'God, Andy, but I hope you’re right. Look, we can’t track them street by street through this. Let’s give them two more minutes, then we commit to Glasgow Airport.’
They hugged the line of the motorway as it headed towards the airport, and, as they did so, the trace from the dye on the Vauxhall Senator stayed to the north on Arrow’s screen, moving much more slowly now, as the car wound through the streets of Govan.
Skinner tapped the pilot on the shoulder to attract his attention.
'How long to the airport?’
'For us, three minutes. For him, by that route, fifteen minimum.’
Skinner was about to commit himself finally to Glasgow Airport, leaving the trace behind, when Martin broke in. 'What the hell’s this? They’re doubling back.’
'What?’
'The trace. It’s turned back on itself.’
'Dear Christ!’ said Skinner, with a sigh of fear and frustration.
'It’s gone again,’ said Martin. 'Pilot, hover. Hold your position.’
Arrow and Martin stared at the screen. Skinner leaned back over the seat for a clear sight, and Arrow turned the tracer set half towards him, to allow him to view. The little cathode screen stayed obstinately blank.
'Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!’ Skinner roared in his rage.
'Where’s the fucker gone?’
Arrow offered a suggestion in hope. 'He could have gone into a garage to fill up.’
'Bollocks! You think this lot’s planning includes running out of petrol in the middle of the night in fucking Govan! They’ll have another car somewhere. The bastards have stashed the Senator and switched. We’ve lost her, boys. We’ve lost her.’
His despair was even greater than that of the night before, for then there had been that other slim possibility. But now . . .
'No!’ The certainty in Martin’s voice banished the darkness gathering in Skinner’s heart.
“The Tunnel. The Clyde Tunnel entrance is down there. Pilot, head north.’
The helicopter banked sharply round and headed away from the bright lights of the motorway, towards the network of orange lines which crisscross the west of Glasgow by night, bisected by the dark slash of the River Clyde.
North they went, but the screen was still dead, even when they had almost reached the river.
'Andy, you sure about this?’
'What other chance is there? They’ll have gone out of range for a bit. We’ll have to catch them up. Look. There they are already!’
'Yeah, you beauty!’ Skinner cried with delight. 'You bastards won’t do that again,’ he growled at the trace, as if, through it, Alex’s kidnappers could hear him. He looked again and saw that the Senator was headed due north. “
'So, now where’re they off to?’ asked Adam Arrow, and the atmosphere at once grew more sober again.
'What does the map say?’ asked Skinner.
'I don’t need the map for that,’ said Martin. 'They’re headed up Crow Road, towards Anniesland Cross. From there they can go in four different directions. It’s anyone’s guess now which one they’ll take.’
'Whatever it is,’ said Skinner, 'we’ve got to guess their destination, and get there before them. Otherwise . . .’ His voice tailed away wearily.
'Let’s see what they do,’ said Martin. 'They could even cut back across the Erskine Bridge and come into the airport from the other side. Anniesland Cross’ll tell us that. They must be there now. The trace has stopped. That’ll be the traffic-lights. Of course they’re so complicated there, it’s always possible the bugger could get lost!’
He stared at the screen. 'There he goes again. West is it? No, he’s going north still. That makes it Bearsden, and Milngavie beyond that. That’s the wrong way for a boat, and it’s away from all the airports. Christ knows where he’s off to. Bob. To lie low for a few days, d’you think?’
Skinner shook his head. 'No, they’ve got what they came for. They won’t let the sun come up on them. Somewhere there’s an aircraft. Any ideas, pilot?’
'No, sir. Not in this direction. I have to warn you, though, if they’ve got a full tank, they’ll outlast us, especially if we’re flying stop-and-start like this.’
Skinner nodded. 'Aye, I figured. Look, my last option is that if we’re going to run out of fuel, we land on the road in front of them and shoot their tyres out. But that’s nightmare stuff. It’s the slimmest of all chances for my daughter.
