Who is She?

by V Clifford

  ‘It was messy at the time, but it was dealt with. Your mother didn’t want the money. She made sure the community got it.’

  ‘Now you’ve lost me. She handed the whole lot over to a community? Where? Berlin? Some small town in Germany?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, a small town not a million miles from here.’

  Viv stood with her mouth open. Mac put his finger under her chin. ‘You look like a guppy.’

  She brushed him away and said, ‘Surely not Doune?’

  ‘No, not Doune.’

  She blew out a breath. ‘So where? You obviously know about it.’

  He flashed a look at Mac, ‘The money’s been invested. It’s no longer anything to do with Trude.’

  Viv bristled at the sound of her mum’s name. No one called her Trude but her dad. She thought about the letters and the account book, which clearly had nothing in it. ‘What can you tell us that might help us to find her?’

  As if he’d made a decision that Viv was on the right side of the angels he rolled his shoulders and said, ‘Greta was kept in protective custody near Comrie. If she told her sons about that well . . . maybe . . .’

  Mac said, ‘Thanks, we’ll get a look at Cultybraggan.’ He gestured for Viv to leave.

  Once in the car she yelled, ‘For fuck sake, anyone would think we were the enemy! You’d think they’d just want her to be safe, but no they just want to cover their backs.’

  Daylight was fading as they edged their way out of the house’s drive onto the track, now a couple of inches deep in snow which was still pouring down.

  Mac was sombre. ‘You’re not being fair. They signed the OSA and took that very seriously. Even when someone’s life is in danger they won’t give anything away, regardless of who’s asking. Old school.’

  ‘That’s bullshit and you know it. I have clearance. I know how this works and if one of your own is in danger . . . Oh, never mind, why am I telling you what you already know? Stop feeding me BS and let’s go over to this . . . Culty . . .’

  ‘Cultybraggan. It’s a huge camp about fifteen miles from here.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to mention this before?’

  ‘I did think of it, but it’s occupied, so I thought it unlikely. In fact it’s been bought by . . .’ he hesitated, ‘the community.’

  ‘Christ, Mac, what the . . . Let’s take a look.’

  Mac switched his radio on and caught the end of a weather forecast: ‘Snow drifting on minor roads will not be cleared by ploughs until much later tonight.’ He glanced at Viv. ‘We have to drive across a high route to get to the camp. It’s not wise. This thing doesn’t have snow tyres on it yet.’

  Viv shook her head. ‘The Rav has all-weather tyres. Let’s go back and get it.’

  It was impossible to see where the ditch started and the road ended. Snow swirled and blew, looking beautiful, but a real nuisance when you were trying to get anywhere. Gradually, inch by inch, they crawled their way back to the main road in the village, which hadn’t seen a plough yet. This was definitely the kind of powdery alpine snow that would compact, and if it froze there’d be trouble getting up and down the lane to Sal’s cottage. He stopped the car at the entrance to the estate. ‘We can leave this here. If I take it any further and we get stuck we might not get yours out.’

  They both jumped out, huddled their collars up to their chins and walked the rest of the way. Molly barked as they approached and Mand came to the window.

  She swung the door open. ‘Wow, this is a real change. James is captivated. It’s the first time he’s seen snow. I didn’t bring a snowsuit for him to go out in.’

  Viv said, ‘We never had snowsuits. We had woollen gloves and only came home when we were totally soaking and had chilblains.’

  Mand said, ‘That was then; this is now.’

  Viv said, ‘I’d feel better if you stayed indoors anyway. Mac and I are going to check out another place, a camp, if we can get to it.’

  ‘Don’t you go taking unnecessary risks. It’s bad enough having mum in danger.’

  Mac nipped to the loo so as to avoid the crossfire. When he returned Viv was standing by the door with her car key in her hand and her rucksack over her shoulder.

  She patted the side of the sack. ‘Everything we could ever need is inside this.’ She threw the key to Mac. ‘Best if you drive.’

  He caught the key and said, ‘Honoured indeed.’

