‘Sir James is just a hereditary Baronetcy, so when he dies I become Sir Angus – but don’t worry about it it’s becoming a bit of an anachronism in this age. And as for the Laird that isn’t even a title at all. It derives from the English word “Lord” and is usually said of any large landowner of standing; it’s just a mark of respect though that doesn’t stop some west highlands crofters trying to hide some of the Laird’s sheep amongst his own when it comes to Market time.’
A ripple of laughter ran round the group which now seemed relaxed about the weekend ahead and the threat of software hunters somehow diminished.
‘Anyway, we won’t need to have a session on security until you’ve settled in properly,’ he concluded, ‘and we’ll probably do that tomorrow morning.’
When lunch was finished and Angus knew that the slack tide was due, one of the group went and collected the mini-bus, the others, eased down with holiday quantities of vodka, made their way down to the Laird’s boat.
The boat itself was an Arun class lifeboat, not long retired from RNLI service - the finest sea-going boat for the sometimes treacherous waters in these parts. The Laird had been on the point of getting something different but just as he was making his choice, a young couple had lost their lives in the wild seas of the Corryvreckan. The thought that a lifeboat might have saved their lives prompted him to look into the possibility of buying one no longer in service. He found the Louisa and, on committing to allow her to be used as a backup to the Oban lifesaving boat, he bought her at a substantial discount off the one-million-pound price tag. Even this discounted price was high but Angus, returning from Russia to start the new joint-venture bank, offered to pay a substantial part of its purchase and running costs and the conglomerate’s almost bottomless pockets also made a contribution.
Her skipper, Sandy Grieg, a large man in his late forties had been chosen from many candidates, all of whom had to undergo interviews both with the Laird himself and the Lifeboat service. A local man, Sandy was one of those people that instil instant confidence and soon became known along the coast as one who had saved a number of lives since then, as the Louisa’s services had been called upon help out the Oban RNLI boat in the particularly stormy conditions of the previous year.
Once all the Boreyev group’s equipment had been transferred from the minibus into the Louisa, the bus itself was parked back in the Hotel carpark, and, with all aboard, Sandy made ready for the return to Craithe. He had some difficulty initially in starting one of the two large diesel engines. He had to do some quick tinkering with that engine’s fuel injection system but after a few minutes was able to start them both with deep powerful grumbles from the 1500 horse power between the two them. He then shouted for the willing helpers ashore and as soon as she was cast off, he nudged her out into Loch Crinan.
Once clear of the many yachts and small boats anchored near the quay, he gently pushed the throttles forward for more speed. The growls became muted roars and even in the choppy passage of sea known as the Dorus Mhor, with its seven or eight knot tide rips sweeping past the boat, the Louisa just bobbed in the powerful cross currents and sliced her way through them. Soon, even above the noise of the engines, they could all hear the roar of the straits of the Corryvreckan ahead them and, a short while later, they were in the midst of churning and standing waves – these where seas, coming at each other from different directions, clashed and stood against each other as though in a test of strength. The Louisa’s exceptionally wide beam of some seventeen feet made her comfortably stable and despite the violence of the waters all around them, she just gently rolled a few degrees, first this way then that, as she powered at nearly twenty knots straight through the middle of the maelstrom. Angus pointed out the Great Whirlpool itself as they passed within a hundred yards of it – a great, wide depression in the sea, some hundred yards across filled with waves tumbling over each other and circulating in a macabre marine dance.
As soon as they were through the straits and past the islands of Jura and Scarba on either side of the gulf, the island Craithe loomed really large ahead of them; its massive castle and jagged mountains beyond it quite awed even the hardened Boreyev elites. As they approached the entrance to the old walled-in harbour of Stanleytoun, Sandy Grieg eased the power off and the Louisa settled down into a slow gurgling approach towards her own permanent berth. It was at this point that an intermittent coughing sound could be heard coming from the same engine that had initially refused to start. Grieg exchanged glances with Angus.