'How long have we got?’
'No more than half an hour, sir.’
'Jesus.’
'Here, Bob. Hold on a minute. I’ve got it.’
Skinner looked over his shoulder to the rear seat. A sly smile showed on Martin’s face. The green eyes, made even greener by the reflection of the screen caught in his contact lens, seemed to glow brightly in the dark.
“He’s off to Balnaddar.’
NINETY-SIX
'Sorry to bother you, sir, but we’ve got a mystery here.’ Maggie Rose had come through on Mackie’s direct line, not long after he had finished passing Skinner’s message on to Superintendent Haggerty. She explained to him that Sarah and Julia Shahor had vanished, and that there were clear signs that their disappearance had been sudden and unplanned.
'So what have you done about it?’ : 'We’ve checked the doctors’ call-out service. No emergency calls have been put through to Sarah tonight. Then we’ve checked the hospitals. She hasn’t been seen at any of them. We’ve checked with Telecom. No calls to or from this number all evening. We’ve checked with UCI and the other cinemas that take credit-card
bookings. None made by either Sarah or Julia. Oh yes, and we’ve even searched the garden, just in case they saw us and decided to play the fool. All in all, sir, so far not a trace of them.’
Mackie took a few seconds to consider what he had been told.
'OK, Maggie. You’ve done everything right so far. I’ll take things from here. You two stay there and wait for them getting back from the Chinese or whatever carry-out shop they’ve
probably gone to. I’ll have an East Lothian car check out Gullane.’
'You going to let the boss know?’
'No bloody way. He and Andy have enough on their minds, without nonsense like this!’
NINETY-SEVEN
The airfield was just where Martin had said it would be. It lay a few miles north of Milngavie – 'T’ UK’s least pronounceable town’, as Arrow had dubbed it – on the A81 to Blanefield, and ultimately to Aberfoyle, just where the flatter landscape gives way finally to seemingly endless hills.
Skinner had committed the helicopter as soon as the trace showed that the Senator had taken the fork to Milngavie. Swinging wide round the car, the pilot had outpaced it easily.
Now, the dead screen showed that they were well in front of it, but Skinner was unworried. He knew that there were no other forks or turn-offs on the road for their quarry to take, but if he was wrong, and this was not to be the stopping place, he still had fuel in hand for the gambler’s last throw which he had contemplated earlier.
'What was this place used for, then, Andy?’ he asked as the helicopter hovered low over the strip.
Martin did not answer for a moment, as he watched the searchlight beam follow the entrance road from the A81, sweep along the short grey tarmac runway, and finally pick out the
hangar, the only building in the field.
The University Flying Club used it in my day,’ he said eventually. 'They ran three planes out of here. A few private pilots flew from here as well. Then some of them played silly buggers
and got too close to the Glasgow flight-path, so the CAA had it closed down. After that somebody rented it for a while and ran it as a go-kart track, until mountain-bikes and video games came along and killed that business stone dead. Since then it hasn’t been used at all.
As far as I know, the University still owns it, but they can’t think of anything to do with it. They can’t get planning permission for houses, and so they can’t sell it. The last I heard of
it was when I saw in a graduates’ association circular in the spring that it was going to be used for a charity Bungee-jump.’
'Who’d be likely to know about this place, other than the locals and students?’ Skinner asked.
'Just about any pilot with access to the right charts. It’ll still be marked on them – like for emergencies only.’
As he spoke, the helicopter touched down, facing the hangar.
The pilot switched off the engine and, as the craft settled, raised the beam of the searchlight and played it on the rusting doors. They stood slightly ajar. The policemen, the soldier, and the pilot jumped from the Jet Ranger and walked towards the hangar, their shadows on its doors growing smaller as they neared it. They saw immediately that it was impossible for the doors to be pulled fully shut because of thick grass which had sprouted in their runner. One by one the men squeezed through the gap, although for Arrow, who seemed squatter than ever, it proved a tight fit.
