. She’s a smart cookie. It was no surprise that she went to study law. Quite the humanitarian, she sticks up for all beleaguered souls. By her student days, there was an obvious rift between Rosalie and ourselves. She found it unacceptable that nobody could tell her who her father was. When Lorraine died through drugs, Rosalie never mourned her. She self-referred to a psychologist to question her reaction, but that woman justifiably and categorically blamed the people in her life for their lack of honesty.

‘I know she appreciates the support we gave her but the lasting relationship gets a bit obscure beyond that. Recently, I promised her that I would tell her the truth when she next came home, as she only paid a flying visit when Sarah died. She sounded buoyant about the truth being revealed. I wish I’d got to her with this before I spoke to the lad Mathieson, but it wasn’t possible.’

I got up to stretch my legs and took a peek out into the corridor to convince myself there was a different reality, a world of secondary care where cruelty rarely stalked. All seemed normal – busy and involved, no lurking trouble.

I turned back inside. ‘There’s no denying that your choices have come back to haunt you, Drew. You and Rosie remain as the only people who can put people in jail. You will be big targets. Jake and I are going to the Netherlands to protect Rosie, so it would be helpful if you can think of any other way of contacting her now that the direct phone option has gone.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’m out of ideas at the moment. But there is another who could be of help if anything happens to me or Rosalie.’

‘Well, I hope you are more comprehensive in assessing the possibilities for self-preservation than you are for Rosie. Because they will be coming for you. We can’t protect you whilst you’re in hospital so we have to keep our fingers crossed. Right now, I’m away to start making plans with my two partners. I’ll be back later. You could maybe scribble down who the third option is. Okay, see you soon.’

I sped along the corridors to the canteen in jig time.

‘Well, Ted, any joy in getting an address for Rosie?’

‘Nope. I nearly thumped him a couple of times when he expanded on Rosie’s abduction. Just grim, bloody grim. It’s all on Dictaphone, we’ll play it or I’ll tell you about it on the way up north. We can’t hang about here any longer. We have to save Rosie.’

The three of us had something to eat and then planned our next few days on the sticky table top, before Calum stormed out to the toilet when I informed him he wasn’t going to Holland with us. I thought I was acting sensibly. The boy had been brilliant but he had suffered physically and there were limits to what I could put Shirley through.

I didn’t have more time to reflect when Calum rushed back to the table. ‘Guys, guys, I’ve just seen the burly thug from the chairlift charging down the corridor.’

The three of us took off like bats out of hell along to the surgical department. The commotion around Drew’s door answered our fears. Out of breath, we approached cautiously. The staff nurse we knew best came out of the room. ‘I’m sorry, but Mr Elliott suddenly took a turn for the worse there.’

‘What happened, Nurse?’

‘Not long after you left, Drew’s monitor went dead. We came in to check and he was unconscious and cyanosed. He was asystolic but we’ve got him back round, albeit he’s still unconscious. The surgical reg thinks it’s cerebral, so I think he might get transferred to Glasgow now. I’m sorry. You’ve been very supportive. The outlook must be very poor now.’

We quietly left the scene without burdening the diligent nurse with our interpretation of the event as smothering by Swank Dunbar. There was only one option now but we wanted to get back home first.

‘He’s through in the lounge, Abraham.’

‘Thank you, Sandra.’

‘It’s me who should be thanking you, putting him up as you did.’

‘Yes, we can all be blindsided by those we’re close to.’ At that, Abe strode in to confront Stuart, slamming the lounge door behind him.

‘Ah, Abe, take a seat.’

‘Go to hell, Stuart. I’ll just stand because I won’t be here long.’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘That’s exactly what I’m doing. Just what the fuck have you done? You’ve always told me you knew nothing about the disappearance of the Cameron girl, never mind being involved with it. And now I find out it’s all been lies. What have I always told you? If I ever found out that you were in any way involved that it would be the end. My employment with you is done. I know what it’s like to suffer child abuse, but abduction, Jesus save me! Are you off your fucking mind?’

‘Are you two okay? I heard loud voices.’ Sandra could not stem her curiosity.

‘Get out, please, Sandra, I’ll explain later.’

‘Look, Abe. It’s not straightforward. Originally, I did know nothing, wasn’t involved – nothing. I just saw some inquisitive kids on my land as we were flying in some product. I wanted them chased away alright, but to be honest, I thought they might be holidaymakers. Obviously when it all came out, I put two and two together and quizzed Jackson. He spilt the beans and of course I wasn’t happy about his involvement, but you couldn’t expect me to report my own son – he was still a schoolboy. I did give him hell for being influenced by the Grigors. I never spoke to them about it as I’ve always felt having that knowledge over the Grigors might stand me in good stead one day. I know they look on me as a bit of a softy, but I’ve always got that over them – a power that can put them away.’

‘For heaven’s sake, man, don’t say any more, because it just gets worse and worse. Are you seriously telling me you’ve used the knowledge of the abduction of a child for future incrimination?’

‘I think you’re overreacting a bit here, Abe.’

‘Right, Stuart, that’s it! I can’t take any more of this shite, I really can’t. I’m off and won’t be back. I’ll expect my wages to be paid up to date. Good night.’ The door banged even louder this time as Abe left.

Soon enough, Sandra’s head appeared around the door. ‘I’m off to Madge’s for the night. I think we need a chat in the morning, Stuart.’

We got on the road north early on the Sunday evening and made good progress. I promised I would stay in touch with the ward as regards Drew’s condition and that I would do my best to help track down ‘his granddaughter’ overseas.

We were back in Banavie by 9.30pm to be met by a group comprising my mother and father, Frankie, Shirley and Lotte Chisholm. The mood was celebratory at first and it was a joy to witness my parents hug each other with such unfettered warmth. We gathered chairs around the kitchen table and listened to Drew’s words interrupted regularly by my own additional comments.

By the end of the tapes, everyone seemed exhausted, shocked by the callous behaviour exposed.

‘They’ll all go down for this. The denials and lies for years, they’ll deserve all they get.’ My father voiced the general view, but my mother discerned the priority, not getting carried away with any vitriol.

‘Let’s just get our girl back first, Duncan. Lotte, you’ve got some news for the boys.’

Lotte Chisholm lifted her head and radiated peace and warmth to the rest of us. ‘Oh my goodness, having listened to all that, I would be neglectful if I couldn’t contribute in a small way in helping you get Rosie home. Now, you all know that my brother Cobus fell off the righteous path a long time ago. I will never be able to accept his criminal past but he has spent time in prison and although he will never be perfect and does seem to lack repentance, he does seem to be living a quiet honest life these days. Importantly, as well as being my younger brother, he remembers Rosie well and he still has contacts in the underworld in the Netherlands. And David, well you know my son so very well. He lives in Alkmaar, has a good job with Shell in Amsterdam. He loved wee Rosie as much as anyone and like his uncle has made it clear that he is available to help you in the Netherlands whenever you need it.’

‘That’s fantastic, Lotte, so very kind of you and the guys.’

‘Just don’t tell me what they get up to for the good Lord’s sake, Ted.’

‘I think I’m going to have to call it a day now, folks. I feel absolutely shattered and it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’

Rosie sat down in front of the bathroom mirror and stared unconvinced at her reflection. She had never tried a pink dye before and perhaps aged thirty-four the time to experiment had already passed. But she laughed and thought if there was anywhere to try it out, liberal Holland was the ideal place. It would certainly give Connie and Sonja a laugh over lunch. This was a Monday morning free from work for the first time since she arrived here.

Returning to a mild frown, Rosie looked again at her mobile on which she had been surprised to receive a call from Scotland earlier that morning. It was from a policeman in Lanark who had found her grandfather’s phone near the kennels, after he had been called to the house on account of reports of a fire. When they searched the property there was no sign of her grandfather, but there definitely had been a fire in the house and a couple of the neighbours were now looking after the dogs. So far, there was no evidence that her grandfather had come to any harm and perhaps there was a logical reason for his temporary disappearance but the officer inquired whether she could provide any illuminating suggestions. It was certainly puzzling and Rosie’s first thought was to head for the airport as soon as was possible.

However, the police officer made the point that her grandfather could reappear anytime with a perfectly good explanation for his actions. Rosie felt the policeman sensed her quandary. Would it be selfish to go ahead and try and enjoy a holiday period with a couple of days about The Hague followed by their trip to Amsterdam? Eventually the kind officer helped her make a decision. He stated that it would be sensible to stay in the Netherlands as after all they had her number in case of further developments. The only thing he would ask of her was to supply her address and the address and telephone number of the nearest police station for procedural reasons. Rosie felt more relaxed and agreed, stating she would text him all the details from here in The Hague within the hour, after she had got the police information from the family she was staying with.

Lunch was a buoyant affair at a local café with just the three women present. Robin was a sociable man but Sonja always said he couldn’t relax in public for fear of his lighter side being revealed. Sonja was still expressing her fears about what might lie ahead for the two young women on the march in Amsterdam. Rosie and Connie laughed it off quickly, then Rosie recalled the gist of the call from Scotland. Her friend and her mother voiced their curiosity but felt Rosie’s plan of action made sense. Sonja knew the whereabouts of the local police centre and passed them on to Rosie.

When they got back to the comfort of the De Jaager’s study, Rosie fished out her phone and texted Scotland.

Swank Dunbar looked down at the message coming through, then looked over at Tom and Roy with satisfaction. ‘Fucking bingo!’

Tom Landells beamed like a Cheshire cat. ‘Right, you bastards better fish out your passports. My plane can’t take that many people in comfort. I would suggest my pilot, Swank, Roy and Rab Sillars. That gives us enough room, if, and it’s a big “if”, you have human cargo on the way home. Mike and I will stay put in Nemphlar. I’m going to get in touch with my old Dutch supply buddies, Jan and Victor Koopman. They’ve got a violent edge to them and they owe me a couple of favours over late product supply. Yeah, that gang will certainly help you out over there. They’re Amsterdam-based but the whole country is only about the size of East Anglia or somewhere like that. Right, let’s get things going.’

As Rosie ran along the sands alone, she listened to a playlist of favourite tracks that she had picked up on over many years. This included a batch of traditional rock songs that had been oddly familiar for no apparent reason. These she ran in a sequence. They seemed to make her run faster but also improved her concentration. Something was irritating her. Jethro Tull’s ‘Love Story’ was the first track followed by ‘Street Worm’ by Spirit. Sure enough, she felt her leg speed increasing and her arms were pushing back the sea air vigorously.

She dodged her way past a couple of slower runners that she had chatted to the previous week. Targeting a café further along her route she smiled as Family’s ‘Processions’ came on, with its lovely piano tempering its firebrand vocalist. Her mood had elevated, her pace was fast and smooth despite the uneven sand. With the café now visible in the far distance, she realised that she would reach her destination before the mighty guitar work of Duane Allman on Boz Scaggs’ version of ‘Loan Me A Dime’ had reached its crescendo. Ah well, I’ll just have to listen to it again on the way back, she thought as she flew up the steps and hammered along the final hundred yards of road to the café. With a flash of pink hair, she bounded through the entrance and took a chair breathlessly at a window table. It’s the phone, she thought. That’s the problem with that story.

Drew Elliott was like a little boy with a toy when it came to new possessions. Money had been short in the household for as long as she remembered and her ‘grandfather’ didn’t tend to treat himself to many luxuries, preferring to spend any free money on treats for the three women in his life. Rosie reflected she would rather have had affection and more of his time than any gift. However, on the rare occasion that he did splurge on himself, he would treat the possession as if the very Holy Grail had made its way to Lanark. Gee, the last time she was home that phone was a fixture in either his hand or the bib pocket of his dungarees. So why was something you would have thought needed surgical removal found lying in the grass beside the kennels? The exercise had definitely clarified her thought processes.

She had few friends from school, and even less who were still in Lanark and none she had contact numbers for. Drew’s current neighbours she didn’t know as they were all fairly recent buyers.

The sudden rasp of a cheeky gull outside the window coincided with a flash of inspiration. Of course, why did I not think of them before. Obvious really. I’ll phone when I get back to Connie’s.

I was up early on the Monday and was on the telephone to The Hague before 10am. Frankie and Lotte were in my immediate vicinity but so far, I was managing to make progress through administration at the International Courts, without the need for police leverage or fluent Dutch. It was a frustrating part of life that negotiation along a chain of command was de rigueur in all workplaces these days.

Eventually I got to speak to an effervescent young woman called Holly, whose mother I found out was from Wooler near the Scottish border with Northumbria. She had inherited her mother’s fondness for Scottish and Northumbrian accents and was eager to please. Yes, she did know of a Scottish lawyer her own age who was attached to one of the court teams; in fact, they had shared a table at a night out although they had never conversed. She knew she was staying with a Dutch family in The Hague. But no, she could not pass on the information directly for security reasons, but she promised to contact Rosalie Elliott and get her to phone these relatives who were planning to visit Holland shortly.

I accepted that this was as good as we could expect and Frankie agreed with me.

The rest of the day was filled with booking flights and discussing accommodation. Lotte thought Schipol was the best bet due to the availability of flights and easier for Davie to make contact.

Everything was slotting into place when Shirley asked to speak to me in private. Calum was inconsolable at being benched for the Dutch venture. She accepted my major reservations about him purely on safety grounds and appreciated my thinking. However, she worried whether he would approach the Grigor family in my absence with vengeance on his mind. I admitted that would be disastrous; until all our aces were to hand, we had to behave normally.

So, the band was back to three.

The ward sister in Raigmore had trained at Glasgow Royal Infirmary and had spent a long attachment in the notorious Accident and Emergency department there. Aggressive behaviour and language at the workplace was now a rarity but her hackles soared on demand as patients or visitors got out of order.

‘Mr Haig, if you do not quieten down, I will have to ask you to leave my ward. You cannot shout or be abusive towards my staff.’

Stuart Haig was apoplectic but managed to cool down as he was troubled at witnessing a cursing Jackson escort a distressed Sandra to the waiting area outside.

‘Okay, Sister, fine, but you’ve got to see it from our point of view. You allowed our son to leave this ward without notifying us. Why on earth is that allowed to happen?’

‘Mr Haig, as our staff nurse that you insulted was in the middle of telling you, he signed himself out against medical advice. He is a thirty-nine-year-old professional, not a child. Mr Carter spoke to Lawrence at length but your son was adamant that he was leaving, so we had to be content with giving him plenty of advice.’

‘Well, can you tell me who he left with, in case he was coerced into going?’

‘Well probably not because we assumed it was family. Staff nurse tells me it was a man of average height who was courteous and friendly, and who certainly wasn’t pressuring your son in any way. Lawrence was very relaxed and thanking staff as he went along the corridor.’

‘Can you tell me any more about the accompanying man’s appearance?’

‘He had a blue and red woolly hat on, and wore spectacles. He wore a lightweight blue shell jacket and dark trousers. Hardly a great disguise, Mr Haig, but it did render him quite nondescript.’

Crossing the car park, Sandra felt her two men were miles away in their thoughts where anger rather than concern was the prevailing emotion.

Rosie lay on her bed, phone in hand, enjoying some solitude before joining the family downstairs for the evening meal. She scrolled through her list of contacts that she was pretty sure she had automatically transferred from her previous model. And there was the name she was looking for.

She didn’t waste any time and pressed the green key. After a few rings, the receiver was lifted and there was that soft Hebridean accent that had been so familiar to Rosie; the first voice that came to mind when she thought of her years at Kirkfieldbank Primary School.

‘Hi there, it’s Rosie… long time no speak.’

‘Oh my goodness me, Rosie. How are you, my girl? I’m going to have to sit, you’ve taken my breath away.’

‘Oops, I didn’t mean to startle you but I’ve got a couple of questions. I received a call this morning from a policeman in Lanark who had found Grandad’s phone up beside the house. Apparently, the house is badly burnt and there’s no sign of Grandad. Have you heard anything?’

‘I know there was a fire but your grandfather isn’t missing, he is in the hospital.’

Rosie sprang upright. ‘Oh my God, what’s going on? Why did the policeman not tell me the truth?’

‘Oh Rosie, be awfully careful. I think a lot is coming out now that you should have known about a long time ago.’

‘What on earth does that mean? What’s going on?’

‘Look, your grandad came to see me recently and he told me he was planning to tell you the full story about your father. I already knew a fair amount of that story but had been warned by your grandparents and others not to dare breathe a word to you. I agreed with your grandfather that there was no question it was the right thing to do now, but obviously there would be ructions. Well, the ructions have started. Don’t come home just now, Rosie. Stay incognito, wherever you are.’

‘Unfortunately, that is no longer possible. The policeman knows where I live.’

‘Well, can you get away from there, at least temporarily, at least until I can find out more for you? Listen, I’m going to have to go, I’m late for work as it is. Take care of yourself. This will resolve, dear, there are good people looking out for you.’

The receiver had been replaced before Rosie had finished her questions.

The basement of the attractive modern house on the outskirts of Alkmaar was the very definition of a man cave. A couple of windows high up on one wall let sunshine into Sinful Davie Chisholm’s den.

