by Ken Lussey
‘What, you mean you wish the bullet hadn’t hit my pistol?’
‘No, that’s…’ She saw the look on his face and smiled. ‘Sorry, my sense of humour seems to have been one of a number of victims of this. Self-control has been another. I’m sorry I slapped you, Bob. I’m sorry for the things I said, too.’
‘You weren’t the only one saying horrible things,’ Monique. ‘I’m sorry too. I was hurt, and I was just trying to hurt you. We were both right. I need to grow up.’
‘Look, we’ve both had tiring days. I don’t want to keep you up any longer. Are you going to be able to get back to your room alright?’
‘Let’s see one-another to the main building. I’ll be able to get to my room without any problem. Michael’s probably already fast asleep and snoring loudly by now.’
Chapter Nineteen
To say that Bob ached next morning was an understatement. But he had been able to secure hot water for a shower and with a little help from Lieutenant Dixon, he had donned the second of the uniforms he’d been issued with in London the week before. He left the damaged Walther PPK in the room and placed its substitute in his shoulder holster, which appeared completely undamaged by its close encounter with a bullet. Lieutenant Dixon also returned the two gold coins to him.
Before going to bed, Bob had removed the ammunition from the magazine of the damaged Walther. Lieutenant Dixon, who had still been awake, pointed out that if there had been a round in the chamber, the gun could have fired when it was struck by the rifle bullet. Bob began to realise just how lucky he really was.
The weather had, if anything, worsened overnight, and the wind seemed to have stripped the last of the autumn leaves from the trees. It was still pouring down with rain, falling sideways rather than vertically. Bob was grateful for the replacement Denison smock he’d been given, and spent a moment hoping that a commando now out patrolling the mountains hadn’t had to give it up for his benefit.
The team didn’t fit any more comfortably into the tiny office now than they had when Bob had first arrived at Achnacarry, despite Monique’s absence. Bob explained her late-night decision to return to Glasgow.
Lieutenant Dixon had obtained a copy of the Ordnance Survey quarter-inch scale map the lieutenant colonel had used at Strathan and Bob laid it out on the desk. He quickly briefed the team on the steps being taken to capture Mallory and Quinlan.
‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ asked Lieutenant Dixon.
‘I’ve been trying to think how the world might seem to the fugitives,’ said Bob. ‘Lieutenant Colonel White is closing down most of the possible avenues of escape and the weather will, or should, at least, prevent Mallory and Quinlan getting out to sea until tonight. That means they are trapped until then. I think that the two places where we might be able to add some value to what the colonel is doing are at the two places where Quinlan worked in the area before.’
‘You mean what’s now the Royal Navy training base at Lochailort, and the Special Operations Executive training schools run from Arisaig House?’ asked Lieutenant Dixon.
‘That’s right,’ said Bob. ‘Michael, I’d like you and Andrew to visit the navy at Inverailort House. Let’s think of it as a variant of the normal security visits you make to naval establishments. I want to be sure they have taken the warning they should have received from Achnacarry very seriously, and that they have stepped up their security as a result. We need to close that off as a possible line of escape.’
‘Very good, sir. We can set off immediately in one of the cars.’
‘Meantime, I fear I got Major Miller out of bed in Edinburgh a short time ago. He is currently telephoning the duty officer in the Ministry of Economic Warfare, which is responsible in Whitehall for the Special Operations Executive, and another in the SOE itself. Before we left Strathan early this morning, Lieutenant Colonel White told me that the SOE at Arisaig House are very twitchy about anything they consider outside interference and I’d need to prepare the ground if I was going to visit. I think he was joking when he suggested that my getting shot twice in under twenty four hours was beyond the call of duty, but he was serious about their security. The commanding officer there is a man called Major Rupert Massingham. I hope that by the time Gilbert, Taffy and I arrive, the Major will have been instructed to welcome us.’
‘Do you want us to come back here when we’ve finished at Lochailort, sir?’ said Lieutenant Dixon.
