by Tom Benson
.
Kelvinside
Glasgow
Gregor Findlay arrived home and left his car outside the front door for a change. He fumbled with his keys before opening the front door and glanced up and down the driveway before going inside. The man was breathing heavily as he stood with his back against the door to calm himself.
The politician strode along the long hallway and pushed open the door to the large kitchen diner.
“Fuck!” he gasped and halted in the doorway staring.
“Charming,” his female visitor said. “Leave the door open, come in and make coffee. Move to the side so I can see the front door.”
Findlay continued to stare at the woman in disbelief but didn’t move a muscle.
Rachel reached into her leather biker jacket and produced a suppressed automatic. “I don’t usually repeat myself, but if you force me to make an exception, you might die.” She placed the weapon on the breakfast bar.
Findlay had dropped and smashed a mug before he was able to control his trembling hands. Nothing was said in the next five minutes while he performed the task he’d been given.
“Black with sugar.” Rachel gazed at the large dressing over the politician’s nose.
“The police will be arriving here shortly.” Findlay’s shaking hands lifted his coffee.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, I’m busy, and I don’t want you bluffing. I’ll be straight with you Findlay. I don’t like you on several levels, which means it would be easy for me to shoot you.” She paused and lifted her coffee with her left hand. As she sipped the hot drink, she watched him over the rim. She placed the cup down gently.
Findlay’s lips trembled as his gaze moved from the woman to the gun and back again.
“Through stupidity and self-interest, you have caused the death of people close to me.” She paused briefly. “I’m going to ask you for information, and if I think you’re lying or bluffing—I’ll kill you. Are you with me so far?”
Findlay nodded but didn’t speak. He wrapped both hands around his mug.
“I’d also advise against trying to throw hot coffee on me.”
One of Findlay’s hands left his cup, and the other hand trembled, spilling coffee on the counter.
Rachel shook her head. “I guess from your manner and your reaction to me so far, your life or your family’s lives have been threatened recently.”
He nodded but remained silent.
“You’re a politician, which means you probably have sleazy secrets going back for years. I want you to concentrate hard, and talk to me about the chain of events starting with who is blackmailing you.”
“Who said I was being blackmailed—”
Rachel reached under the breakfast bar and from her lap produced a small bundle of black lace. She placed the damaged garment on the counter and stared at the man’s face as she reached down again and added three compromising photographs. She lifted her coffee and sipped.
“It started with a visit from the Mistress ... an attractive young woman ... not that you’re not—”
“Don’t patronise me Findlay—inform me.”
“She arrived at my door in an outfit like yours, but she had a helmet on. I was handed a package which contained those things.” He nodded to the evidence on the breakfast bar. “A couple of days later she made contact with me.” He paused and sipped his coffee. “Could I have a brandy?”
“No.”
“She forced me to use my position and contacts to find out information about people.”
“Which people in particular?”
“The first one was a woman who had been given a new identity. She’d provided evidence for the Crown against a bunch of gangsters.”
“What was her name?”
“It took a lot of digging around and asking favours—”
“Name?”
“I don’t know what her new name was, but I remember her original name was Henderson ... Stephanie Henderson. She was divorced from one of the men who was slaughtered by the vigilante and his team in Braemar.”
“What else did you find out about this Henderson woman?”
“She was given a sum of money, a new name, and set up in Vancouver, Canada.”
“Who else were you to investigate for this Mistress?”
“I was to find out about the vigilante and his team, but apart from what they’d done in the past, I couldn’t uncover anything.”
“What else did you have to do?”
“She wanted me to acquire a unique property.”
Rachel nodded. “Why did she use you to purchase a property?”
“She couldn’t go through regular channels, and she was very specific. It had to be remote and offer security from anybody like the police or other authorities. I didn’t know what it was to be used for and those were the only factors I was given.” He paused and closed his eyes briefly. “I found a remote ruin on the coast of Loch Etive.”
“How did you make contact with this woman?”
“I can’t contact her. It’s always her who contacts me.”
“How did you get the information to her about this remote ruin?”
“I had to do one of those things you see in the movies—a dead drop.”
“You placed the information in an envelope and left it somewhere?”
“Yes, it was left in a litter bin in a public park.”
“Did you see who picked it up?”
“No, I delivered it and got away from there.”
“What did you tell her about the Mental Riders Motor Cycle Club?”
“I didn’t tell her anything about them. They’re just a gang of crooks on motorbikes.”
Rachel recalled when Stephanie Henderson had been rescued in Braemar, the bikers were present. Henderson would surely have given a description if she was tortured in Vancouver. It was a tenuous link, but it would be necessary to the Mental Riders to know why they’d been targeted.
“Where and when did you last have contact with this Mistress?”
“Glasgow Green, Monday, Fourth October,” Findlay said.
“Why was it so easy to recall?”
“She was disguised as a redhead that day, and she had a meeting with the man with the gravelly voice. I heard them talking, and his voice was distinctive like he was gargling stones as he talked.”
