Leeward

by D. Edward Bradley

  “The windows aren’t boarded up or anything,” said Meg. “But it looks like they have shutters inside, and they’re closed.”

  “Aye,” said Dougal shivering. “You’d need them in weather like this.” He dumped a knapsack on the sodden ground, and pulled out a plastic garbage bag to sit on, wedging his back against the rock so that he faced away from the cliff edge. “I’ve got my notepad out if you’ve anything worth writing down.”

  “I can’t see much of interest,” Meg answered. “They seem to have a rather odd TV aerial though. Just a second, I almost missed a long wire running from the top of the house to a small stand of pines on the other side. You’ll have to come out of your shelter to see what I mean, Dougal.” She smiled as she handed him her binoculars.

  Kurt swung his more powerful glasses away from the farmhouse and followed Meg’s directions. “I wonder why they’d string a cable into the trees?” he asked. “There must be something there to hook up to, but the cold air’s making my eyes water, and I can’t make out much of anything.” Kurt handed Meg his binoculars. “Maybe you can do better.”

  Meg focused them, then gasped. “It’s a satellite dish!”

  “They must have made a clearing so it has an uninterrupted line of sight in the right direction.”

  “Can you tell which way it’s pointing?” asked Dougal.

  “Not very well,” replied Meg. “More or less straight down Loch Hourn by the looks of it.”

  “Which is due west. It isn’t unusual to have a dish, but why hide it? Maybe we can get a closer look.”

  “Forget it,” said Kurt. “It’s my guess that the farm is a combined guardhouse and storage area.”

  The string of showers was beginning to thin out, and a watery sun penetrated the cloud from time to time. Dougal was about to get out a flask of coffee when he heard the sound of a distant motor. The indistinct rumble changed into a rhythmic thudding and became very loud as it approached from the sea. Then they saw it. A bright silver helicopter was speeding up the Loch only a few feet above the water. They were looking almost straight down on top of the rotors when the machine slowed to a hover above the lawn in front of the main house. The down draught blew away the carpet of leaves to form a circle of green grass below it. The chopper landed gently, and the engine slowed, but did not stop. The watchers above saw two men emerge from the cabin. One was dressed in a white sweater, and the other wore a dark overcoat. Both carried heavy briefcases.

  “What a bit of luck,” said Dougal. “We couldn’t have picked a better time to turn up. Did you get the registration of the chopper?”

  “No,” replied Kurt. “We’re too high up; it’s on the underside.”

  “Aye, of course. Not to worry, The Organization’s too clever to connect itself with anything but the most legitimate chopper company.”

  By this time the two men had gone into the house, and the helicopter’s power plant began to rev up. A few seconds later the aircraft lifted off, banked round over the satellite dish, and disappeared into next shower coming up the loch. Almost immediately the two men emerged from a side door of the house, accompanied by a woman. They all ran through the rain up the track to the farmhouse.

  Without saying anything Meg and Kurt swapped binoculars so the detective had the more powerful pair again. “They’re heading for that garage, the one facing this way. There may be something inside.”

  There was. The trio opened the doors and flicked on a light switch. The list of weapons that Kurt was able to identify was impressive. There were rifles with what appeared to be infrared sights, hand-held missile launchers, two larger missile launchers of the kind that could be mounted on a truck or boat, and submachine guns with curious oval-shaped magazines. Considering the doors were only open for about fifteen seconds, Kurt did well to see this much.

  “My God!” Meg exclaimed as he finished reciting the list for Dougal. “The place is a veritable arsenal!”

  “There’s sufficient space in the farmhouse to outfit a small army,” commented Kurt. “But I think we’ve seen enough. As I said, the setup here is obviously a storage area and communications center of some sort, and that’s all we need to know. If this is Norbase 2, what about Norbase 1? And how many Norbases are there? Three? Five? Ten? Let’s pack up and go.”

  “Aye, but before we do that, let me have a wee look around the countryside to make sure we’re in the clear.” Dougal reached over for Kurt’s binoculars. “I’m familiar with this kind of terrain, and if there’s anything fishy I’ll spot it.”

