by V Clifford
They drove through the large farmyard where there was evidence of lots of vehicle movement. On the left a dark green modern shed housed cattle. They were already feeding, their heads protruding through metal rails and munching from a trough that was almost full. The farmer must have been around very recently, but there was no sign of anyone now. Viv opened her window, but rapidly shut it again. ‘Wow, what a stink. I suppose you get used to it when you’ve got it day in day out.’
Mac grinned. ‘A country girl you are not.’
‘Well, that should be no surprise to you who’ve known me for . . . ever. Always loved the feeling of tarmac beneath my feet. Never been a fan of anything squelchy.’
He raised his eyebrows. She play-punched his upper arm. ‘You!’
A modern farmhouse, with lights on in the downstairs rooms, stood at the furthest point on the yard away from the road. The roof of the two-storey villa was topped with photovoltaic panels, its plain white pebbledash exterior a sign that it was built for purpose not aesthetics. A flat area to one side with a sagging washing line seemed to confirm this.
Mac said, ‘Always an early start for these guys. Unsung heroes. I mean where would we all be without them? I wouldn’t make a habit of getting up at five or six in the morning. And I don’t even need to ask if you would?’
‘There.’ She pointed, ‘There’s a gap between those small barns.’
Mac drove the Rav towards it. Another vehicle had already been there. He turned his wheels to drive through but noticed, in the rearview mirror, the door to the house open and a man come out tucking his trousers into boots and shrugging into a jacket. He marched towards them, scowling like the proverbial grumpy Farmer Jack as he pulled on a cap.
‘What do you think you’re up to?’ he growled at them.
Mac didn’t waste any time and pulled out his ID. He lowered his window and held it up.
‘That’s all well and good, but doesn’t explain why you’re here.’
Mac said, ‘We’re looking for a black pick-up.’
The man stepped back slightly, ‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘It’s complicated, but if you’ve seen him where would we find him?’
The farmer pointed to the house. ‘He’s in his bed. No chance of him being up before daylight.’
‘I think we’re talking at cross purposes.’
‘My boy drives a black pick-up.’
‘Nissan?’ Viv asked.
The farmer didn’t look at her. ‘No, his is a Mitsubishi.’
‘So, have you seen another pick-up around?’
The farmer removed his cap and scratched his head. ‘Can’t say I have.’
‘Not heard anything in the night?’ Viv said.
Again he replied to Mac. ‘Well, that’s a different question. I have heard someone in the night, but they didn’t stop in the yard; they went along behind the wood.’
Viv again. ‘Did you follow them?’
‘No.’ He turned and gestured with his head. ‘There’s a way out about a mile further on. There’s a development of houses on the old military site. There’s nothing to steal between me and the building site. There used to be pheasant in the pen at the end of the wood but not now.’
Mac said, ‘You mind if we take a look then?’
‘On you go. There hasn’t been anyone at the development for weeks. Think they’ve run out of cash.’ He gave a hint of a smile, as if he was relaxing.
They were about to go on their way and his son was in the clear, so why wouldn’t he relax?
The Rav had no difficulty on snow that hadn’t been compacted and they bumped their way along the side of the wood. Viv pointed to a spot ahead. ‘Here. I think this is where he got out to take a leak.’
Sure enough, a luminous patch of yellow as yet not re-covered by snow. There was nothing else to see until a little further on they spotted an area where the lower branches of the trees had been removed and stacked into A-shaped hides. Presumably this was the pheasant pen. At the end of the wood they were in open countryside, with unsullied white fields on either side but no sign of a development. Another half mile on and the top of an industrial cement mixer came into view, followed by the ubiquitous blue panels of unfinished buildings sitting in a dip that couldn’t be seen from the farm. Right in the middle of the development stood a concrete wartime pill box. The side facing them was covered in black graffiti. Mac glanced at Viv who was chewing her lip. Once they reached the site they could see where the tracks had stopped. There were multiple footprints on both sides of the ruts, so two people had got out. The driver had walked round and then back. The activity was confusing; prints over prints over prints. Not easy to decipher. But the tyre tracks then continued.
