by D C Macey
‘What did you see, Grace?’ said Sam.
‘There was somebody crouched beneath the window. As I approached, he jumped up and ran. Sorry, I didn’t really get a good look at him.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I think we know who it was, don’t we?’
Xavier gave a slow nod. Elaine remained impassive.
‘Hell, look at that.’ Sam tapped on the window. There was a small cleared circle amid the snow that had built up on the window frame.
‘What is it?’ said Helen.
‘Microphone, held against the glass.’ He peered out and down to the ground. ‘Looking at the way the snow’s been crushed down out there, I’d guess whoever was listening in was there for a good while. Oh hell - sorry.’
‘That’s okay, Sam. But what does this mean?’
‘It means they know what we know. I can’t believe I let this happen. How stupid.’
‘Sam we have the manse and the church buildings swept for bugs regularly. Nobody could anticipate that they’d actually risk sending somebody in like that.’
‘I should have done. I should. I’m going outside to get a closer look. I’ll tell you what this does mean - there’s a race on to be the first to get to the Isle of May.’
Angelo reappeared at the entrance to the drive. He shook his head and raised his hands. The spy had got away.
• • •
Parsol’s chair was pulled in tight against the edge of the suite’s dining table. He was leaning forwards, looking at the map Cassiter had just marked up. The red circle surrounding the Isle of May signed their destination.
‘There it is. After all these years, generations of searching, we’re here.’ Parsol smiled. He reached out a hand and gripped his son’s arm. ‘Go now; inform everyone that we are close. They have shared the long wait. Let them enjoy this moment. Then hurry back.’
Eugene Jr left, and for a few moments, the room lapsed into a silence broken only by Parsol’s forced steady breathing.
‘Cassiter. Your man has done well. Make sure he is rewarded.’
‘He did his job. It’s only what I expect of my people.’
‘Nonetheless, he should receive something.’
‘Okay, I’ll see to it. I’ve got a team on standby and transport will be in place shortly. The Isle of May. Quite a surprise.’
‘We have scoured half the world for this, half the world! It seems that old trickster de Bello was cunning up to the very end. Hiding the treasury so far away in Crete, the perfect decoy, the finest false trail. And yet, here we are, back where it all began. He hid our greatest treasure right where it all started. The fox!’
19
Thursday, January 23rd
The roads of North Berwick had been thoroughly salted and they glistened a wet silver-black. Squinting against the road dazzle and the low risen sun, Sam concentrated on driving safely and complying with the one-way traffic system while Helen looked out for their destination.
To their right, Forth Street was lined with a mix of two, three and four storey residential buildings, one or two restaurants and public houses and a couple of service buildings. To their left, on the coast side, the houses were lower, one and two storey homes. Over the years, many had been expanded, linked together to form a solid terrace with only the occasional gap left to give pedestrians a glimpse of the coast beyond.
Helen counted off the house numbers as they passed. ‘This is it, just ahead on the left. Look, there’s a space right outside where you can pull in.’
Sam parked his car outside the two storey home. ‘Well, I’m pleased to say nobody tailed us,’ he said. They got out and, following a cautious glance around, Sam stepped to the door and gave a short rap on the knocker.
Pete Summers pulled open his front door. ‘Come in, come in. Good to see you, Sam. A happy New Year to you. And you must be Helen. Happy New Year to you too. I’ve heard a lot about you, pleasure to meet you at last. Come in.’
A little further along the road, a works van rocked slightly for just a moment as an occupant, concealed behind the smoked glass of the rear-door windows, stretched his legs to reach his phone and send a message. Whatever the reason Cameron had expressed a desire to visit this Pete Summers, he had wasted no time in doing so.
• • •
Pete led Helen and Sam along the hallway and into a living room.
‘Wow, you have one special view here,’ said Helen, crossing to the windows and looking out over the Forth. ‘And your house just seems bigger on the inside than it does from the street.’
‘Well, I like it. Suits me to a T. This room is big, but I think it seems even bigger because of the open aspect.’