On the opposite wall were four large football posters. The lowest placed revealed the current AZ Alkmaar football squad. This was flanked by portraits of Willie Pettigrew and Joe Wark, former players of Motherwell FC, whom Davie had long since sanctified. However, the giant poster that sat above the other three and which would never leave its place on Davie’s wall as long as he had breath in his body was one of the Motherwell FC 1991 Scottish Cup winning team.

One of Davie’s favourite reminiscences from his homeland was that glorious day in May when he managed to get to Hampden Park with his father and the Cameron lads to experience the fourth best day in his life. Cassie would kill him if he ever considered it ahead of his wedding day or the birthdays of Joey or Lana. The whole weekend had been wonderful and mischievous. How one of the drunken group had not perished whilst swimming in the Clyde at Rosebank at midnight, was beyond fortuitous.

Davie lounged on the huge sofa that almost lined the third wall, whilst opposite on the fourth wall was a huge flat screen television that sat between a bar area and the door. He wasn’t really taking in the current affairs programme that was currently on, so the volume was turned down low. The telephone call from his mother had revealed simply fantastic news. Wee Rosie Cameron was alive! And in the Netherlands. Bloody hell! Of course he would do anything to help Ted and Jake whilst they were here. He would start with organising accommodation in Amsterdam. His role at Shell often involved arranging hotels for overseas guests of the company. He had a budget for such tasks and such was his seniority within the company it should be easy enough to wangle some rooms for friends for a few days.

Davie flicked the sound system into life to muster up Pearl Jam’s ‘Yield’ for a celebratory listen whilst he mulled things over.

Davie achieved the moniker ‘Sinful’ in response to the aberrant behaviour of his youth which surprised many when reflecting on the occupation of both his parents. It was also a nod to a quirky unpolished gem of a film starring John Hurt.

Everyone has known a Sinful Davie in their life. The first boy in class to own a denim jacket, check, then a leather jacket, check, Doctor Martens, check. To have a legitimate girlfriend, check. To smoke and drink alcohol to excess, check, check. To enter a bookie’s, check, to steal a Playboy from Menzies, check. To attach the brassiere of his then girlfriend, Scuddy McCaig, to the school flagpole, check. To be threatened with expulsion from school for the above, check. My parents would disapprove in hushed tones and wonder how much his gentle parents knew of their only child’s low-grade hellraising.

To Frankie and me he was a hero and a friend.

Tuesday morning found Connie De Jaager on the telephone to Jackie Wouters, to plead her case for a change of plan. Rosie had appeared at breakfast an hour earlier anxious and heavy lidded, having slept poorly and despite protestations, was forced to admit she had trouble on her mind.

Rosie revealed the narrative of the unsatisfactory phone call to Lanark the previous evening.

‘It was just all a bit strange. That individual is usually so relaxed and warm but this time there was worry in the voice. There was no specific information given on threats but I got the impression that I had to be wary for a while and maybe make myself scarce until it was deemed safe to be contacted. And it was correct about Granddad. He was transferred to the Institute of Neurological Sciences in Glasgow and when I spoke to them, they said he was in a coma and surgery wasn’t being contemplated at that time.’

Connie felt Rosie’s request to hit Amsterdam on Wednesday, a day earlier than planned, was more than reasonable in the circumstances, and she had to admit an extra day in the company of the ebullient Jackie would be no chore at all, as long as she had no other plans.

Ian McGlashan, his wife Karen, and their two children enjoyed living in their estate cottage in Conaglen. It was remote enough to allow for a great quality of life but not to the extent that they felt prone to the obstacles of isolation. Ian was primarily a gamekeeper but the estate had several streams of income these days so his job was very varied. Karen was a housekeeper and responsible for the upkeep of the self-catering accommodation around the large grounds. With both children at high school, the couple had a limited but well-planned social life. Nevertheless, they were always open to entertaining friends or family in their home and this was one such occasion.

Ian and Abe shared a passion for motorbikes and whisky, and a friendship had been formed over a decade ago. Ossian and Mhairi were surprised when their father’s friend had brought along an extra guest, none other than their favourite teacher, Mr Haig. Seemingly he had been in hospital after a bad accident and Abe and their dad had suggested a quiet restorative break across the loch before returning to school.

As dinner progressed that evening, Lawrie felt the need to question his imposition on the family but this was strongly refuted by Ian and Karen. Their son and daughter were advised that they couldn’t reveal Lawrie’s presence in their house to their schoolmates for privacy’s sake.

Lawrie was taken to the spacious spare bedroom later in the evening as he was feeling a bit stiff and sore after a long day up and about again. Abe stuck his head in before heading to the small bunkroom above the garage. He advised Lawrie that he would see him at breakfast but would then go home and not see him for a few days. Lawrie would be safe and well looked after here. If any problems arose, Ian would let him know immediately.

Wednesday had been frantic so far. Frankie had taken the three of us down to Edinburgh Airport in my Golf at the crack of dawn, before travelling home with Liz later in the day in their own vehicle. We were in the air before midday and before we could relax, we were in Schipol heading for the train. Sinful was going to meet us at the quayside just outside Centraal Station.

‘Well blow me down, if it’s not some teuchters on tour!’

‘Davie Chisholm, ciamar a tha thu?’

‘Just grand, Ted, Jake. Looking well, the pair of you.’ A warm bear hug ensued, as the ministers’ son showed his pleasure at seeing his old friends. ‘It’s been far too long… and is this young man Shirley’s boy?’

‘Yes, I’m Calum,’ the teenager replied, extending his hand for a firm shake.

‘You’ve grown about two feet since I last saw you… Right, let’s get going. It’s only a short walk to where you’re staying. I’ve managed to book you guys a suite in the Shipping House Hotel. For the next few days, you are Scottish businessmen over to liaise with me about North Sea matters.’

‘This is all very kind of you, Davie,’ Jake observed.

‘My pleasure, Jake. It’s good to catch up and anyway the Cameron family have bailed me out of so many tricky situations with the parents over the years that I definitely think it’s payback time.’

Within ten minutes, we were entering a large impressive gothic-looking building.

Later on Wednesday, the Den Haag to Amsterdam train pulled into Centraal Station after a fretful fifty-minute journey. Rosie felt queasy and anxious about her recent phone calls and could not relax the whole way. Was it right to proceed with their plans like this when there was so much uncertainty as to what was going on at home? Had she in any way put Connie or her parents in harm’s way?

Connie wasn’t entertaining any of Rosie’s negativity, and was bouncing like a puppy in the station as she looked around for Jackie’s head of flowing auburn curls, so they could be escorted to her flat in Jordaan.

‘Look, Rosie, it’s only natural to be concerned and confused about your recent dialogue with Scotland. But nothing criminal has happened and don’t worry about us – it’s all too vague. So we will enjoy our time in Amsterdam, okay?’

Rosie could only smile as a young woman belted in from behind a stall on Connie’s blind side and grabbed her friend around the torso.

‘Ewa faka, De Jaager?’

‘Hoi Jackie, hoe is ie.’ The two old friends, excited as they were to see each other, almost completed a full circle as they danced around as they hugged. Jackie then disentangled herself to embrace Rosie.

‘Hi, Rosie. Hey, are you not quite tall to be Scottish? Most Scots I’ve met are not too tall.’

‘Just insult her whole nation, Wouters, for God’s sake.’

Rosie liked Jackie instantly and guffawed with laughter.

‘Okay, Roy, so where are you at the moment?’ Tom Landells was eager to hear good news.

‘Just checked into a Bastion Hotel near The Hague’s airport. Seems fine. We’ll get a good night’s sleep and get a move on first thing tomorrow.’

‘Good work, Roy. You can pass on my congratulations to Swank. His curtailed attempt at smothering eventually worked; Drew Elliott died in hospital in Glasgow earlier today. That’s one less we need to worry about. Listen, I’ll let you go just now – you can let me know how things pan out.’

Better get to my kip myself, I feel a bit rough, Tom thought. That meat seemed a bit underdone tonight. I hope Mary’s not going through any of that menopause crap. Jessica’s mother started making unreasonable demands when she reached a certain age. Glad men don’t have any of that hormone bollocks to deal with.

Breakfast arrived at the suite at 9am, courtesy of Mr Chisholm.

‘This is cracking,’ Calum announced with the enthusiasm of a teenager unfamiliar with hotel hospitality. He was wandering about our rooms aimlessly, checking out the views from each window, only stopping to pick bits of fruit off the table. He didn’t want to be the first to sit down and sample the hot food under the silver covers. Jake was in the shower and I was just coming to and was searching for an English or French channel on the television.

‘The pool and the sauna in the basement are a bit small but they’re sound for a quick dook. Only a couple of other folk about as well.’

‘Hang on, did you bring swimming trunks with you?’

‘Nah, I thought I’d be fine in my boxers.’

‘You clarty bugger, the other residents will have you down as degenerate.’

‘Fresh on since check in, Ted.’

Jake slapped Calum on top of the head as he emerged from the bathroom, saving me the job.

Just as the three of us tucked into the cooked food, my phone rang shrilly.

‘Holly… good morning… you’re on the go early.’

‘Good morning, Ted. I trust you’ve settled well in Amsterdam.’

‘Yes, our old friend has pushed the boat out for us. Any news?’

‘Absolutely. I spoke to Mrs De Jaager this morning. She is effectively Rosie’s landlady. Her husband is a lawyer in the city and her daughter works at the International Courts and is friends with Rosie. Mrs De Jaager tells me that Rosie and Connie travelled up to Amsterdam yesterday, so I’m sorry that I just missed them. They are staying with a friend of Connie’s in Plantage, the neighbourhood in the city where the zoo is. They are planning to go on a CND and women’s rights protest march on Saturday in the city centre. Unfortunately, I am unable to pass on the address in Plantage but I have given Mrs De Jaager your telephone number to pass on and hopefully Rosie will phone you later today.’

‘That’s great, Holly. We’re indebted to you.’

‘No worries – a pleasure. A strange thing though, Mrs De Jaager mentioned that Rosie had received a phone call from the police in her grandfather’s hometown to say he had gone missing and asked for Rosie’s details in The Hague, but when she herself phoned a friend in the same town, they said he was in hospital.’

‘Mmm, I’m not entirely sure about the communication side of things. We’re on the other side of the family from that grandfather. We knew he was in hospital but were hoping to break it to her gently face-to-face.’

‘Of course, that makes sense.’

I tapped my phone off sharply realising Landells and the Haigs had made a decisive move and time may be short. Jake was finishing off a short call on his own phone.

‘Bad news, Ted. That was Frankie. Drew Elliott died yesterday.’

Calum was back to staring out the window. ‘Do you realise how close we are to the red-light district, lads?’

‘I think I might just boot your backside.’

Two hours later, in a smart neighbourhood in The Hague, Victor Koopman and his go-to heavy, Henke, sat in the front seat of their BMW X5 across the street, watching the Scotsmen enter the De Jaager home.

Sonja De Jaager asked the three suited men to take a seat in her lounge but declined to offer them a coffee, uneasy as she was about their overfamiliarity. Yes, the two older men had flashed what looked like warrant cards in her face, but their manner was too cloyingly warm for the serious purpose of their visit.

The oldest man, probably in his early fifties like herself, had announced as they had entered the room that Rosie’s grandfather had died. Once seated, Roy went on to say that it was vital to speak to Rosie as she might have information that might help their enquiries into the circumstances of his death. Sonja was staring hard at Roy, casually noting that men of a certain vintage shouldn’t feel the need to dye their hair so unfeasibly black, but more intent on extracting a reliable story.

‘I am a bit perplexed, Inspector Lorimer. When Rosie phoned a friend from home, she was told that her grandfather was in hospital.’

‘And that is quite correct, Mrs De Jaager. He was eventually found and was unconscious having been severely beaten, and his home having been set on fire. He made it to hospital but never recovered consciousness and died. Our unit had already decided in coming to Holland but not originally to see Rosie but to speak to our colleagues and witnesses in The Hague about a well-known Dutch drugs gang who have strong connections to Central Scotland. It has been postulated that Drew Elliott organised safe storage facilities in rural South Lanarkshire for the Dutch team and their Scottish counterparts but he was cheating them by selling off small batches to other gangs. Hopefully, Rosie has no idea of these transactions, but if she is in danger, we have to act quickly.’

Paradoxically, Sonja felt more comfortable with the men’s presence as the story became more serious. Roy and Swank could sense a change in the demeanour of their hostess, and subconsciously thanked Tom for provision of the all too relevant drug story.

Swank added, ‘If it’s any comfort, Mrs De Jaager, you’re welcome to contact the police here in your city to confirm our presence.’

‘Fuck, don’t milk it, Swank,’ thought Roy.

Sonja smiled at the heavyset brown-haired man in his early mid-forties who filled his suit like a light heavyweight boxer might. ‘No, that’s fine, Inspector Robertson. It’s difficult when you’re trying to make decisions for a visitor, albeit a now endearing one.’

‘Of course, totally understandable,’ chipped in Rab Sillars to prove he was not an insensitive mute.

‘Well, unfortunately I’ve got some slightly bad news in so far as you won’t catch up with Rosie just yet. My daughter and her have decided to participate in a peace march in Amsterdam this Saturday. They’ve travelled up a couple of days early and are staying with a friend in the Plantage district. But I’ll give you the address and you can catch up with her later.’

‘Ideal, we’re so grateful.’

Sonja went to find her address book and some paper and as she did, caught Robertson wink to the unnamed youngest officer who had jumped up to the window and made a waving motion to the outside. Just a bit lacking in professionalism – nothing too serious but a bit unrefined.

She handed over a note with Petra Sachs’ address to a now standing Roy.

‘Thank you, Mrs De Jaager. You’ve been very helpful. I trust you’ll have a quiet day now.’

‘Thank you, Inspector Lorimer.’ She showed the three men out, noticing that the youngest officer was wearing blue Hi-Tec trainers. Mm, just not too professional. She went back through to her lounge just in time to see the three men climb into the back of a black X5. She quickly decided to copy down the vehicle’s registration number as an afterthought. Sonja wondered if it had been the correct thing to do to not mention the phone call she had received from the girl called Holly down at the courts just a couple of hours or so ago. Now she had sounded professional with the story of the relatives earnestly looking for Rosie somehow ringing true. Anyway, she was obviously a popular girl all of a sudden, no matter what.

Whenever she felt unease, running an issue past Robin always proved fruitful. He would be back home fairly soon, so she would delay any phone calls until after that.

I had decided that nothing much was going to happen for the rest of the afternoon, so we split up and went our separate ways. I took Calum with me to keep him away from temptation, Jake headed off to ‘go shopping’ in his own words and Sinful was making his way back to us from Alkmaar.

Davie rarely saw his Uncle Jacobus these days. His mother didn’t encourage contact despite Cobus having led a crime-free existence since leaving prison two years ago. On his frequent visits to Scotland when Davie was a boy, the two were close; Cobus enjoyed taking to the hills with his only nephew, poaching (naturally) on some decent rivers and riding trials bikes through the local countryside. When Cobus was caught masterminding a vicious gang who were serious operators on the Dutch drug scene, his life collapsed. Imprisoned, his marriage failed and access to his daughters stopped instantly. His one sibling and her equally Christian husband were the only ones who never completely gave up on him. However, Lotte never failed to lecture Cobus on the visits she had managed to make to his prison over the years. She also made it clear to her son and her brother that rekindling of their closeness would not be welcomed when Davie had decided to make the Netherlands his permanent home on the strength of his degree, his job and his fluency in Dutch.

The truth was that Davie had kept up infrequent contact with his uncle and had often treated his two cousins to meals out in the Dutch capital on the quiet.

It was a welcome surprise that his mother had given him the green light to meet up with Cobus again. But put in context, he realised that this was a measure of the seriousness of the situation that the Camerons could now be in. Frankie would know better than most that criminality travels well and Landells would certainly make use of his Dutch contacts for nefarious means. Therefore, Lotte was not averse to utilising a former kingpin in Dutch crime, her very own brother, to help influence matters.

Davie entered his uncle’s flat in the Museumkwartier and greeted him with a hug. ‘Good to see you, Cobus.’

‘It’s been too long again, Davie, but you’re a busy man.’

‘I am that, uncle, but maybe once these shenanigans are past we can remedy that.’

‘That would be good. We should meet up for some matches next season – who thought PSV would win the league by so much? Ajax have been so disappointing but were still better than your crowd.’

‘Right, I’ll get tickets for the first AZ v Ajax game next season and you can stay over.’

‘Okay, it’s a deal! But first we must talk about the missing Rosie.’

‘Do you remember her, Cobus?’

‘Certainly, your mother and father must have photographs of her on my knee. A sweet girl. Nothing must happen to her now after all these years. That would be beyond tragic.’

Davie sat down beside Cobus, appreciating the comfort of his current abode.

‘Any thoughts?’

‘Well, I’ve already done some sniffing around, Davie. Landells has a strong connection with the Koopman brothers’ gang here in Amsterdam. Interestingly, a couple of their boys used to work for me back in the day. I know Victor Koopman quite well. He can be a bit of a thug for sure, but I wouldn’t have thought he would be comfortable helping out in these sorts of circumstances. So Landells will have something on them. I will continue to poke about and see how close I can get. I will keep you informed.’