‘No, could you telephone Major Miller and let him know when you’ve finished? I’ll do the same and hopefully we can use him to help coordinate what we are doing. Unless Mallory and Quinlan have been caught by then, I think that we should meet up later today in Mallaig. You know, we really could do with a more effective means of staying in touch with one another. Glasgow City Police have had radios in patrol cars since 1936, and last month I was able to use some of the new American hand-held “handie talkie” radios up in Caithness.’ He turned to Sergeant Potter. ‘Gilbert, will you look into that for me when we get back to Craigiehall?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Bob sat in the back of the car, trying to wedge himself into the corner of the seat to brace against the twists and turns of the road. Sergeant Potter sat with Private Jenkins in the front. They’d packed their kit before leaving Achnacarry and his, what was left of it at least, was now in the boot of the car. Lieutenant Dixon and Petty Officer MacDonald had borrowed a pair of Thompson submachine guns from the armoury at the Commando Basic Training Centre, leaving Bob and Sergeant Potter with the Sten guns and Private Jenkins with the rifle.
Bob had hoped that the quality of the ride might improve once they emerged from the back road at Banavie onto what the map showed as the main road from Fort William to Mallaig. But in truth it made little difference. The twists and turns continued and the width of the road meant no-one had ever needed to worry about painting white lines down its middle.
The storm continued unabated and Private Jenkins was having a hard time battling against the gusty wind and dodging branches and other debris scuttling along the road towards them.
Bob wondered how Monique’s journey back to Glasgow was going. If her car had developed an aversion to rain, then she could again be having problems. If so, she wouldn’t be the only one. ‘Is it my imagination, Taffy, or do the windscreen wipers slow down when the car goes faster?’
‘Yes, sir, which isn’t a help in this rain. I’ve not noticed it before, so it may be a fault. I’ll look at it when we get there.’
Despite the pain, Bob dozed, and was awakened by Potter. ‘Sir, we’ve arrived. I think this is where we find out if they know we are coming or not.’
The three soldiers guarding the gate to the drive were dressed in capes, under which Bob could see they had rifles at the ready. ‘Either they are naturally cautious, or word has reached them that there are dangerous men on the loose,’ he said.
‘Would you mind stepping out of the car, sir?’ said one of the gate guards. ‘The two men in the front, too.’
Bob was taken into the small wooden guard hut where his pass was checked against a document. Through the window he could see the car being searched before Gilbert and Taffy were allowed back into it. The soldier picked up a phone. ‘Sergeant, I’ve got a Group Captain Sutherland here. Yes, his pass looks legitimate. Very well.’
The phone was smartly replaced, and Bob’s pass was handed back to him by the soldier, who then saluted. ‘I’m sorry to have detained you, sir, but we’re on high alert.’
‘Not at all.’ Bob realised he wasn’t sure of the rank of the man he was addressing.
The car took them to what looked to be the rear of a very large house. The drive terminated in a courtyard surrounded on three sides by other buildings.
Another soldier with a cape and a rifle came over to the car and saluted as Bob got out. ‘The major is waiting for you and the sergeant inside, sir. If your driver would accompa
ny me, I will take him to the canteen for a cup of tea and some breakfast.’
‘Hello, sir, and welcome to Arisaig House. I must say that you could have picked better weather for your visit.’ Major Rupert Massingham was waiting in the impressive hallway beyond the door. He fitted the image of a career army officer to perfection. About the same height as Bob, he wore an immaculately tailored army uniform, complete with lovingly polished Sam Browne belt. He was obviously not old enough to have seen active service in the Great War, but nonetheless wore a ribbon showing he had been awarded the Military Cross. Bob had, with some difficulty, taken off his Denison smock in the back of the car, and now realised that the major was carrying out a similar assessment of Bob’s own medal ribbons. Bob wasn’t sure how a Distinguished Flying Cross and Bar, a Distinguished Service Order and the recently-added Commander of the Royal Victorian Order stacked up against a Military Cross, but he didn’t feel he was a poor second. The two men smiled as they realised they’d both been playing the same game.
