by Jenn Lees
“How do you know it’s a leaking nuclear warhead?” McLellan directed his question and his stare to Rory.
“Yes, I was getting to that question.” Siobhan looked daggers at McLellan.
“We’ve been there.” Rory pressed his lips around a smirk that threatened at the corners of his mouth.
Every one of the Government personnel looked at him.
“What do you think we do? We don’t sit in our underground bunkers keeping ourselves safe while the world goes to hell around us.” Rory couldn’t keep the edge off his voice. “We know what’s going on and we do something about it, even with our limited resources.” After watching years of the Government’s inaction, even wondering if the Government was a myth, he now found it hard to quell the feelings of betrayal. He took a breath.
Count to ten, Rory. Don’t let your red-haired temper show.
An uncomfortable silence descended around the table. Someone coughed.
“Well, we are here now, and we will help.” Siobhan sent a placating look in Rory’s direction. “We have the resources, we need your knowledge of the Highlands and, now it seems, your intimate knowledge of this submarine and its warheads.”
“How do you know about it?” McLellan’s question was almost accusing.
Siobhan glared at McLellan and then looked at Rory again.
“You’ve not been in it, have you? Not unprotected?” Genuine concern tinged her voice.
“We may be isolated Highlanders, but we aren’t ignorant. No, we haven’t been in it without Personal Protective Equipment. We’ve been near and assessed it.” Rory concentrated hard on sounding amicable and informed, not the angry he wanted to yell at them.
“May I ask you, Mr Campbell, how did you hear about it and what makes you sure it’s a non-nuclear submarine.” Siobhan’s deep-blue eyes fixed on his.
“A mariner at Loch Ewe alerted us to its presence, and he says the sub’s not nuclear powered.”
“A mariner?” McLellan’s question barely hid his derision.
“A fisherman.”
“What!”
“He knows his stuff. I trust him.” Rory spoke through gritted teeth and mentally recommenced his count to ten.
“We’re very willing to help you.” George entered the conversation.
Rory relaxed his clenched jaw. “Aye. What were your plans?” Rory directed his question at Siobhan, determined to ignore any noises coming from McLellan.
“We are going there to assess and—” McLellan had opened his mouth again.
“How?” Rory ignored his previous determination to ignore McLellan. His gaze remained on Siobhan, who didn’t get a chance to answer his question.
“We’ll drive our vehicles and equipment to Loch Ewe accompanied by yourselves,” McLellan answered.
He was as stupid as he looked.
Rory’s laugh was soft at first. He shook his head. George pressed his lips together in an attempt to suppress a grin, and Rory’s crew standing behind him shuffled their feet and stifled laughs.
“You’ll not go in your vehicles unless you want to be attacked.” Rory tilted his head.
Siobhan’s eyes flicked to McLellan and back to Rory. “What do you suggest, Mr Campbell?”
“I ken they’re armoured vehicles, but truly, it’s no’ a good idea announcing your presence to the world. Everybody’s going tae want to find oot what’s going on, the Government bein’ rare and all. They’ll no’ make any difference when it comes to determined bandits. Also, forty years of weather and nae road maintenance doesn’t make for a smooth ride. How much petrol do you actually have? It’s a wonder ye have nae had trouble getting here.”
Siobhan looked at the map on the table and McLellan’s feet shifted as he stood next to her.
Rory’s eyebrows lifted.
“People did notice us, but we avoided any confrontation.” Siobhan raised her head once more.
“People haven’t followed you here, have they?” Angela’s officious tones rang across the table.
Good question, sister. Never thought of the fact they may endanger us, did they?
“We have outrun any pursuers,” McLellan spoke again.
“You had pursuers?” Rory straightened and crooked a finger at one of the Militia who immediately stepped toward him.
“We outran them, Mr Campbell.” Siobhan sounded defensive.