‘Thank you, Uncle. I’ll keep in touch – and not just for now.’ Davie got up to leave, acknowledging his time restrictions.

‘Thank you and I appreciate you keeping tabs on my girls.’

Davie gave a knowing nod and left.

‘Well, what do you think, Robin? Am I correct to be suspicious?’

Robin De Jaager twirled the stem of his wineglass around between his thumb and index finger before sending the last dregs of his drink down. He stretched his neck, sat up more erect and addressed Sonja.

‘On what you’ve told me, I would say yes. I think there is a hidden depth to Rosie that we haven’t got close to yet. I think she has had dark times in her past and maybe nobody can be surprised that these current developments have come about. But so far, nothing criminal has happened as far as we know, so perhaps we should not worry too much. We contact Petra and Connie to inform them of today’s visit and we pass on the number of Rosie’s relation who is now in Amsterdam to Rosie. But I think it should wait until tomorrow. I don’t see these Scottish policemen wandering about the Plantage tonight – they’ll be seeking out food and beer.’

‘I hope you’re right, Robin. I still feel very strange about their presence here today.’

‘If it makes you feel better, I will contact Rudy Simons tomorrow morning, before we phone the girls, to see if he can trace that licence plate for me.’

Robin De Jaager was wrong. On the drive up from The Hague, Roy Grigor had time to consider how bleak his life could be if the current crisis could not be managed. Food and beer were not on the agenda tonight as yet. Word from home was that Lawrie Haig had gone AWOL with his book of secrets still not recovered and Abe Beaton, the Haig’s hatchet man had walked off into the sunset. God Almighty, Frankie Cameron would soon be listing the charges on a long, long sheet, if it wasn’t for that incriminating tape.

Victor Koopman pointed out the zoo on their right, before taking a couple of turns and stopping in a well-lit street. ‘I’ll come over to the flat with you.’

The four men left Henke in the vehicle and crossed the street. Sure enough, one of the names on the door was Sachs. They rang the bell and stood back. Nothing. They rang again. Nothing.

Roy’s fermenting wrath began to show. ‘For eff’s sake! Where the hell are they?’

Victor was unimpressed with the display of anger. ‘Hey, people have lives. They could have gone out to eat, have a drink, whatever.’

Roy stood back on the pavement and gazed up. There was only one set of windows completely in darkness.

‘What do you want to do? We have a flat we use as a safe house about two miles away. We could have something to eat, rest for a couple of hours and either try later or call it a day and meet up again in the morning.’

‘Okay, Victor, we’ll have some food and a break, but we must come back later tonight.’

‘That’s fine. Pizza time.’

‘Right, I think we should try a bit of clubbing tonight as you ladies are marching for glory on Saturday. You will be too tired if you go out tomorrow.’

‘Good point, Jackie,’ Connie agreed as she wandered over to the sink with her dirty plate and cutlery, her friend not having the luxury of a dishwasher. ‘Have you any places in mind?’

‘Oh, there are a few that come to mind. We will have to walk a little bit, but not too far.’

Rosie smiled; this was what she was needing, not being averse to a spin or two on the dancefloor.

Within an hour the three young women were out on the street seeking fun.

Having not heard from Rosie by 8pm, the four of us headed out for something to eat.

Davie took us to a small family-run restaurant he knew well that specialised in seafood. Nothing beats local knowledge as far as cuisine is concerned and certainly the food was delicious. The only dessert available was ice cream and that was similarly excellent.

It was difficult to switch off from the underlying purpose of being in the city and it felt like being in limbo. However, Davie could tell how anxious we had become and suggested going to a bar that had a novelty music evening on every Thursday.

The bar was called The Second Yellow and was owned by a well-known former Ajax and Netherlands footballer whose trademark tackling often led to suspensions. The bar was by no means full and we made our way to a free table big enough for us. We ordered beers all round as I’d tired of trying to restrict Calum, and waited for the house band to appear.

It was a tonic for us to switch off, enjoy the performance and not have to participate this time. At the midpoint of the show, we got the opportunity to make a request for any two tracks by a band of our choice. The group would then choose a winner to play and the lucky selector would win free drinks for their table for the rest of the evening. Well, I got nowhere with my suggestion of a Radiohead coupling, Calum rolled in third with his choice of The Gun Club’s ‘Fire Spirit’ and ‘Jack On Fire’ but Jake hit the jackpot with Roxy Music’s ‘Sentimental Fool’ and ‘Out Of The Blue’. Apparently, he’d spotted an electric violin on the stage and thought the band would want to show off its merits.

As good as promised, the group launched into the Roxy tracks and a waitress appeared to take our first free order.

So the evening that had started off a bit tense and flat ended in high spirits. On the way back to the hotel we had to quickly drag an exophthalmic Calum past a couple of full-length windows that had near naked girls on display.

Over in Plantage, Roy was again being calmed down by Victor Koopman. ‘Anger will not make these women suddenly appear. And I’ll tell you now, if you continue to bang on the door like that, the neighbours will call the police. I can already see some curtains twitching.’

‘Look, Victor, you’re here to help us, not criticise. You’re not in the predicament that I am, so grant me some slack.’ Roy relented nonetheless and the five men retreated to their residence.

It must have been about 11am on Friday morning that Sonja De Jaager took the call from her husband.

‘Hey, Sonja, I’ve just grabbed a couple of free minutes between meetings to phone you.’

‘Okay dear, nothing wrong, no?’

‘Well, there might be an issue after all, but don’t fret, it’s probably nothing.’

‘You’re beginning to worry me now, Robin, what is it?’

‘Well, Rudy Simons got back to me about the licence plate quite quickly as it was red-flagged. It seems the owner of the vehicle is Hanna Koopman, wife of Victor, a well-known figure in the drugs world.’

Sonja wobbled noticeably and sat down on the arm of a sofa. ‘What?! Oh my God, what on earth is this?’

‘Look, Sonja, it may be nothing, a mistake. Rudy said he would get onto it straight away. Just don’t panic. What you could do just now is contact Petra and Connie and tell them to go and be with other friends until Rosie can decide what she does next.’

Sonja was praying that Petra would pick up her phone but she did not. Sonja tried two more times before leaving a brief message for her or Connie to phone her. Looking at her watch, they could easily be out for lunch. Sonja then tried Connie’s mobile but similarly there was no reply, so resorted to another message. ‘Hey Connie, I wonder if you could me give a phone, please. I have tried Petra’s flat a couple of times but there is no reply.’

Connie and Rosie were taking their time going around Anne Frank’s house. Although Rosie knew the Franks’ story, it was still a powerful experience to witness the environment they occupied. Their early-morning visit to the Rijksmuseum had been too rushed in Rosie’s opinion, so she felt empowered to indulge herself in the story of the fifteen-year-old diarist who died from typhus in Belsen. Rosie remembered that her last boyfriend, Howie, who was an Ivy League product greatly enjoyed his indie music and had informed her that the rollicking song ‘Holland, 1945’ by Neutral Milk Hotel was an acknowledgement of the tragic girl’s story.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they re-emerged into the sunshine. Connie checked her phone to see her home telephone number on missed call. She pressed the phone to her ear and heard her mother’s tones.

Oh crap, she’s rumbled that we’re not staying with Petra, she thought. Well, I’m not phoning back yet – not in the mood for a telling off or a denigration of Jackie.

Rosie also checked her phone to see an international number stored. She phoned immediately.

‘I’ve got some terrible news, Rosie. Your grandfather died on Wednesday. I’m so, so sorry.’

‘Oh God!’ She sighed. ‘Did he regain consciousness at all?’

‘I was in at the hospital yesterday not knowing he had passed and they told me he had been unconscious from before leaving Law Hospital. The staff told me he had not suffered.’

Rosie sat on a bollard and wiped tears from her eyes. Connie realised the seriousness of the call and moved away to the canal side.

‘Thank you for your kindness.’

‘Have you been contacted by anyone else from Scotland, dear?’

‘No, nothing so far. You sound like I should still be wary.’

‘It’s difficult to give advice from afar. I think for your own sake you should try and get home soon now. I can inform the hospital and the undertakers of your situation in the meantime and I’m sure they will be understanding. I also need to speak to you face-to-face about some of your background and you’ll need to get your grandfather’s will from his solicitors’ vaults. I know people from home are reaching out to you, some of whom I know are already in the Netherlands. If you’re unsure, perhaps avoiding all of them is the safest policy until you’re back here.’

‘I’m in Amsterdam until Sunday, so to allow me time to pack some stuff back in The Hague. Maybe for me to book a flight for Monday or Tuesday is realistic.’

‘That sounds grand. Keep me informed and I will pick you up at the airport.’

We had got up early and mooched about the hotel all morning. I had become quite irritable and was now of the feeling that something was wrong. Jake was very quiet and had to go out for a long walk to burn some pent-up energy. Calum was entertaining himself by trying to chat up a group of Japanese students who were also hotel guests, with a predictable lack of success. But his impassioned banter on his strategy did provide light relief.

At 4pm, I took the call that changed the whole atmosphere of the week.

‘Hi, Mrs De Jaager, it’s Ted Cameron here. Pleased to speak to you.’

‘I am worried about my daughter, Connie and her friend Rosie Elliott, whom I believe you know, Mr Cameron. I can’t track them down to Connie’s friend who they are staying with this week in Amsterdam.’

‘Just call me Ted. Yes, mm, that’s not so good. So have you tried all their phones?’ Sinful had just appeared through the door to join the three of us. My mobile had a loudspeaker function so I switched that on before the Dutchwoman replied.

‘Well, I don’t have Rosie’s number, but I have tried Connie several times without success and left a message. And similarly with Petra’s house phone, it just keeps ringing out and I had to leave a message there too. I have become very worried, Ted. Yesterday I was visited by three men from Scotland who said they were police officers who were looking to speak to Rosie about her grandfather. It’s easy in retrospect, but I foolishly gave them Petra’s address in Plantage. I must have had some suspicion as I took their vehicle number and when my husband had it checked, the car belonged to the wife of a drug dealer. You must think me an idiot.’

Jake and Sinful displayed incredulity with hands on their foreheads and Calum looked stupefied.

My heart sank, but I took a deep breath and tried to summon a response that was remotely positive and non-condemnatory.

‘Oh dear, that’s… unfortunate. I can confirm to you that these men are probably known to us and are definitely not police officers… but I bet their story was convincing, so don’t be hard on yourself. We must try and be positive and look forward. Could it be that the girls have simply been busy out and about in the city?’

‘Possibly, but I just have a bad feeling.’ I didn’t want to say ‘snap’ but the thought was there but Sinful had thrust a scribble in front of me to decipher. I nodded.

‘Look, Mrs De Jaager, if you give me Petra’s address in Plantage, we will go round there right now. And if you give me your best contact details, I promise to keep you informed.’

‘Just one thing first, Ted, so I don’t compound my mistakes, can I ask you who you are and what you are over here for?’

‘Of course. I am Rosie’s brother. I am over here with her uncle and her second cousin to bring her home to safety. I know it is hard to compute but she was abducted as a child and the men you spoke to are basically criminals and trying to prevent the truth from emerging.’

‘Oh my goodness me, that’s just crazy. Why are the police not leading this?’

‘It is crazy, you’re absolutely right. My brother at home is a police officer but the recent speed of events has necessitated the family having to take the bull by the horns. But I can assure you, there will be plenty of police involved once we get back to Scotland. Now there you go, that’s positivity for you. And we’ll get your daughter home to you too.’

Sonja was dejected. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t phone you earlier. Here’s Petra’s address.’

Within five minutes, the four of us were in a taxi heading over to Plantage.

Simultaneously, in Plantage. ‘Just come in detective, I won’t be a minute. I am literally just in the door; I’m just back from Limburg after delivering family home. Oh, there are three of you – come in and have a seat.’ Petra Sachs was known to be a hospitable young woman and was well liked in her office.

‘You’re looking for Rosalie Elliott, you say. Well, you’ve reached the right address but just a day early – Connie and Rosalie said they would be arriving here about nine tomorrow morning.’

‘Are you sure, because Connie’s mother seems to think that they are already here?’

‘Excuse me, but I should know best, with all due respect to Sonja. Maybe they’re in Amsterdam already, but as you can see, they are definitely not here yet. You are very welcome to come back early tomorrow before we go out and speak to Rosalie then. Or why don’t you phone Connie and try and see them this evening?’

Roy found it hard to deal with the forthright answers he was receiving. Why did some women not realise when a sense of urgency was being implied?

‘Look, Mrs Sachs, I don’t want to appear rude or impatient but we’ve already been in your country a couple of days and are getting a bit tired, so I don’t really appreciate being told what my options are.’

Rab looked aghast at Roy’s reply.

‘Well, your problems have nothing to do with me, Inspector. And if you don’t mind, I would like you all to leave now, and it’s Miss Sachs.’ Too late, Roy realised he had lost control of the situation.

‘One final thing then, could you phone Connie De Jaager just now, and explain that we need to speak to her and her friend this evening?’

Rab and Swank both felt Roy was pushing his luck too far and stood up to go.

‘I think you better leave now, Inspector. Your colleagues seem to have got the message.’

‘Fine, Miss Sachs, but you’re coming with us.’ Roy lunged forwards to grab the small woman.

Rab and Swank were ill-prepared for this development and hesitated.

‘Noooo, get the hell off me,’ Petra screamed as she was forced onto the floor.

‘Swank, get the gag on her now, for fuck’s sake.’

Swank and Rab bent down to help Roy restrain the thrashing limbs of their hostess. Swank removed from his jacket pocket the gag that was intended for their compatriot.

Petra managed to kick Swank in the face. ‘You won’t get away with this, you bloody psychos.’

Swank shook off the jolt and wound the restraint over her head till it sat over her lower jaw and into her mouth, successfully muffling her speech.

Rab produced handcuffs and then plastic ties for her ankles. Rab Sillars was out of his depth with such criminal activity, essentially being the top farming hand for Tom Landells. Yes, he had resorted to some downright illegal activity for Tom back home, but wrestling and tying up a defenceless woman in a foreign country was horrifying.

‘Roy, is this necessary? I mean we could have waited a bit longer for the Elliott girl.’

‘Shut up, you fucking cretin, don’t tell her my name. We don’t want to have to kill her.’

‘Jesus Christ, man, just calm yourself down. You’re not my fucking boss, remember that.’

Swank felt the need to intervene. ‘C’mon guys. Let’s get out of here. Someone put the blindfold on her.’ He swung Petra’s wriggling body over his right shoulder and the three men headed to the black 4x4 and a very concerned Victor Koopman.

Our taxi made reasonable time and the four of us alighted onto the street of our destination. The apartments looked attractive even under streetlighting alone. Petra must be doing well for herself.

We approached a main door and pressed the correct bell. To no avail. We tried again. And again nothing. Please, not another disappointment. I rang for a third time but nothing.

Davie read my face. ‘I’ll try another number to see if they can be of any help.’ Davie strode past me and pressed the buzzer for ‘A. Hartmann’.

A voice crackled a response in Dutch. Davie leant forwards and replied clearly in the language he had known from his mother’s lap in Banavie. A short conversation between wall and Davie ensued. Then, ‘He’s coming down, he speaks English,’ Davie announced.

Within a minute, a casually dressed man in his fifties appeared at the door.

‘Hi guys, I’m Adam. You’re looking for Petra?’

Davie continued as our spokesman. ‘And a couple of her friends who are staying with her.’

‘Well, you might have just missed them. I heard a bit of a commotion just about fifteen minutes ago. There were raised voices and I picked out Petra’s as one of them. Petra is lovely, I know her well, but she can be a bit feisty. I did think the noises were loud even for Petra sorting someone out but I was reluctant to be too inquisitive. Then I heard the front door shutting and it all went quiet.’

I interrupted. ‘Did you pick out any of the other voices as being female?’

‘I’m sorry, but I really can’t be sure of that.’

We thanked the neighbour and walked around the immediate neighbourhood for the next half hour. After trying Petra’s address one final time, we returned to our hotel. We discussed the implications of the past couple of hours. Landells and the Grigors had a team over here, as predicted. They were pursuing Rosie and perhaps had reached Petra Sachs. Without proof of malicious activity, getting the Amsterdam police involved was premature. No, despite the frustration, sitting tight should still be the best policy.

I phoned Sonja De Jaager later and told her of our disappointing news. She was understandably upset and was being comforted by her husband. I asked her to inform me of the girls’ plans for the Saturday morning. They were going to walk from Petra’s home to Vondelpark; the assembly time for the start of the march was 9.30am. We would aim to be back in Plantage before 9am.

At the Koopman’s safe house, a blindfolded Petra Sachs was initially being as disruptive and uncooperative as possible. Victor and his brother, Jan, appeared to be carrying on a private argument in their own language. It would emerge that neither brother was happy with the treatment of their fellow Nederlander.

Petra caught some of their conversation and pleaded to them in Dutch to end her imprisonment. The brothers decided for the moment to honour their pact with Landells to allow cancellation of their debt to him, but stressed by Petra’s pleas, departed for an evening walk, leaving Henke with the three Scots and their prisoner.

