by V Clifford
He nodded, ‘Yep. Don’t imagine fake news is a recent development. The Cecils were masters of it in the sixteenth century. I’m amazed that people believe anything that they read or hear in the news. It’s all propaganda.’
She shot him a quizzical look.
‘Do you know that recently an archaeologist applied to dig an area, because he’d “checked” the maps and believed it was MOD free, but it wasn’t. Think about it, Viv, it wasn’t in our interests to have accurate maps out there for these facilities.’
‘But someone knows the actual positions?’
He nodded.
She checked Google Maps again and traced her finger from Doune to Braco. It wasn’t far at all. ‘He must have somewhere to stay. Maybe he’s using the pick-up or the bunker.’ She was thinking out loud.
Mac hesitated. ‘I’ve . . .’
She caught something anxious in his tone, ‘What? Got to be somewhere?’
She didn’t expect him to say yes, but he did.
‘I should be . . .’
She snapped, ‘Don’t let me keep you back.’
‘I’ve been trying to cancel stuff, but I can’t get hold of one person.’
‘And you have a secretary, why?’
‘He’s already tried. For God’s sake, Viv, cut me some slack. I’m helping, but there are . . .’
‘Don’t bother. I’ll head up the hill. If that place is as big as you say it’ll take time to check out the whole place. You do your stuff and get back to me when you can. I appreciate what you’ve done.’
He ran his hands through his hair and let go of a breath, ‘Oh piss off. I have a conference call that involves half a dozen agencies and since it was me who set it up I thought it was only manners to speak to them myself to rearrange. I’m trying but . . . Oh, never mind. Let’s get going.’
Her head thumped and her wrists were still sore, but at least the swelling on her leg had gone down. She was grateful that he was driving. She wasn’t big on being driven, but she could just about cope with Mac at the wheel. As forecast, the sky looked heavy with the threat of snow. She shivered on the way to the car, and a nippy breeze caught her hair. The Audi’s heater was almost as efficient as the Rav’s and before they reached the turn-off in the village that would take them up to the Braes, the car was toasty warm.
‘You think he’d kill her if he doesn’t get what he wants?’
‘I don’t know. His motivation seems to be about the £500,000. But he could have weapons and if he’s angry, well you know what he’s capable of. That thump to your head wasn’t exactly the act of a gentleman.’
‘If he has weapons why didn’t he use them on me? I didn’t get any sense that he’d had special training. You know, like he had any strategy. He was just using brute force . . .’
‘For God’s sake, Viv, you don’t have to feel bad about him overpowering you. It’s happened to the best of us.’
‘Yeah, sure. When were you last overpowered?’
He drummed on the steering wheel with his long elegant fingers. ‘Eighteen months ago.’
She was shocked. He’d never said anything. But why would he if it was part of his job? Her work for him was unofficial she supposed, although she got paid handsomely for it. ‘You never said.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me. As there’s a lot about you I don’t know. It’s how this game works.’
‘What game?’
He shook his head in frustration, then switched on his MP3. Mozart blasted from the speakers. Was he silencing her? The music was fine but she got tetchy in his immaculate car. It smelled of polish and something . . . lemony vinegary. When the hell did he get time to clean it? He certainly wasn’t the type to have it valeted. There’s no way he’d leave his precious wheels with strangers. Maybe the NTF had its own valet service, like Mand’s ex’s company. She assumed the NTF tracked their employees. But Mand’s car, could it be bugged? She should keep her mind on the next move instead of going down the route of uber suspicion.
Mac parked and they walked alongside the gorse bushes to the first door of the bunker. It was padlocked. Mac patted his jacket pockets.
She said, ‘No worries,’ and rooted around in her bag before she found a set of picks.
He shook his head. ‘You are utterly incorrigible.’ He turned and stared up at the phone mast. ‘You think this thing gives off harmful rays?’