Viv hissed, ‘Shit!’
‘We still have a track to follow.’
‘Yes, but they’ve been here then gone . . . somewhere else.’
They jumped out of the Rav and walked to the entrance. A rusty metal door easy to open, another corridor with water dripping in through the roof, so not as well built as the other bunkers. Viv switched on her phone torch and they continued inside. It was a smaller space but still with rooms marked Radio control room, Boiler room, Dry store and Toilet, off to one side.
‘So this was for radio communication, not for saving the great and the good of a community?’
‘It doesn’t feel as if they actually spent any time here.’
‘They couldn’t. Must just have done a recce and decided it was too wet . . . We can but hope.’
‘Imagine if you were him. You’d no more want to spend your nights in a freezing bunker than fly to the moon. I wonder if he’s ended up using the pick-up?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s possible, but maybe too cosy. Let’s get to Dunblane and gather the cash. We’ve got a date to keep.’
‘There’s no guarantee that the bank will do it.’
‘Don’t underestimate Ruddy.’
‘I don’t, but there’ll be all sorts of legal loopholes to get through, and probably a JP involved. All takes time.’
Viv’s belly contracted. ‘Ruddy will make it happen.’
Mac glanced at her. ‘You do know he’s human, right?’
She ignored him. Since Ruddy had known both of her parents they were definitely ‘family’ to him. He’d pull out every stop possible to make it happen. She had to believe that. The development’s exit was on a narrow B road, but within a quarter of a mile they were on to an A route which was only four miles from the motorway.
Mac had to do a dodgy right turn across the motorway but at that time of the day there was still very little traffic. The snow was both a godsend and a hassle. The ploughs had been out and cleared both lanes so the journey back was effortless. Doune was still and quiet but with a few more lights on in houses.
Molly barked as they walked to the front door.
‘That’ll be Mand and James awake now.’
She had no need to worry; they were already up and sitting at the kitchen table.
Mand looked questioningly at Viv.
Viv shook her head. ‘No luck.’
Mac’s phone rang and he did as he always did and took it outside.
When he returned he said, ‘Let’s get another look at those videos.’
Viv said, ‘Why? Who was that?’
‘One of the tech guys I sent them to. He has a theory.’
‘Well, let’s hear it then.’
‘He thinks that the videos were made at the same time and that the newspapers are fake.’
‘Shit! I should go with my instinct. When I saw them I got a funny feeling in my gut, but just didn’t pay attention to it.’
She ran the videos again. Between the two there was barely forty-five seconds of footage. The first was slightly longer than the second. ‘He could have just moved her from one room to another, or out into the corridor. Bastard!’
‘The second bit sounds different, but it could just be down to the absence of carpet on the floor.’
&n
bsp; Viv checked the Scotsman’s website for the headlines of the days he’d posted. Both were different from the real front pages. She pulled at her hair and yelled. James flinched and his lip trembled. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare . . .’
Mand glared at her, scooped James up and shushed him back to peace.
‘So where does that leave us? If the videos were taken on the first day, Sunday, then we haven’t seen her for two whole days.’
Mac’s phone rang again.
Viv paced round the kitchen trying to make sense of why he would do that. To take two videos at the same time was premeditating something, but what? What had he planned? And had he done whatever he wanted to?
Mac returned. ‘You’ll never believe this.’
‘Try me.’
‘He’s left the country. Got on a flight to Berlin at six-thirty this morning.’
‘How can he? How can that be?’
The timing was unbelievably tight.
‘Who was that?’
‘The boss, Ruddy. He’d put out an alert at Scottish airports. The pick-up was returned and . . . doesn’t matter about the how, but he’ll be questioned at the other end by German police.’
‘D’you think he came with a return flight expecting to be here for three or four days? Totally unbelievable. What has he done with her?’
