by Ken McClure
‘That’s no problem unless they are protected,’ said MacFarlane.
‘Protected?’ asked Leavey.
‘Password access,’ said MacFarlane.
‘I think we can safely assume that any file connected with X14 will be protected,’ said MacLean.
‘Then we’ll need the passwords.’
‘Won’t they be kept in people’s heads?’ asked Leavey.
MacFarlane said not. ‘Big companies insist on all passwords being written down and stored somewhere safe. It gives employees too much power if individuals have sole access to company files. If they fall out with the management they might refuse access to their superiors.’
‘Blackmail,’ said Leavey.
‘Or even if a code holder falls under a bus it could mean lots of valuable data lost for ever,’ said MacFarlane.
‘So where would a company keep these code words?’ asked MacLean.
‘In a company safe,’ said MacFarlane.
MacLean could not help with the location of a safe in Personnel.
‘We’ll find it,’ said Leavey.
Leavey quizzed MacLean about his last trip to Geneva, asking whether or not he could be sure that his ‘Keith Nielsen’ alias was still safe. MacLean had to admit that there was no way he could be absolutely certain but the fact that he had successfully left Switzerland using that name suggested that it was still okay.
Leavey nodded thoughtfully and said, ‘I’m just trying to look into the minds of the opposition. They think that Sean MacLean is dead so we have no worries on that score and, from what you say, it seems a pretty safe bet that they don’t know about Keith Nielsen. They have however, been alerted to the fact that someone is interested in the X14 project so they’ll be on the look out for nosy parkers. Three of their people were taken out in Geneva but, as far as we know, none was left to tell the tale. That means that they don’t have much to go on but on the other hand they’re certainly not going to be asleep.’
‘Lehman Steiner is a very big organisation,’ said MacLean.
Leavey gave him a look that said, ‘So?’
‘I was thinking it wouldn’t be possible for them to tighten up security everywhere. As they don’t really know where the threat is coming from maybe the wisest thing for them to do would be to tighten up security around the X14 project itself and leave it at that.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Leavey.
‘You mean they won’t be expecting a raid on Personnel?’ said MacFarlane.
‘Unless Rives was already trying that angle when he got caught,’ said Leavey.
‘No,’ said MacLean. ‘Jean-Paul did think of it but he told me that he didn’t know anyone in Personnel. He was trying to find X14 through accounting records.’
‘Does that mean he was looking for a place and not a person?’ asked Tansy, speaking for the first time.
‘Yes,’ agreed MacLean. ‘And he found it. He just didn’t live long enough to tell us.’
‘Only the name of the woman, May Haas,’ said Tansy thoughtfully.
On Sunday, Leavey and MacFarlane diplomatically went off on their own leaving MacLean and Tansy to spend their last day together. MacLean had booked the three of them on to a flight to Geneva on Monday. He and Tansy visited Carrie in the afternoon and then walked by the shores of the Forth in the early evening. They stopped at Cramond, a pretty village, which had seen the legions of Rome come and go, and had a quiet drink at the inn. MacLean didn’t say much and Tansy didn’t prompt him. She knew from earlier experience that tension was building and he would not want to talk but, before they got up to leave, she said, ‘There is one thing I must ask you before you go. How long has Carrie got before a start must be made on surgery?’
‘It would be best if things got under way within four weeks,’ said MacLean.
Tansy wrung her hands uneasily then dropped them below the level of the table to disguise the fact. She began, ‘If… ‘
MacLean interrupted her, saying, ‘If for any reason I should not return, I’ve left a letter for you in the flat with the name and phone number of a Glasgow surgeon you must contact. Ron Myers is one of the best. Give him the sealed letter I’ve included and let him arrange the rest. On no account let Coulson touch her.’
Tansy’s eyes were full of uncertainty. She took MacLean’s hands in hers and whispered, ‘Come back to me… please.’
MacLean did his best to reassure her. He said softly, ‘I intend to. I also intend bringing Cytogerm home with me.’
