The Anvil

by Ken McClure

  ‘Actually it is,’ said MacLean.

  ‘Then tell me now.’

  MacLean told Leavey about Carrie and how the attack had been intended for him. He told him that there was a chance that he could repair the disfigurement if he could get his hands on Cytogerm but that was proving difficult.

  Leavey sipped his drink and began to recap on what MacLean had told him. ‘If I understand you right, you have to steal this Cytogerm from this drug company but you don’t know where they keep it. You do know the name of the guy who’s in charge of it so you want to break in to the company’s offices to find out where he works. Your only alternative is to find this woman, May… ‘

  ‘Haas.’

  ‘May Haas, but you have no lead to her either. On top of that the opposition doesn’t think twice about killing people. How am I doing?’

  ‘About sums it up,’ agreed MacLean.

  Leavey examined the bottom of his glass in silence then said; ‘There is another way.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘You mentioned a regular meeting of the company’s directors at a hotel in Geneva?’

  ‘The Stagelplatz,’ said MacLean.

  ‘These men must know the whereabouts of X14. We could grab hold of one and ask him.’

  MacLean had to admit that the idea was simple and straightforward and that he hadn’t thought of it himself. They didn’t even have to use the Stagelplatz meeting place because the names and addresses of the directors were no secret. They could get to most of them without too much trouble he reckoned. Then he saw the drawback and told Leavey. ‘I can’t believe that all the directors are involved in this affair,’ he said.

  ‘You mean we might approach the wrong one?’

  ‘Precisely, and once we’d done that the cat would be out of the bag. We couldn’t keep an innocent man quiet.’

  Leavey nodded as he took MacLean’s meaning. ‘So it’s back to breaking and entering in Geneva.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘This kid of yours, she’s really bad? I mean, there’s no other way of fixing her up?’

  MacLean shook his head and said, ‘There’s skin grafting but she will be severely disfigured for the rest of her life. Cytogerm surgery is her only chance of being restored to normality.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Five.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Leavey. He suddenly drained his glass in one go and said, ‘All right, count me in. I’ll have a double.’

  ‘Thanks Mick,’ said MacLean. ‘You can have as many doubles as you like.’ He got to his feet to go to the bar but Leavey stopped him saying, ‘Not just yet, I have to go out for about fifteen minutes. Wait till I get back.’ Without saying any more, he got up and left.’

  THIRTEEN

  True to his word, Leavey returned fifteen minutes later but not alone. He was accompanied by a short, smiling man with a barrel chest and thinning fair hair who MacLean thought he recognised from somewhere but couldn’t remember where. Unfortunately the look on the man’s face said that he knew him well enough. MacLean’s embarrassment was cut short by the man opening the front of his shirt to reveal a jagged scar. ‘Willie MacFarlane,’ he said. ‘You saved my life.’

  ‘Of course,’ exclaimed MacLean. ‘You got hurt on the rig; I never saw you again. How are you?’

  ‘Right as rain, Doc,’ said MacFarlane, fastening up his shirt and sitting down at the table. ‘I never got a chance to thank you properly.’

  ‘No need,’ insisted MacLean. ‘I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He got up to go to the bar but MacFarlane stopped him with a hand on the arm. ‘The very least I can do is buy you a drink,’ he insisted.

  MacLean agreed with a smile and MacFarlane went to the bar leaving Leavey and MacLean alone. MacLean asked the question with his eyes and Leavey said, ‘I think he would be useful to have along.’

  ‘Ex-serviceman?’

  ‘Ex-safe-breaker.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘I’m perfectly serious,’ said Leavey. ‘Willie can open locked doors with his feet. He sees every lock as a personal challenge and what’s more, he’s moved with the times. As electronic protection systems have got better so has Willie. On one occasion he even managed to break into a safe that was monitored by close-circuit television 24 hours a day.’

  ‘How did he do that?’

  ‘He took along a video recorder, cut into the close-circuit cable and recorded the picture. The he connected the video playback to the cable and cut it beyond the join. He emptied the place while the guards watched a video of a closed safe.’

