Dreams to Die For (24 page)

Fadyar Masri, Nasra Khan, Mawdud Mattar and Sharid Bagheri had taken almost eleven hours driving the 440 mile journey to Lochaber region of the Highlands of Scotland. Masri and Khan had hired a Renault, Mattar and Bagheri a 4x4 Freelander, but from different small garages who leased out very few cars. Both had been paid for in cash. Unlike Cindy Crossland, none of the four had taken much interest in the grandness of the mountains, glens or of the glittering beauty of the lochs. The nearby church bell was striking eight o'clock when the group finally reached Spean Bridge on a wet Sunday evening. Fadyar and Khan pulled onto the forecourt of the local hotel where they had booked a room using false names, and waved goodbye to Mattar and Bagheri who continued along the road. They next met the following morning at 10am in the car park of the Eagles Rest Hotel, situated two miles from the tiny hamlet of Corach and near to Loch Quoich. Fadyar went over to Mattar, sitting behind the wheel of the Freelander. She was pleased to see that he and Bagheri were dressed as typical tourists, prepared for bad weather. An assortment of waterproof jackets, boots and hats cluttered the cargo area, whilst on the backseats were rucksacks, and thick woollen sweaters.

“Firstly, we are going to drive the length of this road, to Kinloch Hourn. Drive slowly as might a tourist. Sharid, you will make notes of anything of interest, whilst Mawdud drives. You should particularly make an accurate grid reference of every track that leads off this road as the Ordnance Survey maps may not have plotted them all, or some may have changed over time. I will be ahead of you on the road; don't follow me too closely. Wait about ten minutes before you leave here. If you see we have stopped, then join us.” Fadyar then walked back to Khan and got in.

“Drive slowly, Nasra. I don't want to miss anything.”

True to his word they took nearly an hour on the journey to the dam, with Khan repeatedly having to stop while Fadyar briefly took photographs or made notes.

As the rear face of the huge dam came into view, Khan gasped. “In the name of Allah, that is enormous. I wasn't expecting anything that size.”

“Nor me,” uttered an equally shocked Fadyar.

As they reached the dam they parked at the same spot Cindy had the previous Christmas, on the large area of flattened earth and rubble immediately adjacent to the bland building which houses the dam's recording equipment and a variety of switchgear controls for the shaft intake. For a full five minutes, neither said a word as they studied the dam and its surroundings.

It was Khan who broke the silence. “Our target cannot be far away, look at this”. As he spoke, he passed the folded map to Fadyar.

“You are right, Nasra. That is why I am taking so long to study the dam. The lodge is on the far shore, probably over there I expect,” she pointed her finger towards where the loch disappeared into a hidden bay. “We will see all that later, but this dam will be very crucial to our planning. It appears to be the only crossing point to the far shore, but is certainly not wide enough for a vehicle and I noticed as we passed it also has a small iron gate at both ends.”

The Freelander arrived, parked next to them and they all got out of their vehicles. Bagheri placed the high powered binoculars to his eyes and slowly turned so that he covered every aspect of the dam.

“They have to get in by boat, Fadyar, but I've looked and can't see boats anywhere.”

“The lodge must have at least two access options. The weather here can be appalling and crossing by boat would be highly dangerous in such conditions. There has to be a way in from another road.” As she spoke, Fadyar looked carefully at the map and rested the tip of her index finger, much like a pointer, an inch away from the dam.

“Can you see that small road, the one next to Loch Arkaig? Even though no road is shown off it, there has to be a forest trail or track that leads into Mealag Lodge. A helipad has also been built somewhere within the grounds – I learnt that from the internet – so the materials needed for that must have required access by road.”

“How wealthy is the target?” Bagheri inquired.

“I can tell you our target is not the wealthy owner.” Fadyar didn't elaborate, and changed the subject.

“My guess is that if we carry on down this road towards Kinloch Hourn, in a mile or two the lodge will come into view. Nasra and I will stop there. You two will drive on as though you do not know us, and continue with your note taking. I want a thorough report on Kinloch Hourn. There are people there and it has access to the sea, so there must be some kind of anchorage or harbour. I shall visit there tomorrow, whilst you two will go back to the main road and find the road to Loch Arkaig and also confirm if there is a way from there into the Lodge. If you need to hire an even more powerful 4x4 then hire one the following day. OK let's move. I'll see you back here when you've completed your reconnaissance of Kinloch Hourn.”