They left the inn as darkness fell and the moon rose above the treetops. MacLean said, ‘Remember it’s the same moon above us wherever we are. Look at it and wish; I’ll do the same.’
MacLean and his two companions boarded the night train to London. It had been Leavey’s idea to use the train rather than fly to Heathrow on the grounds that it would be one less security check to go through. MacLean knew better to ask why this should be a consideration but he had noticed Leavey taking particular care over what appeared to be a series of metal camera and lens cases when packing his holdall.
Waverley Station was like all stations at midnight, grimy, dark and lonely, a place where no one wanted to be. Embarking passengers were anxious to be on their way, arriving ones wanted to be home and the despair on the faces of the destitute who were planning to spend the night there was plain to see. They didn’t want to be there either but they had nowhere else to go.
An emaciated figure wearing a grubby overall and cap pushed a trolley up and down the platform outside the London train hoping to sell a few last plastic sandwiches. A guard scuffled to and fro, studiously regarding the ground in preference to the passengers who stood by open doors in last minute conversation with friends and relatives.
MacLean watched a soldier say good-bye to his girl friend and a mother and father say farewell to their daughter. In a few more minutes all signs of emotion would be wiped clean from their faces. Impassive neutrality would replace it as sons and lovers became passengers on a train. The station clock said that they were already four minutes late when a whistle blew, doors were slammed and the train slid out into the night.
MacLean knew that his own nerves were being shared by the others. He had not known MacFarlane stay so quiet for so long before and Leavey chose to read rather than chat. He imagined this must be the feeling that troops had before they went into battle, sitting in landing craft as they ploughed through waves towards a hostile beach or waiting in the darkened fuselage of an aircraft for the signal lights to come on and the drop to begin. Leavey would know but now was not the time to ask.
Leavey fell asleep after two hours and MacFarlane shortly afterwards, leaving MacLean awake and resting his head on the corner of the window. There was very little to see out there in the blackness but every now and then he would see a light on in a house and wonder why at that hour. A sick child? Bad news? Insomnia? He would never know and they would never know he’d wondered.
A new day had already been born in London. For most people there was no reason to believe it would be significantly different from any other but they still rushed out to greet it. Kings Cross Station was alive with noise and bustle and people in purposeful motion. MacLean and the other two watched the world pass by from the station buffet where they took breakfast.
MacFarlane looked at the rush-hour crowds and said, ‘There’s something to be said for the rigs after all.’
‘I suppose they get used to it,’ said MacLean.
Leavey just watched.
They put off time until the worst of the rush hour was over before taking the tube to Heathrow Airport. There was still some two hours to flight time so they checked in at the desk which had just opened and waited for a bit before going through passport control. Leavey said he wanted to buy another book for the flight and MacFarlane said that he would have a look at the magazines. MacLean opted for a wash and shave so they agreed to meet up again outside the bookstall.
MacLean had just sluiced warm water up into his face
when the public address system crackled into life. ‘Would Mr Keith Nielsen, a passenger on British Airways’ flight to Geneva, please report to the British Airways flight desk… Would Mr Keith Nielsen… ‘
MacLean listened for the second time and no, there was no mistake. The woman repeated what he feared she had said the first time. He dried his face quickly and put his shirt and jacket back on. Leavey and MacFarlane were already waiting outside by the bookstall.
‘Who knows about us?’ asked Leavey whose eyes said that his brain was working overtime on the possibilities.’
‘Maybe some problem with the tickets,’ said MacLean. ‘I’d better go see.’
Leavey put a restraining hand on his arm and said, ‘Maybe someone wants to see what Keith Nielsen looks like; maybe someone carrying a description from Geneva. Maybe even someone who would recognise Sean MacLean.’
The announcement was repeated again.
‘I’ll go,’ said Leavey. ‘My face isn’t in anyone’s scrapbook.’
Before anyone could argue he had walked off.
Leavey approached the British Airways desk and said, ‘You were paging Keith Nielsen?’
