by V Clifford
It took him a few minutes to focus but he said, ‘The only thing that I can see is a little black head.’
She nodded. ‘It’s a buoy. Now what is the purpose of that? Surely a buoy is only useful if it’s highly visible. It’s supposed to be a marker for some kind of hazard below the surface is it not?’
‘Yes, makes sense. But where are you going with this?’
‘Not sure. When we canoed back I spotted it and went to see what it was. It’s secured to something incredibly tightly.’
‘You thinking it could be a drop point?’
‘Exactly.’ She hesitated, not wanting to mention her trip with Ruddy. Then continued. ‘I know I’m making a leap from someone with a bump on the head, but it’s got me wondering.’ She grinned at him. ‘I’ve been reading too many smugglers tales. Well, drug trafficking thrillers if I’m honest.’
‘Wow, Viv, I could say you should get out more but you might be onto something . . . what led you from Archie stuffing his face in the kitchen to smuggling?’
‘I had a vision of him in the pitch dark flashing a torch at someone out to sea, like a baddie in an old black and white movie. Not Whisky Galore, more Margaret Rutherford to the rescue.’ She laughed at the look of doubt on his face. ‘Okay. I can see it’s a stretch, but to my mind the point of a black buoy can only be as a pick-up. It’s got to be a marker for someone with its exact GPS. It’s no good to the uninitiated.’ She shrugged. ‘It could be for a lobster pot. But I’m not getting that Thermidor sensation in my belly. Besides we should give fishermen more credit. I’m sure their buoys are bright pink or orange.’
Mac stared at the buoy. ‘Unless, as you say, there’s an obstacle out there you’ve got to wonder why it’s there at all. Come on, let’s get some breakfast.’
‘Wait!’ She grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Look, Mac, I’m sorry.’
He looked confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve failed this weekend. I haven’t delivered.’
‘You don’t know that yet. Besides I see things differently to you. That’s why we make a team. Come on, let’s eat.’
‘No, let’s check out that buoy.’
His eyes moved along the beach to the shed. Hers followed. She could see where this was going, and they both took off at the same moment.
‘I’ll get my ears chewed off if this doesn’t turn out to be anything.’
She grinned. ‘Nothing ventured and all that.’
They had to untie the rib and roll it down to the water’s edge. She had no idea how it worked, but Mac seemed to know what he was doing. Once they’d pushed it away from the shore he dropped the engine into the water and pulled the starter cord. Nothing. He tried again. Nothing. She stared back towards the bunkhouse to see if anyone was watching. They didn’t seem to be. As he tried one more time she ran to the back of the shed and searched until she found a can of petrol. She held it up and Mac nodded, gesturing for her to bring it. Five minutes later they were motoring out to sea and circling the buoy.
‘You know we might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb. Let’s check out the cave.’
He hesitated. ‘Okay, it’ll take us twenty minutes to get there. Hope we’ve got enough petrol.’
He gunned the engine and the rib sped round the point. Viv’s hair whipped out behind her and a fine salt spray covered her face. She scanned the horizon for any other boats. Nothing. Odd, since it was a beautiful day for cruising. They pulled up on a short section of pebbly beach and tied the rib to a rock. It bobbed and bumped until its wake calmed and they felt safe to leave it. Mac hunkered down and went in first. Viv followed. She pointed to where Becky had been lying. It hadn’t occurred to her to check this as a crime scene, but that’s exactly what Mac seemed to be doing.
‘There won’t be much chance of finding footprints since at least three sets and a few hands and knees have been over the space since Becky was here. People always leave evidence. No crime scene is completely clean however careful the criminal is. Is that what you’re thinking?’
He nodded. ‘Difficult not to jump to some kind of conclusion. A well trained outdoor teacher bumps her head in a low-ish cave. Unbelievable, don’t you think?’
‘Yes. I see what you’re saying.’ Viv crawled further into the cave and picked up a couple of damp cigarette butts. ‘You think Becky’s a smoker? These haven’t been here long.’ She held them to her nose. The smell was vaguely familiar. She had smoked once but never properly got the hang of it. Her dad, however, never had his pipe out of his mouth, so she knew that the smell was foreign. It reminded her of Balkan Sobranie, one of her dad’s favourites but difficult to come by.