  It was just as well he took the precaution. The sun came out for a moment, bathing the hillside to the west in gold, and Dougal saw a brief reflection from a shiny surface as he concentrated on a small group of stunted birch. “We’d better get our arses out o’ here,” he warned. “If I’m not mistaken, someone’s been watching us from those trees up there, and if he has a walkie-talkie we could be in deep shit, if you’ll excuse my language, Meg.”

  With the Landrover a quarter of a mile away, Kurt suggested they make their departure as casual as possible, hoping the watchers wouldn’t realize they had been detected. Whether or not this would do any good was another matter. Making sure not to look up the slope to the hidden observer, they picked their way across the wet heather. Once they had stowed their gear and climbed in, Dougal drove the Landrover cautiously across the uneven ground to the little-used track that ran from west to east across the moor.

  Meg was in the back seat looking at a map, but with difficulty because their vehicle was constantly bouncing in and out of potholes. “You remember the paved road that started near the farmhouse? Well, the track we’re on joins it in about three miles. We turn right, and the main road from the Kyle of Lochalsh to Fort William is another twenty miles. And that, people, is by far the most dangerous part of our drive. There are no villages, and traffic is virtually nonexistent. But once we get to the main road, we’re definitely home free.”

  Kurt put a hand on the dash to steady himself. “Maybe there’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Perhaps you were wrong about the person on the moor, Dougal. He or she might have been birdwatching, or doing something equally innocent.”

  “It’s possible,” Dougal replied, “but keep your fingers crossed.”

  They continued on down the track, and emerged onto the narrow paved road from Loch Hourn about ten minutes later. Shortly thereafter, a dark blue Ford passed them going in the opposite direction. There were two occupants.

  “Did you see that?” asked Meg. “I’m sure those men were police.”

  “They certainly had uniforms on,” Kurt replied.

  Dougal glanced in the rearview mirror instinctively, then swore. “Bloody hell! They’ve turned round and want us to stop!”

  Meg looked back and saw a magnetically attached red light flashing on the roof of the Ford. “You’ll have to pull over, Dougal.”

  “Aye, maybe I was a wee bit over the limit. Still, to look on the bright side, we shouldn’t have any problems with our friends from Norbase 2 with the cops around.”

  While the road had two lanes, it was narrow and without a shoulder. Instead, each side had a low grassy bank topped by a hedge. This meant Dougal had no choice but to block the eastbound lane when he stopped. The police car pulled up about fifteen feet behind him. Dougal could see two officers in the rearview mirror, then the driver got out, opening his tunic pocket for the inevitable citation book.

  Kurt turned to Dougal. “I think you’d better open the window.”

  When this had been done, the policeman leaned forward and peered into the car. “May I see your driver’s license, sir? And I’ll need some identification from your passengers.”

  Dougal began to go through his wallet, and Kurt started to reach inside his anorak pocket for his passport, but he didn’t have a chance to get it out. Without any warning, Dougal dropped the wallet on his lap, slammed the Landrover into gear, and floored the gas pedal, all in a couple of seconds. But instead of going forward
s, the vehicle shot backwards. The policeman, who had been reaching through the window for Dougal’s license, was thrown against the bank. A split second later, there was a jarring smash as the rear end hit the radiator grille of the Ford, pulverizing the plastic and bursting the radiator itself. Instantly, Dougal changed gear and they screeched away at high speed.

  “Christ!” yelled Meg who had been flung sideways across the back seat. “What the hell did you do that for, Dougal? Now we’re in real trouble! The entire police force will be after us!”

  “No, they won’t,” Dougal replied. “They won’t even know we exist. That bloody sassenach we left sitting on the grass wasn’t a member of our esteemed Scottish Constabulary, he was a fake.”

  “A fake?” snapped Kurt as the Landrover screamed round a sharp bend in the road. “How could you possibly tell?”

  “His Scots accent was a put-on for a start, and a lousy one at that. Then there was a bulge under his tunic that looked like a gun. As you know Meg, the cops in this country aren’t allowed to carry guns. And last but by no means least, his pants were all crumpled, and didn’t have a proper crease. He’d never have been allowed on duty like that—sloppy bastard.”