‘Yes Mr Nielsen,’ said the peaches and cream complexion with the company smile. ‘We have an urgent telephone message for you.’ She handed Leavey a sealed envelope. Leavey thanked her and returned to the others; he gave the envelope to MacLean who ripped it open.
MacLean stood staring at the message until the other two were becoming impatient. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said in bemusement. ‘It’s from Tansy. It says… “Don’t go to Geneva”.’
FOURTEEN
‘Don’t go?’ exclaimed MacFarlane. Leavey just shrugged his shoulders.
MacLean looked at his watch and said, ‘We’ve still got thirty minutes. I’ll call her.’
MacLean was convinced that something awful must have happened at home for Tansy to send such a message. Something connected with Carrie was his fearful guess. His fingers felt like thumbs as he punched in Tansy’s number and waited. After the fourth ring he hoped that Tansy was in the bathroom, after the seventh, that she had been in the bath, after the tenth he accepted that she wasn’t there. He put down the receiver slowly and turned to face Leavey and MacFarlane. ‘No answer,’ he said.
‘What now?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘We’re going back to Edinburgh.’
They flew back to Edinburgh on a British Airways shuttle, which left forty minutes later. Leavey and MacFarlane were subdued, with a sense of anti-climax about them. MacLean was preoccupied with worry over what might have happened. As soon as they landed MacLean called Tansy again but found that there was still no reply. It did nothing to reassure him.
‘I think we better just go to the flat and wait,’ he said.
It was nearly five in the evening when Tansy arrived home and found the three of them camped on the doorstep. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘I see you got the message.’
MacLean was bemused. ‘Where have you been?’ he exclaimed.
‘I spent the morning in the local public library — I sent you the message from there — and this afternoon I’ve been at the hospital seeing Carrie,’ replied Tansy.
‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing’s wrong and nothing has happened,’ said Tansy evenly.
‘But Carrie?’
‘Carrie is fine.’
‘Tansy will you please explain,’ said MacLean, frustration getting the better of him.
‘I’ve just been doing some thinking that’s all. When you said the other night that Jean-Paul Rives had been looking for a place and not a person I got to wondering how he came up with a woman’s name.’
‘May Haas,’ said MacLean.
‘Precisely. It’s been niggling away at me. There was also the fact that Lehman Steiner were adamant that she’d never worked for them. This morning I worked it out. May Haas is not the name of a woman at all, it’s the name of a place.’
‘A place?’ exclaimed MacLean.
‘I was so sure of it that I spent the morning searching for it through the atlas in the library.’
‘And?’
‘For a while I thought I was barking up the wrong tree but then I mentioned to the librarian what I was doing. She’s been doing Spanish classes at night school. She thought the name could be Spanish and suggested a likely spelling. I found it. It’s a small town in southern Spain. It’s spelt, M-I-J-A-S but it’s pronounced, May Haas. ‘
There was silence in the room until Leavey said, ‘That makes a lot of sense.’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ agreed MacLean. ‘Eva told me that Jean-Paul’s search had been successful. She wouldn’t have said that if all he had come up with was a woman’s name. Tansy, that was brilliant.’ He gave her a hug.
Tansy brought out a map of Spain, which she’d gone into town to get after leaving the library. She spread it out on a low coffee table and the others crowded round. She traced her finger along the south coast of Spain, exaggerating the contours as she searched for Mijas. ‘There!’ she announced. ‘A few miles west of Malaga and three or four kilometres up into the mountains.’
‘Is there an airport at Malaga?’ asked Leavey.
‘Yes,’ replied Tansy. ‘I’ve been to the airline office as well.’
‘Well done,’ said MacFarlane.
‘We can’t use it,’ said MacLean.
‘But why not?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘Lehman Steiner would pick us up right away.’
‘But we’ve only just found out about the place!’ said MacFarlane.
‘If X14 is located in Mijas, Lehman Steiner will be watching the local airport.’
‘You’re right,’ said Leavey.