“Aye well, we’ll see about that.” Rory gave the Militia member orders to send out scouts to their perimeters to check. The man left without a word. “We need to do this together, but you will do it on our terms. You’re in our world now.” Rory stood taller and took in a calming breath. “You will load the essential gear you require on our horses and determine who is vital personnel. We will all ride together to Loch Ewe and sort this. Minimal numbers on your part. Useful numbers on ours. You’ll need our protection. Forget about your vehicles, they won’t make it the way we need to go.”
Rory glanced in McLellan’s direction. McLellan had opened his mouth but shut it again.
“Decide what you’re taking,” Rory said. “It’s too late to set out now. We leave at first light tomorrow.”
“Very well then, Mr Campbell.” Siobhan said as she placed a firm, restraining hand on McLellan’s arm.
THE COOKS BROUGHT IN an evening meal of lamb stew and vegetables, which those in the meeting hall ate while standing due to the tables being covered in computers and maps. Rory took a mouthful of the stew, enjoying the tender lamb. They wouldn’t eat this well while on this mission.
He sensed someone beside him. A hand tapped his right shoulder as he turned to find Angus’ green eyes peering into his.
“I think the Community needs to send a scientific representative and I’m volunteering.” Angus bit his lip and a slight crease ran vertically between his black eyebrows.
Rory spooned another mouthful of the lamb stew and looked at Angus. It was probably a good idea. And it would be an excuse to deny Murray the privilege. He picked meat from in between his teeth with his tongue and slowly nodded.
“Granted.”
“Thanks.” Angus’ eyebrows shot up as a smile emerged.
“But I have some reading for you. A how-to-drive-a-sub manual.”
“Certainly. Where is it? I’ll start now.”
“Did I hear right? Angus is going? What about me?” Murray was directly behind Angus.
“They will nae be taking the computers, so they’ll be here. You don’t want to miss the computers, do you?” Rory asked.
“They’ll be taking one,” Angus said. “They need one to set the timer on the nuke.”
“You’re stayin’ here.” Rory bored his eyes into Murray’s. “And give Angus the wee book you made, aye?”
“Okay.” Murray stepped over to the nearest computer and started conversing with the man sitting there.
“Where are the important people sleeping tonight?” Kendra spoke into Rory’s left ear.
He took another mouthful of stew, chewed and swallowed, determined to finish his meal. He hadn’t thought about accommodations.
“I guess Her Royal Highness and Major Importance can sleep in the spare rooms in my place. I’ll need to—”
“Make the beds. Done.” Kendra’s left cheek dimpled.
How does she do it?
“So, who of us is going?” She pursed her lips and tilted her head.
He knew that look.
“I don’t want anybody who has someone to—”
“I’m going, Rory Campbell. Christine is okay with it. She knows you need me.” Her voice was low and her words steady. There’d be no dissuading her.
Rory shook his head in resignation and spooned in another mouthful.
“So, George, Xian, me, Brendan?”
Rory swallowed his mouthful. “Not George. He’ll stay here in case of trouble. The Tzar and Tzarina may have brought the revolution to our gates. Have we heard from the scouts yet?”
Kendra’s cheek dimpled once more.
“Wh
at?”
Kendra leaned in close “I saw the way you looked at her,” she whispered. “Can’t hide it from me.”
“Who?” He blinked. “No.” He shook his head.
Kendra’s dimpled smile accompanied a slight nod.
“You can show them to the rooms when you are ready.” Rory put the final spoonful of stew in his mouth, finishing the conversation.
Chapter 13
A young woman with a long black plait approached Siobhan.
“Ms Kensington-Wallace, I have your rooms ready when you are.”
Siobhan placed her empty bowl on the table beside her. The young woman was friendly enough, if not a little fierce looking. She wore soft leather trousers, and a finely woven wool shirt. She had a long knife hanging from the belt around her waist, a tactical knife army personnel would use; a quiver of arrows hung beside it. A bow was over her shoulder. Tattoos of a Celtic design, if Siobhan wasn’t mistaken, covered her arm.
“You and Major McLellan will be staying in Rory’s accommodation tonight. Please follow me.” The young woman pivoted and strode toward the door.