‘Thank you, Major,’ said Bob. ‘Though for reasons we will doubtless discuss, I’m quite grateful for this dreadful weather. I take it that you’ve been told to expect me?’
‘Yes, sir. Otherwise, with all due respect, you’d never have got past the gate from the road. Even an MI11 security pass has its limits, you know.’ The major smiled to take the sting out of his words. ‘I’ve not been told why your visit is so urgent, but I have been told to cooperate fully with you. I assume that your visit relates to the current security alert?’
‘Yes, it does, Major.’
‘You must have set off early this morning, sir. Have you had any breakfast?’ asked Major Massingham. ‘I can lay on a bacon sandwich for you both if you wish?’
‘Thank you, that would be very kind,’ said Bob. ‘I’m not sure I’ve properly eaten since breakfast yesterday morning.’
‘Come on through to my office.’
The major led the way into what Bob realised before the war would have been the study. Wood panelling lined the walls, and a large fire was heating up the room from a fireplace set opposite a window that appeared to offer an elevated view out over parkland. Like every other army officer Bob could ever remember meeting, the major had a large map covering much of one wall of his office. Massingham sat one side of an imposing desk, while Bob and Sergeant Potter sat on the other.
After the tea and bacon sandwiches had been served, Bob waved towards the map. ‘Do you mind if I turn to business, Major?’
‘Please do, sir,’ said Massingham.
‘I’ve come to add some flesh to the security warning you’ve been given and to pick your brains a little. Last Wednesday a Belgian trainee at Achnacarry was murdered, and on Friday, a member of my own team, who had been investigating that murder, was himself killed. I’ll not go into the details, but we are satisfied that the murderers are two sergeants on the staff of the Commando Basic Training Centre at Achnacarry. The two men are currently on the run and were last seen yesterday afternoon at the west end of Loch Arkaig. They are armed and dangerous. One of the men is a fieldcraft instructor, and the other specialises in firearms training and is an outstanding shot. They are also utterly ruthless. One of them took a shot at me yesterday afternoon.’
‘But he missed?’ asked Major Massingham.
‘No, he didn’t, as it happens,’ said Bob. He touched his chest, quite gingerly. ‘My trusty Walther PPK saved my life in a way the man who taught me to use it could never have imagined.’
The major raised his eyebrows. ‘It was your lucky day, wasn’t it, Group Captain?’ He got up and walked over to the map. Bob joined him.
Bob placed his finger on the map. ‘The men were last seen here, late yesterday afternoon.’
‘Do you know which way they were heading from there?’ asked the major.
‘We think they might be trying to steal a boat to get to Ireland, where one of the men has family. That suggests they are likely to be heading towards the coast from where they were last seen. The other thing you need to know is that the men appear to have uncovered a hoard of gold coins hidden near Loch Arkaig during the Jacobite era. If it wasn’t for the fact they are likely to be burdened by the gold and, we hope, have been prevented from putting to sea by this storm, I suspect they would have been long gone by first thing this morning, and we’d be asking the navy to try to find them.’
The major looked at the map again. ‘And you are talking to me because we have a number of properties on the ground in the direction they are likely to be heading?’
‘Yes, Major. We also believe that at least one of the men knows your operation here quite well. Sergeant Patrick Quinlan was on the staff of the Special Training Centre at Lochailort and it’s been suggested to me he might also have helped set up some of the training you run in the area.’
‘It’s not a name that rings a bell, sir,’ said Massingham. ‘But I’ve only been here a few months. Hang on a minute. I’ll check.’ The major left the room, returning a few moments later with a captain in a battledress top and kilt. ‘Come in, Ian. This is Group Captain Sutherland and Sergeant Potter, from Military Intelligence, Section 11. Gentlemen, this is Captain Ian Smith, my deputy here. Ian has been here considerably longer than me. Ian, do we know of a Sergeant Patrick Quinlan who used to be on the staff of Special Training Centre Lochailort?’