“When are you expecting to hear from the Mistress woman again?”
“Never would be too soon.”
“She’s never phoned, sent an email, or left a note with instructions recently?”
“No, it was the gravel-voiced man who left the note.”
“When was this?”
“Wednesday, Twentieth October.”
“Once again, your recollection of a date was rapid.”
“It was the day I had to reach Dawsholm Park, and he mentioned my daughter. He’d seen my daughter and me—”
“What did this man look like?”
“I didn’t see him at Dawsholm Park. He was in bushes behind me, but I recognised his voice from the day I saw him and the Mistress in Glasgow Green.”
“What do you remember about him apart from his voice?”
“He was bloody big, and there was something strange about his eyes, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“What did he want from you?”
“He told me to make contact with the Hawk vigilante and his team.” Findlay shook his head. “I said I didn’t know any of those people, but he said I’d better get to know them quickly.”
“How were you supposed to locate people who are beyond the law?”
“The big guy said I was to use my imagination, but I had to organise a meeting within forty-eight hours.” He closed his eyes. “He said, if I didn’t do it, he’d take my little girl, and I could use my imagination—”
“Okay, so what happened next?”
“I made an effort to get arrested by speeding and driving dangerously. When I was stopped, I verbally abused the police so I’d be
taken for questioning. I knew my lawyer would get me out on bail. I told the detectives I had information about the biker murders and had to talk to somebody.”
“What was to happen at the meeting?”
“I was to meet the vigilante team, and the big guy was going to take over.”
“He’d take over for what reason?”
“He said he had a job to do, and only the vigilantes would be suitable.”
Rachel shook her head. She unscrewed the suppressor from her automatic and fitted both weapon and suppressor into the shoulder holster under her jacket. As she lifted her safety helmet from the bar, she leant forward.
“Nobody is to know about this conversation, Findlay.” Rachel said as she stepped away from the bar. “If you think the Mistress is nasty, you really don’t want to fuck with me.”
“What should I do?” he sobbed. “My career is over ... and my marriage ....”
Rachel paused and stepped closer to him. “You are fucking pitiful.” Her sweet breath fanned his face as she spoke with venom. “Try telling somebody who gives a fuck.” She lifted her coffee and threw it over the politician’s front.
Findlay screamed as the hot liquid landed on his shirt and thin suit trousers.
Rachel dropped the cup on the floor and strode to the back of the large kitchen diner. She kicked the French doors open with a leather riding boot.
A few seconds later a rumbling engine could be heard as a powerful motorbike was revved and rode from the back garden around the side of the house.
20. Making an Exit
.
Loch Etive
Per Mare, Per Terram
Sinbad stood close to the cabin of Mike’s small cruiser. “Will you take a look at this mate.” Sinbad continued to observe the fort ruin through his binoculars. “It looks like Eva.”
The ex-Commando abandoned, casting off from the northern coastline. “Let’s see,” he said and lifted his binoculars. “Holy shit, it is Eva, and she’s in a bad way. Where did she start climbing from?”
“Well, I’ll call them openings, because they’re not really windows. Eva dropped out of the bottom one onto the rocks a few feet below. I’ve never seen anybody climb using two arms and one leg. She’s got fucking guts.”
“Whatever she has tied around her injured leg isn’t stopping the bleeding, and I’d guess, apart from being in pain from other injuries, her bandaged leg is useless for climbing. There are only a couple of openings on the west side of the ruin. Where the hell is she going?”
“I hope she doesn’t try to reach the top level,” Sinbad said. “There’s a guy up there with a fucking rifle. He’s standing behind the damaged wall and looking around now and then.”
Mike lifted the M16 from the wooden bench near the cabin. “If he looks like a danger to her, I’ll occupy him.” He squinted. “She’s going inside the third opening, which either means she’s tired or has some idea what’s in there.”
“Look below, Mike. She might have heard those guys patrolling on the rocks.”
“You’re right mate. I hope she hasn’t dropped into more trouble on the third floor.”
“Is there nothing we can do to help?”
“No,” Mike said. “We can’t initiate anything from out here, not unless we know we’ve got people on the other side of the ruin.”
“Max and the Riders will be there soon.”
“You keep an eye on the place,” Mike said. “I’ll turn up the radio volume and cast off. We’ll drift into the middle of the loch which will put us closer.”
While Sinbad continued to observe the ruin and distant coast, Mike set up the vertical tubes which appeared to be upright supports for fishing rods.
.
Fort Etive
Eva squeezed through the tight portal into the ruin and landed on the hard stone floor. She caught her breath and dragged herself into a corner to rest for a short while. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but as she re-applied the bandage on her wounded leg, she resolved to fight.
The young operative was grateful for all the secret narrow stairways found in places like this ruin. Where a well-built man would have difficulty, she could slide sideways into the crevices and go down the narrow steps, taking an occasional breath to squeeze between the hewn rock surfaces.