  “So you reckon he was one of them?” said Meg.

  “Aye, without the slightest doubt.”

  It wasn’t long before they came to a straight and level piece of road about half a mile long with open moorland on either side. They had almost reached the far end when Dougal checked the mirror. The police car swung into sight, and there was no way the Landrover could outrun it.

  “Shit!” he said vehemently. “I thought I was being so clever, bashing in their radiator, but I suppose it didn’t work.”

  Meg twisted round in the back seat. “You must have done something, Dougal. It looks like it’s steaming. I don’t imagine their engine will last for long.”

  The Ford gained steadily on the Landrover until Meg could see the faces of the two men inside quite clearly. Then the passenger put his arm out of the window, and his hand held a gun.

  It seemed to Meg as though it was pointing straight at her head. “Dougal, he’s going to shoot at us! Look out!”

  Meg ducked out of sight but nothing happened. The Landrover heeled over as Dougal tore round the next bend, and the bullet, if there was one, went wide. A range of hills lay directly ahead, and the road rose in a series of hairpin bends to make its way across them. Dougal hoped the pursuers’ engine wouldn’t make the grade, but before they reached the incline there was a length of straight road, and once again Meg saw the hand with the gun emerge from the window. But the Ford was beginning to fade, and the distance between the two vehicles widened. A bullet did smash into one of the Landrover’s tail lights, but it was already broken from its encounter with the bogus police car’s radiator. Apart from that they escaped any damage. The hill got steeper, and just before the first hairpin bend, Dougal glanced in the rearview mirror again. At that moment the Ford blew its engine, and he saw a puff of steam and smoke as its innards disintegrated. They were in the clear.

  Dougal, noted that the road ahead climbed to the top of a pass between two low hills, their summits shrouded in cloud. In a few moments they would reach the crest.

  “I wonder what would have happened if they’d caught us,” he mused.

  “Something unpleasant,” said Kurt. “But your quick thinking was very professional.”

  Meg had ended up sprawled across the back seat. After straightening herself up, she put a hand on Dougal’s shoulder. “Never let me underestimate a Scotsman again, never.”

  “What’s that supposed to—Jesus! Hold on!”

  With a deafening roar, the helicopter reared itself up straight in front of them, a bare twenty feet above the blacktop. Dougal was certain one of its skids would rip the canvas roof from the Landrover, and he swerved violently, bumping over a shallow ditch into the heather. Meg grabbed the back of his seat when the vehicle tipped over on two wheels then righted itself as Dougal wrested it back to the road. The chopper veered away.

  “It’s the same one we saw at the house,” Kurt shouted above the noise of the Landrover’s racing engine. “If it’s armed we’re in big trouble.”

  “Maybe it’s going to pick up the policemen,” said Meg. “Otherwise someone would have shot at us.”

  “I doubt if a pistol or a rifle would be much use in a bucking helicopter, Meg. It’s quite windy, and there are a lot of updrafts. I was more concerned about machine guns mounted on the aircraft itself.”

  They both turned in their seats to see where the chopper had gone, but they had descended some way down the long hill ahead, and the view behind was completely blocked.

  “I’m going to assume the pilot’s collecting his friends,” said Dougal. “That’ll give us a few minutes lead time, but he’ll still have no problem picking us up, even if we get off the road. In any case, there doesn’t seem to be any cover to speak of. Mind you, if he’s going to stop us, he’ll have to do it before we reach the main highway from Kyle. Even if there isn’t much traffic, he wouldn’t dare attack us there. Once we get off this side road, all he can do is shadow us.”

  “That’s about three miles,” said Meg, turning round to face ahead. “How long will it take?”

  “Maybe five minutes.”

  “Then we’re as good as home free.”

  Unlike Meg, Kurt was still looking back. “Not quite,” he said. “Watch yourself, Dougal. He’s coming up from the rear.”

  “The bugger must have been reading my mind,” growled Dougal. “He’s decided to leave his friends where they were, which is what I would have done. See if you can spot any weapons.”