  ‘Lock everything up when we leave. It’s not worth taking any chances.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Rav had traction so they would be safe to drive in most conditions.

  ‘We should go the long way round, via Crieff. I don’t fancy our chances over the moor. There’s a sheer drop on the south side that not even the Rav could cope with.’

  Viv said, ‘Okay, if you say so. You know the area better than me. I’d rather we got there in one piece.’

  The motorway had been gritted but was already down to one lane. The snow was blowing from the east and building up really quickly. They didn’t have to be on the motorway for long and within five minutes Mac pointed to a sign. ‘We go off here.’

  The slip road was even more dodgy, but he slowed and continued through the village of Greenloaning. Nothing green about it today. The windscreen wipers were going nineteen to the dozen and he was only just managing to see the road.

  ‘God, the snow takes over so quickly. No road markings; no sign of the pavement. The only good thing about it is movement of anything will leave prints.’

  Mac was sombre. ‘We can’t be sure she’s at Cultybraggan. There are a few other derelict camps on the Carse. He could have taken her to any of them. Culty is the only one that’s still being used. I’d be surprised if he took her there. People would notice his movements and ask questions.’

  ‘He could easily make up a story, an excuse for being there. Research usually covers it.’

  Mac nodded. ‘He doesn’t strike me as the type to get involved with explanations. He’d planned your attack, but the bunker on the route for the run was probably a lucky coincidence.’

  The snow continued to pelt against the windscreen. He was down to twenty miles an hour. ‘This is tricky. I didn’t see a forecast for a whiteout, did you?’

  He shook his head, ‘“The possibility of a few flurries” of snow was how they put it. Although they always say something different for the “high ground”, whatever that means. This,’ he gestured ahead, ‘doesn’t strike me as particularly high, but what do I know? You’re the mountaineer.’

  ‘Bull. Why do people confuse climbers with mountaineers? They’re not the same breed. As a climber I’d rather be airlifted into the bottom of a climb and airlifted back out from the top. A mountaineer would enjoy all the struggle of getting there over rough terrain, doing the walk or climb, abbing off and walking back out. Not for me, matey.’

  The snow was driving across the fields and building up against the fence. They had to slow to a crawl, since it obscured where the road ended and the verge began. Viv sat forward with her eyes next to the glass, but it made no difference. Mac dipped the headlights which helped, but there was no let-up. It was beautiful.

  ‘D’you want to stop or turn around? This is precarious.’

  ‘I’ll keep on for a few minutes. We’re not far from Crieff now. Glad I brought this’ He tapped the screen of the sat nav.

  ‘Good luck trusting one of those.’

  Within minutes Crieff came into view and as soon as they were sheltered on each side by buildings, the road edges became visible and the going easier. It was like travelling through a ghost town, the good people of Perthshire heeding the latest local warnings to stay off the roads. Even if she’d heard warnings Viv couldn’t have remained at home waiting. She was like a cat on hot bricks, her head flicking from side to side, checking for signs of a black pick-up truck. He could be anywhere; the last sighting was so long ago and God knows how many black pick-ups were out there. Mac had the blower on full blast to
stop the inside of the windows from steaming up but it was still difficult to see clearly with snow pelting down. Wherever the German had her mum she hoped there was some form of heating. Mac’s phone rang and he switched it on to speaker.

  Ruddy’s voice made her pay attention.

  ‘We’ve got some info back on the video. The sound guys say that it was made underground. They can tell from the amount of echo or the absence thereof that it was made where there are soft furnishings. Probably a carpet on the floor and maybe wall hangings. Your best bet in the area is Cultybraggan. Keep me posted.’ He hung up.

  ‘That’s good news. I thought it was a shot in the dark.’

  ‘I was just thinking about how cold she’ll be. Carpets would make a small difference.’

  ‘If there are carpets it’s because someone has invested in it. That could also mean heating that works and loos. Remember he needs amenities as well.’

  They reached a road sign almost covered by snow but with the ‘Com’ still discernible.

  Mac said, ‘About eight miles to go. Not easy miles, but we should be fine.’