‘If Borislav or anyone else needs her over the weekend,’ said Angus, ‘she’s got to be in full working condition – full power, total reliability. She doesn’t sound quite that at the moment, does she?’
‘No she does not, sounding a wee bit wheezy,’ replied Grieg.
‘Can you get her a hundred percent by the end of the afternoon?’
‘Oh Aye, I can tell without even looking that it’s nothing serious, but the worst that could happen would be making do with just the one engine.’
‘No, no, that won’t do, see if you can get it fixed properly at Brown’s and let me know up at the Castle when that’s been done, will you’, said Angus.
‘Aye, I’ll do that’.
Grieg nudged her gently towards her berth and as they came near the quayside, people appeared as from nowhere to help tie up the Laird’s boat. These same people then helped with getting the baggage and Boreyev’s equipment up on to quayside. Two Land rovers had been driven down to near the Louisa. One of them had a game cart attached to the back of it and soon all had been loaded. With the Louisa’s enclosed cabin then safely locked, they all made their way along the quay to the Derby Arms Hotel.
This had once just been just a good pub and restaurant with a dozen rooms and just a couple of bathrooms. Recently, with the tourist trade quadrupling over just a few years, a large extension had been added and it now boasted a fine panoramic view restaurant, eight more bedrooms, most of them with their own bathrooms. Boreyev’s five were to stay here in the rooms that Angus had managed to book for them and once they had been happily installed in the hotel and given a fair number of notes for pocket money, Angus, Tatiana and Kim took Borislav up to the castle. Angus seemed relaxed about the threat of any intruders, but Boreyev was keen to learn about the layout of the Castle right away as, in his experience, it was never wise to be over-confident in security matters. Angus gave him a quick guided tour both inside and outside the castle. As they went, Boreyev made notes and did little sketches, already, almost intuitively, planning a defence strategy. Whatever Angus might think the chances were of an attempt to steal Athena, Boreyev was going to make damned sure it would not be an easy task for anyone attempting it.
Chapter 18
Friday lunchtime,
Galley of Lorne Inn,
Ardfern, Argyllshire
Hamish Munro at the Galley of Lorne Inn, had told the Major at the time he had made the booking that he would put out a large white cross of sheets on the best level spot near the Inn to show where the helicopter should land. After passing Crinan, the pilot slowed the Eurocopter as the white cross came into view up ahead. He landed, let his passengers off, and, as the helicopter would not be needed here again till tomorrow afternoon, took off again and swung south back to Ireland.
The five of them quickly settled into the comfortable Inn and after a quick lunch, each of them had research to do for their missions.
The Major’s first job was to check on something he had asked Wheeler to do for him while he was getting from London up here via Norbally House, and he went to his room to make the call.
‘I’ve arrived at the Galley of Lorne Inn with Rollo’s team and the Russian,’ he said, ‘One interesting development, in his eagerness to look after our every wish, the owner of the inn here, has already told us that his cousin, Geordie Munro, is odd-job man at Craithe Castle and occasionally acts as a special guide for guests of the Galley of Lorne.’
‘That sounds good,’ said W
heeler.
‘It does,’ said the Major, ‘and Rollo’s head man, Flaxman, is going to talk to both the owner here at the inn and his cousin - might find a way to make our jobs just that much easier. Talking of making things easier, did you find out anything for me about exactly where they took a spur off the Oban fibre-optic internet cable for the Craithe Castle line?’
‘No, afraid not. I’ve searched the internet and asked around, but nothing to be of any help to you,’ replied Wheeler, ‘So you’ll need that interview with the engineer tomorrow morning and I’ll text you his name and the time and place I’ve arranged for you to meet him.’
‘Good, I look forward to that,’ said the Major, ‘in the meantime, I’ll get on with looking for a good rendezvous for the boats after the jobs have been done and I’ll ring you tomorrow with a progress report – hopefully to tell you that both missions went off without a hitch.’