Mac pulled out a plastic bag from one of the pockets on the side of his trousers, and handed it to her.
She smiled. ‘Always carry evidence bags with you?’
‘You never know when they’ll come in handy. Anything else down there?’
‘Not that I can see. Wish we had a torch.’
A beam of light flitted over the area she was searching. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Did you know we were going to come here or are you always uber prepared for breakfast?’
He grinned. ‘I’m a cop. Never leave home without one.’
‘I’m not seeing anything else. Pretty careless of someone to leave these if they had anything to do with Becky’s crack on the head. I mean we’re not talking sophisticated crime, are we?’
‘Nope. But sometimes people just get lazy or complacent. Depends how far up or down the chain they are.’
This made sense to Viv. A relief that Mac thought the same thing. Had he already been briefed on the illegal goings on in the area? If so why had Ruddy asked, implied, she keep quiet? Perhaps he didn’t mean Mac, just the others.
‘Let’s get going. I definitely want to check out that buoy now.’
She lifted her face to the sun as soon as she exited the cave. ‘Wow, it really is cold in there. I wouldn’t want to lie on that damp floor, especially not if I was unconscious.’
Mac didn’t respond, just untied the rib and jumped on. He held out his hand but she ignored it and swung herself over the side, landing with an ungainly thud. Mac shook his head.
He cut the engine as they pulled alongside the small black buoy. Viv grabbed it and tried to rotate it with both hands. Nothing happened. Mac pulled on some latex gloves and his hands stuck to the wet buoy like Velcro. She steadied the rib with the steering wheel as best she could as Mac continued to jostle, pull and push at the buoy. Nothing appeared to be happening. But one last serious yank caused a huge splash behind them and made them both topple to the floor. Mac caught the wheel and helped her to her knees. They stared wide-eyed at a large silver pod shaped like a horse’s head floating in the water about twenty metres from the boat.
‘Well lookie here.’ Mac grinned. ‘What d’you reckon is contained in that?’
She shielded her eyes to get a better look at it. ‘Holy shit! Someone has a sense of humour. Different sort of mule from the usual sort.’
Mac sniggered. ‘You’re quick. I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘What should we do with it?’
‘Try and get it to shore. Pass me that, would you?’ He pointed to a bright orange rope coiled beneath a shallow bench.
She handed him the sodden end and watched as he made a lasso. Impressed, she tried to gauge exactly what he was doing, since she hadn’t paid much attention in knotting class at Girl Guides. His first attempt to snare it was way wide. He tried again and again until eventually on the fourteenth time the loop slipped over the head.
Viv punched the air and cheered.
Mac looked towards the shore. ‘Keep it down. If this has anything to do with them,’ he nodded to the bunkhouse, ‘they’ll be ready to run. Although the track will make life difficult for anyone trying to get to the road.’ He chuckled. ‘And no one’s going anywhere in the rib.’ He struggled but managed to slowly pull the horse’s head toward the boat. ‘It’s heavy. I think we’ll
have to drag it behind us.’
‘Why, what did you think we’d do with it?’
‘We should bring it aboard.’
‘What if it contains . . . explosives . . .?’
He blew out a breath. ‘What exactly have you been reading?’
As they approached the shore two members of staff stood with their hands on hips.
‘Welcoming committee,’ Mac said to Viv, who was hanging onto the horse’s head as if her life depended on it.
Glen, who’d given Viv the binoculars earlier, said, ‘So what have we got?’
Mac said, ‘Not sure, but whatever it is probably isn’t legal. We’ll have to get the local guys round here.’
A look passed between Glen and his colleague before he replied. ‘Shouldn’t we take a look at it first?’
Mac snorted. ‘We won’t be taking a look at anything until your local guys get here.’
Viv jumped ashore and said, ‘I’ll go and ring them. You’ll need the muscle to get it up the beach.’