Roy was nearly at rage level by now. ‘Look Petra, all you need to do is phone your friend Connie, and then pass me the phone. That’s all. It’s not fucking difficult.’

‘You think that I am stupid! You want to harm Rosalie, I can see that. So when you take the phone and speak you will use my capture as a bargaining tool. That’s so evil. I won’t do it!’

‘I’m just about to hurt you, Petra, so you are very close to reality. Do you want to be disfigured for the rest of your life just to stop us meeting that bitch?’

‘You crazy motherfucker!’

‘Well, fucking comply!’

‘No. Absolutely, no.’

‘Right, Swank, strip her.’

Swank approached Petra tentatively and managed to flip her body to a prostrate position on the sofa. At that, Henke left his chair by the window, held his hand up to Swank and sat on the floor beside a sobbing Petra. He spoke softly but purposefully. She shook her head at first but continued to listen to the big henchman.

Roy was incandescent at the interruption. Rab was relieved, having come to the conclusion he was living out a bad dream. Swank sat silent and expressionless, awaiting a new command.

After another few minutes’ dialogue during which Roy was considering hitting Henke with a baseball bat that he had espied beneath a side table, Petra wriggled around with Henke’s help and declared she would make the call. Roy, although still seething at Henke, looked appeased but made a mental note to find out later what had been said between these two foreigners.

He didn’t waste a minute, punching on the buttons representing Connie’s number as dictated by an emotional Petra.

Back in the Hofje residence in Jordaan, the three women were having a quiet chat before heading to their beds. Connie accepted the call without hesitation, considering it was their hostess for the next couple of days.

She was surprised that a man who replied in English was at the other end of the call, with a distraught Petra briefly audible in the background. Roy then moved to a second room in the flat for privacy and quietness.

‘Hello, is that Connie?’

‘Yes, who is this? And where did Petra go?’

‘Petra’s fine, just a bit tired. I’m a friend of Rosalie Elliott’s grandfather and I would like to speak to her, please. I’m sure she’ll have found out by now that her grandfather has just died and… well, we’re here to help her get home.’

‘Can I speak to Petra first please? Her voice sounded a bit unusual during the seconds that she was audible?’

‘It’s not a problem for you to speak to her. She’s just a bit exhausted but I’ll get her back on if you please let me speak to poor Rosalie.’

Jackie and Rosie, radar alerted, were now staring intently at their friend whose voice displayed a terseness that they weren’t familiar with.

‘No, can we do it my way, please? Put Petra on for one minute and then you can speak to Rosie for the rest of the night.’

Rosie’s ears were straining to the point where she felt the cartilages were beginning to rotate for best reception.

Roy wasn’t coping well with the concept of diplomacy.

‘What is it with you Dutchwomen? Look Connie, if you don’t put Rosalie on the phone right now, I swear I’m going to put a bullet in your friend. Okay, got the message now?’

Connie looked aghast and shrieked, looking at the phone in her hand as if it was a hand grenade with the pin extracted.

Rosie intervened and spoke in a hushed tone. ‘Just pass it to me, Connie.’

‘Hi, it’s Rosie Elliott here, who the hell is this? You’ve upset my friend.’

‘Ah, Rosie, at last. She wouldn’t listen. All I wanted was a few words with you.’

‘I asked for your name, arse.’

‘You may not remember me Rosie, but I’m an old friend of your grandfather. He sold dogs to my family. My name is Roy Grigor.’

‘Oh, I remember you alright, you scumbag and you were no friend of my grandfather. You’re a friend of that would-be rapist Michael Kyle, Fat Tom Landell’s cousin. What the hell do you want with me?’

‘I just need to speak to you about your grandfather’s estate and to help get you home quickly for the funeral arrangements.’

‘Nonsense. You didn’t come all the way over here for that.’

‘There’s no need to be so truculent. I’m over here to help you.’

‘Pity you can’t be specific then. Now, could you do us a favour and put Petra on the phone, please?’

‘Sorry, Rosie, but obviously you are not making this easy. So this is how it’s going to go. I believe you were going to Vondelpark tomorrow morning. Well, I want you to come by yourself earlier than you planned, at say 9.00am. Go to the rose garden and then walk along the path heading to the west part of the park and I will meet you along there at some point. Do not contact the police or Petra will need to be fished out of a canal by Sunday night. If you do not appear or you turn up accompanied, the same thing applies for Petra. Have I made myself clear?’

Rosie’s thoughts were swimming and she felt faint. ‘Yes, but I think this is horrendous. You are threatening the life of a perfect stranger for no clear reason. What is it? What is it that I have that is so important for you? Tell me.’

‘You will find out tomorrow. There is no need to worry. Everything will be fine if you follow the instructions. Once you are spotted alone in the park, Petra will be released. Do not take your phone with you. Good night.’ Roy felt empowered by his handling of the call.

The three women sat up talking for another two hours, distressed at the thought of Petra’s capture. They were on the verge of calling the police several times but Rosie was in no doubt that this was a hazardous idea. Connie was the only one of the three who knew Petra well but Rosie would not entertain any decision that would place Petra’s life at risk on her behalf. No, she would carry out Roy’s demands and deal with the consequences. None of them would get a proper sleep.

At the Shipping House Hotel, Sinful had made the decision not to return to Alkmaar that evening. Cassie was understanding in principle but didn’t quite get Davie’s comment that, ‘He felt Saturday was going to be a big day, he could feel it in his water.’ Cassie failed to understand what this meant but let it pass.

I phoned Sonja De Jaager and apologised for the lateness of the call, but unfortunately had no news as there was no sign of activity when we visited. We promised to keep in touch if there were any developments.

A sleepless night was bound to follow and then we were off to the only fixture in their movements that any of the rest of us knew that the young women had.

The evening was not yet done for everyone. Henke had made the walk from the Koopman’s safe house in Amsterdam Zuid to his own property in Oost. The odours from the neighbourhood restaurants reflected the wide range of world cuisine available in the district. Usually, he would be salivating by now and would have been tempted into getting a late carry out for Terri and himself. But he had no appetite. He had been sickened by the activities of the past two days but today had been disgusting and he was surprised that the Koopman brothers were accommodating the behaviour of these Scottish guys. God knows he was only too aware that he himself was a criminal. He had no education of note, but his physical strength had been of use in his employment with various criminal gangs since he was a teenager. He wasn’t proud of his history but at least he had boundaries and today one had been crossed. To witness a young Dutch woman be manhandled and terrified in the manner she had been was totally unacceptable. Henke unlocked his front door and within seconds Terri, his fifteen-year-old daughter, had jumped on his back to surprise him.

They shared a hug and a joke, as she pretended to be disconsolate at the lack of a late-night snack. He ordered her back to her bed on the promise of culinary favours over the weekend.

Henke had been delighted that his ex-wife allowed Terri to stay over regularly these days. After all, she must be aware that he was still working for the Koopmans, but she trusted that Henke wouldn’t expose their daughter to illegal activity in his home or in his presence. Terri was the light of his life and he was so proud and excited that Terri was excelling in several school subjects. With any luck she would go on to higher education and get a good career similar to the poor wretch he had so recently left with those pigs.

He decided he would have to knock back a small bottle of beer before hitting the sack – it might ease his troubled mind and lead to somnolence. As he was checking his fridge, the doorbell rang. Henke was surprised, nobody came round at this time of night. Who the hell?

He moved quickly to the door as he didn’t want a second ring and have Terri back through nosing around. He opened the door to see a fit-looking man, aged sixty or so, with short greying hair and greying stubble. He was dressed smartly in a dark corduroy suit and dark shoes. His face, so familiar, was blank at first before breaking into a big smile. ‘Hi, Henke, sorry, it’s late.’

Henke broke into a similar expression. ‘Oh my goodness! Boss, it’s so good to see you! Come in, come in.’

There was no more welcome a visitor than Cobus Mertens.

Saturday morning broke on the city with brightness and worry. Rosie was first up in the Jordaan flat. Looking out through the bathroom in the direction of the Prinsengracht canal, the light from the east promised a better day than the rather overcast Friday. Rosie wasn’t in any frame of mind to appreciate the weather. She had already retched into the toilet bowl once as her nerves rendered her fragile. Today already felt like it would be a transformative day in her life, a life that she often rated as being unsatisfactory. A good job and friends couldn’t mask her desire to have had a fulfilling family background and everything that comes with that. Specifically, good memories. What on earth was she going to face today? It was intriguing as it was frightening. She wiped her face with a towel and went to eat a little breakfast. It was nearly time to get moving.

The suite in the hotel was a hive of activity – Sinful had ordered platters of food to the room. Jake and I ate sparingly whilst Davie and Calum deposited enough to carry them through a winter war.

We planned to split into two groups. Jake, Calum and I would go straight to Petra’s home in Plantage by metro whilst Sinful was meeting his karate club friend Thijs, a teacher and tour guide downstairs and they were taking Thijs’ motorbike directly to Vondelpark. We would stay in touch by phone and hopefully meet up once we’d located the girls.

Jake wandered through from the double room and threw a plastic bag on the sofa. ‘Right, guys, get these on, no argument. I guessed the sizes and yes, there’s one for you, Davie.’

Calum tipped the contents out onto the cushions. ‘You’ve got to be ruddy joking, Jake.’

‘Nope, just get them on and we can get a move on.’

‘No, Connie, it’s just not safe to travel the whole way with me. You can get off near Petra’s, where we were originally going to walk from. They could be watching us on the approaches to the park. Jackie, you have to stay here. Whatever happens, whoever can manage, should try and get back here to you. It’s not as if any of us are actually going on the march now. Agreed?’

‘We’re with you on that, Rosie.’

‘For whatever reason, I’m the cause of this. So, I insist on it. Right, let’s go.’

The two women bade their farewells to Jackie and headed towards Centraal Station; from the north part of Jordaan it was a short walk and picking up the metro there would immediately get them into the throng of protesters heading towards Vondelpark. They might not be participating themselves now but checking out the demonstrators might lighten their morning.

Upon reaching the station they boarded a no. 51 train. As they had plenty of time, they would ride down to Weesperplein and then Rosie would get off and change to a no. 7 tram to take her to the park. Connie would set off on a later no. 7 and arrive at the Rosarium in the park hopefully in time to still spot Rosie.

The carriage was busy – accents from all round the Netherlands and beyond.

Calum wasn’t best pleased as we descended the few steps out of our hotel and headed towards Centraal Station.

‘Right, Jake, run it by me again, are the tee shirts really necessary? I mean, this thing is so big on me, it’s like a ruddy dress!’

‘Yup, no discussion.’

‘Ted, come on, lend some support, would you?’

‘No, if my uncle thinks it’s a good idea, let’s run with it.’

‘Well, why did you deliberately get me a pink one? It’s ritual humiliation.’

Jake was walking ahead so as not to reveal his smirk. ‘I told you, for your height, it only came in pink. Davie didn’t moan about his yellow one. Ted’s okay with the pale blue one and I’m fine with white. Deal with it.’

To be honest, I felt pretty self-conscious in the tee shirt which had ‘CONSHEE’ in large italics across the chest. Across the back was a rainbow flag.

Jake went on, ‘I think these shirts will help us blend in. Peace marchers are very good at supporting minorities and indeed, all good causes.’

Calum shook his head with disdain at his bright apparel and walked behind the two of us.

‘Will the metro be the best option?’

‘Aye, that was Davie’s suggestion. It might mean a short walk at the other end, but we’re early and we have maps.’

We got on board and walked halfway down the no. 51 train passing a wide assortment of people. An elderly couple immaculately dressed, two teenage boys younger than Calum with baseball caps and unfeasibly large white trainers, four excited young Asian women – possibly Korean and possibly going on a march very soon and a pair of young local women with a spare seat beside them. The three of us stopped in the aisle and remarked on the uniqueness of the city centre.

Rosie, from looking at the floor, took a quick look up at the three hovering bodies speaking in her native accent. God help us, three multicoloured Scottish oafs no doubt still out on last night’s stag celebrations, she thought. Aw hell, one of them is sitting down. Rosie turned her gaze downwards again as Calum decided to squeeze in beside Connie.

Calum smiled at Connie, thinking, Pretty fit, the pair of them, though a bit too old for me… normally.

Connie smiled back but the one with the hair the same colour as his tee shirt seemed aloof.

Calum had caught sight of Rosie’s face and mused that the woman had the same dark brown eyes and eyebrows as his grandfather and indeed, Ted.

The train ambled south through the city and the two women were chatting idly trying to distract each other. Connie had been looking about her and challenged Rosie, who was trying to be quiet.

‘What does “Conshee” mean?’

Rosie lifted her gaze. ‘It’s short for conscientious objector. I daresay there’ll be a few of them around today. Why do you ask?’

Calum couldn’t help but discern Rosie’s Scottish twang.

Connie cleared her throat to try and speak lower. ‘Oh, it’s just that these Scottish guys beside us have it written on the front of their shirts.’

‘Mm, really?’ Something jarred within Rosie and it was as if she had a flashback. She shook her head vigorously, concerned it was palpable fear that was causing her to have strange ruminations. There was no time for this, next stop was her station.

She stood up and began to excuse herself past the obstructing bodies. First, the oldest of the Scotsmen. He had a warm, gentle smile as he let her pass. She noticed the front of his shirt was slightly different. Instead of plain writing, there was a picture of a few large building bricks with italics set on the bricks. This jarred Rosie again. She needed to get off and get fresh air.

As the young woman passed me, we made direct eye contact and although distracted by her pink hair, I witnessed her large dark eyes and those pronounced eyebrows and I felt a bit light-headed. It wasn’t a feeling of attraction but one of disturbance. Within a couple of seconds, she was first up and shot off the metro at Weesperplein, just as her friend shouted in English that she would catch up with her soon and that her phone was ringing.

The three of us slowly followed the herd of passengers alighting, leaving the brown-haired woman to take her call in peace as she too moved gradually towards the exit. We would shortly be walking east towards Petra’s house.

Connie had taken her mother’s call first time on this occasion and was delighted to hear her Brabantian dialect. However, they both broke into tears briefly as they tried not to speak at ten to the dozen. They swapped startling pieces of information. Three sinister Scottish men were heading to Petra’s to speak to Rosie. This was countered by Connie’s confession that they had been staying with Jackie but were now aware of Petra’s abduction under threat of death unless Rosie gave herself up. Police could not be alerted because of the risk it carried. Connie confirmed that the latter scenario was now playing out.

Sonja shed another tear at the thought of the singular figure who had been a perfect house guest. Finally, Sonja disclosed the newest revelation to her saucer-eyed daughter; that Rosie’s brother was in Amsterdam with friends to bring his sister home. Connie burst into tears again at the very thought. As she spoke to her mother, she saw the three bright-shirted Scotsmen ahead of her, nonchalantly heading in the direction of the Plantage. Suddenly it all clicked.

‘You’ve got to be fucking joking,’ she spoke out loud, shocking the well-groomed couple walking on her left and puzzling her attentive mother. ‘Listen, mother, I really have to go. Will catch you later.’

Connie put her phone away and charged after the men. The three strangers were only yards in front. Oh, this was going to be awkward.

‘Guys, guys, guys, stop. Please stop.’

I turned around to see one of the two young women that had been seated next to us racing towards us. She reached us and had to fold to her knees to draw in deep breaths.

‘Take your time, lass,’ Jake’s warm tones helped to calm the dyspnoeic figure.

Finally, she stood to her full five foot six. ‘Excuse me, sorry, but are any of you guys related to Rosie Elliott?’

Calum summed up our astonishment succinctly. ‘Holy Fuck, yeah.’

I managed to contain my shock eventually. ‘I’m guessing you’re either Petra or Connie.’

Connie introduced herself and quickly explained Petra’s abduction and Rosie’s imminent surrender.

‘God Almighty. Right, let’s get us to Vondelpark ASAP. We can keep chatting as we travel – we’ll get the next no. 7.’

I was delighted to hear from Thijs as we reached the park. We discussed how best to get Rosie to safety. We had just brought up Petra’s name when Davie’s phone rang. It was his uncle and his erstwhile employee Henke from just a few streets away. They had just persuaded Victor Koopman to release Petra to them, now that his brother and their Scottish associates had spotted Rosie alone in the park.

We decided Calum and Connie should remain at this east entrance, while Davie and Thijs were currently near the tennis club and were intending for Jake and I to meet them there. Subsequently, those two were to go and rescue Rosie with the motorbike – none of our antagonists knew them, and Jake and I would walk in behind at a good distance in case support was needed.

After a short walk for Jake and I, we were reunited with our two friends. From the tennis club, the four of us moved reasonably quickly walking with the Yamaha towards the Rosarium, still a short distance away, as the time now reached 9am. I could see the pink-haired figure that I now knew to be my sister had stood up and was walking west – away from us. God, it was so tempting to shout. I identified her to Thijs, who sparked the motorbike into life and the two men put their helmets on and took off, Davie looking secure on pillion. Thankfully the park wardens were occupied further back at the open-air theatre assembly point herding the vanguard of the marchers into a manageable crowd. Hopefully a rogue motorbike wouldn’t be worth their effort.