Voices could be heard, and Eva stepped around a tight bend, gun in hand, aiming up the tight space of the little stairway. She listened for any snippets of information.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Gerry,” one man said. “I wouldn’t want to be that girl when we take her to Mrs Mac.”
“Aye, the lass only thinks she’s suffered. When McGinley gets her, she’ll fucking skin her alive.”
“Hey, here’s another of those bloody secret passages. Do you fancy trying to squeeze in there?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I’d need to lose half my body weight to get in there. Fuck it, let’s go down and check the car park floor.”
“Aye, we’ll do that and have a smoke.”
The two men sniggered, and their footsteps faded with their voices.
Eva came back up to the floor where she’d climbed inside. The network of corridors were too numerous to learn rapidly. Small rooms occurred at strange angles throughout the building. Eva decided it must have been hard to renovate a building this age and design.
In four rooms she found beds made up as if overnight guests were expected. An older woman’s voice became apparent as a door opened further along the twisting corridors.
“I want the bodies wrapped in nets and dragged down to the boat. As soon as it starts to get dark, they can be taken out to the middle of the loch and dumped.”
“What about the girl?”
“Don’t worry about her,” the angry woman said. “When I’ve finished with her there won’t be enough left to bury anywhere.” A loud bang sounded as a door slammed.
“Fucking hell,” a man’s voice whispered, and footsteps approached.
Eva ducked back behind a large doorway and listened. A door lock clicked nearby, and the man spoke again.
“It’s time to wrap up you bastards ready for the fishes.” He was talking to the corpses.
The man was unaware of Eva until a slender hand gripped his chin and pulled his head back. By the time he registered the sensation of the blade on his throat, it was too late.
Eva recognised two of the three mutilated bodies and forced herself not to puke. Tears poured silently down her face. She considered limping along the corridor to the room where the McGinley woman must be but figured she could do more damage with sabotage. Eva headed back along the hall to a small room where she’d seen a few useful items earlier.
.
Inverawe
Max, accompanied by fifteen other Mental Riders rode past the campsite and the track junction which led through the forest towards Fort Etive. Max pulled over with the other bikers when they reached a narrower track five-hundred yards further along the main road.
“Right lads,” Max said. “This route into the forest is too narrow for a car or a van, but we have to make sure there are no sentries. Johnno and Dennis ... go take a look around.”
The two nominated bikers unzipped their jackets to have access to weapons before they sauntered into the woodland. They reappeared twenty minutes later, both grinning.
“We’re ready to go, Max,” Dennis said. “We circled back to entry route A. One guy is up there. He’s sitting on a log smoking and listening to a portable radio.”
“Okay boys,” Max said. “This is entry point B from the briefing I gave this morning. Leave engines silent and push bikes along here until we’re right into the woodland. We’ll camouflage the bikes when we’ve got them all turned ready to leave at short notice.”
“What about radio checks?” Dennis said.
“When we’re parked and camouflaged, we’ll all send a couple of clicks, and then we set out in our fire teams and get into position. Remember, from now on, no fucking smoking.”
; As expected a few curses followed the reminder, and the riders pushed their bikes in through the trees in single file. Dennis stayed at the back, and when the others had gone ahead, he brushed the entry point with branches.
“Find those fucking tracks, Kimosabe,” he muttered and followed his associates.
.
Fort Etive
Eva stood inside the small storeroom and unwound a substantial length of electrical cable. It was a regular three-core for domestic use, but the drum contained almost a full complement, which meant somebody had been too lazy to take it away.
A glance at the measurements on the drum was enough to satisfy Eva the cable would reach the rocks down below. She threw the unwound cable out of the window, after jamming the drum on the other side of the storeroom door. Going out of the window feet first and getting a firm grip on the slippery cable was difficult, but she remembered to wrap over one shoulder, across her back and under the opposite arm. Pulling it across her body would help control her descent.
Five minutes after exiting the small aperture high above, Eva had abseiled one-hundred feet and climbed into the car park floor. As she’d done after her climb earlier, she found a dark corner to rest for a few minutes. In the car park, she could see a BMW, a Mercedes, a van, and a Ford saloon.
The sound of an engine echoed from somewhere nearby before headlights blasted from a dimly lit area. Three Range Rovers popped up out of what had to be a dimly-lit tunnel. The vehicles parked in line abreast, all facing the stone wall.
There was a hubbub as one driver explained to all the other new arrivals where they had to go next. As the voices and footsteps faded, Eva sneaked a look—a dozen men. She struggled to get up behind the cover of a car. A check of the tunnel would be good. A roaring engine changed the plan. Eva ducked back to her dark corner.
A minibus appeared from within the tunnel, parked up and disgorged another dozen men.
“What’s happening now Baz?”
“We go upstairs for a bite to eat, and we’ll be briefed on our duties in the woods.”