She prodded around with the padlock and it clicked open. ‘Yes. I absolutely do. We’re being permeated by all sorts of rays all day every day, and some are harmful and others benign.’ She glanced up at the mast, ‘That thing. Just imagine what it is capable of. Can’t be benign. Bouncing info off satellites thousands of miles away and vice versa. It’d be a no brainer to think that’s safe. Come on, let’s get away from the deadly rays.’
They slipped through the door into the dark, cold corridor. Viv used her phone to give them some light. When they reached the blast door it proved hard to shift, even with two of them. The local police must have tried to shut it tight but hadn’t managed entirely.
Mac said, ‘He probably planned your abduction in advance. There’s no way he’d be able to lever this open without a crowbar. Although someone must have left it open wide enough for your woman to get inside. She didn’t strike me as particularly tough.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t bank on that. Sleeping rough is no life for sissies. And she carries . . .’
‘What does she carry?’
‘Nothing.’
‘One of these days you’re going to realise that I’m not the enemy. We’re both singing from the same hymn-sheet.’
She snorted, ‘You and your Hail Marys.’
He released a long, slow sigh. They reached the bunkroom and he switched the lights on. They flickered as if they were about to go out. ‘You should try it some time. A few Hail Marys wouldn’t do you any harm.’ His voice echoed round the room. ‘Can’t imagine what it would be like here in a real emergency.’
She shot him a look.
‘I meant being in here long term.’
‘I see you’ve taken your sensitivity meds this morning.’
‘I just mean . . . oh forget it.’
‘Trust me I’m trying to, but the throbbing head, aching wrists and swollen leg are a minor distraction. Oh, and I wonder where I got those?’
He shook his head, ‘I didn’t mean . . . God, touchy or what? Let’s take a look further along. See if we can get into any of the other rooms.’
The room where the woman had left stuff was as it had been. There was a chance that she’d return to retrieve things or maybe take up residence again. Although Viv imagined that once a sanctuary had had an intruder the woman would move on. They moved around checking as many rooms as they could get into. Easy to tell if a room had not been accessed recently since the dust build-up at the base of the door was undisturbed. After about half an hour of checking doors they realised that there was nothing more they could do.
As they hit daylight Viv’s phone vibrated. ‘Hi, Mand. Did you get it?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded stroppy. ‘But it’s not all I got.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, but she knew where she was sending us. The bureau is always locked, but only last week when we visited James was crawling about on the floor and pulled a key from beneath the bureau. She had stuck it there deliberately with Sellotape, but was furious when she found him sitting with it in his mouth. I don’t think she was in the slightest bit worried about James. It was the key. Anyway, I knew where to look for it and with the account book was a bundle of letters tied up with red ribbon.’
‘Have you got them?’
‘Yes. It doesn’t feel right, but yes I have and I’m on my way back. Have you heard . . .’
‘Yes. He sent a video. You’ll see it when you get here.’
‘Right. Is there anything else I can do while I’m down here?’
Viv thought of how few clothes she’d packed but said, ‘No. Ju
st get yourselves back safe and sound.’
Mac said, ‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes. She’s just a much better person than I am. I have no qualms about reading people’s mail but she really does. She’s bringing a bundle of letters.’
‘Interesting. Meantime I’ll try and locate a proper map of the bunkers nearest here. Best be methodical.’ He made a call and then they returned to the cottage. Moll danced round Viv’s legs and Viv, getting the message, put a lead on her and said, ‘I’ll take her round the River Park. Ten minutes tops.’
The ground was hard and rough, but it was great to be out and away from people. Didn’t matter how much she liked someone she couldn’t be cooped up with them without losing the will to live. Even a ten-minute walk could make her human again. She mulled over the conversation with Ruddy. There was no doubt now that her mum had worked in intelligence, she’d have to accept that, but what exactly had she done? Ruddy was younger than her mum so probably wouldn’t have worked with her, but he knew of her. And what was that about ‘them’ having ‘sorted it’; what exactly had they needed to sort? Why did the woman in the photograph give my mum lots of money? Nothing added up. If her attacker and his piano-playing brother were her sons, why hadn’t she left her money to them? What had they done to deserve exclusion from their inheritance? Maybe Germans had a different attitude to inheritance. She mustn’t assume that every country had the same bizarre system as the UK.