Jake and I were far enough back that nobody would link us with the motorcyclists.

Jake produced a pair of small binoculars from his trusty backpack, although the amount of foliage proved obstructive. It looked like a figure in a navy tracksuit had appeared behind and to the right of Rosie. Could that be Roy Grigor? And was that a long-bladed knife in his right hand?

Oh Christ, run, Rosie run, I thought.

Roy Grigor smirked as he closed in on Rosie. ‘Pink hair for fuck’s sake, what a mess, call yourself a lawyer,’ he criticised sneeringly. So preoccupied with his intended attack, Roy had compartmentalised the roar of the Japanese motorcycle as the efforts of a local wastrel. That was until Swank appeared from behind a tree ahead of Rosie and bellowed a warning to Roy. But too late, Thijs’ right shoulder propelled Roy into the turf.

Rosie, shaken by Swank’s shout turned to see a motorbike heading her way and a stricken darkly dressed man sprawling on the grass twenty yards from her.

Unfortunately, Swank, for a hefty individual, still possessed an enviable turn of speed and he quickly bore down on the collective wielding a baseball bat. As Thijs stopped beside Rosie with a swerve of braking, Swank launched the bat at Thijs, hitting him in the midriff and knocking him, Davie and the motorbike over sideways to the ground.

Jake and I took off as fast as we could to join the melee.

Initially the confrontation appeared to be going our way. Davie and Thijs’ attendance at their karate club was obviously no middle-age indulgence, as the two men flung themselves at the brawnier men. Davie kicked Roy’s right hand with such ferocity that the knife hurtled yards away through the air. He followed up with a strong crosskick to his abdomen which sank Roy to the edge of the flower bed. Thijs meantime was entangled with the mighty Swank. Swank had produced a pistol from his jacket but the very act of trying to hold it properly allowed Thijs to apply such a grip that Swank couldn’t move his fingers.

Rosie found it very difficult to take in the activity around her. She knew that she would have to stay calm. Back in New York a year ago, her team had organised an in-house tutorial from an instructor at NYPD following the violent mugging of a colleague on the subway.

The instructor had been excellent in setting up various scenarios. Rosie remembered her advice regarding a situation where you have the advantage in numbers but are faced with weaponry. If possible, an emphasis on neutralising the weapon should be made. With her words in her ears, Rosie threw herself on the Swank and Thijs bundle, thrusting the heel of her right hand up into Swank’s nose, then standing off just enough to deliver her right foot as hard as she could into his crotch.

The extra burden of pain at two sites weakened Swank just enough for Thijs to be able to wrench the gun clear and hurl it into the nearest pond. Within no time, Swank regained his senses and powered a heavy fist into Thijs’ gut to poleaxe him.

However, Jake and I were now in attendance. Jake pushed me towards Roy and a pirouetting Davie, who was still displaying vigorous karate moves. Jake landed heavily on a now agitated Swank who was aiming a drop kick to Thijs’ flank. But as Thijs rolled into a ball, Jake managed to sink his weight onto Swank’s extending leg and managed to pull the two of them down onto a vulnerable knee.

Swank screamed in pain and he knew he had sustained considerable internal joint trauma. This didn’t stop Jake wading into him with a barrage of heavy punches.

Rosie was shocked by the thuggery on display but couldn’t help feeling adrenalised by the impending victory.

I threw myself on Roy’s lower body shoulder-first trying to emulate boyhood rugby hero David Leslie. Success resulted in Roy falling down and unable to protect himself against a flurry of Sinful’s kicks to his face and chest.

Conveniently, the four of us stopped attacking simultaneously and there was silence apart from some groaning from Roy and some deep breathing from Swank.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

Thijs righted his Yamaha and I motioned to Rosie to take the pillion. ‘We’ll see you back at base, Thijs.’ I was too shattered to talk to Rosie.

Then in the background, I could hear the buzz of at least two scooters or small motorbikes approaching. ‘Oh bollocks, please no,’ I mused.

Thijs engaged his bike and he and Rosie headed west towards a park exit. Davie and I stood together as our two opponents, bloodied but not quite broken slowly got up and came towards us, hobbling badly in Swank Dunbar’s case.

‘You’ve just made it so much worse for yourselves, Cameron. Instead of just that pink freak of your sister getting killed, who let’s face it, you don’t know from Mother Teresa, it means we have to get rid of you, Jake, the kid and your Dutch pals too. Will Lisa be delighted at being widowed for the sake of a woman none of you know? No! So well done, Ted. The guys on the scooters you hear are carrying firearms, so you won’t have long to ponder your wisdom.’ Roy hadn’t taken long to regain his smugness.

‘Let’s get out of here!’ I shouted at Davie and Jake. As we turned to flee, we couldn’t resist an extra shot at the pair. I connected a decent right cross to bloody Roy’s nose whilst Davie’s chop to Swank’s throat sank him to the ground again.

With that, the three of us were off, as fast as we could, heading northwards straight across the grass to locate the boundary of the park. I pulled out my phone and punched in the predetermined recipient.

‘Calum, get moving now! See you both back at base.’

Calum gave out a whoop and grabbed Connie’s left hand, a little to her consternation as he attempted to pull her towards the exit to the park. His burst of exuberance nearly caused him to collide with a tall passerby in shades and an Ajax FC baseball cap who was clutching a small pair of field glasses. The stranger appeared to look for something he had dropped on the nearby ground during his near miss, grumbling as he did.

‘What’s wrong, Connie? Ted says we need to shift… right now. The lads have got Rosie safe.’

Connie shook her hand free gently from Calum’s grasp. ‘I’m sorry Calum, but I’m having difficulty processing all of this. It’s not that I don’t trust you or any of you for that matter, but I don’t know any of you guys and right now I am unable to set eyes on either of my friends and you want me to rush off somewhere else. What is wrong with us calling in the police at this point?’

‘I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong, but until all of our group and you three girls are all together, it is a risk. We are in the act of escaping the claws of these nutters but we’re all on the run and they’ve got guns, for chrissakes. I think Ted is correct in this instance – if we loiter about separately trying to find police officers to tell our fanciful tale to, it must be unsafe. Once we are all together, the friend of ours who has joint nationality – and he’s a smart cookie – he will get the cops involved alright, for sure. But right now, we’ve got to run. Honestly. These fuckers are nuts, I’ve already been locked up, beaten up and shot by them at home, so please, let’s go.’

‘Sorry, Calum, but I have to insist. Within five minutes, I will be in that building there, in the throng of the Rijksmuseum and I can call my uncle who lives in Haarlem. The result being that I will have a familiar face with me in a short time and the crowds of art lovers will have kept me safe.’

‘Please don’t make me beg, Connie, please. These bastards are smart and resourceful. They could have eyes on us now.’

‘Well, you better run then. We’ll keep in touch by phone.’ With that, Connie turned towards the entrance of the famous institution. Calum looked to the heavens forlornly, turned ninety degrees and sprinted to find a bridge to cross the Singelgracht waterway.

The man in the Ajax cap abandoned his search and decided he could benefit from some culture that morning.

Sinful Davie, Jake and I managed to leave the park unscathed but the noise of the 100cc machines was getting closer. Davie’s advice now that we were on pavements was to slow our pace to a fast walk and to walk almost side by side and not look back. The bikes were going to catch us, that was inevitable, but by trying to appear as innocuous as possible perhaps we might pull off an escape.

This thought was parked within a minute. The noise behind us appeared to divide as the bikes split up. Unfortunately, one was closing in fast. The three of us walked briskly on. I was sweating profusely due to anxiety. The upper trapezius muscles in the back of my neck tensed as I imagined a bullet entering at this level.

All of a sudden, the motorbike was alongside us. It appeared to be two youths on board. Within seconds, the lad on the pillion had raised his right hand to expose a gun with a silencer.

‘Oh Jesus H…’

Betraying a lack of trust in his colleague’s ability, the driver veered the bike closer to us for a better shot, oblivious to the pillion rider who let off a shot anyway. Davie crumpled for a nanosecond before charging the bike. The veering of the machine had caused it to wobble, a fact spotted by my friend. The pillion kid got a second shot off but it struck the pavement yards away and that’s all Sinful needed. A mighty kick to the hand resulted in the pistol rocketing skywards. Jake rushed in to help tear the boy off the bike. The pair of them rained in punches as they got his helmet off. His partner didn’t hang about and the bike took off. Eventually we let the drugged-up shooter run off back towards the park. He was probably a very lowly paid employee in the network Roy’s crew had teamed up with.

Davie, Jake and I took a minute to get our breath back. Davie grimaced and slipped off his jacket. A bloody wound was revealed just above his left bicep, the result of the first bullet.

‘It’s only superficial but it’s bleeding like stink. Once we cross Jacob van Lennepkade Canal, we’ll split up and I’ll head over to Rembrandtpark. There’s a hospital just beyond that. I’ll see you back at the hotel. If you can keep jogging and keep ahead of the bikers, all the better. If you have to take a tram or metro make damn sure you’re not followed onto one. If you’re cornered, these gang types won’t think twice about shooting you or slitting your throat in public view and dumping your body in a canal.’

‘Great, jogging it is, then.’

We soon parted and with close attention to our maps, Jake and I proceeded to jog along streets crossing waterways listening out for small-engined motorcycles or scooters as we went. Such is the pattern of streets and canals in Amsterdam that progress in a straight line is impossible in certain directions. At one point, we had the confidence to stop for a coffee and croissant and use of their facilities, to relax a bit and re-energise. We also bought cheap unofficial Ajax football tops to go over our tee shirts and red bucket hats for disguise.

Calum had crossed into Leidseplein still fretting over Connie’s absence. He felt what he had said to her was genuine, but also from a selfish point of view, he had hoped she would have accompanied him lest he got lost despite his map.

Must try and keep moving, no matter, he thought, after he had also got himself a football jersey for disguise, this time the famous orange national jersey. As he slipped the shirt over his pink abomination, he imagined for a second or two he was joining Dennis Bergkamp in a devastating joint attack.

He started to feel the heaviness of his breakfast in his gut and had to slow down. He came upon a canal called Herengracht and reduced to a walking pace that in turn allowed him to marvel at the majesty of the large houses in this area. My goodness, this area must surely have featured in some movies. Stunning.

It was almost his last thought as the motorbike appeared in front of him. Calum had little room for manoeuvre as close as he was to the water. The pillion rider had lifted his right hand to display a gun. The bike was slowing but was still coming straight at him when a middle-aged man with a shaved head in a black corduroy trucker jacket and dark jeans bolted from the left side and banged violently into the rider on the front of the bike. As a result, the two chasers plus motorcycle ended up in the canal with a mighty ‘ki… ttisshh.’

‘Come this way… now, they’ve been tailing you since the park.’

‘Oh for f… God Almighty, thank you, man.’ For a man maybe four decades older than himself, this saviour was fit and nimble. He jogged behind the man for a few hundred metres before eventually the older man decided to stop, safe in the belief they had broken free. The two looked at each other.

‘Don’t I know you? You look familiar,’ Calum suggested.

In a distinctly West Highland accent the older man offered, ‘Maybe know of me, rather than know me. We’ll talk about it once we get to the hotel.’

‘Do you know if Connie is safe?’

‘Same again, we have no time to chat right now, we’ll talk about it at the hotel. I presume you mean the girl you were with at Vondelpark. She got into the Rijksmuseum safely, I saw that. Then I saw the tail pick you up, and as I was on my own, I had to make a choice and logically as I thought you were the one at greater risk, I followed up on you. Let’s get a bit faster.’

Rosie wandered around the suite at the Shipping House trying to make sense of the past few days. Had that guy in the park really said that he was her brother? That’s just crazy. Where were Connie and Petra? Were they safe? What had started all this? The answer certainly lay in Scotland. And Grandad was dead.

Thijs was relieved he had managed to deliver Rosie safely to the hotel.

‘You must be wondering what on earth is going on, Rosie? I only met three of the guys for the first time this week. It’s Davie that I’m friendly with and he works here, though he was born and brought up in Scotland.’

‘Well, I can’t thank you and the other guys enough.’

‘Hopefully the rest will be back soon.’

It took an hour but first through the door was Calum. He high-fived Thijs. ‘Good work, Thijs. Go Oranje! by the way,’ before spotting the pink-haired woman from the train. He smiled and walked forward. ‘Hi, Rosie. I’m Calum, my mother Shirley is your first cousin.’ He stretched out his hand to shake and Rosie politely accepted the greeting.

‘Hello, Calum. As you can imagine, I am staggered by all this, it’s a bit magical but a bit terrifying too. I can’t remember Shirley’s name, I’m sorry.’

‘Nobody would expect you to. Hopefully your brother and your uncle won’t be long in turning up.’

Within fifteen minutes, Jake and I had made it out of the elevator and along the corridor. I opened the door and there she was… my darling baby sister. I went from numbness to being overcome by tears within the seconds it took me to cross the room and hug her close to my chest. ‘Oh my God, thank you! Thank you! I knew this day would come sometime.’

I stood off my sister who now also had a couple of tears in her eyes. ‘Rosie, I’m your oldest brother, Ted. I don’t suppose you’ll have any memories of me.’

Rosie fought to get the correct words out. ‘The face… I know your face. And the name… Ted. But your face… it’s nearly my face.’

‘I think you’re right, Rosie, nearly your face.’ This set me off again but I recovered quickly to introduce Jake.

‘I don’t know if you’ll know this man here or his face, indeed. The years have not been too unkind to him. When we were kids, Mum and Dad had their hands full so much of the time, that he was your third parent; he looked after you that much. And without him, I think this mission to track you down would have faltered many times. It’s Mum’s brother, your uncle Jacob or Jake as we all know him.’

Rosie transferred her gaze from me and looked at the older man she’d seen in the metro, the man with the smiley, kind eyes that were now a touch lachrymose. She walked forwards with her arms outstretched and buried her head in Jake’s chest. A bellow of tears followed. ‘Oh Jake, Jake… of course I know you.’

Jake held her tight in his arms and despite having surrendered to crying managed a few words. ‘Oh my darling girl, I thought we might have lost you forever. I am whole again.’

The next couple of hours I can barely remember. Thijs and Calum very kindly fetched coffee and club sandwiches from downstairs, and they sat quietly as their three companions tried to swap as much information from decades of absence as well as recent events. I do recall how shocked Rosie was to receive the truth she had sought so desperately in her lonely teenage years.

A knock and entrance disturbed the chat in the late afternoon. Sinful was given a big cheer much to Rosie’s amusement. He had a sling on his left arm but was still proudly displaying his yellow Conshee tee shirt. Above his left bicep was a secure strapping, so the shirt had been cut away to allow for the dressing. It seemed to take him a couple of minutes to process the pink-haired woman on the sofa.

‘Oh my goodness, Rosie. It is you!’

He then put his hands up to cover his face and started bawling his eyes out. This prompted Jake and I to break down yet again as Rosie stood to comfort the ministers’ son who had played for many, many hours with the Cameron siblings in a bygone time.

Rosie endeavoured to lighten the moment. ‘Well, I never thought I would have had so many men reduced to tears at the one time, because of me.’

Calum couldn’t resist. ‘Lap it up, doll. You never know when it’ll come round again.’ This did bring the levity it had intended.

We all spoke for another hour before the elephant in the room made itself loud and clear.

Connie. Why hadn’t she phoned yet?

And then another knock at the door that we all responded positively to.

Calum’s recent saviour entered. ‘Sorry, my forty-wink nap turned into a four-hundred one.’

I was the first person to bristle at his appearance. ‘Blow me down, if it isn’t Abe Beaton. What on earth are you doing here?’

Jake interjected quickly. ‘Before you start Ted, I’ve not been filling you in as we’ve gone along. Abe has jumped the dyke. Apt… but I’m not trying to be funny.’

Sinful couldn’t help but get his protest in. ‘Hang on a minute, guys, is this not the same fella my dad confronted in the Fort High Street, after throwing a parishioner’s husband off the Ben.’

Abe looked offended. ‘I’m afraid these tales are all urban myths. The perpetrator for all the horrendous stuff was none other than the guy who tried to shoot you in Vondelpark today – Hector “Swank” Dunbar.’

‘And what about my dad? Was that not you?’

Abe looked crestfallen for the first time. ‘I apologise for my minor involvement, Calum. If I could turn the clock back I would, but same again, the main culprit was Swank. I admit I was an enforcer for the Haigs, but them alone, and I got up to some sordid stuff for them but the victims were lowlifes who invited retribution.’

I had to butt in. ‘I don’t know if I can buy this conversion, Abe. Jake, sorry.’

Jake looked frustrated and even irritable. ‘Well, even if we agree that we can’t forgive Abe at this point, can I reveal that he has personally rescued Lawrie Haig from danger in hospital and removed him to a place of safety. He has been liaising with others to get them safe too. He has officially left the employment of the Haigs, causing no end of turmoil and he sought Frankie’s approval before coming out here to help us. Shoot me down later if things don’t work out, but I for one trust him.’

‘Lawrie’s safe?’ Calum ventured.

Abe turned to him. ‘He is, son.’