Mac frowned but she took off back to the bunkhouse. She rang the local station then had a quick snoop at the office computer. Keen to find out what qualifications were required to become an outward-bound instructor, and how long Becky had worked there, it didn’t take long to locate a few emails with the info she needed.
By the time she returned to the beach the rib was back onto its trolley and the sound of an engine could be heard in the distance before they saw a boat race round the bay.
Glen said, ‘Boys in blue have an alternative mode of transport. Must’ve heard that the drive’s out of commission.’
Mac explained who he was but the local sergeant wasn’t impressed and demanded to see his ID.
Mac showed him it. ‘Look we’ve no idea what’s inside . . .’
The sergeant interrupted him and in a sarcastic tone asked, ‘Where exactly did you find this, Sir?’
Mac pointed out to sea. ‘There’s a black buoy out there. We hit it on our way back. Then this thing appeared and we thought we’d better bring it back.’
The sergeant shook his head. ‘You had no business moving it . . . Sir.’ He ordered his constable to take hold of the rope attached to the silver horse’s head then tied it to the police rib.
‘We’ll be wanting to speak to you, Sir, so don’t go far.’
‘We’re going back to Edinburgh today.’
The sergeant began to protest, but Mac raised his hand to stop him.
‘I said we’re going back to Edinburgh. You’ve got my name, you’ll find me at Fettes HQ after 5 pm today.’
Without as much as a glance back the two local cops turned and took off back across to where they’d come from. Viv, Mac and the two members of staff stood speechless on the beach until the police rib rounded the northern peninsula.
Glen said, ‘Well, that’ll be that, then.’
Viv shrugged and glanced at Mac with knitted eyebrows.
Mac shook his head. ‘I’m guessing they’ve got some idea what’s inside. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’d . . .’
‘We’d what?’ Viv glared at him.
‘I’ll find out later. Meantime let’s eat.’ He strode up the beach but turned and waited at the threshold for her to join him.
It was frustrating not knowing how much to share with Mac, but she decided to keep quiet. The smell of cooking soon had her salivating. The sounds of pipes humming and floorboards creaking above were signs the others were up and about. She hoped moods had improved after last night’s debacle.
She said, ‘I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t come? I mean, I know it was about info gathering but if I hadn’t pitched up would one of the others have rescued Frances? Or what? They are all really unfit. Aren’t police meant to be fit? And Gordon, would he have managed to . . . oh never mind. I’ve not managed to do what you asked.’
‘I’m sure you have more in that head of yours than you’re making out . . . we’d never have taken a look at that cave again if you hadn’t shown me the black buoy. Pretty good call I’d say . . .’
‘I notice you didn’t give them the butts.’
He shot her a what-do-I-care look, and before he could continue Frances appeared. ‘Hey. Everyone sleep okay?’
Viv and Mac nodded.
Frances threw them a humorous wide-eyed look that questioned their sleeping arrangements.
‘You were in quite a tangle when I came up,’ said Viv, ‘and I don’t think you moved much in the night.’
Frances rubbed her hands together. ‘Looking forward to getting back. Hot date.’
‘Anyone we know?’ Viv said.
She hesitated. ‘Doubt it. Only been out a couple of times. Nice guy.’
To describe a hot date as ‘nice’ wasn’t a great start, but Viv continued, ‘Where is he taking you?’
Frances grinned like the proverbial cat that got the cream ‘It’s a surprise, but I’m hoping the Timber Yard.’
Viv nodded. ‘Nice!’ Her sarcasm lost on Frances who was no doubt already planning her outfit.
Mac had a look on his face that said he wasn’t getting involved.
Viv pushed. ‘Come on, tell, who is the lucky guy?’
Frances, not to be drawn, tapped the side of her nose and wandered off to the kitchen.
This made Viv think that he could after all be somebody they knew, otherwise why the big secret? She didn’t push any further.
Mac had been right about the breakfast. Everything that you could imagine going into a real Scottish fry-up was available, only without meat. Mock bacon, beans, hash browns, mushrooms, tomatoes, veggie sausages, lashings of toast – obviously made by the staff and not the cooking group.
