Dreams to Die For (43 page)

Donaldson was finding his all-terrain vehicle very much to his liking as he drove towards Loch Arkaig. The vehicle handled the twisting, narrow road with ease and the elevated driving position enabled him to have an excellent view over the tops of the small, but steep, undulations in the road. It was very early morning and without too much effort he had again been able to get close to Mealag Lodge and study the layout of the chalets and other buildings. In fact, the relative ease with which he had been able to operate unnoticed as he followed the perimeter fence caused him to regard the security guards with disdain and contempt. He and a group of his friends from Africa would have no difficulty in completely capturing the lodge and all its occupants, police or no police. Despite his disregard for those charged with protecting Mealag and those within it, Donaldson maintained his thoroughness and professionalism. He wanted to know all he could about the lodge layout, possible ways in, and – more importantly – ways out, so he sketched the location of the buildings and known pathways onto a note pad for reference later. The lodge itself had seemed deserted and he thought it was eerily quiet, until he heard a branch snap about eighty metres directly across from where he was crouched adjacent to the swimming pool flank wall. The sharp noise came from the other side of the pathway that led from the jetty to the lodge and he slowly raised his field glasses to study the forest opposite. As he did so, the merest flick of light reflected back from the lenses and was seen by Fadyar. She quickly dived low and lay perfectly still, cursing that she had carelessly walked onto a dead branch causing it to break loudly. Donaldson saw nothing and within a few minutes he made his way slowly back along the track to the Ford. Feeling far less conspicuous in the 4x4 he spent the next few hours driving along numerous rutted forest roads and tracks in the hope of finding other ways into Mealag but to no avail. He revisited the lodge once again in early afternoon in the hope that Cindy might have returned, but it was still silent so, disappointed, he resolved to try again the next day. He had not planned that killing her would necessitate several days of preparation and he was also acutely aware that this job was significantly more difficult than he had ever envisaged. He had no idea for how long Cindy Crossland would be remaining in Scotland, and as his employer had stressed the urgency of the assignment Donaldson felt honour bound to carry out his task here in the Highlands though he recognised that this was considerably more dangerous for him. He needed therefore to be really careful, not to rush, but also not to delay. Very reluctantly, he was also beginning to contemplate that only assassination might be achievable, his other pleasures may have to be foregone. That really annoyed and frustrated him, and when angry he was doubly dangerous.

* * *

It was seven in the evening when Chief Inspector Keith Maythorp had his evening meal interrupted by a call from the duty officer at the Fort William constabulary. His wife took the call initially and a very apologetic constable asked to speak to her husband on a matter of some urgency. It was typical of the calls she had grown accustomed to taking throughout most of her marriage. Fortunately their number was far less now than it had been in the early years, when her husband had worked at Glasgow and Leeds, and she was grateful for that, but she also knew that a call from Fort William, out of hours, was always serious. For that reason she immediately called Maythorp to the phone and went to get his coat.

“Aye, you're right, dear” Maythorp said as he put down the receiver, “probably two hours, three at the latest.”

He then made two phone calls. Both were to his Area Inspectors, John Curry and Colin MacRae, whom he met in his office an hour later to discuss the implications of the issuing a new Level 1 threat assessment. The procedures that Maythorp and his two subordinates had to follow were well documented, and the sites at which he was required to deploy additional security measures had been identified long ago. Although Maythorp, Curry and MacRae were familiar with the procedures, Maythorp insisted they each read again their copies. Having done so, he turned to them and spoke.

“The threat assessment level is now at one – Critical. An attack somewhere in the UK, as yet unknown, is imminent but it is important to stress it has not yet happened. For that reason neither OSCT nor COBR are yet operational. This is still only an assessment by JTAC which may be revised by the Joint Intelligence Committee. For that reason it is vital that all your men are briefed, know precisely what they should do in the event that such an attack occurs on our patch, but their actions must not over-alarm the public. Unless absolutely critical, all leave is cancelled and you should get back officers that are on leave and are at home or elsewhere in the UK. We have our list of places that will require immediate, additional full-time security. In particular, these will include the ferry terminals and the ferries themselves whilst in port, plus the Ballachuilish and Skye bridges. The ski lifts must be closed to passengers immediately – its only sightseeing tourists that use them at this time of the year anyhow. OK so far?”

Both nodded.

Maythorp continued, “Arm every officer up to the level of their training and in the event of a real terrorist attack on our patch, I do not want heroes. I want information.”

“I think we all understand, Keith” commented a rather weary sounding Curry. “But I have a question. Do we continue to use Greaves up at Kinloch Hourn? He's a valuable guy and probably more use elsewhere. He reports that there is nothing untoward up there, a few tourists on the road and a couple out fishing but Mealag Lodge has its own special forces security people so they will be fully aware of this threat assessment. By the way, he briefly glimpsed one of the geeks the other day at the far side of the dam, dressed as a bloody English copper in a flak jacket. To Greaves, of course, he stood out like a sore thumb. We had quite a chuckle about whether he should arrest the guy for impersonating a police officer! This threat level can't be to do with them, can it?”

When Maythorp stopped laughing, he said “Nay, don't think so. As you say, they have their own intelligence and security. I think the original notification from HQ would have mentioned if anything going on there might ever merit a Level 1 – for a start we would have been instructed to increase patrols and ensure reinforcements were on stand-by. Anyway, no one is going to get in there with all those SF's around. I agree. Pull Greaves off immediately.”