I was far from happy. ‘So what’s prompted all this, Abe? Self-preservation? A star in the west? You’ve got to be effing kidding me.’ Jake was shaking his head.

‘Believe me or not, Ted, but I asked Stuart Haig to his face a long time ago, before I agreed to work for him, if the rumour of him having involvement in Rosie’s disappearance was true. If that had been the case, I could not have had anything to do with him or his family. Without any hesitation, he uttered a complete denial.’

‘So you’re a naive as well as violent bastard,’ Calum pronounced. ‘But… you did save my neck today.’

The tension was palpable when Rosie’s mobile rang out. It was Connie. A captured Connie. Her uncle had made it to the Rijksmuseum alright but unfortunately a half hour after Rab Sillars had witnessed the departure of Connie from Calum’s side. A bike took off to tail Calum leaving the young woman to enter the art gallery.

Apart from Mary, Rab was Tom Landells’ smartest employee. He had surprisingly rejected higher education to remain at home and work for the drug baron, with financial reward being the short-term attraction. As he approached Connie, having left a twenty-minute hiatus to help with his cover, he had his story ready. He had already ditched the Ajax skip cap and pocketed the sunglasses and the mini binoculars.

‘Ms De Jaager, hi, can I introduce myself?’ as he waved his replica warrant card in front of his target. ‘My name is Jonathan. I am a liaison officer with Europol. I know about your predicament. I visited your mother, Sonja and your father, Robin late yesterday. We need to get you out of this location quickly. At this moment, we are trying to help your recent acquaintances as they endeavour to save your Scottish lawyer friend but we are a bit outnumbered in keeping everyone safe. It looks like a notorious drugs gang is involved and they have a large number of followers.’

Rab then deliberately hesitated. ‘I am sorry to tell you this but it was your uncle who triggered my response. He was involved in a nasty accident on a roundabout near Schipol. He was travelling in from Haarlem to pick you up. He himself is not badly hurt unlike a couple of the other drivers but he is in an emergency unit there getting attended to and helping the police. Your parents are going directly there from The Hague and I’m going to take you directly to the unit to be with them. Okay?’

Connie reflected on all of Jonathan’s words and decided on balance that he must be telling the truth. I mean, come on, how would he know Richard was travelling in from Haarlem? And to be honest, and hopefully that this wasn’t a factor, but Richard did drive like a frigging maniac a lot of the time. Okay. I think I can trust this polite softly-spoken Jonathan.

As soon as she climbed into the back of the big BMW she fainted as she saw the gun, as it signalled her mistake.

Rosie shrieked as Connie revealed her restraint. ‘Before they speak to you, Rosie, I want to say that I’m physically fine and you should not comply with…’ Her words were cut off abruptly as the phone was ripped from her grasp.

‘Enough, cut the heroic stuff! Can you hear me, Rosie? If you don’t meet up with us tomorrow morning, your friend will die. End of story. You don’t go to the police, and we swap your friend for you at 9am tomorrow outside the Botanical Gardens. And for any listeners on loudspeaker, we will amputate one of Connie’s fingers for every five minutes that you are late. Nothing more to be said. See you and only you in the morning.’

Calum broke the ensuing silence. ‘Whose voice was that?’

‘I think it was Roy Grigor trying to be as terrifying as he can,’ I called.

‘I don’t think I can give you up, Rosie. I’m sorry.’ I could feel the turn and stare of the five other males in the room on me as my focus was somewhere out the window and over the channel towards Amsterdam Noord.

I felt a strong hand on my forearm. ‘With all due respect, my brother, this is not your decision to make.’

The pain in my heart at that moment was overpowering. I looked at Rosie through pools of tears. ‘To lose you now… I don’t know how I or in fact most of the guys here could cope with that.’

‘But there is no other decision to be made, Ted. I will not allow these maniacs to harm a hair on my friend’s head. And that’s final. So let’s get some alcohol down us and we can swap more stories from our pasts so we won’t part as relative strangers.’

I had to run to the toilet to retch before I could process any further thoughts.

And that’s when he said it. The figure in the corner of the room who had lost the spotlight when the call had come through, stood up and commanded attention. ‘I think I have a plan.’

Well, well, Abraham Beaton. The floor is yours.

‘Well, Jake, what do you think? Do you think it’s going to work?’ My throat was painfully dry as we waved the unlikely pair off in a taxi at the door of the hotel. My sister, now dressed in Calum’s pink ‘Conshee’ shirt that seemed dreadfully bulky on her frame, turned to look out of the back window, her pink hair swept back off her forehead. For the first time since receiving Connie’s call Rosie looked visibly upset. I rushed forwards to grab the door of the taxi but immediately felt the restraining arms of Jake and Calum on either side.

‘Let her go, Teddy.’ Jake was resolute.

Considering what lay ahead, the previous evening had been remarkably joyous as we bonded with our lost girl. We had allowed Abe to present his plan on how to get Rosie back to Scotland alive. It was both risky and presumptive, but was the only show in town. And after its digestion and general approval, Abe returned to his own room to rest.

Meanwhile, the rest of us sat up to 1.30 in the morning knocking back beer and fizzy wine, answering each other’s questions on subjects that covered three decades. It resulted in a lot of laughs, some quiet contemplation but most of all an air of excitement with the tantalising prospect of similar evenings to come in the future. Surely this new reality could not be destroyed.

The large BMW slowed up in front of the Botanic Gardens where two figures stood close together – much to the dismay of the vehicle’s occupants.

Roy Grigor was especially troubled. ‘What the hell is Abraham Beaton doing here?’

Abe and Rosie climbed into the back, and Victor Koopmann started his wagon on the journey south.

Roy turned round from his position in the front passenger seat. ‘Well, Abe, care to illuminate us before we chuck you into the nearest canal?’

Abe sneered as he pulled the gun from behind Rosie’s back and pointed it straight at Roy’s face.

‘Not so hasty, Roy. This is how it’s going to be. I am carrying two grenades strapped to my legs as well as this gun. Any action outwith what I suggest and we all go to Kingdom Come. I expect that now you have Rosie here, the plan would have been to kill her, dump her body and head back to Tom’s private plane to fly home. Only the final action will now occur.’

Victor Koopmann looked anxiously in the mirror at Abe and sideways to a suddenly drained Roy Grigor.

Abe continued. ‘It’s okay, Victor, you know we go a long way back and as long as everything goes well, nobody will come to harm. The problem with you Grigors, Tom Landells and indeed Stuart Haig is that you never worry about anyone other than yourselves – even people who have loyally worked for you or with you for decades. No, it’s all about number one. So when a small part of Lawrie’s stolen documents came into my possession and I saw with my own eyes my own name on the illegal transactions, I realised I’d better act or I’d end up in Barlinnie with the rest of you. It was relatively easy to track the worthy Cameron clan’s venture to the Netherlands seeking their lost kid, and even easier to pick her off at their hotel this morning. Not born criminals you see, ruddy amateurs.’

‘You utter bastard,’ Rosie vented in Abe’s face.

‘Quiet, girl, you at least get to live till bonnie Scotland welcomes you back.’

‘We’re all just after the same thing, Abe,’ Roy ventured.

Abe snorted his scorn. ‘I hardly think so, Roy. No doubt you planned to eliminate Lawrie Haig as well as Rosie here as quietly as possible. But the cat’s out of the bag now as the Cameron clan know Rosie is indeed alive. So my guess is, and I hope you’re listening, Victor, that Tom and old Ronnie would want you to get rid of Rosie over the North Sea and blame the Koopman gang for her second disappearance. A hotshot lawyer might see you through. But the Haigs and I need Rosie alive to act as a possible bargaining chip to Lawrie to prevent him exposing all and sundry to the authorities. Stuart Haig was not a complete innocent in Rosie’s original disappearance but it was you Grigors who were the prime movers. I dare say Stuart will have to cope with whatever judgement comes his way but his businesses might survive and so should his second youngest son and Rosie Cameron.’

‘Don’t listen to his crap, Victor, it’s all just supposition. Why would Lawrie Haig want to help the Camerons, for example?’

Abe smiled enigmatically and lowered the gun so he could see all of Roy’s face. ‘Well if you don’t know why, I certainly won’t be the one to enlighten you. And before we go any further, I want Swank, the farmer boy here and yourself, Roy, to throw your guns in the nearest canal. Victor, if you don’t mind pulling in at your earliest convenience, please. You know me well enough to know that I can be trusted.’

Much to Roy’s consternation, Victor signalled to pull his vehicle over.

Abe allowed himself to think that this first part had gone well enough.

Whilst a taxi was rushing Jake, Calum and me to Schipol having said our thanks and goodbyes to Thijs and Sinful, back in Lochaber, Frankie was working out how best to proceed with dialogue with Stuart Haig and Ronnie Grigor.

If Abe was successful in getting airborne with Rosie, the plan was to fly directly to Camisky, undoubtedly resulting in an aggrieved Tom Landells driving north to enforce his interests.

Unbeknown to most of his family, Lawrie Haig was now safely ensconced in Banavie. Lawrie had quivered with shame the previous evening as Ian McGlashan’s headlights had illuminated the renewed giant ‘CONSHEE’ graffito as his car pulled up to the Camerons’ house. His welcoming party included his mother and Finlay, in addition to Frankie and both his parents.

Frankie and Lawrie retreated to Jake’s annexe after breakfast at Frankie’s and considered the options.

Ronnie Grigor was not able to accept that his days of freedom could possibly be in jeopardy. He paced up and down his hall as he engaged in telephone conversation with Stuart Haig.

‘Look, Stuart, I really think we should take a combined approach to dealing with our mutual problems. Until she gets here and proper genetics are done, as far as I can make out, there is yet no conclusive proof that this person they’ve found is the Cameron girl. So let’s just put that issue aside and decide what we are going to do about Lawrie. There’s no doubt he’s upset a lot of people taking up this stance against your authority but I personally wouldn’t want him harmed in anyway. Have you had any thoughts yourself on how to neutralise his threats of exposure? After all, like myself, you are not at an age where the prospect of internment is a welcoming one.’

‘Ronnie, is this you scared for the first time in your life? You seem a bit too dismissive of Rosie Cameron’s reappearance for my liking – I hope you are not hoping to indulge in any violent measures to solve that problem, as you call it. I very much regret keeping quiet at the time to protect Jackson – it was a foolish mistake but I certainly won’t consider any other action at the moment except returning the girl to that bastard family of hers. I will just have to accept the consequences of the truth emerging. You and Roy are not in a similar position. As regards Lawrie, something has emerged that may work in our favour and help convince him not to proceed to the authorities. Obviously, that helps you as well, Ronnie. So just in case you were planning any drastic action on my son’s life I’d advise you to forget it. I cannot tell you what information I am referring to but it is of substantial significance.’

‘This is music to my ears, Stuart. I am reassured by what you’ve said. Regarding the situation in Holland with this young woman; at this point I don’t know what is happening there.’

He was correct, of course, but without doubt any conjecture would not have featured Abraham Beaton.

The BMW had arrived at the small airfield between The Hague and Rotterdam with little conversation and no complications en route. Roy had spent most of the journey trying to juggle alternative modes of action in his head. As they pulled up to the open hangar, he realised that those thoughts had been probably wasted as he assessed their welcoming party.

Now gathering at the front of the vehicle stood Jan Koopmann, his monstrous henchman, Henke, and most intriguingly of all, was that not the infamous Cobus Mertens standing there? All six occupants of the BMW got out.

Cobus Mertens came forwards and much to Roy’s astonishment, hugged Rosie warmly.

‘My dear child, so good to see you again after all these years. You won’t remember me but I used to frequent your house when you were a toddler and played silly games with you and your brothers. Please tell me if any of these guys put so much as a finger on you.’ Rosie shook her head and Cobus carried on, ‘Good. Now, Roy, I want to inform you of a couple of changes before you take to the air. Your young friend Rab will be staying with Jan and I here in the Netherlands for the time being. Henke will take his place on board to help Abe counteract any monkey business you might have planned. Swank can go with you – that knee injury is going to hinder him for a while. I have briefed Tom’s pilot on his change of destination. You will be flying directly to Haig’s airfield at Camisky – no arguments. Finally, the Koopmann’s debt to Landells is now rescinded. If Tom, you, Swank or any other Grigor or Landells employee sets foot in this country again, I swear to God I will come out of retirement and summon an army of helpers to wipe you all off the face of the Earth. Any questions?’

Rosie broke the sudden silence. ‘Are my friends safe?’

‘Yes, my child. Safe, back with their families and wishing you well. You can phone them sometime once you’re back in Scotland.’

With little delay, the five passengers got ready to board their flight over the North Sea.

Back in Banavie, my father joined Frankie and Lawrie around Jake’s table.

‘Well lads, what are you thinking?’

Frankie cleared his throat. ‘Well, Dad, I think the swap has to be carried out quite quickly after the plane arrives. Once Tom Landells finds out they’re flying to Camisky, he’ll be charging up the road with a bunch of thugs; so we need to be wary of that – we have to be fast. I can’t see any of the Haigs being in the mood for violence or trickery but old Ronnie will definitely have something up his sleeve, no doubt in conjunction with Roy and Michael Kyle.’

‘So where do you think the exchange should take place, Frankie?’

‘Lawrie and I are convinced we should abide by Abe’s suggestion of the area at the Commando Memorial. After all, that’s where Lawrie buried his folder and although Abe retrieved it to scan it all, he put it back in the same place. And to any first-time observer, they would never suspect that the site had already been tampered with. Also, as you well know, the open countryside and vistas up there offer very little chance of concealment. Abe also mustered a couple of “Visitor Site Temporarily Closed” signs to keep nosy tourists on the main road and away from the car park. The evenings are so light at the moment, that working around a time of 9.45pm should offer us plenty of vision but the traffic on the A82 should have died down by then, with any luck.’

‘Sounds good, Frankie. What about a police presence?’

‘Unfortunately, that is a problem. I am still suspended, Ronnie Grigor is big pals with Norman McCulloch and I am convinced that the Grigors have a mole in the station. There is no doubt the police will act once a definite crime is known to have taken place. But until then, I have been reduced to asking for favours from the officers I can trust. So, there will be a couple of cars not too far away.

‘We also have taken the difficult decision to hide a marksman with a rifle on the boundary of the area.’

‘Who have you got?’

Lawrie and Frankie smiled simultaneously before Lawrie shook his head and broke his silence. ‘Aw, Duncan, just the best ruddy shot in the county, that’s all.’

‘Oh well, just a standby hopefully. Who are you conversing with on their side?’

‘Just Stuart Haig himself. He in turn is speaking to Ronnie Grigor. Charlie’s keeping out of it, I presume. But I have no idea who they will send along. Obviously having just spoken to Cobus, I know they will have Roy and a stricken Swank Dunbar. We will have Lawrie and myself and the two guys off the plane, Abe and Cobus’ old enforcer.’

‘How will we know that they haven’t arranged weapons?’

‘As a big personal favour, I have asked that the soon-to-be-retiring Willie McKenzie, my colleague, performs a frisk on all of us that will be there, down at Spean Golf Club before we head up the hill. I’ve not given him many details of what’s about to happen as no doubt he would want to intervene, but we have a good trust in each other, so he will keep a distance. To begin with, at least.’

My father couldn’t hide his anxiety but he had belief in Frankie’s competence. ‘Good stuff, son. It might just all go well.’

‘That’s the plan, Dad.’

‘And who is the woman who is up staying with you and Liz?’

‘That is our star witness, Rosie notwithstanding. Her cousin was Abe’s girlfriend for many years before breast cancer took her.’

‘I remember Mary Sinclair. Your mother was very fond of her. Nobody could understand what she saw in Beaton.’

‘Maybe a lot of us jumped to conclusions about Abe; without him and Jake, I don’t think Ted could have managed all this.’

‘We’ll see. I can’t trust him until Rosie is dancing around the kitchen again.’

‘Not long now, Dad.’

As the three of us sat in Schipol, I found the tension unbearable. We had been so closely involved for so long, that to be stuck waiting for the Glasgow flight incapable of any further contribution to my sister’s recovery was sickening.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Tom Landells was screaming at Doog Hardie but he could offer no explanation for the change Tom’s pilot had so recently announced.

‘Right, Doog, can you get in touch with the Clancys and see if they can provide us with a couple of ruffians, complete with hardware, for an emergency trip to the Highlands? You can tell them I’m planning on changing my northern distributor imminently. I’m away to get the car ready. And where the hell is Mary?’

From where he stood in Ronnie Grigor’s lounge, Michael Kyle couldn’t clearly identify what Ronnie was handing over to the tall young man in the dark uniform to whom he was chatting on his front lawn. The man turned on his heel and returned to his vehicle with what looked like a brown leather bag in his right hand. He opened the boot and placed the bag inside, before returning to the front passenger door. As the vehicle pulled away, Ronnie turned and walked back to his front door, his face betraying his inner turmoil.

‘What was that all about, Ronnie?’

‘No time to discuss right now, Mike. We better get ready to head over to Stuart’s place, the day’s getting on.’

