From what she'd learned, McKenzie was going to be there for a few months. Studying the area, and as many photographs of the Glen View property and its surroundings as possible - thanks also to Google Earth that showed her real views of its surroundings with recent pictures - she was able to start formulating possible plans of attack.
The first point was obvious. She would need to be dressed appropriately to blend into the surroundings. Which meant that tomorrow she would need to kit herself out with a whole new wardrobe, having thrown away her previous clothing from Loch Ness.
She would also need new weapons and supplies.
That would need some more careful thought.
Plus she would need to consider all the possible dangers that she could be presented with, and make sure she had appropriate plans, with contingencies in place, to be able to address them.
One thing had already been decided. Now she knew the location, and that McKenzie was likely to be there for a while, it was important to make sure she did not rush ahead. She needed to make plans appropriately.
By five o'clock, she was getting hungry. The pain in her side was beginning to subside, and the nausea was all but gone.
On a positive aspect, her recovery time after each healing seemed to be shortening. At least that was something to be pleased about.
Deciding she needed some fresh air and something to eat, she dressed and left the hotel. It was a warm summer's night.
She walked for an hour, thinking all the time, then had dinner in an expensive restaurant called 'The Witchery' which was practically in the shadow of the entrance to the Castle at the top of the Royal Mile, the narrow street that threaded itself from the Palace of Holyroodhouse up the hill to the Castle at the top.
Afterwards, she walked for another hour, found a bar, sat in a dark corner and thought long and hard about the days ahead.
Alessandra didn't make physical notes. She made them in her head and memorised them.
The first set of notes listed all the materials she would order from her supplier as soon as she got back to the hotel. Before she could order them, she would need a delivery address, which led to the question of where Alessandra would stay during the next days or weeks.
Looking at the map on her mobile phone, she selected a few villages north of McKenzie's village, each one sufficiently close to be able to drive there within an hour, but also far enough away to ensure that there was no obvious connection between her and the target, should the police later make enquiries in McKenzie's neighbourhood.
She would pick a cottage when she got back to the Tor browser, and possibly have her supplies delivered directly there, although, preferably it would be better to have them sent elsewhere.
Next, she started thinking about the logistics of everything.
She was being led to believe that McKenzie was by himself.
From her experience, any police force or government organisation that simply put a targeted official out to pasture, without protection, would be highly negligent.
She did not think, for one moment, that he would simply be sitting in his cottage, unguarded, waiting for her first move.
Given that he was in hiding, it appeared the British authorities knew that a highly paid assassin was coming after him, which meant that surely they would be interested in knowing who it was.
Even more likely was that they would be hoping to capture that afore-mentioned assassin, possibly even using McKenzie as unsuspecting bait.
Before moving in to deal with McKenzie, Alessandra would have to survey the surroundings and establish who was guarding McKenzie, where they were, and then eliminate them.
Depending upon their numbers, she would then have to have several plans about how to kill McKenzie.
Should she do it in his cottage, running the risk of a back-up team coming to his rescue and capturing her, or should she kidnap him and take him elsewhere?
Lastly, as already considered, there was the possibility that another assassin could be anticipating her next move, and lying in wait for her near McKenzie.
There was a lot to consider. A lot to prepare. A lot to plan.
On the way back to the hotel, she allowed herself to think about Amelia.
And what she had done for her.
She had really liked Amelia. Her heart had gone out to her.
Deep inside, Alessandra - who seldom showed or felt any real emotion, let alone display it publicly, felt a sense of contentment that she had cured her.
She felt good.
Although it was still a curse to Alessandra, through her ability to heal, she had been able to impart the Gift of Life to Amelia, her two children, and her husband.
She had used the Gift to pass on a Gift.
Alessandra thought of the joy that her ability would now create in the lives of Amelia and her family.
She imagined Amelia playing with her children, cuddling them, speaking to them, and calling them by name.
By the time she got back to the hotel, her initial euphoria had changed to sadness.
For the first time in years, Alessandra missed her mum.
-------------------
Central Edinburgh
Hotel 7.45 p.m.
Once logged into Tor, Alessandra was able to operationalise the thoughts she'd had during dinner and her walk.
First, she found a small cottage near the village of Crianlarich. Two bedrooms, isolated, but only eighteen miles from McKenzie's cottage in Arrochar. It was expensive, which was probably the reason it was still available, but it was ideal for Alessandra's purposes, and money was not an issue. She booked it for one month.
Secondly, she ordered all the supplies and armaments she needed, or thought she might need in each of several different scenarios. Deciding not to have the shipment delivered to the cottage, she instructed her suppliers to bury them anywhere they wished along the A85 road between Crianlarich and Ledcharrie. Once again, she needed the materials on expedited delivery, and she would pay a fifty percent premium if the goods were delivered within forty-eight hours. They should send the GPS coordinates when they were ready for collecting.
