Dreams to Die For

by Alan G Boyes

  “Phone that number and tell them what we are doing, can you Sandy? Thanks.”

  Seconds later Ritson answered, “I am with Gordon Truscott in a Range Rover travelling on… bugger, the signal’s gone” Sandy was not prone to bad language and ‘bugger’ was about as bad as it got for him.

  “Well, I’m not turning back. We may get a signal at the top of Ratagan. We can try at the viewpoint there.”

  That was several miles away and Cindy wondered if stopping there might waste precious time. The delay at the car park had already cost them several minutes.

  “I know they are ahead of us, but not by much, and we will be a lot quicker than a cumbersome camper van, albeit being driven by a pretty able driver” said Gordon “I wonder why they changed from the Land Rover?”

  “So they could pass themselves off as tourists, I should think,” said Cindy “Also, Dean would be very visible in a Land Rover but not so in a camper van.”

  Gordon nodded, impressed.

  “The trouble with the road ahead is that it’s almost impossible to pass anyone, unless they allow you by. Let’s hope we don’t get stuck behind some selfish tourists”. It was Sandy who spoke. He seemed to be treating the pursuit of the terrorists as if it were some sort of surreal adventure on one his courses, but Gordon’s next comment swept away any fantasies.

  “If we come across the camper, we must decide what we are to do. We will soon be spotted if we follow them. These people are professionals and they may know this vehicle anyway as they must have had us all under observation for quite a while. The terrorists have killed several police already. I think Ritson is right. If we spot them, we should report it and then leave it to the police.”

  Paulette remained silent. Cindy and Sandy murmured their agreement. Gordon tried to mentally calculate how much quicker their vehicle would be than the camper van around the twists and turns of the road as it climbed Mount Ratagan, but decided that it would probably hinge on how much traffic there was on the road. Even the Range Rover could not risk taking the dangerous bends at speed.

  78

  Ritson was not best pleased with Gordon. In fact he was very irate. The last thing Ritson needed was a maverick on the loose and he ordered an assistant to keep trying Gordon’s phone, the number of which was automatically logged, but there was no response other than the ‘number unobtainable’ message. There was no response either from the Greek Dancer’s radio. He sent a message out to all units to keep a look out for Truscott and his boat but emphasised that their attention should remain focussed on sighting the terrorists. They remained the principal targets. Another call came through from Silver.

  “The press have got wind of the fact that something big is happening in the Scottish Highlands. Gold has placed an embargo on press helicopters within a fifty mile radius, but in return we have offered a press liaison officer at the Fort William nick. Should anything come through, refer all press there.”

  “Understood” said Ritson, relieved that the local police station should take the calls. He had known situations where the crafty press had sometimes pretended to be persons with information in order to get through to a command centre and instructed the Bronze team to be very alert to that possibility if they took an incoming call. He also knew that it would not take the press very long before they would start asking some very searching questions.

  He and Curry requested a status update on the ancillary emergency services that were also rushing to attend the vicinity. Fire crews, ambulances and Mountain Rescue helicopters (for their on board paramedic facilities) were all approaching the area and ready to be deployed once the terrorists had been located. However, the news from Sky 1 continued to disappoint. They had patrolled the Sound of Sleat and were circling high above the Kyle Rhea ferry, whilst observing the close-up pictures produced by the powerful camera. Nothing. No trace of anything remotely suspicious nor a Land Rover travelling at high speed. They had five minutes flying time remaining before they would have to return to their base for refuelling. That in itself did not cause Bronze a problem as another observer helicopter, Sky 2, would immediately take up the station occupied by Sky 1.

  Ritson turned to Curry, “the targets have to surface soon. They have been very lucky so far I think.”

  “And this has been very well planned,” added Curry. “Taking that highly risky mountain pass must have been deliberate and chosen because of the probable weather. That area is the wettest part of the British Isles and on average nearly an inch of rain falls every day. Those mountains are usually shrouded in cloud or mist and when it is not raining only a very few days ever have clear skies above the mountain tops. That was clever.”