‘Good luck,’ said Wheeler, and rang off.
Greg Flaxman had become a master in the art of kidnapping, but in his days with the Coverts his targets had usually been snatched from some housing estate in cities such as Belfast or Derry or from a lonely cottage in the countryside. The time factor to this mission, however, meant that he and Bookie needed to seize Macrae’s wife from the security of the huge castle and, to this even more difficult, it had to be done at the earliest opportunity, which meant it would most likely have to be carried out in broad daylight.
After Munro’s gesture of hospitality – offering to get his cousin Geordie to act a special guide for the modest extra fee of twenty-five pounds – a neat plan suddenly occurred to Flaxman. He decided to put this to Munro when they met, as agreed, after lunch. Flaxman arrived at two-thirty in the bar, and found the large red cheeked Munro pouring himself a significant slug of whisky.
‘Would you like one of these yourself, Mr Flaxman – on the house?’ asked Munro, ‘I find it helps the digestion.’
‘No thanks,’ replied Flaxman, ‘too many of my former comrades turned to the bottle in a big way on returning from Afghanistan, so I don’t touch the stuff myself.’
Munro did not appear to notice this reference to his over-indulgence of the bottle and, anyway, by now had already taken a large swig from the glass. Flaxman had already noticed this weakness in him, and mentally stored it as something that he might be able to exploit if the need occurred.
The two of them settled into a long bench-seat in the bow window at the end of the bar and Flaxman leant forward towards the other. ‘I need your advice,’ he said.
‘Happy to help in any way I can,’ replied Munro’
‘I’m an old friend of Angus Macrae’s and I’d really like is to give him a nice surprise when I get over to the Castle tomorrow,’ said Flaxman.
‘Well, what a small world,’ said Munro, ‘where did you know him?’
His fabrication well prepared, Flaxman, leant back smiling,
‘Moscow,’ he said, ‘my Russian cousin Dmitri Zaytsev who’s with us on this trip, he also met Angus in Moscow – both of us also met his lovely wife Tatiana, she’s from Moscow, did you know? So, any ideas on how we might get up close to him and Tatiana? It’d be such fun to suddenly confront him – completely unexpected.’
‘I see what you mean,’ said Munro, pausing for a moment and looking out at the view of the loch below them for inspiration. ‘I should think that Geordie could find out what his and Tatiana’s movements will be tomorrow, though he might not be able to get those till the morning. Why don’t we ring him now, let him in on our little secret, and we can get that answer from him by ringing again before you set off in the boat?’
‘Perfect, let’s do that’ replied Flaxman, ‘and you can confirm if you will that we’d like Geordie to act as a special guide for us tomorrow. Tell we’d like to double his fee to fifty quid as we’re also asking him to keep our little secret.’
Munro beamed with delight at the plan. Geordie was always pleased when Galley of Lorne guests were directed towards him for guide work of this kind. Munro went back over to the bar whilst Flaxman leaned on the bay window and looked out at the view. He listened carefully, however, as Munro talked to Geordie, after initial difficulties finding him.
After the call, Munro returned to the bench seat smiling.
‘Geordie’s delighted with the whole idea,’ he said, ‘and he’s sworn to secrecy – loves a secret, Geordie. And don’t be fooled by his appearance tomorrow, he’s a little backward, if you know what I mean, but absolutely ideal for a prank such as this.’
‘Good,’ said Flaxman getting up to leave, ‘so after breakfast and before the boat gets here I’ll come to your office and we can ring Geordie again? Did he think there will be any problem finding out what Angus and Tatiana will be doing tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know if you overheard me ask him that very question,’ replied Munro, ‘but he said it would be no problem at all, and I reminded him to be careful not to give our little secret away when he was trying to find out about their movements.’
‘And what did he say?’ asked Flaxman.
‘He told me that he often asks Angus if there’s anything he would like done for him,’ replied Munro, ‘so asking him won’t seem unusual at all.’