She took care of a few more things and made some money transfers until finally she realised that there was nothing more that could be done until the next morning. First thing she would get up and go shopping to acquire a new wardrobe, some outdoor gear, torches and binoculars.
After that her thoughts began to drift.
She lay back on the bed and thought about the day.
First, she thought about Amelia again. The healing. The gift of life she had passed over to her and her two children.
She registered that thinking about it made her feel 'good'.
Lying on the bed, for the very first time, a strange feeling began to grow within her. Whether it was a feeling, or a thought process, she did not yet know, but something about the whole contradiction between killing versus healing and saving people began to make her feel uncomfortable. It seemed odd.
Today she had just healed someone, and now that was done and over, her whole focus had immediately shifted to killing someone.
Life and death were both parts of any life cycle, but they were polar extremes.
Once she had enjoyed killing. Or maybe that was not correct. Maybe it was more truthful to say that once she had enjoyed being good at killing people. The 'people' part of that particular equation was perhaps irrelevant. She never really thought about the people. Realistically, it was more about the challenge, the rewards and the respect she derived from others for continuously achieving the impossible.
Her father would have been proud of her, she knew. In fact, maybe that was what her whole life had been about, ... trying to emulate her father, follow in his footsteps, and become just as good as him, perhaps even better.
What her mother would think, had she the power of rational thought and a memory of who her daughter actually was, Alessandra did not know.
In the world of delivering death, Alessandra was the Queen
, and Salvador the undisputed King, but there were many who were eager to take the crown from her, given the opportunity.
How many people did she know who had the power to heal?
She thought about that one for a second.
There was Jesus. And God. Neither of whom she had previously spent much time thinking about, because she didn't believe either existed.
However, the 'Gift' thing was so weird, so unexpected and powerful, it had to come from somewhere.
Was it God? Did 'He', or even 'She' really exist?
As a little girl, Alessandra had been brought up a Catholic. Her catalogue of sins - chiefly murders - was now so extensive that were she ever to attempt to recount them in confession, it would require a whole group of Priests in shifts to listen to her.
Healing people was a god like capability. Was she becoming a god? And what was a god?
Would people respect her for being able to heal others, or would they call it blasphemous, or declare her to be a witch?
When it happened, the ability to heal came from within her, but was not of her.
At least she did not think so.
She tried to recall the Bible stories she had been taught as a child.
Then she remembered the stories of the Apostles and remembered that after the Crucifixion, God had given them the power of healing too.
Which meant that you didn't have to be a god to be able to heal.
Realising that made Alessandra feel better.
She didn't want to be a god.
She was a Sicilian.
The thought process began to anger Alessandra.
She was getting confused.
The 'Gift' was upsetting the natural balance of her world, a world which she had fashioned for herself, partially out of necessity as she had increasingly been forced to rely upon her herself, and partially because it had been fun.
There had never been any reason to question her choice of career.
But if she were not able to get to grips with the 'Gift', it could destroy her.
And then the weirdest thought of all, that instead of it being her end, it could be her beginning.
How many people in the world could do what she could?
That thought was never answered.
Her eyelids, now impossibly heavy, were now closed.
The wind had begun to blow, and her father, standing tall and handsome at the helm of their boat, had just given the command to set out to sea.
They were going sailing.
Chapter 38
Arrochar
Sunday 4.30 p.m.
The drive over to Arrochar had been beautiful. After having spent several hours, and a small fortune in the Gyle shopping centre, she had acquired all the 'disguises' she would need for the coming days or weeks, along with camping supplies, outdoor gear and some essential field equipment.
Having already checked out of the hotel, she'd then left Edinburgh behind, wondering if she would ever return.
When she got to the outskirts of Arrochar, she parked the car, slipped on a wig and a headscarf, changed into some hiking trousers and shoes, swapped jackets and took out her camera.
From where she had parked, it was perhaps a twenty-minute walk into and through the small village, and then out past the house McKenzie was hopefully staying in.
The assumption of course was that it has him that had opened up the package and set off the tracker, but she was pretty sure that assumption was a safe one to make.
Why else would his wife send the package way out here unless it was to a person in hiding?
As she walked towards the village, she had some time to admire her surroundings. Arrochar was situated at the end of a long sea loch called Loch Long. On her left side, on the other side of the loch, steep mountains rose sharply out of the depths of the loch, before rounding off at the tops and being covered with the ever present beautiful purple heather that grew in abundance all around.