Moll ran ahead, her muzzle shifting from side to side, drawing in whatever smells were there. Once Viv reached the Teith she sat on a log that had been hewn into a rough bench for fishermen. She drank in the cold crisp air. This kind of day, with a clear blue sky, was a precious thing in a Scottish winter. Dark peaty water raced by and ducks landed against the flow before drifting back downstream without a care in the world. Moll became restless and pulled at her lead. They continued along the riverbank, Viv trying to rid herself of the frustration born of impotence. She was a woman of action and while thinking was a good thing, she couldn’t stand this business of going over and over the same things and reaching the same conclusion unless it led to action.
Her mum had obviously worked for British Intelligence. She’d been on ‘missions’ abroad and at home, and on one or more of these missions she’d encountered the woman in the photograph. For some reason the woman had left Viv’s mum a wodge of cash, which her son, Viv’s attacker, believed belonged to him. Now what about the brother? Did he believe the same? Was he asking questions about Viv so that he and his brother could get closer to their inheritance? Maybe one brother didn’t know what the other was doing. She remembered the newspaper article about the skirmish at a concert hall in Berlin. Hadn’t that been the pianist with his brother? Worth checking. Her phone vibrated. It was Mac wondering where she was.
‘Sorry, I’ll turn back.’ She tugged on Moll’s lead and pulled her to take a different route home. She’d been longer than she’d planned, but felt better for untangling some of the mash in her head. She slipped off her coat inside the porch. Mac had his phone pinned to his ear as a car arrived. She opened the door to Mand with James and his endless bags of kit.
Mand dumped most of the stuff on the floor in the hallway, but gestured with her head for Viv to follow. They went into the kitchen and Mand sat James on the floor then pulled out a bundle of letters from her handbag, their yellowing paper bound by a red ribbon; an indication that they were not recent.
‘You can read these if you want. I don’t think it’s right. They’re probably private from dad to mum. And this is the account book.’
Viv glanced at the top envelope. It had an internal services postmark. Mand was probably right. It would be a breach of privacy to go through them. ‘Let’s have coffee and food. We can decide what to do with the account book. I’ll let you see the video he sent.’
Viv pulled out her phone and played the thirty seconds of video. Mand started to cry. Viv rubbed her back. ‘He hasn’t hurt her and he has tied her hands in front of her, which means she’s not in serious discomfort.’
‘How can you say that? She’s being held by some nut job, God knows where. She’ll be freezing. You know she dresses for the tropics because of the Pound. Thin trousers and a tee shirt in these temperatures.’
‘She has a coat on.’
Mand spun round. ‘You think that’s enough? It’s minus four out there today. She’ll die of hypothermia.’
‘Someone was here earlier. He said we shouldn’t underestimate her. She’s been well trained.’
‘She might well have been but that was years ago. Now she’s an old woman.’
‘I wouldn’t let her hear you say that. She’d have your guts for garters.’
Mand snorted, ‘I haven’t heard that saying for a long time. Didn’t grannie used to say that?’
Viv nodded, ‘She did, and she meant it. Now let’s get some coffee. You did a good job finding the account book. As for these,’ she patted the pile of letters, ‘we’ll make a decision later.’
Mac joined them, ‘Ruddy . . . shit, I must stop calling him that. The boss said that she’s used a couple of code words.’
Viv spun round. ‘Really?’
‘Yep, if an agent uses “please” it means that they believe they’re safe. So if she thinks she’s safe he probably doesn’t have a weapon, like a gun that could discharge by accident or a knife . . . We’ll have to trust her, Viv.’
