Dreams to Die For

by Alan G Boyes

  “Can you see anything of them?” Gordon shouted to Cindy above the roar of the boat’s exhaust and the noise of the wake rushing past them as the craft split apart the calm water. Cindy had his powerful field glasses pressed to her eyes and was searching for anything that might reveal Fadyar’s whereabouts.

  “Not a thing. I don’t think they are on the road. Of course it isn’t always in view, but I should have thought by now we would have spotted them. Maybe they are already at Kinloch Hourn.”

  “Mmmm. Maybe, but it’s a long, slow road. Here, take the wheel. Keep us headed straight down the loch and pass the glasses to me.” Gordon briefly gave her a quick kiss as she handed them to him. He surveyed the road for several minutes and confirmed that she was correct.

  “They’re definitely not on the road.”

  More out of curiosity than hope, he started surveying the Munro to his right. The cloud was fairly low down on the hill but suddenly, almost as if appearing out of nowhere, he saw them.

  “I’ve got them. They’re on the mountain! My God, the bloody mountain! That’s some feat. There isn’t even a track there. I’ve walked every inch of that hill deerstalking and there is definitely no road or track. Some of the locals tell the tale that a century ago a few cattle drovers used that hill as a means of getting their beasts to Glenelg, but is wasn’t used much even then as easier passages were found. There must be a hell of a driver at the wheel of that 4x4, the whole area is littered with rocks, loose gravel and scree – to say nothing of the slope itself that he’s on.”

  After his initial euphoria the realisation that the vehicle was not going to Kinloch Hourn struck him. He turned and in a sombre voice spoke to Paulette. “Paulette, almost certainly they have Dean. The fact that they did not kill him at the dam is a good sign, and from what Cindy and you have said that is not their intention anyway. But the bad news is I really have no idea where they can be headed. If they are prepared to risk their lives by driving along the side of the mountain, they must have worked out some sort of route off it, or have something else planned, but what and where? There is nothing in those hills where they can rest up or hide, not even a shelter.”

  “What do you think we can do then, Gordon?” a nervous Paulette replied. Gordon did not immediately answer, but when he did his reply surprised them.

  “They will not be going to Kinloch Hourn. They would have used the road or a boat if that were the case. They may be going to try and get through the hills to somewhere along the main A87 or they may be able to get through the mountains to somewhere beyond Kinloch Hourn, like Corran or Arnisdale.”

  The trio were silent for a few minutes, deep in their own thoughts.

  “What would you do, Gordon – if you were them?” Cindy asked.

  “The group who have captured Dean are obviously very skilled and also ruthless. This is not a back of a fag packet operation. It had to be well planned and resourced. Even when unexpected things occur, they remain focused on their task and carry it out with deadly efficiency. Driving on that mountain is what convinces me they will not do the obvious thing and head for the A87. My bet is they have found a way to traverse the next mountain and will come off it somewhere close to Corran or Arnisdale. Corran probably, as it’s nearer, and from there they will either have a boat waiting at the coast or drive along the road probably to Skye. Of course they were not expecting anyone to spot them on the mountains.”

  “Can we stop them?” enquired Paulette.

  Gordon laughed. “I don’t think we can stop them, Paulette. These are professionals and fully armed. All we can do is call the police when we get a damned signal on this phone.”

  “But we brought all those guns. Surely we can delay them from taking Dean?” persisted Paulettte.

  Before he could reply, Cindy spoke, “I thought you had another boat at Kinloch Hourn. Can’t we at least use that to see if we spot them at Corran, or wherever?” Cindy was thinking of her friend Paulette, worried, and now sitting in silence nervously tapping her impeccably manicured fingernails on the side panelling of the boat. “At least if we spot them we might be able to tell the police,” implored Cindy, who wanted to do all she could to help her friend.

  “I suppose there is no harm in that. OK. We’ll use the Greek Dancer.”

  “Is that its name?” giggled Cindy “Don’t tell me now, later. But it sounds as if there is a story there!”

  “There is, or more accurately, was,” a sombre Gordon retorted.

  75

  Ritson arrived at Inverness Airport and was soon speeding under escort towards Corach. Curry was anxious to receive information of the terrorists’ whereabouts and was pacing around the eerily quiet room.

  “Where are they? Where are they?” he muttered to himself, but his voice still sounded loud as it broke the silence.

  Soon the centre would become a frantic, but disciplined, noisy hub of people talking or writing, phones ringing, pictures bouncing off walls, speakers blaring – but not yet. This was the quiet before the storm. He had hoped that the gang would have been sighted by one of the road blocks established at several key points along the A87, the A887 the A82 and at the Skye (Kyle) Bridge, but he did not yet have the resources to block off every exit from every major road and so had allocated his resources where they could be the most effective.

  Many roads that led from the major trunk routes were either long cul-de-sacs (like the Kinloch Hourn road) or simply went in a large semi-circle returning to the major route several miles farther along the highway. These roads were not blocked. Also, as there was no road beyond Kinloch Hourn, Curry did not position any road blocks or patrols along the Glenelg Road, reasoning that the terrorists could not reach there. He had received confirmation that the specially equipped helicopter with camera and an armed crew was only a matter of minutes away.