Siobhan picked up her duffle bag and followed.
“Umm...Antony. This young lady is taking me to our rooms,” Siobhan said as she passed Antony.
“I’ll follow later.” Antony barely glanced up from the map he studied with the older man named George. He was the same military type as Antony. At least they had found something, or should she say, someone, in common. Their reception hadn’t been as friendly as she’d hoped but going in with a tank wouldn’t cause their hosts to receive them with open arms!
Siobhan walked behind the young woman who had a straight back and tanned, muscled arms. She must spend a lot of time outdoors. She seemed to be close to the young man, Mr Campbell, whose name was Rory. The same name as the man her father made her promise to remember. This Rory could be related to him—a son or grandson.
The corridor from the hall led to a house, which had three bedrooms to the right as Siobhan entered, and a bathroom followed by a kitchen on the left. The walls were dirty, the couch in the living room had permanent dents where people had sat and was devoid of scatter cushions. A pile of old books sat beside the arm of the couch and others were strewn on the coffee table and the floor in front of it. The whole place required a fresh coat of paint and perhaps a new floor covering. Siobhan sensed it hadn’t had a woman’s touch for many years. Freshly washed dishes drained in the sink.
“May I have a shower before I retire?”
“Aye. I can’t see why not.” The woman pointed to the first bedroom. “You can have that one, Ms Kensington-Wallace.”
“Oh, please call me Siobhan.” She placed her duffle bag on the bed next to the towels.
“I’m Kendra. I’m a member of Rory’s crew and I’ll be coming with you tomorrow. Goodnight.” Her plait swung out behind her as she turned and walked through the door.
“Goodnight,” Siobhan said to the closing door.
Siobhan turned and shrugged as she got her things out of her duffle bag and headed for the bathroom where there was a shower cubicle with loose tiles and missing grout. What a day it had been. More like it, and worse, were on their way. Siobhan required a shower to start fresh and clean before their journey north on horses and camping. The water was warm and soothing as it ran down her back. Siobhan glanced down at herself as she washed, satisfied that years of going to the Bunker’s gymnasium had paid off. She didn’t appear a weakling when compared to the Militia woman, Kendra, who had shown her to her room.
Siobhan tingled with excitement, and there was a chill in her spine at the same time. They would be outside in the mountains. She grinned while washing her hair. Sunshine, blue water, green hills. Wait. Maybe not sunshine. The sun didn’t always shine in Scotland. Most of her trips up top were not sunny walks around the small compound surrounded by high concrete walls. She’d have to stop herself from making things seem better than they actually were.
She was on a mission to make safe an unstable nuke, of all things. If it was the real problem. Mr Campbell, Rory, believed the fisherman. It’s all they had to go on. Siobhan had prepared for anything and detonators with timers were amongst the things she’d brought.
What every girl should pack, huh?
Siobhan dried herself and then rummaged in her toilet bag.
Perfume? Why not?
She gave herself a scoosh of scent. She’d be camping for the next who-knows-how-long? There would be no chance to wash. She’d have to cover up her unwashed-body smell with something. She wondered briefly if the women in the Community had perfume. Kendra certainly didn’t wear any.
Siobhan put on her pyjamas and dressing gown and walked to the bedroom as the front door opened and banged closed. She placed her toiletries on her bed and waited to hear who it was. There was a sniff and then a deep voice groaned.
“Och, no.”
“Um, hello is that you, Mr Campbell?” She pulled her silk dressing gown around her and tied it tight, then stepped out of the bedroom alerting her host to her presence and intending to tell him Antony was on his way.
Rory Campbell stood outside the bathroom door leaning against the wall with his head resting on his arm. He’d removed his armour-plated vest and now his tight T-shirt moulded around the very firm musculature of his torso. Tattoos of a similar design to Kendra’s covered the exposed section of his right arm. Tight jeans surrounded muscled thighs. A large knife and a handgun in a holster hung from his belt. He turned; his eyes were wide and his pale face surrounded by curls of russet-ginger hair, and a few day’s growth stubbled his chin. He took his arm away from the wall and stood taller, his chest rose and fell as he blinked a few times.