‘And what an aspect. Look, Sam, Pete’s garden wall has a gate that leads right down to the beach - heaven!’
‘Take a seat, both of you. I’ve had coffee on in anticipation of your arrival; I’ll bring it through now, okay?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Helen, settling in a seat with a view out across the Forth.
Pete returned with a tray and served coffees and biscuits.
‘I just love your location,’ said Helen.
‘Yes, if you like the Forth, it’s perfect. Just over there, at the end of the beach, is the town’s harbour. I keep my own boat there, only a minute’s walk along the sand.’
‘And which island it that?’
‘Straight out is Craigleith. Way over to the left is the Lamb, beyond that is Fidra, but you’d need to go upstairs to see that from the bedroom window.’
‘What about the Bass Rock, can you see that from here?’
‘No, that’s off to the right, beyond the harbour, it’s very close by, but all the town’s buildings obstruct the view. Still, I know it’s there. Now what can I do for you both?’
Sam lifted the briefcase he’d brought in with him and opened it. ‘Pete, thanks for seeing us. I know you like your privacy, so I appreciate it. I’ve got a problem and was hoping you might be able to help.’
‘Go on, I’m listening,’ said Pete.
‘I’m interested in the Isle of May.’
‘Ah, the May. What can I tell you?’
‘I think I need to go there, discreetly. I know there are pleasure cruise visits, but we’re out of season right now. Tell me, who’d be on the island at this time of year, and who should I speak to about getting access?’
‘Hmm, Scottish Natural Heritage is the responsible authority, but the RSPB’—Pete glanced towards Helen—‘that’s the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, has an interest too. The island’s a bit of a conservation and research hotspot. At this time of year, there are no tourists or visitors, but there is a conservation and observation team there all year, except for the Christmas and New Year weeks.
‘I was in the office yesterday and, just by chance, was speaking with one of the Isle of May coordinators. She wants to do some cross-island bird tracking this summer to see what the mix is between the May and Inchcolm.’ Pete turned to Helen. ‘I’m based on Inchcolm during the summer months.’
‘Sam told me.’
‘Oh, right then, you know. Anyway, she was telling me, with all the bad weather since Christmas, her team has not got back to the island yet. She’s planning to get them out early next week.’
‘So the May’s unoccupied at present?’ said Sam.
‘Exactly.’
‘Great. Pete, I want to get out to the island before the observer team returns. How can I do that?’
‘I’m not sure you can. You’d need permission, certainly a good reason, and a boat of course, but you won’t get one. Those boats that know the waters are chartered all year round to service the observer teams. They get to ferry the tourists through the summer as a bonus, with the permission of the authorities. The captains won’t risk their service contracts for a one-off journey that breaches the rules.’
‘There must be a way, Pete. We’re desperate.’
Pete frowned. ‘Sam, you’re a good friend. I’d love to help, but can’t you
just wait a few days until the team are back on the island? Who knows, you might even get to go out with them.’
‘We can’t wait. Look, Pete, I’ll be straight with you. There’s no secret that Helen and I have been in the wars this past while. Remember, you even got me out to Inchcolm last year because of that Templar find you made. Your original clue set us on a course halfway round the world and back to here. To the Isle of May. You also know what that has led to, some of the people who have died. It’s been on the news, in every paper …’
Pete nodded. ‘I’ve followed it all. Believe me, Sam, you’ve been at the root of more than one bout of gossip I’ve overheard in staff canteens. Is it still dangerous, even now?’
‘I’m afraid so. Look, Pete, I know you hate all the social mishmash, but please can you speak to the people, get me permission to land? I really need it.’
A long pause followed, during which Pete subconsciously sucked air through a gap between his front teeth. It generated a little whistling hiss, the sound jolting him back so that he focused on Sam again. He let out a long sigh.
‘Okay, I’ll speak to her. But only because it’s you asking. And you know I’m going to have to host a bunch of ornithologists on Inchcolm next summer because of this. You’re going to owe me.’