  ‘Ingenious,’ admitted MacLean but he had doubts about taking MacFarlane along and it showed.

  Leavey said, ‘Face it Sean. We can go a long way together but when it comes to breaking into locked buildings equipped with fancy alarm systems we’re going to be babes in the wood. We need someone like Willie.’

  ‘We don’t know that he’d go,’ said MacLean.

  Leavey smiled and said, ‘There are two things in this life that Willie MacFarlane would die for. One of them is Rangers Football Club and the other is you. He’s never forgotten what you did for him out there.’

  ‘I suppose I should say, I don’t want him coming along out of a sense of obligation, but the truth is, I need this stuff real bad. I’m prepared to play any card I’ve got,’ said MacLean. ‘That’s something you have to consider too.’

  Leavey put his hand on MacLean’s arm. ‘I already have.’

  MacFarlane returned with the drinks. The bar was beginning to fill up and the sound of male laughter reminded MacLean of his own time on the rigs. The first night back was always something special, a shower, a change of clothes and off to the pub with plenty money in your pocket. Even the married men would come to the pub before going home. Domestic bliss could wait; there was an important male ritual to be observed. The earlier damp smell of the place had given way to after-shave and cigar smoke. Faces were animated: eyes were bright.

  MacFarlane did most of the talking at the table, keeping them laughing with a seemingly endless fund of stories from the rigs. Much of the humour was directed against himself and MacLean found himself warming to the man. He noticed that, at intervals, Leavey would slip in a question relating to MacFarlane’s personal circumstances. It was done so cleverly that MacFarlane did not realise that he was being interrogated So far, Leavey had established that he was married but had no children. He had also exposed an undercurrent of bitterness in the man.

  After a few more drinks Leavey said, ‘So you’ll be off home to the wife then Willie?’

  MacFarlane’s eyes said not. He dropped his eyelids and said, ‘No… she’s left me.’

  ‘God, I’m sorry,’ said Leavey, exchanging glances with MacLean.

  ‘I got a letter. She’s been seeing this other guy; he’s got his own business.’

  Leavey and MacFarlane exchanged glances again. ‘Have you been married long Willie?’ asked MacLean.

  ‘Three years.’

  ‘That’s tough, man,’ said Leavey.

  ‘To think I gave up a perfectly good “career” so that she could say that she was married to an honest man!’ fumed MacFarlane. ‘I’ve been freezing my arse off on the rigs while she’s been…’

  ‘Have another drink, Willie.’

  MacFarlane looked at his watch and shook his head. ‘No, I must be off. The last train to Glasgow leaves in fifteen minutes.’

  ‘So, you’ve something planned then?’

  MacFarlane looked at Leavey as if it was a trick question then said as if he had only realised it himself, ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Then why don’t we all go back to my place. We can talk over old times and you both can stay the night. There’s plenty of room.’

  MacFarlane agreed after only a moment’s thought.

  ‘Fine by me,’ added MacLean.

  Leavey’s flat in Aberdeen turned out be on the third floor of an unprepossessing tenement block not far
from Union Street. The greyness and the rain made it appear more unwelcoming than it might have done in sunlight but MacFarlane admired the quality of the locks on the door as Leavey undid them. Leavey said by way of explanation, ‘I’m away a lot,’ and they all smiled.

  When they got inside MacLean could see immediately why Leavey was so security conscious. The apartment was beautifully furnished with the most expensive of materials. Leavey apologised for the coldness adding that there was no point in having the heating on while he wasn’t there.

  ‘Have you won the pools or something?’ asked MacFarlane in admiration. He was examining the stereo system.

  ‘I don’t have anything else to spend my money on,’ said Leavey. ‘Besides, when you spend most of your working life up to your arse in shit, it’s good to have somewhere nice to come back to.’

  MacLean nodded in agreement.

  ‘Maybe I’ll get myself a place like this too,’ said Willie. ‘Now that I’m single again.’

  ‘Why not,’ said Leavey.

  Leavey and MacLean sat on facing armchairs, sipping Laphroaig whisky while MacFarlane did the same from one end of a matching settee. Miles Davies was playing quietly on the stereo. ‘So what brings you back to Aberdeen, Doc?’ he asked. ‘You’re not thinking of coming back to the rigs?’