“Ms Kensington-Wallace.”
“Please, call me Siobhan. Um, Antony will be here soon. Thank you for a nice place to sleep tonight. I guess we won’t have a bed for the next few days.”
Why did she feel so uncomfortable? The man didn’t stop staring at her. He’d regained his composure and didn’t look so pale anymore, but his gaze was becoming disconcerting.
Siobhan cast her eyes around the room to be anywhere but under his stare.
“Is this your mother?” She picked up the only photograph in the room. It was in a tarnished silver frame and covered in dust.
“Aye.” His voice was hoarse. He coughed to clear it.
“She’s beautiful. Do you have any photos of your father?”
He shook his head.
“I’ve heard you are the spitting image of him.”
He didn’t reply.
He had a lot to say at the meeting. Why was this man suddenly mute?
“Was his name Rory, also?”
“No. He was Scott Campbell.” He stood straighter; his voice now clearer.
“Oh. Did he ever go to Oxford? Before the Stock Market Crash?”
“Not as far as I ken. He’d only ever been in the Highlands.” Mr Campbell blinked a few times.
“What was your grandfather’s name?”
A knock at the door finally took his gaze off her. Mr Campbell opened the door and Antony stood in the doorway.
“Oh, I’ve found the right place,” Antony said gruffly and brushed past Mr Campbell, who barely moved out of his way.
Mr Campbell’s lips became a thin line and his eyes narrowed.
So, he either didn’t trust Antony, or he didn’t like him. Siobhan would need to find out. They had to get along for this to work.
“I’ll be wishing you both goodnight. We leave at dawn, and at this time of year, that’s four am. Be ready.” Mr Campbell went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.
Antony stared at the closed door. “Something’s bothering the boy,” he whispered, then glanced around the room. An expression of disgust crossed his face as he noted its simple furnishings, posters from calendars stuck to the walls and bland floor coverings.
“Goodnight, Antony. Early morning apparently.” Siobhan shut the door behind her. She wasn’
t in the mood for his belittling everything about the place.
GRUFF MALE VOICES ON the other side of the door awakened Siobhan. Mr Campbell was not to be seen as she left her bedroom. Antony was sitting on the old couch.
“The boy says he’ll be waiting for us in that excuse for a hall and they’ll serve some sort of breakfast there as well.”
“Antony, do be a bit more charitable.” Siobhan grabbed her toiletries and headed for the bathroom.
“He thinks he’s king around here.”
“Well, maybe he is.” Siobhan shut the door behind her. After she finished in the bathroom, she walked back to her room and shoved her toiletries into her duffle bag and then headed out the door.
“He strikes me as a ‘My way or the highway’ kind of guy.” Antony followed her.
Siobhan didn’t answer but rolled her eyes.
“George, now he’s a great guy, well he says Rory is his father-all-over.” Antony commented behind her.
They entered the hall where three of the Community’s women served a breakfast of porridge and scrambled eggs. The aroma of freshly baked bread greeted her nostrils and her stomach grumbled.
Mr Campbell was in deep discussion with another man who looked identical to him. Twins? Mr Campbell tied back his long hair, but his brother wore his cropped short. Both were armed, Mr Campbell had a rifle slung over his shoulder and his twin had a holstered handgun strapped to each thigh. This man held a pregnant woman to his side. Mr Campbell broke off conversation and walked outside as his twin embraced the woman.
“So, we have pared down to essentials, Ms Kensington-Wallace.” Sanjay held a black computer bag in each hand. “We have allowed for no power source. I’ve packed two fully charged spare batteries.” He grinned, always wanting to please her. She was close to Sanjay and his brother Sundeep. It sounded odd when Sanjay called her Ms Kensington-Wallace, but they were on official duty now and they would adhere to formalities.
“Very well.” She flicked her attention back to her task of preparing to leave. “You and Sundeep have everything I specified?”