  Ritson was impressed at his colleague’s insight and mentally noted how valuable local knowledge can be.

  “Actually, John, that’s a very astute observation and not picked up by Silver. This is a really, really clever operation. The suspects have not done what we expected at any stage. Mrs Crossland even reported that one of the terrorists, presumably Fadyar Masri, or whatever her name is, saved their lives this morning. That could never have been planned, it had to be spontaneous, yet it showed our kidnappers to have a compassionate side and also to be able to modify their plans. Whoever is in charge, maybe this Masri woman, is certainly very able and adaptable. The whole thing is bloody weird, really strange. I wonder what the odds are that they are not going to do what Silver anticipates now.”

  “We have little choice though, Bill, but to follow their advice, at least until it proves wrong,” said Curry.

  “Mmmm. Maybe. I’ll think about that one.” Ritson was more used to challenging his superiors than Curry and he would not be afraid to take a risky decision if he felt it to be correct. He was effectively joint Bronze commander and he would stretch that brief to the full if he felt it right to do so.

  * * *

  Mattar saw the flashing blue lights in the centre grille of the unmarked police Vauxhall as it approached them travelling at high speed on the opposite side of the road.

  “Pull over, let them go by. We are tourists remember.” Fadyar anxiously called out.

  “Calm down Fadyar, I know.” Mattar said as he gently pulled into the nearest passing place. As the speeding vehicle was almost level with them, the driver slightly raised his right hand from the steering wheel as a gesture of thanks. The camper had not aroused even a flicker of suspicion, it being a common vehicle seen on the roads in the Highlands.

  Five minutes later another police vehicle, a marked 4x4, travelling towards Khyle Rhea or Glenelg, also sped past them with three burly, armed officers clearly visible in the passenger seats. Gordon, travelling several minutes behind the camper van, repeatedly flashed his lights at the approaching police vehicles hoping they would stop, but when they showed no signs of doing so he, too, pulled into a passing place. He waved as they dashed past, dismayed that neither had not stopped.

  “Why should they?” he said rhetorically to Cindy. They don’t know of us in this vehicle and think we are just trying to be helpful to them. They are also still searching for a Land Rover.”

  Gordon pulled out of the lay-by and drove as hard as he could to make up time, feeling positive that around the next bend he would catch sight of the camper but at each turn of the wheel he was disappointed.

  “Where do you think those police vehicles were going?” Cindy suddenly asked Gordon, but it was Sandy that responded first.

  “I’ve been wondering that. Either someone saw you get off the boat with those weapons and has raised the alarm at Glenelg or they are going to close the small ferry and seal off Khyle Rhea. I don’t think Kathleen or Margaret will have raised the alarm – we told them we would do that.”

  “They will never take Dean to Skye,” Gordon ignored Sandy’s suppositions and remained thinking about the terrorists. He was adamant.

  “Although a large island, Skye is just too easy to completely seal off. No, his captors will stay on the mainland. It is possible, of course, they have
somewhere to stay but nothing happens around these parts without someone noticing and commenting. This group know that you hide in a large city, not in remote countryside. Although we haven’t sighted them, I still believe they are ahead of us.”

  At the summit of Mount Ratagan there was still no signal on the mobile. The mist obscured the view down to Shiel three miles away but as they came down the other side of the mountain the cloud disappeared and the fading sun lit the panoramic vista that lay before them.

  Gordon stopped the car and reached for his field glasses. Sandy removed the scope from his rifle and also scoured the dozen or so vehicles on the road ahead. Simultaneously they exclaimed, “There! About two miles ahead.”

  79

  “Have we got a fix on that abandoned call from Truscott?” Curry asked to the room.

  There was no answer.

  “Damn,” he uttered almost inaudibly, but it was heard by Ritson and disturbed his thought.