‘Thanks, Pete. I can’t tell you how grateful we are.’
‘Well, you’re a friend.’ Pete looked at Helen, and his face broke into a smile. ‘I don’t have many, so I suppose I’d better look out for the few I have.’
‘I haven’t quite finished yet, Pete. What do you know about the history of the May? Is there a Templar connection?’
‘Nothing that I know of. Though bearing in mind how we found that Templar’s gravestone on Inchcolm last year, I suppose anything’s possible. The Isle of May was certainly a place of pilgrimage in ancient times, and various religious buildings were erected there in the past. I think there was some toing and froing over control; it seemed to bounce around a bit. It even rested with one of the English churches way down south for a while. At some point, I’m not sure of dates offhand, certainly by around the early fifteenth century, the bishop of St Andrews had control. Sometime after that, it was abandoned.’
‘Inchcolm appeared to have no connection with the Templars either—’ said Sam.
‘And look where that took us,’ said Helen, with the slightest of shudders.
‘I remember you telling me last year that Inchcolm was under the control of the bishop of St Andrews back then too. Could that be a link?’ said Sam.
‘Could be. St Andrews certainly profited from all the pilgrims who travelled to the May’s sanctuary site. But Sam, what’s the big hurry? Why do you need to get to the May so quickly?’
‘It’s better you don’t know, Pete, for your own safety. What else can you tell me about the island?’
Pete stood and gazed northwards through his living-room window. To his right, at the beach’s end, the harbour wall and a line of sturdy low-slung buildings showed blurry grey through the snow shower that had just blown in. Out to sea, the island of Craigleith had vanished, lost behind the falling snow. ‘On a good day in summer, you can just see the May from here. It’s nearer the Fife coast than the Lothian side but remote and hard to get to from either side of the Forth. Any further out, and it would be in the North Sea.
‘For all its remoteness, there is evidence of human occupation almost since man first followed the retreating ice sheets north at the end of the Ice Age.’
‘What’s the shoreline like?’ said Sam.
‘Rugged, rocky, cliffs. Only a few landing spots. To the west is a little shingle cove, Pilgrim’s Haven. That was used in the days of sail and oar. Near high tide, sailors would just beach on the shingle, then they could float off with the next tide. But it’s exposed when the wind blows down the Forth from the west. If the wind was to blow the wrong way, you’d either never get in or would be trapped ashore. There’s Altarstanes, that’s another possible landing spot further around the coast, but it has the same problem with a westerly wind.’
‘Not very inviting. Any other option?’
‘Not much better, I’m afraid. There is a newer concrete jetty built on the east side at Kirkhaven; it’s the one most used today. There’s a natural inlet fixing a clear line of approach from the sea, but it’s rocky to either side. Let your boat’s head drift for a moment, and you’ll be on the rocks. Once you’re in though, it’s a secure enough berth. It’s difficult when the wind and sea are up in the east or north. In the current weather, I wouldn’t fancy trying either option for a first visit to the May. My advice is wait a few days.’
Sam exchanged glances with Helen. Both knew it couldn’t wait. If their reference to the Isle of May had been picked up by the eavesdropper, Cassiter could already be en route to the island.
‘Point noted. But I’m not sure we have the time. Is there anything else you can tell us?’
Pete gave a resigned shrug and sat again. While his own life was all about avoiding the glare of public engagement, he knew Sam well enough to know he would not shrink back under any circumstances.
‘Well, it’s long and thin. A little over a mile long, less than half a mile wide at its widest, much narrower for some of its length, and lies roughly north-south, shaped a bit like an uncut cigar. Archaeological finds show the May has always had a mystic or religious function. I recall it was Saint Adrian who first established a Christian settlement and chapel there. Later, King David commissioned the Benedictines in England to establish a monastery on the May. They expanded the original chapel. As I say, at some point, possession passed to the bishop of St Andrews.’