‘The pick-up is being impounded, so at least we’ve got that before it’s been cleaned. There’ll be evidence inside. Always a trace of something.’ He walked into the conservatory and stared out. ‘I don’t know why, but I don’t think he’s . . .’
‘Don’t say it. It’s like tempting fate. So what about that café? That was just an additional wild goose chase. We should go now. He might have dumped her there.’
Mac already had a map up on his phone, looking at the route between where they’d been this morning already and the café, and how long it was from the café to the airport. ‘It’s possible. Look.’ He traced the route with his finger as Viv tracked it.
‘Okay, let’s get back out there. We still don’t know what we’ll find. Mand, I’m sorry I yelled. Is he okay?’
Mand said, ‘He’s fine. Life’s pretty quiet with only two of us. Take care out there. This guy’s a trickster.’
Mac drove back the same way they’d just been. ‘Wondering about the brother.’
‘Me too. I wonder if he turned up to help or to . . . oh, God knows. This is mad. His return home means one of two things. Either he got what he came for or he didn’t. I have to hope that he didn’t and that she’s okay.’
‘It hasn’t occurred to you . . .’
‘Most things have occurred to me, but I can’t bear to think of them.’
Once off the motorway the road hadn’t been cleared, so their journey to the café was pretty hairy on compacted snow. Dawn was edging its way up across the eastern horizon, but there were still few vehicles about. There were half a dozen cars in the car park and the place was lit up like a beacon. A sign on the door said ‘Closed’, so they knocked on the glass. Music on inside was evidence of life.
Mac knocked harder. ‘Wait here, I’ll go round the back.’
Within seconds someone approached the door from inside and let her in. Mac was in the kitchen already, questioning the cook.
He was nodding as Viv approached. ‘What time was this?’
‘Oh, we’ve only been in for an hour and a half. She was at the door when we arrived.’
The smell of fried onions and home baking intermingled, and the cook wiped her brow with the back of her hand.
Mac continued, ‘And you say she made a phone call?’
The cook nodded. ‘Yes. Said her battery had gone flat and could she use the phone, and she did.’
‘Then what?’
‘Someone came to pick her up.’
Viv said, ‘What was he like?’
‘Not sure, didn’t see.’
Mac said, ‘Driving an old Land Rover?’
‘I didn’t see . . . she was in a bit of a mess.’
Viv drew in breath. ‘D’you mean she was hurt or just grubby?’
‘Oh, she was hurt. But wouldn’t hear of us helping.’
Viv marched back out to the Rav, but had to wait a few minutes before Mac came out.
‘Find out anything more?’
‘Not really. But why . . .’ He left the question hanging.
‘Only one way to find out. Let’s go speak to the Colonel.’
The route back to Doune was busier now and the sun was up. Snow already showed signs of melting, car tracks were turning to slush, and a salty shower from lorries sprayed over the windscreen. The track up to the Colonel’s house was even more precarious than last time; it was as if the camber had been designed by a slalom expert. The Rav slid this way and that on hard snow. No luck on the melting here. By some fluke Mac managed to keep them out of the ditch. They backed into his drive blocking in the Colonel’s car. Mac jumped out, went to the Land Rover and laid his hand on the bonnet; warm.
The Colonel came to the door and said, ‘Any luck yet?’
This was not what Viv wanted to hear. ‘We were hoping you’d be able to tell us.’
His brows knitted in confusion. ‘I haven’t heard from her. What makes you think I would have?’
Viv glared at him. Was he telling the truth or just a fabulous liar?
Mac said, ‘Been out already this morning?’
The Colonel nodded. ‘Of course. I’ve been to the village for my newspaper.’ He beckoned them in. Same routine as last time, with the dogs hugging their beds by the Aga until they absolutely had to get up and greet the new arrivals. A few sniffs and they retreated. Viv could understand why. She could see her breath ahead of her in the kitchen. If this was the heart of the home she’d hate to think what the rest of the house felt like. The Times was open on the table. At the obits page she noticed. What was it with old people and obituaries? Desperate to be the last man standing? She checked the date. He was telling the truth.