When the Mealag complex came into view, Fadyar asked Khan to stop the car. There was no immediate place to do so on the road, but he saw a passing place on the right and reversed into it so that they could look out of the front windscreen across the loch. Fadyar produced her small pocket telescope from her pocket. It was a cheap four section scope that extended to 35cm, but it provided remarkably clear images up to twenty five times magnification, and she preferred its simplicity to that of binoculars which always seemed to give her difficulty in focusing upon an object. She smiled as she thought of Bagheri's expensive binoculars that albeit provided sharper images but at less than half the magnification of her telescope and at ten times the cost. They could see the landing stage and part of one of the chalets, but not the lodge itself. She and Khan independently jotted down some notes. They casually got out of the car and strolled along the road pretending to take in the scenery and within a few steps noticed the trodden down grass that signified the pathway to shore. They walked down and found a single wooden boat tied up at a small jetty. The boat was without oars or an outboard.

“Well, that's how they cross.” Khan's habit of saying the obvious sometimes annoyed Fadyar, but not today. She was puzzling out why there were no oars.

“Let's walk up behind where we left the car, there's a track that leads off from the lay-by. Maybe they leave the oars out of sight.” She shouted back to Khan as she had already commenced the walk. They quickly found the garages and Fadyar made a specific entry in her notebook of the thick iron chain and cross bolts that secured the doors. She also observed an overhead telephone wire secured to the right top corner of the garages and followed it back to the British Telecom pole.

“I doubt that is for a land phone, or at least not only a phone. There's a notice that says this place is alarmed, and I guess it connects automatically to both the lodge and the police station, probably at Fort Augustus. If either alarm gets triggered, a simple road block could easily be set up where this road meets the main road and would prevent any escape. The lodge will have its own security system, probably a lot more sophisticated than this but almost certainly linked to the police, and that Arkaig road is similar to this one; it's really one long road leading to a dead end and easily blocked.”

“We could disable the alarm,” Khan suggested.

“Possibly, but that would require time and tools. It looks a simple enough system, but I suspect it may have one or two additions that could make it tamper-proof. Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of being able to test that.”

Fadyar was realising that this mission was certainly not going to be easy. In fact, it was already becoming far more difficult than even she imagined when she had first identified the lodge on the Ordnance Survey map back in Birmingham, but she was determined not to let her dismay be noticed by Khan.

“There is only one thing for it. Where there is water, there are always boats. We must hire a boat. I need to get a really good look at Mealag Lodge. The glimpse of it from here, and that cottage or bungalow – whatever it is – that we can see, doesn't help us much. The map shows quite a large area of various buildings over there. Before we hire a boat, we will need to buy a couple of cheap fly fishing rods and at least look like we have a reason to be on the water. No one will travel up and down these lochs without a purpose.”

Fadyar and Khan returned to the stony parking area next to the switchgear building. Carrying their rucksacks, they climbed over the gate and crossed the dam appearing to be walkers out for a hike. Khan silently counted his footsteps and told Fadyar that the dam was over 300 metres in length. She had also been closely taking mental notes as they walked.

“What's worse, Nasra, is that as it is so narrow and straight, it affords no cover at all along its length. Your head and shoulders are visible to everyone around the loch and to anyone driving up the road towards the dam from Corach. The walkway itself is a killing zone. A single person placed at one of the gates could hold off an army wanting to cross.”

Fadyar decided they should try and walk towards Mealag Lodge. She carefully noted where a pathway had been worn and they followed it. Her trained eye took in where it deviated from an apparently obvious straight line to keep well away from the water's edge.

“Write down ‘soft at edge', Nasra, while I take a look around with my scope. We must appear to be tourists at all times. Remember that.”