Martin’s torch had a wide beam adjustment. In the broad light it cast, they saw, in the centre of the hangar, its propellers facing the doors, a small twin-engined aircraft. Martin shone the torch into the aeroplane. It had four seats, two in front, two to the rear, with storage space behind. What make is it?’ Skinner asked the pilot.
'Could be some sort of Fokker.’
'Range?’ 'Depends on the load, but if it’s fully tanked up, quite a way: Southern Ireland no sweat, well into France, the Benelux countries, Scandinavia even. And this one is fully tanked up. Look at the way she’s sitting on the suspension.’
'That says it all,’ said Skinner. He reached inside his jacket and took a Browning automatic from its holster. 'Right. We haven’t got all night. We must get that chopper airborne again, now.
Adam, you and I are the reception committee. You in that corner over there, against the wall and beyond the door. I’ll take the other side.’ He turned to Martin and the pilot. 'You two, get the hell out of here, and do what you have to.’ He paused, then a strange look came into his eyes: a look with fear, hope and determination all mixed in.
“Me, I have an appointment with my daughter – and with one or two people who are going to wish they had never met her.’
NINETY-EIGHT
They heard the Vauxhall Senator’s tyres sizzle on the rough tarmac road, and saw the beam of its headlights swing round as it slowed to a halt, facing diagonally into the hangar. Arrow was almost caught in the sweep of the light as it lanced into the big shed through the gap in the doors. Just in time he jumped back into his corner hiding-place.
They heard a car door open. Then a voice, familiar to Skinner, said, 'Thank you, Dave, this is for you.’
The sound of the gunshot followed less than a second later, then sudden, reflex female reactions. Two women screaming. Skinner thought. Ingo could not have warned Ariel about his plans for Dave.
He tensed himself in the dark, and flicked off the safety-catch of the Browning. He was ready for instant action, but not for what came next.
'All right. Pops. You and your boys better come out now. Don’t want pretty daughter to get hurt.’ Ingo called directly into the hangar.
For once in his life. Skinner was taken completely by surprise.
'Come on. Bob,’ Ingo called again. 'If you’re in there, you step out within three seconds. If you’re not there, well, I don’t need her any more, so I just shoot her now. Just like poor Dave. I didn’t tell him it was only a little plane. Come on out now. Your last chance.’
'OK,’ Skinner roared from the shadows of the hangar. He left his place of concealment, the Browning still in his hand, but pointing to the ground, and stepped through the opening, out into the halogen light, out to face the kidnappers and his daughter. Both the front and back offside doors of the Senator were wide open. Ingo stood beside the car, pressing Alex tight against him. His left hand held one end of a thick leather belt which was looped, through its buckle, around her neck. His right hand Pressed a pistol to her temple.
Cold hard rage swept over Skinner like an Arctic wave. His right fist tightened on the gun. He wanted very badly to kill the man now, and knew that there was nothing left in him, no
shred of restraint to stay his hand. He looked Ingo dead in the eye with such fearsome anger that for a second it penetrated the other man’s coolness and made him flinch, even with his gun held to Alex’s head.
'You will let my daughter go now,’ said Skinner in a hollow voice, 'and then I will deal with you.’
But Ingo held on to his nerve, and Skinner saw that Alex’s had not exaggerated the menace of the man.
'No, no, Bob. Let her go now? You must think I am crazy. Now you – you look a little nuts. If you are still trying to trick me, it will be bad for Alex.’ He pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against the girl’s temple. 'Now where are the rest? Tell them to show themselves.’
Skinner opened his mouth to call out, but then heard a movement behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Adam Arrow step into the light.
'That’s good. But where’s the other one?’
'Who?’ ;
'This Martin, the one that Alex told me all about. You wouldn’t leave your right-hand man out of something like this.’
'Where do you think he is? I sent him off in the chopper to call up the heavy squad.’