A loaded silence expanded between them. Then she said, ‘What else did she say. I mean what was that “one swallow” stuff?’
‘In old speak a swallow was a female operative sent into the field to seduce information out of someone.’
‘There’s no way my mum would do that. No way.’ She shook her head trying to rid herself of an uncomfortable image. ‘Shit. This is horrible.’
Mac said, ‘Look, seduction takes different forms. It’s not necessarily sexual. She could entice information out of him without . . .’
‘No, don’t even say that out loud. It’s my mum we’re talking about.’ She rubbed her face viciously then squealed as she caught the sore side of her head. ‘What else did Ruddy say?’
He hesitated, ‘Nothing really; that was it.’
‘Why do I get the feeling that that’s not quite true?’
‘Because you’re a mistress of suspicion.’
She chewed on her lip and went back to making coffee.
Mac flicked through the bundle of letters. ‘I don’t think they can be from your dad.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they’ve all come from the same place and your dad worked all over. If they were from him the postmarks would differ.’
‘But I thought the service had internal postmarks.’
‘They do, but there’s a number to indicate which station they’ve come through. These are all from the same one.’
Mand said, ‘I don’t know what any of that means.’
Viv said, ‘She knew that whoever went for the account book would find these letters. She knows that we’ll have them. Maybe sending us for the book was a sign. Maybe there’s something in the letters that will help us to find her.’
Mand said, ‘You’re just determined to read them. They are private. Even if they’re not from dad.’
‘But if they’re not from dad then . . .’
‘Then what? She was having an affair with someone?’
‘I don’t know, but if we read at least one it will give us some idea.’
Mand stomped off into the conservatory with James on her hip. Mac had lit the wood-burning stove earlier and between that and the Aga the place was toasty warm. The look on Mac’s face was one she’d seen before. He was holding something back from her but his face gave him away. No poker for Mac.
‘What? What is going on with you?’
‘I’ve already said, if this wasn’t about your mum you’d handle it differently.’
‘Of course I would. Wouldn’t anyone? She’s my mother. This isn’t some str
anger that I have no emotional tie to.’
Her phone buzzed. She took off to answer it.
‘Viv? I have a message from Kurt Hahn,’ Jinty said, at the other end of a poor connection.
Viv put a finger up to her ear to block out Mand’s chatter with James. ‘Jinty? What does he want?’
‘He told me to say that you shouldn’t do anything and definitely not give him any money.’ Jinty sounded confused.
‘Can I contact Mr Hahn?’
‘Yes. But he’s rehearsing, then playing today and tomorrow, so his phone will be off most of the time. You can send him an email. I’m forwarding his address to you right now. I didn’t want to give out any of your details. It’s all very cryptic. Are you okay?’
‘It’s a long story and I’m sorry that you’ve been drawn into it.’
‘No probs, Viv, as long as you’re okay . . . You know Andrew would help if you needed him to.’
‘That’s really kind, but I think we’ll be fine.’ She didn’t sound convincing. ‘Although, if things aren’t fine I might take you up on that offer.’
Her email pinged with the arrival of Jinty’s message. ‘Thanks. That email has arrived. I’ll fill you in on your next hair date.’
‘Looking forward.’
Viv turned back into the kitchen. ‘New development. Nut job’s brother wants to give us advice.’
Mac screwed up his forehead. ‘The pianist brother?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, he said we’ve not to give him any money. I’ll try and speak to him just now.’
She got hold of her laptop and sent a message from an account that she kept specifically for this kind of use. She didn’t imagine becoming chums with Mr Hahn any time soon.
‘Sounded as if he’s warning you about his brother. I mean if they were in this together he wouldn’t have said that.’
‘Jinty said that he’s rehearsing and playing concerts over the next couple of days, which would also make me think he’s not involved, but that could just be his cover story. Convenient to say you’d be wrapped up. He could be anywhere. We don’t have to trust him. He hasn’t given us grounds to.’