  ‘I’ve got a problem Willie; I need help,’ confessed MacLean.

  ‘If it’s something I can do, you just have to say the word,’ said MacFarlane.

  ‘It’s dangerous.’

  ‘So’s crossing the road.’

  ‘I mean it. You could end up in a foreign jail or even dead.’

  ‘That dangerous,’ exclaimed MacFarlane in a muted voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I owe you, Doc. You can count on me.’

  MacLean held up his hand and said, ‘You owe me nothing but I’m not a big enough person not to ask you.

  MacFarlane looked at Leavey and asked, ‘Are you in on this?’

  Leavey nodded.

  ‘Why?’ asked MacFarlane.

  ‘It’s a good cause,’ said Leavey matter of factly.

  MacFarlane turned back to MacLean and said, ‘Tell me about it.’

  MacLean told him the story and when he had finished MacFarlane said distantly, ‘Poor wee mite. You know, I always wanted a wee lassie myself.’

  After a few moments silence Leavey said, ‘Well, in or out?’

  ‘I’m in,’ said MacFarlane. ‘Most definitely in.’

  ‘When do we start?’ Leavey asked MacLean.

  ‘As soon as possible.’

  ‘I’m ready,’ said Leavey. ‘How about you Willie. Is anyone going to miss you in Glasgow?’

  ‘Only the bookie.’

  MacLean suggested that they travel south to Edinburgh in the morning. They could stay at Tansy’s place until they had arranged their travel to Geneva and then set off from there. Leavey asked him how the operation was being funded and MacLean told him about the insurance money from the bungalow.

  ‘That’s rough,’ said Leavey.

  MacFarlane agreed and offered to carry out a ‘wee funding operation’. MacLean declined with a smile but thanked him anyway. They decided on a late morning train to allow MacFarlane time to go shopping for some ‘bits and bobs’ he thought he might need. MacLean said that he would accompany him and pay for the tools and equipment but MacFarlane wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Just a few wee odds and ends,’ he insisted.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, MacLean phoned Tansy to say that he had finished in Aberdeen and that he would be home with two friends by mid-afternoon on the following day. Tansy assumed by ‘two friends’ that he meant Doyle and Leavey and was shocked to hear of Mick Doyle’s death. ‘Death suddenly seems so close to us,’ she said sadly. MacLean, anxious to divert her attention to something more positive, asked her to go up to the airline offices in the morning and pick up some information on scheduled flights to Geneva.

  ‘Consider it done.’

  MacLean knew that he had drunk a great deal of whisky over the course of the evening but still felt stone cold sober. It told him something about the state of his nerves if he could burn off alcohol that quickly. He opened the door of the bedroom Leavey had told him was his and stopped on the threshold. It was like stepping into a different world. The room was decorated in traditional Japanese style and had a Futon in place of a bed in the middle of the floor. He was surrounded on all sides by Japanese screen-walling, depicting scenes from long ago while Japanese lanterns provided subdued lighting.

  MacLean removed his shoes and proceeded to examine his surroundings. He found the control panel for the lighting in the room and with it some extra knobs with a musical symbol beside them. He pressed one and the room was filled with the soft tinkle of oriental music and a background sound of running water. The room was an escape from reality, which MacLean acknowledged with admiration for its creator. He undressed and sat cross-legged on the futon to look at the charcoal drawings on the screen walling.

  Weeping cherry trees reminded of him of his promise to Tansy in the hospital garden, not that he needed reminding. It had become his raison d’etre. In front of him a Samurai warrior reminded him of Leavey himself, not physically, but in spirit. Leavey had that enigmatic inner strength which defied definition and went beyond bravery. He knew that he could trust Nick with his life but he also knew that he could never get close to him. No one could.

  MacFarlane was very different, being as open as the day was long. He was a generous man with a big heart and a stubborn streak; in many ways he personified Glasgow. He took Leavey’s word for it that Willie was as skilled as he said he was and, if that was so, MacLean decided that he could not wish for two better companions for what lay ahead.