‘There’s definitely a Christian building on the island then?’
‘A ruin. Nothing of any substance, some stone flooring and partial walls. I suspect that much of the stonework was taken and recycled into housing by the small group of fishermen who set up home there later.’
‘Okay, I guess I’ll have to work with what I can find. But first, I need a boat.’ Sam glanced meaningfully at the framed photograph featuring Pete beside his pride and joy. A sturdy looking RIB.
‘Oh, Sam, not my baby.’
Sam gave the slightest of nods. ‘If you could, Pete, It would be much appreciated. I’d owe you one.’
‘Owe me one? More than one, I’m thinking.’ Pete stood and looked out through the window. ‘It’s over at the harbour, in the yacht club. I’ve got it out of the water for the winter.’ He glanced back towards Sam whose face betrayed no emotion.
‘We can cover the cost of it for you, if you are worried about that,’ said Helen.
‘It’s really not the money. It’s taken me ten years of horse-trading to work up to that beauty. In fact, I hardly ever get to take it out at all. Just a couple of weeks running around in the spring and again before the onset of autumn. I’m working on Inchcolm Island all summer.’
Sam joined Pete at the window. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d help, old friend.’
After a long pause, Pete sighed. ‘Okay. I’ll have to get it ready and into the water. When do you want it?’
‘Tomorrow morning, please,’ said Sam, putting an arm round Pete’s shoulder.
Pete blew out a long slow breath of air and shook his head in resignation. ‘Are you okay with the boat out on the water? I guess I could pilot it for you. At least I’ve been to the May a few times; I’ll know better what to expect.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got somebody in mind for this trip, and to tell you the truth, things might get a bit hairy. You’ve done enough; I’d rather keep you at arm’s length from all this, for your own good.’
Pete didn’t object. His was a world of books and trowels.
Sam excused himself for a moment and stepped out into the hall. From there, he made a phone call. It was answered promptly.
‘Hello, Bill? Sam here, Sam Cameron. How’s Bristol at this time of year? Kept busy?’ Sam fell silent as his old friend greeted him and moaned about the sta
te of the world.
‘Bill, I’m in a bit of trouble here and could do with your expertise.’
‘Cameron, I’m beginning to think I only hear from you when you’re in trouble.’
‘I’m embarrassed to admit it’s certainly starting to look that way.’
‘Well, what can I do for you?’
‘I need the best boatman I can find.’
‘Okay. Where are you going?’
‘The Isle of May.’
‘Oh, I know that one; it can be hell if the weather’s coming from the wrong direction. A couple of the guys and I were on a short MoD dive contract a couple of years ago near the Bass Rock. Took our boat over to the May on a down day. What do you want to do over there?’
‘All I want you to do is pilot my RIB; I’ll be doing the rest.’
‘Hmmm. When?’
‘We sail tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s quick. What’s the weather like?’
‘Rubbish. Snow showers, plenty of wind, sea’s pretty heavy.’
‘Sounds fun, not. Let me check flights, and I’ll get back to you to confirm my ETA.’
Sam trusted Bill completely. They had served together on several occasions during his military days. Their paths had crossed again at a Bristol diving club, when Sam was teaching at a local university and Bill had retired from military service to work at the club. In the past year, Bill had responded to help Sam escape when he was being pursued by Cassiter’s men in Bristol docks.
• • •
Back in the manse, Xavier sat beside Sam at the kitchen table. He reached out a hand and pressed it gently on Sam’s forearm. ‘My friend, you are going into danger.’
‘Well, that seems to be the way of things. I’m hoping to have a head start on Cassiter’s boys. Get finished and off the island before they even know we’ve set off.’
‘That would be good.’
‘What would be better is if I was going too,’ said Helen.
‘You’re in no fit state to be going to any islands right now. You’ve got a bullet wound in your leg,’ said Elaine.
Sam smiled a thank you towards her. ‘That’s right. At least Elaine is speaking sense. You couldn’t manage the physical pressures in your current condition.’