  “Can we have a close-up map, please, of that Glenelg road?” Ritson asked.

  A large, detailed image of Glenelg appeared before him and Curry.

  “Zoom out a bit please, and then follow the road.” Ritson again.

  “What are you thinking, Bill?” Curry asked.

  “Well. Truscott must be headed towards this small ferry,” Ritson used his electronic pointer to indicate the Khyle Rhea ferry, “or further along the road towards this place.”

  He pointed out Shiel on the map.

  “That has to be right, doesn’t it? Surely he’d still be in contact with us if he was at the coast where there is a mobile signal, so that must make Shiel favourite. No? Yes?”

  “Yes, probably. Units Juliet 3 and Papa 1 should be nearly at the ferry area by now, probably sealing it off at this very moment.” Curry replied

  “If that’s the case, and Truscott is going to Shiel, would it not be reasonable to assume that to disobey his undertaking and to take the road, he must have a good reason, a very good reason? He will not simply be enjoying the scenery.” Ritson remarked.

  Curry was beginning to appreciate the assistance of his colleague up from the smoke. Ritson was right.

  “Good point. Absolutely. It can’t be the ferry or we would have heard, nor back towards Corran.” Curry then pressed a button on a panel of switches and pulled a microphone closer.

  “Juliet 3, are you receiving? Report your position please. This is Bronze. Over”

  “Juliet 3. We are at the ferry. Over.”

  “Thank you Juliet 3. On your way did you see any vehicles? Over.”

  “Obviously negative to the suspects, Bronze. There were probably about twelve other vehicles, maybe fifteen, we passed on our way to Shiel and then onto reaching here and we overtook about the same number. It’s quite a popular route with the tourists. All seemed quite normal. Remember, we were only looking out for a Jeep or Land Rover. Over.”

  “Yes, I guess so. Papa 1 can remain at the ferry. Please return to Shiel immediately as fast as you can. Wait there for other units to rendezvous with you. Over.”

  “Will do. Over and out.”

  As the car radio operator of the unmarked Vauxhall put his receiver back into stand-by mode he turned to his driver and both raised their eyebrows, not best pleased at being told to turn round the moment they had arrived at the ferry embarkation jetty.

  “Christ. I wish they could make their bloody mind up where they want us, we’re running around like headless chickens.” The driver swore to his passenger as the tyres squealed from him making a fast U-turn.

  Curry next called up the surveillance helicopter which was now on station, and he asked the crew to widen their search pattern.

  As he descended, Gordon and his passengers lost the benefit of being able to view the road ahead from an elevated position and again lost sight of the camper van. Even when a section of straight and level tarmac appeared, momentarily raising their hopes, a sharp bend ahead rendered it impossible to locate or even glimpse the camper van ahead. At Shiel there was no sign of Dean’s captors, and at the junction with the A87 a frustrated Gordon thumped the steering wheel.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “Left” said Sandy. “Has to be. If they turn right they must know that the police will have set up a road block at the junction with the A887 and there is no other road they can take in that van going that way. It must be left.”

  Gordon made the turn and started to accelerate. “But they won’t be going to the Skye bridge either for the same reason. This doesn’t make sense. Maybe they’ve hidden the van and are on foot.”

  At that moment a small plane flying fairly low passed over the road ahead of them before it climbed and banked sharply to avoid the hills ahead of it.

  “That’s very unusual,” observed Sandy. “We often get the air force practising low flying between the hills, but not privateers. Wonder what it’s up to? Do you think it’s a police spotter plane?”

  “We’ve been so stupid!” Gordon shouted out, thumping his hand even harder on the steering wheel. “The plane is for them, don’t you see? It’s their escape. The plane. That’s how they are going to get away.”

  “But there’s no airport here!” Sandy was incredulous. “There’s the place over at Broadford, but that would mean them crossing the bridge. The police will definitely be there, and at the airport.”