‘Excellent,’ said Flaxman, ‘looking forward to tomorrow morning then,’ as he rose, gave a wave and left the bar.
The rest of the afternoon was spent learning as much as they could of the castle and its layout. This meant studying the visitor’s brochure for Craithe Castle, a large scale map they had brought with them; The Inn also had other booklets about the West Coast of Scotland, and the islands here just south of Oban. They found it both interesting and informative and both the kidnapping and software theft were beginning to look much easier than either Flaxman or Zaytsev had initially feared. There was just one thing they came across in the local guide that concerned them and the effect it might have on their plans. The booklet explained that, on account of the very sparse population and the mountainous terrain, mobile telephone and satellite services ranged from very poor to non-existent. This meant that once any distance from the mobile relay masts on the mainland, mobile telephone connections were either out of range or the signal could be blocked by intervening mountains. It was too late now to get a hold of satellite mobiles or radios. They would need to be careful to bear this in mind when setting up the rendezvous tomorrow.
As they all met in the bar that evening for a drink before dinner, they agreed that, apart from the late discovery of communications difficulties in this remote part of the world, tomorrow’s missions were now looking much easier than they had once feared.
Chapter 19
Friday afternoon
Craithe Castle
During Friday morning, Angus had been speaking to a number of people about the results of conference. The Bank of England team had been delighted with the way it had all gone - especially Athena’s successful counter attack on a small bank. It was not until the afternoon that Angus got round to meeting up with Boreyev to discuss plans for protecting the Athena team and the banks of machines holding all their work.
When Angus had taken over his uncle’s project and gone into partnership with the conglomerate to further develop Athena, it had become clear that security could to become an issue. Even early discussions on the effects of marrying quantum computing technologies with the best of today’s digital, it became obvious that the team were likely to produce some revolutionary software. It occurred to Angus that his father’s castle off the west coast would be the perfect place to hide the team and the Laird was happy to let him have the whole of the massive south east tower and some rooms in the east of the main castle were also assigned to the team.
To entice members of the team to move to such remote location, everything had to be of the best. Though none of them were on the new Athena project for the money, the conglomerate insisted that they should be paid at least as well as the very best of their other research people in Cambridge. The south ea
st tower was almost gutted and every modern facility for their comfort was installed both in the tower itself and the main castle block – bedrooms, bathrooms, a large sitting-room, a smaller television room, and a restaurant with its own kitchens and staff. The Laboratory – the ‘Lab’ to the team – was equipped to the very highest standards with a rare, latest version of a quantum computer, making it at least as well equipped as any research facility of its kind in the world.
The security of the whole operation would be child’s play compared to such a set-up had it been in or even near London. For a start, the castle itself had never been breached, even under Cromwell’s principle commander, General Monck – its entrances were few and easily monitored.
The main security risk was from would-be software thieves posing as tourists. A large-scale attack to steal Athena could only get onto the island by boat or by helicopter, and, as in times past, would be easy to rebuff. Due to the island’s mountainous terrain and few level areas, there were but few large enough for a helicopter to land and an attack by sea would be likely to succeed only under cover of darkness.
Boreyev had taken a long look round the castle and grounds on Friday afternoon while Angus was busy so, when he was eventually able to meet up with him in the evening, Angus agreed to go round the castle both inside and out and listen to his thoughts on how best to use the Russian team.
‘I know I got you over here to do some protection work,’ said Angus as they went out of the castle’s main front door, ‘but I think that your stay here is going to be more of a holiday than anything else. For starters, I don’t think anyone knows yet that the Athena team is based here on the island and for some time now Perry has had in place a software decoy programme which entices those looking for Athena to search the west end of London or Cambridge. And funnily enough, we’ve had a number of people trying to hack into those false locations.’
Betrayed: (A Financial and Conspiracies Thriller – Book 1 in the Legacy Thriller Series) Page 14