  His yellow phone rang. An officer reported in that Mealag Lodge was secured but it was evident that some sort of struggle had occurred. Blood was spattered onto clothing and around the kitchen. A window was broken, apparently shot through by a high velocity bullet and plastic ties used for handcuffs were scattered onto the kitchen table and floor. The personnel had left in a hurry. Blood spattered bathing robes and a large hunting knife were strewn across the floor and no attempt had been made to secure the property. The phone line and alarm systems had been rendered inoperable. Worse, two SP officers were found dead in close proximity to the lodge, and the search was continuing for other casualties but none was so far apparent. Footprints leading to the loch would indicate that someone may have tried to escape and drowned in a peat bog. The area was being sealed as a crime scene pending detailed forensic examination. The helipad could be used, if required. Realising that little more was likely to be achieved at Mealag in the short-term, Curry recalled most of the officers, leaving two on armed guard.

  Even for the experienced police officers and specialist personnel in the three command centres the reports which were being instantly relayed to them, were chilling. It was unusual that terrorists and civilian personnel were missing from a scene, leaving only the murdered special protection officers. Bronze Command started to get busy, and the phones on Curry’s desk started ringing. Silver gave an updated assessment that several hostages had probably been taken. The red phone bleeped and an aide answered; the Westland helicopter was only a minute away. The green phone again: Silver once more. Gold had ordered no concessions if terrorists and hostages located. Gold had also sanctioned a shoot to kill policy in the light of the terrorists having already committed murder. Curry heard the rhythmic beat of the helicopter rotor blades as it passed overhead, on its way to scour the loch area. Minutes later, more phones were ringing and more reports, all being written up, almost verbatim, by the shorthand note takers and in précis form by the small team in charge of the whiteboards. The latest entries concerned the garages which had provided additional evidence that someone had left in hurry, its two large doors were swinging open in the breeze and the alarm was soundi
ng but no one was present. A cursory examination around the area had not revealed any bodies and there was no sign of blood. At the Bronze control room a voice came through one of the powerful side speakers hanging by a nail that ESU had recently banged into a wall.

  “This is Sky 1. Are you receiving?”

  Curry was shown a microphone amongst the vast array of equipment now on his desk and switched it on, “Bronze here, receiving loud and clear.”

  The helicopter radio operator wasted no time, “Sky 1 here. We can see at least two bodies halfway up the mountain beside the dam. There may be more. Wait. Now a third. Suggest you send a team up or do you want us to winch down? Over.”

  “Bronze here. We are seeing everything from the camera. Continue flying due west to Kinloch Hourn. We believe that is where target is headed. Follow the road. Do not intercept if sighted and keep out of rifle range. We believe they have at least one high velocity weapon. Over.”

  “Understood. Out.”

  Curry dispatched some officers to go up the mountain. As the road was secured and safe, he also sent two ambulances but didn’t believe their life-saving equipment would be needed. He was passed a scribbled note. Ritson had arrived and was being briefed in an ante room. Curry rather resented the presence of someone from London sitting on his shoulder but he had to admit, even to himself, that the Met had a lot more experience at handling these situations than he possessed.

  He smiled broadly and held out his hand as Ritson entered, “Welcome to Bronze. I understand you’ve been fully briefed. Anything else you need to know?” He beckoned Ritson to sit beside him.

  As he slid easily into the chair Ritson replied, “No, thanks. Its John, isn’t it? I’m Bill.”

  The informality surprised Curry and immediately he felt more at ease. At least the guy didn’t appear to swagger about, full of his own self-importance. The two sat back, eagerly watching the monitor pictures emanating from Sky 1. The black, incoming land line telephone on Curry’s desk rang and he and Ritson looked at one and other each unsure who should answer.

  Curry laughed, and said, “You answer. It’s patched through into the loudspeakers anyway”

  “Sir, we have caller on the line. Name of Truscott. Says it is to do with Mealag Lodge.”

  “Good God. Put him through immediately.” Ritson said, looking at Curry.

  * * *

  Gordon, Cindy and Paulette quickly tied up the boat at the head of the loch and ran as fast as they could the three quarters of a mile to Kinloch Hourn. They saw no one, and rushed to remove the protective canopy tarpaulin covering Greek Dancer and slipped the mooring ropes. Crime was unknown in such a small community and Gordon had no qualms about leaving its spare ignition key in a galley drawer. The powerful inboard Volvo engines burst into life at the first press of the electronic starter and Gordon pushed forward on the twin control levers. As he neared the open sea, his mobile flickered into life and the signal bars appeared. Holding the steering wheel with one hand and beckoning Cindy to help him by also taking hold of the large chromed spoke wheel, he pressed 999.

  “Emergency. Which service do you require?” a female voice.