In the departing vehicle, Ruth Kennedy, whilst concentrating on driving, couldn’t help but interrogate her surly colleague over what had been an unscheduled stop. ‘What was all that about, Roddy?’

‘Oh, just some drug paraphernalia Ronnie found in his woods – probably some teenagers up wild camping.’ Roddy, much to the annoyance of his fellow officer, then slipped on a pair of earphones and started to search his playlists, eager not to be further questioned.

They reached Grigor’s main gate and as Roddy was engaged with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Ruth got out and opened the gate wide. Hopping back into the vehicle, she was disgusted by her partner’s lack of recognition. Ruth drove forwards the few yards necessary to clear the exit and jumped out again. Having pulled the gate shut again, curiosity came over her. She opened up the boot and examined the brown leather bag. To her horror it contained two handguns.

Shocked by Ruth’s actions, Roddy shouted for her to stop. Just at that point, the car radio crackled into life to reveal the distinctive voice of their suspended superior.

‘Hi Ruth, it’s Frankie. You’ve obviously been delayed but I’m just checking you’re still okay to look in on my folks and the Landells’ woman this evening. I won’t disturb you again – just let me know if you can’t make it.’

Roddy jumped out and joined Ruth at the rear of the car.

‘God Almighty, Roddy, what have you got yourself into?’

‘You shouldn’t have checked, Ruth, you shouldn’t have checked.’ He grabbed her by the head and pulled her to the ground. Terrified, she screamed as his strong hands grabbed her ears and twisted her head abruptly. The snapping noise was unmistakeable as Ruth Kennedy’s life ended without ceremony.

As Roddy McLaren retraced the route back to Ronnie Grigor’s garden, he felt as if tears should come, but ever since he was stabilised on fluoxetine, he found it hard to be emotional. Ronnie Grigor descended the few steps onto the drive with both hands palms up questioning the quick return.

Roddy approached the older man. ‘Oh Dad, something bad has complicated things.’

‘I told you before, never ever, fucking call me that. Okay? I make sure your mother is well provided for – so we fucking leave it like that.’

‘Sorry, it’s… just some problems have arisen.’

‘Pull yourself together, nothing can’t be fixed. Come in for a minute – we have to get going soon.’

Slink Dunwoody, unlike the nervous individuals already gathered in Banavie, was finding his experiences of the past couple of weeks exciting in the way that half-revealed secrets often are.

Lawrie and Abe had asked him to pick up a confidante in Lanarkshire and take them north. He had also been asked to build a bird hide just outside the boundary of the Commando Memorial, and to borrow some walkie-talkies and a .22 rifle from his main employer to use in a hush-hush job, again at Spean. Intriguing as it was, he was encouraged not to ask too many questions, and such was Slink’s regard for Lawrie, he was content with that.

Slink chatted with everybody inside the Camerons’ home above the canal but he sensed the gravity of the mood and the increasing anxiety level. Time was getting short and they needed to get going.

‘Where’s my passenger then? Are they ready?’

The local rifle club had a clubhouse and facilities at the lovely village of Roy Bridge in Glen Spean. It was a small unremarkable complex that was perfectly adequate for its purpose. The members tended to be drawn from the working men of the land – gamekeepers, crofters etc., and then a mixture of wealthy businessmen and their spawn and finally a concerning few with a generally unhealthy interest in firearms.

The honours board at the club revealed a lot about the membership. Wealthy families featured strongly in the names listed. Twenty or so years ago, the Grigors provided the local champion with Charlie and Roy featuring. There was even a year a teacher won, when Michael Kyle ruled the roost. However, for the past seventeen years consecutively, the Haig family had been victorious, initially with one win each from Jackson then Bruce. However, the winner for the last fifteen years was the one and only Finlay Lachlan Haig.

‘I was born ready, Slink,’ Finlay chortled as he broke Lawrie’s embrace to run to his gamekeeper pal.

‘Are you sure about this?’ Sandra enquired of Lawrie, as they gathered around the front of Slink’s car.

‘Mum, he’s remarkable.’

As the two of them pulled away from the small assembly, Finlay, enthusiasm personified, couldn’t contain his playfulness as he barked into Slink’s walkie-talkie a quote from his favourite action film. ‘Danny Boy to Broadsword, over. Danny Boy to Broadsword.’

‘Enough for now, Fin, don’t drive me cuckoo,’ Slink protested jokingly as they reached the main road.

Thirty minutes later Frankie prompted his parents to join him in the front garden on top of the bank that sloped down to the canal side. The unmistakeable hum of an aero engine had alerted Frankie to this momentous occasion as the plane carrying his sister eventually came into view and dipped as it prepared to land at Camisky. My mother wept as she held my father in a bear hug as she gazed skywards. My father was finding the grip awkward as he tried to manipulate the vest holding the portable oxygen cylinder into a comfortable position without disturbing my mother’s moment of euphoria. Everyone else present – Liz, Mary Greig, Lotte and Malcolm Chisholm, Sandra Haig and Lawrie filtered out from the kitchen to stand respectfully quiet behind the trio of Camerons witnessing the descent of their loved one.

Although they couldn’t see the landing, it sounded as if the aeroplane had made an uncomplicated arrival.

Frankie broke the spell. ‘Okay, folks, Lawrie and I will have to head off. You will have to all sit tight here until we’re back. Ian McGlashan said he would look in on you at some point and one of my police buddies should look by too. Hopefully it will be a quick evening.’

Less than an hour later, Spean Bridge Golf Clubhouse welcomed the first of the three groups of participants.

At Stuart Haig’s insistence, Charlie Grigor had joined Sergeant Willie McKenzie in being available to check the vehicles for weapons and to witness the policeman frisk all the relevant individuals.

The Land Rover containing Ronnie Grigor, Michael Kyle and Stuart and Jackson Haig had arrived early. Willie took his time inspecting the 4x4 and carefully patted down the four men. Satisfied that they were clean of weaponry, he asked them to wait in their vehicle until the others were processed.

Lawrie and Frankie got out of the latter’s Landcruiser and walked across the car park to looks of anger and disgust from the people in the vehicle sat in the corner. Willie spent equivalent time inspecting his suspended boss and the prodigal Haig as he had in checking the first carload. Charlie Grigor was satisfied. He definitely knew whose side he favoured but contrary he was not.

Finally, the third vehicle appeared and deposited its passengers right up against the clubhouse steps. Frankie witnessed from his seat a sprightly Abe Beaton jump out and then help out a pink-haired woman in a very baggy pink tee shirt, with of all things, ‘CONSHEE’ emblazoned across the front – not an image of his sister he had envisaged. Third out of the back was a tall broad figure in his late thirties who could only be Cobus Mertens’ man. Simultaneously, the front doors were thrown open to reveal Roy Grigor, looking as mean and sullen as usual and the meaty figure of Hector Dunbar, a character who had inhabited Frankie’s cells at odd times in the not-too-distant past. The latter hobbled indoors firing off invective at Willie McKenzie, an old adversary, as he did.

Once again, few words were exchanged as all five were frisked, Willie saving an unmistakeable but secretive wink for Rosie.

Comparatively smoothly, the final act was about to unfold at a site of staggering beauty that was precious to every native of Lochaber district.

When the vehicles pulled up in the car park at the Commando, the passengers saw that a table had been set out in the shadow of the monument accompanied by half a dozen chairs, on temporary loan from Lotte’s church hall.

Stuart and Ronnie took the two central seats, Abe led Rosie to the two to their right, with a limping Swank and an out of condition Jackson taking the remaining couple.

‘Right, I’ll get the ball rolling, shall I?’ announced Stuart authoritatively. ‘Lawrie – you’re a bloody disgrace to this family. Christ knows what possessed you to do all this but it’s over now. You can all see the girl is back and well. So let’s get on with this, please give us whatever paperwork you have.’

Lawrie ignored his father and directed his gaze at Rosie. ‘How are you, Rosie?’

Rosie sniffed, her cracking voice betraying her fear and discomfort. ‘A bit bewildered… if I was to be honest. But physically… just very tired.’

Lawrie smiled at her. ‘We’ll all catch up later – I’m very much looking forward to it. There are plenty of good folk up here. Right, let’s get started.’ Lawrie turned on his heel and marched back to Frankie’s car. He retrieved a shovel from the boot and wandered over to a border of shrubs on the southern border of the car park. Without hesitation, he dug into the base of the second-last plant. It was easily released and Lawrie reached down and picked up the plastic-wrapped bag. He strolled back to the table and threw the package down in front of his father and Ronnie, his father wincing at the swollen, discoloured facial features of his son.

‘Is this all there is, sonny?’ barked Ronnie.

‘That’s right, Ronnie. One less thing you have to worry about.’

‘Perhaps.’ Ronnie slyly reached into his pocket and pressed a button on his phone. ‘Before we all depart, thankfully without rancour, I want to scan through this book briefly.’

Lawrie turned to check with Frankie who nodded subtly. ‘Just don’t take all night, Ronnie, we’ve got a family to reunite.’

He probably wasn’t the first to see it. I’m sure that person wouldn’t have owned up, but Roy certainly was the first to pass comment. ‘What the hell is this? Have you bastards stitched us up?’

The sight of a police car approaching at this point should’ve surprised everyone. Certainly, Frankie’s surprise couldn’t be hidden by his new beard.

‘Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, Roy,’ Ronnie mused. ‘Some procedural bollocks, eh, Frankie?’

This comment doubled Frankie’s surprise and added a smidgin of worry. The vehicle slowly pulled into the car park. Frankie was trying to remember his last words to Ruth Kennedy but he was sure they hadn’t included anything like this particular course of action.

Abe searched Frankie’s demeanour for signs of recognition but tensed when he couldn’t find any, so he took Rosie’s left hand and squeezed tightly. Lawrie felt a dryness in his mouth as a faint smirk began to develop on Ronnie’s face. Everybody else looked mystified.

Roddy McLaren appeared out of the driver’s door to the alarm of Frankie. ‘Roddy, what the hell? Where’s Ruth?’

McLaren ignored his superior’s gaze and walked towards the table clutching an old brown leather bag. ‘Leave it for now, Frankie, I’ve got more paperwork stuff for Mr Grigor.’

The next couple of minutes seemed to happen in slow motion but of course the opposite was true. Ronnie Grigor stood up as the contents of the brown bag hit the table, having been tipped out by McLaren. The clunk on the wood confirmed the appearance of two handguns rather than the spurious paperwork. With remarkable dexterity Ronnie flicked one gun along the table to Swank and hooked one up into the air into the paws of Mike Kyle.

In a flash for a man with a disrupted knee joint, Swank was standing and had configured the pistol to be pointing at Lawrie Haig’s head.

Frankie stabbed the walkie-talkie concealed under his lapel into action. ‘Broadsword to…’

A rifle shot rang out and Swank’s raised arm buffeted and swung round behind him haemorrhaging blood, before he collapsed in pain.

‘…Danny Boy,’ Finlay Haig finished off the sentence, before resetting.

Kyle had been nimbler than Swank. As the horrified looks all around sought routes of safety, Kyle sank to a squat and fired a shot at Rosie. It hit her square in the chest and knocked her backwards on her seat onto the ground behind. Abe immediately threw himself on top of my sister to protect her from further harm.

Pleased with his success, Kyle rotated and shot off in the direction of the rifle shot. He then looked round to see where Lawrie had got to. Lawrie in fact had sped around the table to get the weapon off Swank. Kyle smirked; he couldn’t miss from this range. He raised his gun to shoot the art teacher, who was tearing at Dunbar’s body as he searched, when suddenly the figure of Stuart Haig was in the way. Too late to reposition, Kyle let the bullet go, and it slammed into Stuart Haig’s trunk.

Another rifle shot and Kyle screamed as a bullet tore part of his ear off. Finlay and Slink both cursed and edged forwards out of their hide together to escalate their engagement.

Ronnie Grigor charged forwards to shield Kyle. They exchanged a few words as Grigor thrust Lawrie’s notebook under Kyle’s arm. He then led Kyle to the front of the Land Rover trying to protect him from further gunfire.

But Finlay had been the top sharpshooter for a reason – he took aim again and fired. The bullet tore into Grigor’s right shoulder and ricocheted, grazing Kyle’s right upper arm. But Kyle managed to get into the Land Rover and fired up the engine. Two of the windows exploded as Finlay strove to stop the car’s exit. As Finlay and Slink ran into the car park, Finlay then tried to hit the tyres of the escaping vehicle.

Lawrie and Frankie rushed over to Abe’s position, covering Rosie’s motionless body. Abe twisted his head around to them suddenly realising the significance of Kyle’s departure.

‘Damn! They must know about Mary. I’ll have to go. Give me the pistol, Lawrie. Look after your sister, Frankie, and get Fin to keep the rifle aimed at the bastards.’ He got up and threw an almighty haymaker at Roddy McLaren knocking him to the ground instantly and as he swerved towards the Landcruiser with Slink in tow, he pistol-whipped Roy Grigor across the left temple rendering him unconscious. The two got in the 4x4 and careered after Kyle down the B road in the initial direction of Gairlochy but heading for Banavie.

Finlay stepped forwards and without a word pointed the rifle at Ronnie and his brother Jackson and indicated for them to move to their left and to take a seat on the lower steps of the memorial.

Ronnie began to express his irritation. ‘Oh, come on Finlay, don’t be so daft, this is all a big…’

The rifle bullet passed through the lax material of Ronnie’s linen trouser leg about four inches from his scrotum.

Henke stepped forwards. ‘Shut up, old man or you will really suffer. This boy means serious business. Now both of you turn around and I will tie up your hands.’

Frankie dared not to breathe – was this pink-haired corpse his sister? Had everything been in vain? She was lying face down so he couldn’t see those telltale dark brown eyes.

But then there was a movement, a rise and fall of her torso indicating she was breathing. Sending off a quick prayer he rotated her body around to face him, struck by the thickness of her clothing.

Their eyes met, and yes, they matched in shade and colour – this indeed was Rosie. ‘Hi Rosie, I’m your brother, Frankie. I just want to check you over for a second. You took a bullet.’

Frankie noted the hole in the pink tee shirt as he lowered his hands and pulled up the billowing cotton material. To his surprise, his sister was wearing a bulletproof vest. Frankie shook his head, smiled and nodded in recognition exclaiming, ‘Take a fucking bow, Abraham Beaton!’ He hugged Rosie closely then stood up to survey the scene properly. Way beyond the collection of bodies, the mountains of the Grey Corries and the Ben Nevis massif to the south were stunning in the dying light of this late spring evening. To the west, the orange ball of the setting sun dispersed burning colour into the waters of Loch Eil and upper Loch Linnhe. ‘This is why I live here,’ Frankie managed to muse, guilty as he was of contributing to destroying the peace of such a stunning scene.

Lawrie, after checking that Roy was still unconscious, bent over his stricken father. His colour was terrible and he was in severe pain. Kyle’s bullet had hit him in the vicinity of the right kidney. He looked over at Frankie who, reassured his sister was alive, was now radioing for police help and ambulances.

Henke had retrieved more plastic cable ties from his belt pockets to restrain Swank and the unconscious figure of Roy.

Finlay, rifle pointing downwards, joined his favourite brother beside their father. Stuart looked up and managed a delicate smile. ‘Thank God, you boys are okay.’

‘It really didn’t have to be like this, Dad. Thank you for saving me there… but how on earth did it get to this?’

‘I’m sorry, Lawrie.’

Down in Banavie, Ian McGlashan had just departed in the direction of Corpach, and my father, was creating plans for tomorrow and making an early start on painting over the latest version of the ‘Conshee’ graffito. He had looked out a ladder and white paint when he was suddenly aware of loud engine noise and squealing brakes coming from the road in the direction of Torcastle and Muirshearlich. The women present had gathered at a table in the front garden; Lotte Chisholm having packed her husband off home, was enjoying an intense chinwag with Mary Greig, Sandra Hogg and my mother.

Duncan shouted for my mother to get everyone inside as he spotted the vehicle getting closer. Sure enough, it veered down the drive towards our house and deliberately careered into Duncan and his brandished ladder, knocking him backwards off his feet. Unfortunately, he couldn’t protect his head in time and was knocked out as he hit the gravel with considerable force.

Michael Kyle got out and went straight to the rear door of the house which was set in a small granite porch. The door was solid wood and locked. He turned on his heel, flinching intermittently as the pain from his wound kicked in, and headed around to the front of the house.

The front door couldn’t withstand the fierce boot that Kyle forced on it and suddenly he was in the kitchen faced with three crouching terrified women. He scanned their faces and they were all familiar of sorts but not who he was looking for. He raised the gun and the women winced and cocked their heads to one side, as if this would decrease the effects of a close-range shot.

‘Where the hell is she?’ Kyle screamed.

Sandra Haig, aghast that this regular visitor to her home had brought terror to the Cameron household, managed to summon a wailing response. ‘For God’s sake, Michael, stop this madness.’

‘Christ, woman, do you just not get it? Your husband and a good few others will be going away for a long time when this all gets out.’

‘Leave them alone.’ The voice was both soft and solemn, and betrayed Mary Greig’s position as she emerged from the direction of the back hall. ‘I’m not frightened of you, Kyle, you rapist pig.’