‘Apart from that,’ continued MacLean, ‘Jean-Paul must have confessed that he had found out the location of X14 before they killed him. Lehman Steiner would have to assume that he passed the information on even if he said he hadn’t. They’ve probably been wondering what’s taking us so long! They don’t know we’ve had to wait for Tansy to figure it out for us.’
‘So they’ll be lined up ready for us,’ said Leavey.
‘Geneva is beginning to sound attractive after all,’ said MacFarlane.
‘Our only edge is that they don’t know who we are or what we look like.’
‘And the fact that we haven’t turned up yet,’ said Leavey. ‘Maybe that will work in our favour. They must be starting to think by now that maybe Jean-Paul didn’t pass on the right information after all.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘We certainly can’t risk flying in to Malaga,’ said MacLean. ‘Three men arriving together…’
‘What about a holiday charter flight?’ suggested Leavey.
‘That’s a possibility. The south coast’s a popular holiday area but it still leaves us with the problem of being three men travelling together. Lehman Steiner might be monitoring charter flights too.’
‘Valencia!’ exclaimed MacFarlane out of the blue.
‘What about it?’ said Leavey.
‘Rangers are playing there on Wednesday night in the European Cup.’
There was a stunned silence before MacLean said what he and Leavey were both thinking. ‘Perfect! Absolutely bloody perfect!’ They rushed back to the map and found Valencia.
Leavey put his finger on it and said, ‘We could rent a car and drive from there down to the south coast.’
MacLean agreed but asked whether or not it would be possible to get on to supporters’ plane at this late stage.
‘Leave it to me,’ said MacFarlane, asking Tansy with exaggerated politeness if he could use the phone.
‘Of course Willie,’ she said with a smile.
The sound coming from the hall suggested that it was not going to be as easy as MacFarlane had thought to get them on the flight. Tansy, Leavey and MacLean had no trouble filling in the missing half of the conversation.
‘Aw c’mon Rab, there must be room�
� I know it’s a big game and it’s a bit late but… Rab! You owe me a few favours pal… ‘ There was a long silence before MacFarlane spoke again. This time he said, You can? Magic! I won’t forget this Rab. Right, let’s have the details.’
MacFarlane came back into the room to an expectant audience. He smiled and said, ‘We’re going. Wednesday morning at Glasgow Airport; Rab will meet us at the check-in.’
‘Well done Willie,’ said MacLean. Tansy and Leavey echoed their praise.
‘Now we have to get the gear,’ said MacFarlane.
‘The gear?’
‘Aye. Scarves, bunnets, rosettes. You know, the colours…’
Tansy hid a smile behind her hand.
As the three of them stood in the departure lounge at Glasgow Airport, MacLean looked around him and blessed Glasgow Rangers Football Club’s involvement in European competition. The cover of travelling to an away match was perfect: they would be as inconspicuous as grains of sand on the beach. His initial reservations about wearing a scarf and Tammy had worn off and he now saw them as badges of immunity, protection from officials who waved on the many-headed beast, anxious to see the back of football supporters.
There was a carnival atmosphere in the lounge, full of optimism and anticipation, amplified by booze and encouraged by camaraderie. MacFarlane brought over three large brandies from the bar and said, ‘Might as well enter into the spirit of things eh?’
MacLean swallowed a comment about the hour before it reached his lips and chased it down with brandy. Willie was right, he decided. There would be little enough time for relaxation when they arrived in Spain and who was he to lecture men like MacFarlane and Leavey when they were risking their lives for a child they’d never even met.
They were joined by MacFarlane’s contact. He was a big cheerful man with shoulders like an ox and a grinning red face. He shook hands with Leavey and MacLean, asking them how they had managed to get time off work.
‘We’re on the rigs too,’ said Leavey. ‘Like Willie.’
‘Works out handy sometimes,’ said the red-faced man. ‘I’m burying my mother-in-law. Come to think of it, it’s the third time since Rangers got into Europe!’ He pulled out a wad of tickets and documents from an inside pocket and asked MacFarlane, ‘Who am I doing business with?’