Ingo laughed. 'Then he’ll be too late. We’re fuelled up and ready to go, and no one will ever track me in this thing. I can go too low, too slow for the radar. It will just think I’m a fat bird.
So, come on, let’s get on with it. Your guns on the ground, please.’
Ingo glanced towards Arrow as he threw his pistol on the ground – and in that instant Skinner snapped his Browning up to a firing position, left hand on right wrist. It was pointed directly
between the man’s eyes. As he held his aim. Skinner felt an icy coolness sweep over him, felt the presence of the other man, the man in the closet, as Sarah had described him.
'No, son,’ he said calmly and steadily. 'You don’t understand. It ends here. You just said you weren’t crazy. So work this out. I know for certain that if you take Alex away from here, you’ll kill her just like you killed the girl in the farmhouse, and your driver there. So I will not let you take her away. If she is to die, she will die with me, her father, beside her. But if you do kill her, even if you harm just a single hair on her head, then I will shoot you at that very moment. Believe me, that is my solemn promise. If you’re not crazy, you don’t want to die. So let her go. Now!’ The last word was as soft as a whisper, but it carried the force of a
shout.
Death stood surely before him, and yet Ingo Svart laughed in its face. And in that second Skinner looked at his daughter, and saw only her concern for him, not fear for herself.
'Pops,’ she mouthed silently.
'No, poor old Bob,’ said Ingo, 'it is you who don’t understand your situation. Time for our last surprise, I think.’ He called over his shoulder. 'Ariel!’
The near-side passenger door of the Senator opened, and a woman stepped out slowly. But it was not Ariel – not yet.
It was Sarah.
She looked helplessly at Bob, then shook her head. And then another woman stepped out. Julia. But not Julia – Ariel. The doe-eyes which Skinner had come to know so well were now
hard as flints as they stared across at him. Her smile, previously warm and wide, was cold, tight and controlled. She held a gun to Sarah’s side, and stood pressed close to her.
'So now, I think, you will take your pistol off my brother, and we will see if we can reach some agreement.’ Her voice was as dark as her eyes.
Her accent seemed to have changed too. It was clipped, more European in origin. Her hair, usually flowing, was pulled back into a long heavy pony-tail. She was dressed functionally in jeans and a white short-sleeved top, far removed from either the flowery or the formal styles of the Julia Shahor that he had thought he knew.
'So how did you . . . ?’ he began. B
ut he could guess.
'Don’t blame Andy, Bob. He told me nothing we didn’t know already – until he picked me up tonight. I was just about to leave his place to meet up with Ingemar when he called to tell me of your excellent idea that Sarah and I should look after each other. Then he said that he had to go catch a helicopter. Not a plane, a helicopter. That’s when I knew for sure that you hadn’t bought our escape story, and that you wouldn’t just set an ambush at the airport but would try to trace us to wherever we were heading. We expected you’d probably find some way to track us in the end. I know you’re a very dangerous man, especially where your beloved Alex is concerned. So when Andy said that, I decided we had to take Sarah too, just to make sure.’
A self-satisfied smile crept across her face. 'Did our little surprise give you a scare last night? Sorry about that. but you have really annoyed us. We have been planning this operation for two years. We committed finally when I was offered the Film Festival contract. Imagine, to be running an operation, and to be in on the police security briefings. We planned every detail, down to the last little item, even to “Auntie” staying with me, to give me an excuse
to get away from Filmhouse at odd hours.’
She’s enjoying this, thought Skinner. Keep her talking, boy. Wait for the moment, then take it. By God, you take it. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation running through him.
Ariel went on. 'We ran this type of operation once before in South Africa. It worked so well there, we really didn’t think we’d need a back-up plan this time. But when we did, Alex working in the same show as Ingo was such a gift, and my getting involved with Andy was the icing on the cake. The break in thing at my house was clever, wasn’t it. Poor Ray staged that one for me, and Andy was hooked. That’s Andy’s one weakness, you know. He’s
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