‘Well, you fucking should be, you teuchter bitch. Because I am going to kill you.’

‘You killed me the night you forced my virginity from me in Lanark all those years ago. I knew you didn’t recognise me last week; greying hair can make some women invisible – I’d already discovered that. Your uncle and your cousin were decent employers to me, even though I knew I was under threat of death if I ever spoke up about Rosie. But Old Johnnie hated your guts and if you hadn’t been family, he would have throttled you himself. But your time is coming, Kyle. You will kill me but I’ve been dead inside for thirty years; it will be a fresh experience for you, Mr Rapist.’

Michael Kyle raised the pistol and shot Mary in the head. As he turned and fled out to the front, the three other women shrieked in horror as they rushed over to the stricken fourth.

Ian McGlashan had not anticipated a vehicle emerging from the drive as he turned right off the main drag. Kyle rammed the 4x4 into the side of Ian’s car, causing it to slide off the drive into the ditch at the side. He avoided eye contact with the gamekeeper and swerved his vehicle to the left, heading for the canal bridge.

Within a minute, Slink Dunwoody and Abe careered into the drive, narrowly avoiding Ian who had just got out of his vehicle. Abe swore vehemently and then repeated himself as the dipped lights picked out the now rising body of Duncan alongside the house.

Lotte Chisholm emerged from the other side of the house distraught. ‘He shot her! He’s killed Mary.’

The words hit Abe like a runaway train and he felt like he was running through heavy sand as he tore past Duncan to get to the kitchen.

The only time previously that anyone had later recalled seeing Abe in tears was at the funeral of Mary Sinclair, his long-term partner. There was an unjust cruelty in the realisation that the next time should be at the death of her cousin, also from Benbecula: ‘wee’ Mary as her relation often referred to her.

But Abe did not just cry, he wailed in grief as he held the bloodied body of Mary Greig in his arms. He had not just let her down but he had let his beloved Mary Sinclair down too for not looking after her cousin. How often over the years had his Mary told him that her cousin knew something about the missing Cameron girl and each time he had reproached her for bringing up the subject as it was something his employer was uncomfortable with.

‘Oh God forgive me.’

An hour later, my heart was in my mouth as I pulled up in my Golf with Jake and Calum. I hadn’t thought it possible for that many vehicles to fit on my folks’ drive. There was an ambulance and two police cars amongst the throng. I sat for a minute to let that awful sensation of sickness at the back of my throat settle.

I got out and couldn’t decide who to approach first, so was pleased when Frankie emerged from a huddle to approach the three of us directly. He pulled at my arm to lead me to a quiet part of the back garden with Jake and Calum following faithfully.

‘Come over this way, let me fill you in.’

Even on the short walk, I witnessed my sister-in-law Liz comforting my mother, the pair of them in tears and Malcolm and Lotte Chisholm in prayer with Sandra Hogg. We had missed a lot.

Frankie had the art of the debrief down to a fine skill, his police training very much in evidence.

So… Mary Greig, Stuart Haig and PC Ruth Kennedy were dead, my dad had a head injury and was concussed, matching the trauma to Roy Grigor and PC Roddy McLaren, and Ronnie Grigor had been winged with a bullet. Rosie had been shot and though in pain from likely fractured ribs, was very much alive thanks to the vest Abe had insisted on in Amsterdam. Swank Dunbar and Jackson Haig were in custody. Certainly a main offender, Michael Kyle had taken off to destination unknown. Abe Beaton had eventually left in pursuit voicing retribution of the most profound order. Everyone else of note – Lawrie, Finlay, Henke, Slink, and Ian McGlashan were in my parents’ living room with the other able-bodied souls trying to give initial statements to a couple of Frankie’s colleagues.

I let Jake and Calum go ahead of me to find Shirley who had come over to find her son, when Frankie tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear. ‘You’re sleeping up at ours tonight once the commotion dies down. But we’ve got some other visitors, so you’ll have to share a room. Here they come now – you better say hello.’

‘Daddy, Daddy, we’ve come to see you, Daddy.’

I turned around to be confronted with the wonderful sight of Lisa, Flora and Alain, still resplendent in his military fatigues. I collapsed to my knees, unashamedly in tears, to accept the collision of my daughter at her own height. She successfully winded me and I couldn’t get a word out to my lovely wife. She ruffled my hair and stroked my chin. ‘What, no razorblades in Holland?’

EPILOGUE

A very quick month passed after the events at the Commando. My parents had hired Kilmallie Hall in Corpach for a ceilidh to celebrate the return of their stolen daughter. Rosie had initially been reticent at the thought, but recognising the unequivocal joy of her parents as being more important than her own feelings, she accepted the gesture and even went to the extreme, at least in her book, of trying to restore her natural hair colour by washing out the pink and blonde, and getting her hair shorn in the salon in Inverlochy that my mother had used for decades. By the evening of song and dance, the dark brown locks were visible once again, albeit in a pixie style. Especially for the evening, my mother had bought her a pink gingham mini dress set off with a clan Cameron tartan plaid over her left shoulder – a bold denegation of that fateful day.

I entered the building with Lisa on my arm, Alain and Flora having charged ahead to the dancefloor. My father-in-law, bless him, had hired a kilt for the evening and was keen to show his sense of Gallic rhythm in a Strip the Willow. We had only been back in Lochaber for a couple of days, having left the restaurant in the capable hands of Alain’s parents and our most reliable staff. It was good for Alain and Lisa to get a break again from the business. He marvelled at how late the sun set in summertime in Scotland and was as excited as a child at Frankie’s promise of fishing trips.

Frankie’s suspension was lifted but he would still face an inquiry into his previous behaviour. Unsurprisingly, his old boss, Chief Inspector Norman McCulloch, snooker and golf partner to Ronnie Grigor, decided to take immediate retirement and was last heard of heading to Toronto to visit relatives. Frankie and Liz had managed to repair their marriage, with Frankie promising to leave the force no matter what the findings of his investigation in order to give more time to Liz and the children. He had always fancied a career as a private investigator and now was the time to explore this option in more detail.

Caroline Gillies was on the dancefloor with her son, the most junior of the Grigors. Excitingly for her, the furore of Rosie’s return had opened up an avenue of hope in her pursuit of a change in access to her son. With Roy Grigor facing serious jail time, a realistic opportunity lay ahead for Caroline and her son to join her previous beau in Australia.

My mother and father sat at the main table on the left-hand side of the low stage above the dancefloor, far enough away from the band of traditional musicians to allow conversation to be understood. Three weeks ago, on his recuperation from concussion, we had all sat down as a family and discussed his diagnosis. He was fully aware of the prognosis but refused to limit his activities until it was absolutely necessary. In truth, he made it easy for us, as he wouldn’t tolerate any negativity on his behalf. He proudly informed me, that in September, Rosie was taking him on a tour of US Civil War battlefields, that was being organised by the father of one of her ex-boyfriends. The pair had remained on good terms and his parents always insisted on Rosie coming to dinner anytime she was in Maryland.

‘That’ll be a thrilling holiday for Rosie too,’ I mooted, but like in days gone by, I was smacked on the head by my mother for sarcasm before my father had assessed the comment.

I can only guess at the profundity of change that my sister had endured. But she wore it well. Since the grim night of deaths that was oh-so-recent, a day did not go by when a beaming smile did not appear on her face, although the death of Mary Greig had severed what had been a comforting cord with Lanark; the primary school cook who was a friend of her faux grandparents. Rosie never ventured far from my parents or Jake, but she also formed tight alliances with Liz and Shirley. She did announce that she would have to return to New York for a short spell, but her exposure to the courts in The Hague had made her realise that Europe would be her ultimate employment destination.

Shirley and Lawrie inevitably became the couple that family hatred and time had denied them for decades. As both their current premises were too small to accommodate the pair of them and their inestimable dependents, Calum and Finlay, a new build was on the cards, with a plot in upper Banavie not far from my parents having already been identified. Slink and his father had already been promised the lodge on the Spean for a peppercorn rent.

Until the courts could unravel the legitimacy of the Haig businesses, a financial arbitrator had been appointed to work with Sandra, Bruce and Lawrie mainly to ensure staff remained in employment for the time being.

Charlie Grigor remained a remarkable man in many ways. Almost as if he expected his errant father and son to meet their nemeses eventually, Charlie had ensured a ring of steel existed to protect the legitimate Grigor businesses from unnecessary scrutiny. Sure, the family would undoubtedly lose a lot financially but they would survive and the only ones in prison would be that bitter old rogue of a father, his entitled maniac of a son and the killer boyfriend his daughter had brought home to dinner.

Tom Landells did his best to mitigate the effects of the paperwork that Lawrie had presented to the authorities, but the evidence showing financial irregularities and references to the sale of illegal drugs was overwhelming. Even with the best lawyer in the Central Belt, a custodial sentence beckoned.

I caught a quick glance of my friend Aamir hugging my mother up on the stage. If anyone in this whole affair could be thought of as a victor, it was my mother. Depressed for decades, having lost her daughter, living apart from her husband, with her oldest son living in a foreign country, her inner light had been fading. In a quiet moment my father revealed to me that it was in fact my mother and not him, who had sanctioned the drastic action that had been successful in summoning me from France. It was something that I had no plans to discuss with her.

My life had changed. I no longer carried the burden of guilt that had haunted me for three decades, and I now experienced undisturbed sleep unless Flora or Trampas sat on my face in attempts to retrieve me from these novel slumbers. I decided to avoid locum work for a while to work full-time at the restaurant – I was going to prioritise family commitments before anything else. This would also result in more visits back to see my Scottish family than had been the normal practice until this spring.

Jake maintained the short-haired, well-groomed look illustrating his departure from the long-term despair that had enveloped him for so long. He delighted in the company of his lawyer niece, and he renewed his enthusiasm for his motorbike and his musical instruments, often providing Calum with tuition as the teenager’s new garage band found its wings.

Calum asked Jake what had been the greatest change in his life since Rosie’s rescue. He replied that no longer did he have to repaint the gable wall of the family home – the Conshee stigma disappeared overnight with the downfall of the two aberrant families.

Abe was a rarely-seen figure and as soon as it was announced that despite being an integral figure in the demise of his previous employers and the safe return of my sister, he would have to face legal investigation, he seemed to disappear altogether.

He re-emerged in Jake’s company at the rear of the church for the funeral services of both Ruth Kennedy and Mary Greig. Police officers were present at both events but they refused to approach the man who had contributed so much to help.

In the aftermath of the burials, Abe informed Jake and Frankie that he was not afraid of facing charges but first he had to hunt down and kill Michael Kyle, as he worried that he would not receive the justice he deserved. Frankie shook his hand, turned on his heel and pretended that there had been no dialogue to report. Jake said, ‘Sign me up.’

SEVERAL MONTHS LATER

Nordnes, or rather the Republic of Nordnes as the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood lying on the peninsula in central Bergen would have you refer to it, has unique character and charm. Not large in size, the district has great significance in the history of Norway’s second city – even being the site of public executions in the Middle Ages.

It is the home of Erik Pedersen, a friend of Jake’s for the past fifteen years since they both took part in an ultramarathon in Sweden. They had bonded over their love of music and running.

Abe had received a tip-off that Michael Kyle had been seen on the western seaboard of Norway in a couple of towns from Bergen to Stavanger. This would have implied that Kyle had managed to somehow inveigle his way into a position in either the fishing industry or the oil support services.

The three men sat in Nordnes Park, not far from the small self-catering property that two of them had been renting for the past few weeks. Above them on the bank sat two red motorcycles, a Honda Goldwing and an Indian Scout. Jake and Abe were rueing the fact that it appeared they had missed Michael Kyle by two days. The bar manager in Haugesund, just down the coast, had positively identified Kyle from Abe’s photograph, adding that he had to ask him to leave the bar as he had made indecent proposals to a group of young women in the bar, one of whom had been his daughter.

Erik had been a wonderful host but Abe recognised that it was an opportune time to leave Norway and get back on Kyle’s trail. It transpired that Kyle had paid a Scots trawler captain to transport him back to his home country with as little attention as possible. But the Scottish fisher families are a tight bunch and word spread amongst those active in Norwegian waters and ports that a sleazy ex-pat had bought his passage home.

Abe was back in good favour with his family in Mallaig for helping take down the Grigors and Haigs. As soon as William Matson’s crew informed their skipper of Kyle’s activity and departure from Haugesund, Matson contacted his old friend Alec Beaton who was currently berthed in Trondheim with his own trawler.

The plan now was for Alec to pick up Abe and his bike in Bergen and head home in pursuit of his foe.

Jake would enjoy Erik’s company for a few more days, fit in a couple of gigs and visit a couple of new restaurants before catching the Newcastle ferry back to Blighty.

TWO MONTHS LATER – SPRING 2001

The Knipoch Inn is a stunning establishment in the hamlet of the same name a few miles south of Oban. It sits in a beautifully tranquil spot and serves up the most exquisite cuisine. My mother and Jake had visited on several occasions over recent years – a highly accessible short break with the most splendid hospitality.

The manager welcomed Jake back like an old friend and was equally delighted to shake hands with his shaven-headed acquaintance. They had booked a twin room for five days but were planning to visit the Inner Isles for the middle days and would leave their motorcycles here whilst they were absent. Jake’s friend was a wildlife enthusiast apparently, and his visit to the area coincided with the return of the corncrake to Scottish shores. They would take a taxi to the ferry in Oban but their rucksacks contained no photographic materials below their sleeping and camping equipment. Instead, inside lay Abe’s weaponry of choice.

After the ferry docked in Coll, the two men sought advice on wild camping at the shop in Arinagour. In typical West Highland tradition, the assistant was delighted to offer use of their back green. Three hours later in the bar at the Coll Hotel, the two men shared a game of doubles in a pool match with a pair of local men who provided them with the information they were looking for.

The pair of them could indeed spend a chunk of time down near the airfield looking for the elusive bird, and indeed that was a good site to explore as reports of their harsh cries had already been noted there earlier in the week. They would be unlikely to disturb anybody in that location, but look out for a grumpy individual who was an odd-job man and had rented a caravan adjacent to the ruins of Old Breachacha Castle for the past couple of months. No problem.

The following morning Abe and Jake set out from Arinagour having informed their genial hosts that they were planning to take a walk over to the north-east of the island but instead took the road to the south-west. After nearly an hour of walking they came across the airfield of the island and sure enough, they could hear the ‘krek, krek’ call of the corncrake coming from the pastures on the left.

The two men nodded their acknowledgement of the presence of the rail species to each other but kept on walking, having noted from a distance the walls of the old castle beyond New Breachacha Castle. They spotted the caravan and simultaneously crouched together without anyone being visible. They put their rucksacks down before Abe reached into his and retrieved a knife.

If this was indeed the current residence of Michael Kyle, they had to be properly prepared.

Jake and Abe were four feet from the caravan door treading slowly and quietly, when the door opened wide. And there stood Michael Kyle, complete with a bushy grey-flecked beard and shoulder-length hair. He took a couple of seconds to appreciate the jeopardy he was in before turning quickly and retreating into his hideaway. Abe charged after Kyle and ankle tapped him, sending him onto a bunk before he could reach his shotgun. Quickly both intruders had Kyle face down on the bunk, his hands restrained behind his back.

‘I knew it would be you two who would come after me. Two damaged souls dishing out punishment. The cops already have the really bad guys.’

‘Nothing you don’t deserve,’ Abe seethed. ‘You’re a murderer and a rapist.’

‘Well, go on then, get it over with. Just be aware, they will track you down!’ And with that comment Kyle managed to get his right hand free and onto the handle of a small pistol below an underlying blanket.

But Abe’s reflexes were still lightning fast and the knife left his hand and in a flash, had buried itself in Kyle’s precordium. A sudden gasp and his life was nearly over.

There was no elation shared by the two men; just a sense of relief, a mission over. After a couple of minutes of quiet contemplation, Abe decided that they would get Kyle’s body into the bay weighed down with rocks, of which there were plenty around. A couple of old sacks and some rope made the task manageable.

Both excellent swimmers, Jake and Abe were able to haul their victim out a fair distance on an old piece of chipboard before despatching him to the depths.

As they dried off, there was no evidence of anyone having witnessed their crime. But something was bothering Jake. Why did Kyle sound so confident when he sneered about them being tracked down? He discussed it with Abe who was keen to get away to the village, but he agreed that a quick look around may be helpful.

They looked around the caravan, careful not to touch anything afresh, then wandered over to the old castle to the side they had not yet seen. On top of the wall, two ravens greeted them with synchronised croaks that sounded mocking in tone.

‘By God, the cheeky bugger,’ Abe voiced.

‘Aw, bloody hell no!’ Jake retorted.

A long ladder lay pitched against a main wall, and there, high up, were written in giant letters in white paint C O N S H E.

‘Oh well, Jake, only six letters to paint out this time. If we rush it, we’ll make the late ferry.’

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

For their patience, inspiration and motivation; without whom Conshee would not have come to fruition.

Joan Dunn

Abbie Dunn

Donald Tait

James Stewart

Lauren Boyd

WAT run club

Ruth Donaldson