  Viv, aware of doubt in his voice, ‘This is the safest way, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Like I said, the road over the moor would’ve been madness. If it gets too bad she’ll let us know.’ He pointed again to the sat nav.

  Viv shook her head. ‘I’m amazed that you’d rely on that at all.’

  Mac grinned. ‘Don’t knock it. She’s got me out of a few fixes.’

  ‘I’d have thought your sense of direction was pretty good.’

  ‘Why thank you; compliment accepted.’

  She tutted, ‘You can’t be in your position and not have a great sense of direction. It was one of my tests.’

  ‘What tests?’

  She slid round in her seat and stared at him, ‘You know fine well what tests.’

  ‘I don’t. I’ve no idea what you’re on about unless you’ve been through the . . . was it at Tulliallan?’

  ‘No, although I have been to Tully.’

  ‘So you’ve been on the “special” training course?’

  ‘Maybe you’re not supposed to know what training I’ve had.’

  He sighed, ‘All I need to know is that Ruddy, as you so fondly call him, seems to trust you and in this game that’s 99 per cent of the trick.’

  She snorted, ‘You think? I get the trust thing but . . .’

  ‘No, there are no buts. If he didn’t trust you it wouldn’t matter how good you were at the old hacking and info gathering, he couldn’t afford to have you on board. Now this thing with your mum . . .’

  ‘What? What thing with my mum? What difference does that make?’

  ‘Well, he already let you know that he knew your dad, and now you know that he also knows your mum.’

  ‘God, you make it sound like nepotism. Like I only get work cos they know my folks. I totally hate that.’

  He shook his head, ‘Christ, Viv, no matter how well he knew your family, if you were not the right person for the job he wouldn’t entertain you, so shut up with the nepotism crap. You’re working on your own merit, end of.’

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘I’m pretty freaked out to think about her as a spy. Maybe there’s been some mistake and she really was a secretary.’

  Mac laughed, ‘You’re brilliant at making up stories to fit your needs.’

  ‘Then I’m no different from anyone else.’

  ‘Except you are totally different from most people and that’s why you get to go on “special” training and whatever else he’s had you do without me knowing about it. It’s only in this one case, because it’s your mum, that you can’t separate your emotional attachment . . .’

  She interrupted him, ‘I don’t ever see any benefit in trying to separate emotion from reason. It’s not possible. All you do is privilege one over the other, but neither goes away and in my world it’s always better to remain aware of both equally. D’you remember at uni when that professor of philosophy went ape shit because he thought he was being accused of not being objective?’

  He said, ‘Yeah, I think I do remember something about that.’

  ‘Well, he only went ape shit because he valued, and I mean overvalued, reason and undervalued emotion. He was determined to be a man of the “Enlightenment”. He just didn’t get that things had moved on. God, he was nuts. Still saw women as overly emotional. I think he was “retired”, thank God. Total dinosaur.’

  ‘Well now that’s him sorted, we should be approaching Cultybraggan.’ He glanced at the sat nav screen and pointed again. ‘It’s in here somewhere.’

  The rooftops of Comrie were just visible on the right. Mac drove away from the town and on across a flat plain, the snow driving from the east. As they began to climb into an area of trees with a sharp bend off to the right Mac spotted an MOD sign.

  He pointed, ‘There. That’s where we’re going. Trust the sat nav now?’

  She didn’t answer, but stared at rows and rows of strange rounded huts covered in snow that made the place look like a scene from Disney. They reached the narrow entrance where a sentry box stood forlorn and a rusted barrier was up, so they drove straight ahead.

  Viv pointed to the road. ‘One set of fresh tyre tracks either going in or coming out.’

  Mac followed the tracks rapidly being eliminated by a fresh layer of snow. They reached a large building like an aircraft hangar with sliding doors. A tiny gap in the side let light out. Someone was here. Two fabulous shepherd’s huts, their wheelbases packed with snow, were parked to the side. The smaller of the two had steps at one end. Viv thought it would make an amazing travelling office. The other hut, twice the size, had steps up at the side and smoke coming from a small metal chimney on the roof. Mac stopped the Rav and they fastened up to their chins and jumped out. Heads down they ran towards the gap in the hangar doors from where the sound of some sort of music drifted out. The pair could see another couple of shepherds’ huts in the process of construction, and not yet on wheelbases. They stamped their feet to knock the snow off and to get the attention of anyone there.