  Gordon quickly managed to convey a degree of urgency into the operator who dispensed with some of the usual formalities, though insisting that Gordon provide his name and location. Her experience of recognising someone genuine and in trouble was considerable and as the man who called was asking for Chief Inspector Keith Maythorp by name, and also mentioning Mealag Lodge, she transferred the call to her duty supervisor who immediately looked up Maythorp. The computer told him of a suspected terrorist attack and that Maythorp was currently active on that assignment. He wasted no time in making contact with Fort William who instantly patched the call through to Bronze Command, not to Maythorp at Silver.

  A breathless sounding Gordon started speaking excitedly down the phone. My name is Gordon Truscott. I own Mealag Lodge. We have been the victims of a terrorist attack. Several officers have been killed. We are… ”

  Ritson interrupted. In a very calm voice he said, “First things first Mr Truscott, I would prefer to call you Gordon. My name is Bill and we know of the incident. We are currently in pursuit of those responsible. We have considerable resources already deployed. Are you alone and are you hurt?”

  “No. Yes. I mean I have my partner Cindy Crossland with me and Paulette Assiter the wife of the US Secretary of State. We are basically unharmed. The terrorists though have taken Dean.” Gordon was still having an adrenalin rush.

  “You say ‘taken’, Gordon. Do you know if Mr Assiter is hurt or where his captors are headed?”

  “I don’t believe he will be hurt. They told Cindy they would not harm him, but take him hostage. We are in a forty foot cabin cruiser, with a black hull and white stripe, heading out of Kinloch Hourn. There is no sign of the terrorists here, but they escaped by going over the mountains towards the coast. The clouds prevented me from keeping them in our sight.”

  Ritson remained poised, despite the fact that he wanted to ask a hundred questions, he knew that others would already be acting on the information being blurted out from the loudspeakers.

  “Can you remember what type of vehicle they had?”

  “No. But it had to be a bloody good 4x4. They took a most dangerous route that is not even marked on any map I know of. The driver must be highly skilled, especially in this weather.”

  “Do you know how many of them there are, Gordon?”

  Gordon hadn’t considered this until Ritson posed the question. He looked at Cindy and Paulette.

  “There was a woman according to Cindy, and there were two men who attacked us on the hill when they killed the US agents. So at least three, possibly more, but there cannot be many unless they have help elsewhere. The escape vehicle wasn’t huge, it couldn’t be to drive on that mountain.”

  “What you are telling us is excellent Gordon. Can you give us any more information? We have a helicopter in the vicinity, can you see that?”

  “No, I can’t. The woman is an excellent shot with a rifle though, Cindy has just told me. Oh, and the men have machine guns. Cindy thinks their vehicle might be a Jeep or Land Rover.”

  Ritson nodded to Curry. They knew a lot of this detail already from the initial reports at the various scenes of crime, but Truscott was providing vital additional intelligence.

  “Gordon?”

  “Yes”

  “I would hate it if your mobile went dead on us. Do you have a radio on board in case we need it?”

  “Yes, of course, I’ll give you the details, but my phone should be OK. It’s fully charged.”

  “Where are you headed now Gordon, and can I ask why?” Ritson was showing just how skilled he was at asking probing questions, designed to elicit maximum information.

  “I’m heading west at the moment but then I shall turn and head towards Glenelg. The terrorists may come out onto the A876, but if not they have to come out onto the Glenelg road.”

  The name meant nothing to Ritson, but Curry animatedly pointed to the map where the operator immediately highlighted the small village and the road that runs through it. Ritson nodded, signifying he now understood.

  “Gordon. Your help has been most invaluable. Can I suggest you now make your way back to Eagles Rest Hotel, which is where I am talking to you from. We can have you all checked out for injuries etc and you will be safe here. We have all the information we need now to track down these terrorists.”

  Gordon told his makeshift crew what Ritson had said. It was Paulette who reacted first, “No. No, Gordon we can’t just abandon Dean. I want to see him. Please, don’t give up now.”

  Ritson heard the plaintive cries of Paulette and raised his eyebrows at Curry.

  “It will be best if you come back. I do not want any more casualties, Gordon. These people are extremely dangerous, please do not try and pursue them.”

  Gordon looked about the boat and at the faces of Cindy and Paulette. He also felt that having come t
his far, they should continue, but he was fearful as to what they could possibly achieve.

  “Well, we’ve decided to motor on along the coast. If we see anything, how do I contact you again without going through all the emergency call centres?”

  Ritson thought quickly. By giving out a direct line he was almost conceding that Gordon could proceed, and under no circumstances did he want them to become embroiled in something that might easily go out of control. On the other hand, he did not have any boat himself patrolling the coast as the police launch was still miles away and Gordon seemed determined to carry on with or without permission.

  “I will give you a number, but I must stress to you that if you see anything you are to stay at a safe distance, at least 1000 metres, and report it. You are to remain in the boat at all times and not land until I give you the all-clear. Is that understood and agreed?”

  “Yes. Agreed” said Gordon. Cindy suddenly motioned him to pass her the phone.