  Gordon revved the engine and started to gather speed on the wide, smooth trunk road. “It’s not there they’re headed for. What about that small landing strip, virtually disused, over at Criannich? That’s my bet.“

  Cindy yelled at him from the rear.

  “No, Gordon. No. Please stop. This is a job for the police, not us.” She started to cry, “We really have been through enough today. Please.”

  “But the police are all going the wrong way and we can’t communicate. We must follow and hope that a signal comes through soon. Then I’ll stop. Promise.”

  “Oh… Gordon, no.” but it was a sigh of resignation. Cindy’s stomach suddenly felt very empty and slight shiver of fear passed over her.

  Gordon gunned the Range Rover as hard as he dared along the wide, fast A87 before he swung off right at Larnacran, violently throwing his passengers around, despite them being securely held in their belted seats. Once more, they were travelling along a narrow road that undulated through and over high slopes and hills, but with no massive mountains to negotiate. As the terrain softened, the mobile flickered into life again. Almost immediately the ring tones sounded and Sandy answered. As he did so, Ritson pushed a switch down on the loudspeaker phone console in front of him and Curry, whilst simultaneously pressing a button marked ‘Sky 2.’ The phone call would automatically be patched through to Silver and Gold, and their commanders had similarly enabled simultaneous transmission to their assistants. A lot of people were about to listen in to the ensuing conversation.

  After the cursory introductions Sandy started to explain where they were headed. “Dean’s kidnappers swapped vehicles at Glenelg car park. For various reasons we assumed they would be driving towards Shiel, and we are now hopefully on their trail having taken the Larnacran road.”

  This was no time for criticism and Ritson ignored any suggestion of it. The people he was talking to had priceless information which he desperately needed. The map of the Larnacran road appeared on the wall as he spoke.

  “What vehicle are they in?” asked Ritson.

  “Camper van, grey and white,” Sandy’s words were noted by everyone listening in, but particularly the radio operator in Sky 2, flying at 3,000 feet above the Khyle Straits. He passed a scribbled pencil message to the pilot.

  “We saw a light aircraft flying low a moment ago and we think they are heading for the disused landing strip near Criannich,” Sandy spoke into the small phone.

  “Affirmative Bronze. We glimpsed it too but it disappeared before we could get a fix,” Sky 2 interrupted.

  “OK. That’s excellent, thank you. Now, we will do the rest. You are to stop
immediately and leave the area. Our units are now arriving at Shiel. We will talk later, but you must now leave. Do you understand?” Ritson sounded rather stern.

  Sandy turned to Gordon, “He’s saying we must stop and leave.”

  Gordon grabbed the mobile from Sandy’s hand and spoke to the Bronze joint commander, “Look. This is how I see it. Several people I got to know quite well were shot to pieces today, and I myself was nearly blown up by a grenade. My best friend is now a hostage, and his wife and Cindy have also been through a terrible ordeal. You guys were nowhere when we needed you, your protection has been proved inadequate, and two of your vehicles have recently passed us going completely the wrong way. Now, level with me. How long will it take you to get to the landing strip?” Gordon could no longer contain the suppressed anger within him and as he delivered his outburst his voice rose in pitch and volume.

  “Mr Truscott, please. That is not the point. I am trying to protect you and the occupants in your vehicle and must insist you stop now. We will be on the scene as soon as possible. Now, Sir, Please stop your vehicle.”

  “He’s right, Gordon.” Cindy spoke, but Paulette intervened.

  “No Cindy, please. I want to go on. I must be there in case they take the plane. These people will kill Dean, I know they will, as our government and the President will never give into the demands they will make for his release. I have to do something. Please. It may be the last time I shall ever be close to him.”

  Ritson heard the conversation going on in the car. He was also acutely aware that every second that passed Gordon would be gaining on the camper van. He heard Curry giving instructions to all nearby units to head for the airfield and he opened the palm of his hand and extended five fingers three times towards Ritson. Then held up both hands and pointed skywards.