  The bellowing thud of the rotors drowned all conversation as the machine swept low over them from behind. The down draught rocked the car, and Dougal had his work cut out keeping it upright.

  “There are no mounted weapons,” said Kurt when it had gone past, “so unless there’s a passenger with a machine gun, we’re probably safe. There was a registration number on the chopper’s belly, but I’ll bet it was a false one.”

  When the Landrover turned the next corner, Dougal saw that the road ahead disappeared into a small gully with a dense copse of birch trees. Their leafless branches wouldn’t prevent them being seen, but they’d stop the helicopter from buzzing them.

  Beyond that, Kurt remembered from their outward trip that they had to cross flat bogland for a mile or so before reaching the main highway. “If I were the pilot,” he said, “I would block the road with the chopper and mount an ambush from the nearest cover.”

  “Do you think they want to kill us?” queried Meg.

  “What else?” said Dougal. “We’re a bloody menace as far as The Organization is concerned, and they have to get rid of us permanently. If you’re right, Kurt, all we can do is try and outrun the bastards. If we can get through the gully before our friend lands at the other end, we might make it.”

  Suddenly the machine reared up in front of them out of dead ground. The Landrover went off the road briefly until Dougal regained control just before they entered the gully. Evidently the pilot hadn’t thought of Kurt’s strategy. His last maneuver had used up most of the time required to land and ambush them in the remaining mile to the highway.

  They couldn’t see beyond the end of the gully because of the birch grove, but Dougal decided to throw discretion to the winds, and floored the gas pedal. The Landrover shot out into the open just as the helicopter was swinging round a couple of hundred yards ahead, obviously intent on buzzing them again. Once again the aircraft flew straight at them just a few feet above the ground, but this time, Dougal gritted his teeth and stayed on the road.

  Meg looked round in time to see the chopper circling back for another attack, the watery sun glinting on its silvery fuselage. “He’s coming from behind again, Dougal.”

  “Keep me posted, Meg. I can’t see him in the mirror.”

  The helicopter was about halfway toward them when Meg told Dougal
it had unexpectedly veered off. At that moment he had to slam on the brakes to avoid shooting into the middle of the main road from the Kyle of Lochalsh. A heavy lorry roared past, closely followed by a car. They were safe, at least for the time being.

  “I’ll stop at the next lay-by if it looks safe,” said Dougal as they gathered speed. “I hope there’s coffee left in the thermos. I think we could all do with some.”

  Kurt didn’t know what a lay-by was, but was more concerned with keeping the chopper in sight. “I see our friend hasn’t abandoned us. He’s hovering about a mile away over to the right.”

  “Probably getting instructions,” Meg commented. “Do you think he’ll go and fetch those so-called cops?”

  “I expect someone from the house will pick them up and tow in the car at the same time,” Dougal replied. “My guess is that our chopper friend’s going to try and shadow us.”

  Kurt surveyed the rather bleak landscape. “He’ll have no difficulty in this open country. There’s very little cover between here and Fort William.”

  “Let’s find Dougal’s lay-by and look at the map,” Meg suggested.

  Ten minutes later they reached a place to stop. The helicopter was still in evidence, but keeping its distance. Kurt spread out the map on the hood, and the others gathered round. “We could drive to Glasgow, then leave the UK from there by air or train. But there’s no doubt at all that The Organization has agents in a large center like that, and they could easily cover both methods of transportation. That’s assuming they know who we are and what we look like.”

  “We can’t take any risks,” said Meg. “What about Edinburgh?”

  “Same applies. If they have any intelligence at all, they’ll realize we’re equally likely to use that route. I think the answer to the problem is to be devious. Our main purpose is to get you and Bobbie back to Jamaica without The Organization finding out. Therefore, either Dougal or myself must keep an eye on the two of you at all times, leaving the other to act as a decoy. That means splitting up. So this is my idea. We go to Fort William from here, and hope the chopper follows. Once in the town he’ll lose us. He couldn’t possibly hover over a place that size without arousing suspicion. The best he could do would be to land close to the southbound road on the other side, and hope to pick us up later. If he did, he could easily follow the rover until he found out whether we were heading for Glasgow or Edinburgh.