‘Yes, sir. He helped establish firearms training here and at another of our schools not far from Mallaig. He’s a wizard with guns and a spectacularly good shot.’
The major said, ‘Well it seems that Sergeant Quinlan and a colleague have murdered two men and tried to murder the group captain here. It also seems possible that they will pass through, or that they have already passed through, the area of most interest to us.’
‘Can I ask where your properties are, exactly?’ said Bob.
He saw Captain Smith shake his head before Major Massingham spoke. ‘It’s alright, Ian, I think we can bend our normal rules in the circumstances. Can you run the group captain through the locations of the schools?’
The captain pointed at the map. ‘Arisaig House, where we are, serves as the administrative centre and headquarters of what we call our “Group A Schools” and we undertake some of the training here. The schools themselves tend to be small units run semi-independently to ensure security. For the most part the people we train will soon afterwards be parachuting into occupied territory, and if current experience is anything to go by, a proportion of them inevitably then fall into enemy hands. That makes it important they don’t know any more than is necessary about our operation here and about the other trainees,’
‘Do you have anyone specifically responsible for security?’ asked Bob.
‘Yes, we do, Group Captain,’ said Smith. ‘Security is in the hands of 49 Field Security Section, which reports to the army’s Scottish Command in Edinburgh. The men are on the payroll of the army’s Intelligence Corps.’
Major Massingham said, ‘The section has men stationed at all our schools and we forwarded the security warning to them immediately when we received it, last night.’
‘Did they all acknowledge the warning?’ asked Bob.
‘Yes, sir,’ said Captain Smith. ‘We keep in touch through a network of field telephones which link to a secure switchboard in this house. A number of the schools are so remote they didn’t have any connections to the outside world before the war.’
‘Do you want to finish telling the group captain where they are, Ian?’ said Massingham.
‘Yes, of course, sir. The simplest way is to work through them geographically. On the coast, north of Arisaig but south of Morar, we have three properties, at Camusdarach, Garramor and Traigh House. A few miles further north, a little south of Mallaig, we have Glasnacardoch Lodge, which specialises as a weapons training centre. Then we have two properties on the Knoydart Peninsula, at Glaschoille House and Inverie House.’ He poin
ted to each of these in turn on the wall map.
‘What about further inland?’ asked Bob.
‘I was just coming to that, Group Captain,’ said Captain Smith. ‘Overlooking the west end of Loch Morar we have Rhubana Lodge. We also have two very remote properties a little over halfway along Loch Morar, assuming you are travelling by boat from the west, which we usually are. Meoble Lodge is here, about a mile south of the loch, and only accessible by boat and then on foot. Meanwhile on the north shore of the loch we have Swordland Lodge, which is connected by a track a couple of miles in length to the tiny settlement of Tarbet.’
‘What do you do there?’ asked Bob.
‘Most of the schools are general purpose,’ said Smith. ‘But just as Glasnacardoch Lodge specialises in weapons training, so Swordland Lodge specialises in boat training. Landing from boats, including submarines, boat and ship sabotage, or simple boat handling. The Royal Navy maintain and crew as necessary a small number of boats on Loch Morar for us, as well as some boats and a couple of yachts at Tarbet on Loch Nevis.’
‘And it’s likely that Sergeant Quinlan knows about Swordland Lodge?’ asked Bob.
‘Our security between the individual schools is very strong these days, sir,’ said Captain Smith. ‘But when the Group A Schools were being established I suspect things were a little less rigorous. So, although his specialism was firearms training, I’d have thought there was a reasonable chance that Sergeant Quinlan would know what goes on at Swordland Lodge, in general terms at least.’
Major Massingham said, ‘It might help if you understand the scale of what we are doing here, Group Captain. We are very much at the other end of the spectrum to the Commando Basic Training Centre at Achnacarry. While they must put many hundreds of men at a time through training, we can accommodate, assuming every school is fully occupied, a total of around 70 students at any given time, across the whole group of schools. My training staff comes to a total of some 15 officers and 25 non-commissioned officers, spread across the nine schools and based here at Arisaig House.’