  A woman wearing dungarees, a thick jumper, heavy soled boots and a hat with flaps that covered her ears came from behind one of the huts holding a plane for working the wood.

  ‘Hi. What can I do for you?’ She tucked a stray hair into her hat with a grubby hand encased in a fingerless glove.

  Mac said, ‘We’re looking for a man with a black pick-up.’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t know who was driving it, but there has been one here.’

  Viv said, ‘Has been? Does that mean he’s gone?’

  ‘I couldn’t say. I only saw the truck once and it was late into the night.’

  ‘Where was that exactly?’

  ‘It drove towards the bunker. Assumed it must be the new owner or something.’

  Mac said, ‘Where is the bunker?’

  The woman walked to the door and pointed. ‘See that fence? There’s an entrance about a hundred metres along. It’s chained with a padlock.’

  Viv said, ‘Thank you, that’s great.’

  They got back into the Rav and drove towards a twelve-foot high fence with a roll of razor wire at the top. Not clear whether they were on tarmac or not Mac edged the Rav along the fence until they reached the entrance. No tracks here. Not a good sign. The door sat within a discreet alcove. There was no evidence of a chain, so Viv scraped back some snow on the ground and uncovered it lying near the entrance. She examined the links. Bolt cutters had been used to sever them, so not the owner with a key who’d been in the middle of the night. Mac pulled at the door but it wouldn’t budge. Viv got behind him and gave it her best shot as well. Nothing doing, but there were marks on the ground so it had been moved recently. Like the blast door on the other bunker this one weighed a ton and there was no way they would shift it without a crowbar.

  Viv said, ‘Let’s ask her if she has anything we could borrow.’

  They jumped back into
the Rav and spun back round to the hangar.

  The woman came to meet them. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Not yet. You don’t have a crowbar handy?’

  She creased her eyebrows.

  Mac said, ‘We’re with the police.’ He produced his ID.

  She hesitated, but gave a curt nod. ‘I’ll get it.’ She strode over to the far side of the hangar where all manner of tools were hanging on hooks. She brought back a long metal bar with a thin edge at one end. ‘This do?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Viv said. ‘We’ll bring it back when we’re done.’

  This time they managed to lever the door and scrape it towards them far enough to squeeze inside. In its early days the now-damaged seal on the inside would have prevented them doing this. They walked down a long corridor with the torch on Viv’s phone lighting the way, until they reached the next blast door.

  ‘God, they weren’t taking any chances with the doors, were they.’

  ‘That was the point. Those privileged enough to get inside were safe and nothing was supposed to get to them.’

  Viv was scornful. ‘You think it would have worked? I mean in the event of an actual nuke how long would it take for the earth out there,’ she pointed to where they entered ‘to be safe enough to live off again?’ She blew out a long breath, the idea incomprehensible to her. ‘Madness. Total madness.’

  Mac said, ‘I bet he’s a man of routine. Worth going straight to the bunkroom where he kept you.’

  Unlike the Doune bunker there was no light switch for the corridor but the floors were carpeted and the walls looked as if they’d been newly painted white. Mac led the way past doors on either side with signs indicating what each was used for. Laundry, Boiler room, Water processing, Studio, and eventually they came to a room marked ‘Male bunks’. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, immediately putting out his arm to stop Viv coming any further. ‘Wait.’

  Viv muscled round him and caught her breath. He grabbed her arm but she pulled free, whimpering, ‘No.’

  On one of the bunks in the farthest corner someone lay on their back, a blanket covering them completely. Viv rushed forward and lifted the blanket to reveal the head. ‘Bastard! What a bastard!’ She yelled as she yanked the blanket clear of a blow-up doll. ‘He’s playing games now.’