On her right, the mountains were not so tall, but dense green lush forest prevented her from seeing much of the mountains above her. At one point she heard a train and guessed that somewhere above her there must be a train line where passengers would have one of the best views in the world.
The sea loch was deep blue, and although it was already late in the afternoon, the air was still hot and Alessandra was sorely tempted to jump in and go for a swim.
There was a lot about Scotland that Alessandra was falling in love with. For once she was jealous of the ever present Japanese tourists who unlike her, at least had the time to enjoy their surroundings and do nothing but relax.
And take photographs.
Ahead of her the road curved to her right, and as she rounded the bend, the small village of Arrochar came into full view.
To her surprise, there wasn't actually much to it.
A group of buildings on her immediate right consisted of a tourist office, a bus stop, some toilets, and a couple of cafés.
Further on she could see a couple of hotels, and a small street of cottages.
She stopped to take some photographs on her camera and took a few moments to survey the road ahead.
From where she stood she could see the road sweep around the head of the bay, to the left, and wrap around the bay on the other side, before running back in the opposite direction along the base of the mountains on the other side of the loch. Looking across the water at the head of the loch, and just before the road wrapped around and came back on the other side, she could see the road that disappeared up the small drive that led to McKenzie's rented cottage.
She zoomed in on it with her digital camera and took some photos.
She could just make out the chimneys of the bungalow above the trees.
Behind the cottage, a small wood edged the side of the mountain, before the trees thinned out and the ground began to rise upwards.
She surveyed it and took it all in.
Walking forward Alessandra went into reconnaissance mode.
It was possible that at any point she could bump into McKenzie, who may be out for a walk or out shopping.
If so, the opportunity could present itself for an immediate kill.
It could all be over and done with before it had even started.
More likely however, was that wouldn't happen.
Instead, she had to check out the area first hand and learn as much about the surroundings as possible.
Alessandra's gut feeling told her that McKenzie was definitely being watched. A big question to consider was how many people the authorities would have assigned to watch him, and which service would have been selected to do the job.
Would McKenzie even know about it?
And where would the team be that had been sent to lay the trap to catch the assassin?
In the hope of spotting some clues, Alessandra walked slowly through the town, around the bend at the head of the loch, and then past the entrance to the driveway to McKenzie's cottage.
The closer she got to the cottage, the less direct attention she paid to it, feigning interest in the hills, the vegetation, and primarily the loch.
Once past the cottage driveway, she carried on around the bend for another ten minutes to the next car park.
An hour had passed by now, and so far she had seen no signs of any police. Alessandra knew full well that if a team had been placed to monitor the cottage, anyone approaching the area would immediately attract attention.
Hence her disguise, her casual attitude, and the lack of a car.
Somewhere, some place, there was undoubtedly a vehicle recognition system tracking the cars that passed by. And if there wasn't, she couldn't risk that there was.
Alessandra was a professional.
She was highly trained.
She knew how reconnaissance teams worked.
And yet, she saw no signs of any today.
No men hanging around on corners, no cars parked with people reading papers. No foot passengers on the streets outside. And no one lurking in
the trees around the head of the loch or on the sides of the road.
Walking back into town she risked going into the two main hotels in the village and had a drink in each, watching those around her.
There were numerous guests, but none of them looked like the professionals she would have expected.
Ordering fish and chips from one of several restaurants close by to the side of the road and the passing trade, she took her food and sat on the sea wall that ran along the edge of the village and sat on it, enjoying the sunshine, the ambience of the place, and the opportunity to scan the locals as they passed.
Conscious that someone somewhere may be watching her, she was careful to act more like a tourist and a hiker, than someone looking for those looking for her.
After several hours in and around the village, she decided to return to her car.
The fact that she had found no one and had seen nothing suspicious was more worrying than if she had.
It meant that if there was a surveillance team in place, they were very good indeed.
Looking back across the bay, and at the area of the cottage, Alessandra instinctively knew what her next step was.
If those assigned to monitor McKenzie were true professionals, she knew where some of them would be. They would probably be where she would be, were she them.
She would find that bit out later tonight.
The question was, where were the others?
-------------------
The Arrochar Hills
10.45 p.m.
Having driven up to her new base in the small cottage near the village of Crianlarich, she showered, rested for the sum total of thirty minutes, then dressed and prepared for the long evening and days ahead.
The next few days would be very similar to the time she had spent in the hills above Loch Lomond, so she gathered similar clothing and accessories and returned to Arrochar as soon as she was ready.
Driving down the scenic A82 road from Crianlarich to Loch Lomond she turned off right into the hills just after the tiny village of Inveruglas. The road was not very good, and it was now very dark, so she drove carefully and slowly.
The Assassin's Gift Page 37