Viv sat opposite Mac and they tucked in. Only noises of appreciation disturbed the quiet in the room.
Gordon pitched up but brooded in silence.
Frances returned from the kitchen with a modest plateful and sat next to Mac. She said, ‘Saving myself for tonight.’
Viv was mortified at the amount she had on her plate versus what Frances had on hers, but it didn’t stop her from eating it. She was making up for two days of meagre pickings.
Gordon didn’t sit with them and instead headed for the door with his breakfast.
Viv glanced at Mac who shrugged in response. ‘He’s a grown-up. He’ll work it out.’
Frances said. ‘What? What are you talking about?’
Viv smiled at Frances’ complete lack of observation and marvelled at how she became a cyber analyst at all. They were joined by Davie who brought with him a blast of coconut. His freshly shaven face was shiny with moisturiser, so much so that it might slide off. He was pumped up for another day of activity. His shorts, tee shirt and sandals looked as if he’d just cut their labels off.
‘You do realise we’re going home today, Davie?’ Viv said.
‘Yes. But since I’d bought some kit to come here I thought I might as well get some wear out of it.’
His face and arms were bright red from yesterday’s sun but everywhere else was an unhealthy bluish shade of grey. His thin legs seemed insubstantial, although he must be relatively fit since he cycled to and from work every day. He was solid around the waist and he stooped. A ‘scribe’s posture’, so called from days when men sat hunched all day in poor light painstakingly writing or copying manuscripts. Davie, a modern version, did the same hours leaning over his computer. Viv wondered if it was also to do with not wanting to stand tall. She’d come across tall guys who never straightened up so that they didn’t transcend the crowd. She glanced at Mac; he looked taller. His posture had improved. It must be the yoga. All she knew about it was the idea of an invisible thread, secured to the top of the head, and from this thread the whole body hung in the posture that it was designed to. She shifted on the bench, rolled her shoulders back and down and immediately felt the space in her diaphragm where her lungs should move unobstructed.
Mac said. ‘Better?’
She screwed up her face. ‘What? Are
you the posture police?’
He shook his head. ‘You were the one making the effort to change your position. Looks much better.’
‘Piss off. I was fine the way I was.’ She did feel better but he didn’t need to know that. ‘What time are we walking out?’
‘Soon as.’ Mac said between bites. ‘We’ll have to walk up hill with over the knee heather all the way. Still, it’ll help work off this grub.’
‘We,’ Viv pointed to the others who, between words, were deep into their large cooked breakfasts, ‘have already got a few calories to make up for never mind work off. You sure the bus will be at the top of the track?’
‘I’m sure. I have to be back in Fettes by 5 pm.’
‘Well, if you have to be back then it’s a sure thing.’
‘Easy with the sarc. You don’t want to hang around here any longer than you need to, so why don’t you get going and pack.’
‘I don’t have to pack. I didn’t really unpack.’
That wasn’t entirely true because she had left her phone and a few dry clothes out, but she travelled light and was pretty much ready to leave.
Archie wandered into the room yawning and scratching his exposed belly. He looked rough, lips swollen and cracked from too much sun and his unshaven face bright red – could just as easily have been from a boozy night.
Mac said to Archie, ‘You had better get a bend on if you want breakfast before we leave. Ten minutes at the front door.’
‘Shit. What’s the hurry now?’
Viv smiled and took her plate and mug to the kitchen before heading to her room.
Chapter Seventeen
Mac was already waiting when she came out.
She gazed at the sea. ‘There won’t be any of that when we get back. Edinburgh will still be heaving with Festival crowds, the stench of beer and cooked onions spilling out from air conditioning units. Oh Joy!’
‘Nice image. You could always stay on here. See what’s going on with that buoy.’
She shoved him. ‘I don’t think so. Whatever it is won’t be our business as soon as we get up that hill. Unless he’s involved.’ She nodded indoors to where Archie was still guzzling breakfast. ‘Sometimes I think we’ve become too paranoid. I mean, we always see a potential crime before anything else. And that buoy could actually be completely innocent yet we’re off down the criminal route.’