Her mind reeled at the possibilities of who else her mum would ring. As the obituaries pages would testify, her circle of friends had diminished.
A strange sensation in her belly made her spin round to Mac. ‘I think I’ve got it.’ She strode outside and made a call. ‘Is she with you?’
Ruddy answered in the affirmative. ‘She doesn’t want to be seen.’
‘But she’s my mum.’
‘I know that, but she probably rang me because she didn’t want to alarm you.’
‘Christ, it’s way too late for that. What the hell has been going on? This has nothing to do with money, does it?’
‘We’ll talk about it soon enough, but for now she’s safe and in good hands.’
‘Whose hands?’
He sighed. ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell you where she was, so I have to keep that promise. But she’s seen a doctor and . . .’
‘But we have a right to know.’
He said, ‘All in good time. You’ll get the full story in good time.’
Viv stomped back inside and gestured to Mac with her head. ‘Let’s go.’
Mac came out behind her and started up the Rav’s engine, ‘Okay, spill.’
‘She’s with Ruddy. This whole thing has been a total wild fucking goose chase and some. He won’t tell me anything yet, but she’s in a bad way. I think she’s been taken to hospital. What have I missed? This is about something that we don’t know about. Have we been pawns?’
Mac said, ‘It’s unlikely. But if we have been it’ll have been for good reason.’
‘Not all reasons are good enough reasons. Look at the state Mand’s been in. Look at me. I’ve been a wreck. Oh, my God, it had better be good.’
‘Or what? You’ll just have to swallow it, Viv. If she went to Ruddy my guess would be that she’s got information for him.’
‘D’you think this whole thing has been about information gathering? What could he have that is so important to us? By us I mean the UK.’ She ch
ewed on the inside of her cheek and was silent for the rest of the journey.
Mac pulled up outside the village shop. ‘I think we need milk.’ He slammed the door and she watched as he sauntered along the pavement.
Whatever Ruddy needed, he’d taken a huge risk using her mum. So to take that kind of risk would mean something to do with the dreaded National Security. She racked her brain, trawling its depths for something in Kristian’s background. Her mind hooked the image of the flag on his Facebook profile. But what about his debt? Maybe it had nothing to do with debt, but something to do with politics. Mac appeared with milk, a bag of floury rolls, and a pack of bacon.
‘Thought we could use some sustenance. Been a while since breakfast.’ He grinned. ‘Good result, no?’
She couldn’t work out whether he was talking about potential bacon rolls or the fact that her mum was safe.
She scratched her head. ‘I think I’ve been barking up the wrong tree.’
He interrupted her, ‘Whatever tree you’ve been barking up you’ve done it because you believed it was the right one. You weren’t doing it for the good of your health.’
‘I think it might be to do with politics. He had a photograph of a flag on his Facebook profile. Far right, fascist shit. Why didn’t I do more with that?’
‘Because in the video she asked for money. How could you have known? I didn’t know. I was with you on the money thing.’
They risked driving the Rav right up to the door. No longer worried about a quick getaway.
Mand opened up. ‘Still no sign of her?’ She ran her hands roughly into her hair and turned back into the cottage.
Viv said, ‘She’s safe.’
Mand spun round. ‘How do you know?’
Viv plonked herself into a chair in the conservatory. ‘I spoke to the man she’s with.’
‘What man? She’s with that nut job.’
Viv stood and went to her sister, and for the first time in years hugged her. At first Mand was rigid, but Viv held on tight and Mand relaxed. Tears streamed down her face, which she swiped off with her sleeve. She said, ‘Where is she? How come . . .’
‘The only thing I know at the moment is that she’s safe and in good hands.’ Viv glanced at Mac for confirmation.
He nodded. ‘We’ll get the full story later. But the “nut job”, as you say, has left the country and your mum contacted our boss who picked her up and has taken her to get . . .’