  The next panel of screen-wall showed a vase with three flowers arranged in classical Ikebana style; Ten, Chi, Jin. Jutte had once explained to him the significance of the configuration. The longer he examined the flowers the more he imagined that Chi and Jin were intermingling as if life was returning to the earth. It unnerved him. He’d experienced the same feeling in Geneva when he’d sabotaged the car and watched three men die. He had taken an irrevocable step and nothing could ever be the same again. He’d crossed his own personal Rubicon and there could be no going back, just a relentless ongoing test of strength and courage ahead of him until an end was achieved. He looked back to the Samurai and could have sworn that he saw a smile on his face… or maybe the whisky was having an effect after all. He fell asleep.

  ‘It’s years since I was last in Edinburgh,’ said MacFarlane as they walked up the steep hill out of Waverley Station and into the sunlight on Princes Street. ‘I must have been fourteen at the time. I remember I was with a girl called Karen, my first real love. We came to Edinburgh for the day, which is about as much as any true Glaswegian can stand of the place. We climbed that.’ MacLean pointed to the Gothic spire of the Scott Monument, towering up out of Princes Street Gardens.

  Leavey said, ‘I didn’t realise you had an interest in Scottish architecture Willie?’

  ‘I haven’t,’ said MacFarlane. ‘I thought I might get a flash of her knickers if she went up the steps first.’

  ‘And did you?’ asked Leavey with a smile.

  ‘It was too dark, damn it.’

  Tansy served roast beef for dinner. MacLean knew that she had been nervous about meeting Leavey and MacFarlane but watched her warm to them as the evening progressed. MacFarlane in particular was an asset to the party with his easy-going nature and lack of self-consciousness. His determination to be on his best behaviour and be mindful of his language in Tansy’s presence made his stories sound even funnier.

  When Tansy went to the kitchen to make coffee MacLean joined her leaving Leavey and MacFarlane to pursue some obscure argument. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her hair. ‘All right?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tansy. ‘They’re nice people.’

  ‘Then what’s troubling you?’ asked MacLea
n, keeping his arms around her and nuzzling her hair.

  ‘I… Oh it’s nothing,’ said Tansy.

  ‘Tell me,’ insisted MacLean.

  ‘I keep wanting to thank them,’ said Tansy, ‘But I can’t find the words and it makes me feel so awful. I should be able to say what I feel, especially now, but I can’t. I just can’t.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said MacLean. ‘They understand.’

  ‘No,’ insisted Tansy. ‘There’s more to it than that. I keep making comparisons between these men out there and the people I used to consider were my friends, the Nigels and Marjories of this world. My kind of people. How could I have been so wrong?’ Tansy turned to face MacLean. Her eyes showed bewilderment. ‘Nigel and Marjorie made me feel so beholden to them over a few nights bed and breakfast while these two men are going off to risk their lives for my daughter with no more fuss than if I had asked them to change a tap washer! Help me; I just don’t understand.’

  MacLean smiled. ‘There’s no great mystery. You’ve just made the same discovery I did after I went to work on the rigs. There’s a basic goodness in ordinary people which most of us in our own sheltered, prejudiced little worlds never even suspect, let alone see. Some might suggest it only comes into its own when evil is around. Don’t worry about it. You’ve just become one of the privileged few. You’ve seen the light.’

  Tansy said softly, ‘Thank you Sean MacLean. I’m so glad I met you.’

  MacLean kissed her gently on the lips and said, ‘And I you, my lady.’

  Tansy used a piece of kitchen roll to dab at her eyes and said, ‘I got the flight information you asked for.’

  ‘Good,’ said MacLean.

  ‘Looks like Monday or Tuesday.’

  MacLean had the advantage of knowing the Lehman Steiner building from the inside. He drew a map from memory and pleased MacFarlane when he added the underground car park. ‘That’s our best bet for entry,’ he said. ‘I can go to work on the staff elevator.’

  ‘I think we have to face the fact that most of the Personnel files will be on computer discs not lying about in filing cabinets,’ said Nick Leavey.