Stepping carefully well away from the peat bog, they continued their walk towards Mealag. A large knoll almost blocked their path as it sloped down close to the shore-line, which was itself littered with numerous pieces of wood, rope and other detritus swept to the water's edge by the high wind of a recent storm. Behind the barren rocky outcrop stood a dense forest of tall pine trees standing proudly against the skyline.

“It's got to be round the corner,” whispered Fadyar. “Go carefully. I'll lead.”

Khan nervously followed a few paces behind his leader. Suddenly Fadyar stepped abruptly back, almost colliding with Khan.

“There's a boundary deer fence at the edge of the trees, but it doesn't quite reach the shore and then it looks completely open. I don't think the entrance is sealed off.” She spoke quickly, her excitement growing, as they sheltered once more behind the rock.

She was amazed that there were no notices prohibiting walkers, no strong high fence, in fact nothing that prevented access; it was too easy, much too easy. Had she known it, non-motorised access rights can be exercised over most of Scotland, from urban parks and path networks, to the hills and forests, lochs and rivers and so ‘KEEP OUT' notices would have been of little legal effect. Not only did Gordon Truscott know that, but he would never have been permitted to scar the landscape by building ugly, visible, security fences even if he had wished to, which he certainly didn't.

Fadyar once more edged to the front of the knoll and peered around it. She discovered that there were actually two mesh fences, one on each side of the complex marking out its boundary but there was nothing that inhibited anyone from walking along the broad and expansive shore-line that fronted the lodge and chalets. Fadyar realised that the openness of the location also worked to her disadvantage. The main house, Mealag Lodge, was still out of view to her and she correctly deduced it was sited well back but almost adjacent to the forest behind the knoll. She looked across the loch, anxious to check if anyone else had parked their car or was walking along the road. It was clear, so she had time to consider her next move without attracting any unwelcome attention from sightseeing tourists. Somehow she had to get an uninterrupted view of the Lodge. She looked up at the knoll but it would be a dangerous climb and, anyway, the trees would almost certainly prevent her seeing the Lodge. She puzzled about her dilemma for a few minutes and then decided to be bold.

“We will walk past, then stop and take a few photographs of the dam. Then I will turn and we will pretend to take a few photographs of each other with the lodge and general area behind us. Actually, we shall try to take pictures of as much of the complex as possible, but quickly. We must be quick. We will then hold hands to look like a couple in love and walk on well past the lodge and continue wandering around the loch for about half an hour, before coming back so that we get an appreciation of the layout from the other direction.”

Fadyar's elaborate subterfuge and concern were unnecessary. Only Margaret MacLean was at the lodge itself and she was busy in the kitchen whilst her husband was helping to remove a dead tree several miles away on the estate. There was nothing to inhibit her and Khan taking their time, but they were still able to take all the photographs she wanted.

The following days were spent gathering information. Kinloch Hourn had sea access and offered a potential escape route, but it was a small community and any dubious activity by outsiders would be noticed and reported. As it was, Mattar and Bagheri almost aroused suspicion when they asked at Kinloch Hourn if it was possible to hire a boat as they wished to go fishing near the dam at Loch Quoich. The boat owner explained that the dam was almost seven miles away and assured them that there was no need to travel that far in order to get a good day's fishing. Nonetheless, Mattar and Bagheri said that they really wanted to fish the whole length of the loch and so, after some discussion, they were sold an extra gallon of fuel at an exorbitant price. The bemused boat owner, thinking the two improbable looking fishermen were even more stupid than the average tourist levied an additional surcharge for the extra wear and tear on the outboard. That trip had however provided a wealth of photographs of small inlets around the loch where a boat could safely reach the shore, plus some more photographs of Mealag.

The four had determined that a larger 4x4, more suited to rugged off-road driving, would be needed to explore the apparently rougher terrain around the Loch Arkaig area – and so hired another vehicle. The alternative access to Mealag had to be land based and therefore near to Loch Arkaig, and they had observed a small track off to the right from the unclassified road marked on the map, which seemed to go at least partway towards the large house. As it turned out, the map was accurate and the track petered out to nothing after a few tortuous miles, leaving the group dismayed, frustrated and physically bruised at having to return along the rock strewn, ground, none the wiser.