* * *

Nasra Khan's practice at fly fishing was beginning to yield results and he had supplied three more trout that Fadyar had cooked for the group's evening meal at the cottage. His catch had provided a welcome diversion from their thoughts and gentle banter was exchanged across the table instead of serious deliberation. They were in no hurry and Fadyar let everyone enjoy the meal and the camaraderie. It was only later that Fadyar carefully spread the Ordnance Survey map onto the bare wooden table and started to detail the plan for the following day.

“It appears that tomorrow Assiter and his friend will be hunting again. They came down from the hill today with nothing and that is good for us as it will mean they have no reason to change their intentions. The other man is going with his wife to a relative so there will only be four people on the hill – Assiter, Truscott and the two CIA agents. That helps us as well. The other two women at some time will be going over the dam. They might become a problem, it depends where they go and at what time, but they will be unarmed and I am confident they do not present any real threat.”

“Suppose they do not go, Fadyar, but stay at the lodge. Also, is it not possible they could raise the alarm if they hear shots? In my experience, women often change their mind. Is that not right Nasra?” Bagheri joked and everyone laughed, but he had made a serious point and one that Fadyar had already fully considered.

“You're right, Sharid. I am grateful to you for pointing that out. Either the lodge communications have to be severed or the women have to be kept out of the way, preferably both. I will see to that.”

Khan spoke next. “Talking of communications Fadyar, is it really necessary tomorrow to use fruits as our call signs? What difference can it make now? We know we are not being listened into, but even if we are overheard tomorrow so what? I think it will make everything easier just to use our names. Whatever happens, in twenty-four hours we shall be all over the television screens and on all the news broadcasts. If anything goes wrong I want my family to know I did my duty.”

The others murmured their agreement and Fadyar willingly agreed. She spent the next two hours going over the details and crosschecking with each member of her team that they knew exactly what they should be doing and at what time. Her plan was refined and honed; eventualities considered; contingencies worked out.

She stood up and turned to face the others. “We all know what to do. Tomorrow is our day, my Brothers. Our Jihad. Allah is with us. We are ready.”

Cindy and Paulette returned from Inverness carrying brightly-coloured bags of all shapes and sizes each filled to capacity. They talked and laughed as they unloaded the vehicle and carried their purchases to the small jetty. It was late afternoon and the brightness of the light cloud cover was beginning to fade into greyness, but the loch still retained a glossy appearance, and fish were beginning to feed on flies that had rested on the water.

“This is such an amazing place, Paulette, I have really grown to love it here. It is always the same yet always looks different; the light, the birds, the fish, the water, all of it. It's just magical.” Paulette agreed with Cindy. She had realised just what a sacrifice she and her husband were making by continuing to work and live in Washington DC, and remarked to Cindy that she would love to stay longer.

“Well, you must come again. Soon. If necessary, I will talk to your President!”

Cindy parked the Volvo in the garage and walked back to the jetty to join Paulette. The boat was loaded and they crossed to Mealag where Margaret poured them some hot drinks. A short while later they were joined by the stalkers, tired and without even a sight of a deer to report, despite scouring the hills all day. Far from being disappointed, Dean Assiter was even keener to find a stag the following day much to the chagrin of his two exhausted guards. Four hours later and relaxing in the drawing room after another fine meal, the two women were anxious to show off their new purchases. Paulette had an idea.

“I shall organise our own fashion show, we shall call it the Mealag Collection!” Everyone laughed. Gordon offered to provide the commentary until Cindy reminded him that he wouldn't know cashmere from cotton, bringing forth more laughter and ribaldry. All the new clothes, and some others that neither of their partners had yet seen but which had been brought along for the holiday, were placed in a side room near to the lounge from where the changes of apparel could take place. Paulette opened the modelling by entering the room dressed in a pair of tailored, deep blue slacks and a silky black blouse. Poised and graceful, her tallness accentuated the cut of her clothes and she walked up and down to a round of applause from Gordon and Dean. Cindy followed, wearing a fetching country hat, moleskin trousers and a checked shirt loosely tied around her waist instead of being fastened all the way down the front and tucked into the trousers. More applause greeted her amid shouts of “Ride ‘em cowboy”.

Successively, Cindy and Paulette displayed the clothes to ever greater applause until finally Cindy said, “It is now time for our finale. You will have to give us a few minutes, so be patient.”

She and Paulette rushed upstairs, changed, and started applying make-up to their faces. Twenty minutes later, they were ready and standing in the hall. Cindy went to the music control panel, pressed the illuminated blue button, selected the music for the lounge and turned up the volume. Joe Cocker's unmistakeable and unique voice filled the air with his famous rendition of the 1972 Randy Newman classic,
You Can Leave Your Hat On.
The women entered the room slowly and walked provocatively towards their partners, their elbows sticking out as their hands rested on their swaying hips. The large coats they were wearing swayed and swirled as they moved exaggeratedly forwards before they stopped opposite Gordon and Dean, whilst slowly unfastening the coat buttons.

“A striptease! How wonderful!” shouted Dean. Gordon entered into the spirit of it all, laughing and calling out “Get 'em off” and “Show us what you've got then!”

The women let their coats fall to the floor, revealing very short white trousers, long black stockings and a flimsy top which soon became detached. Their heavy make-up and glossy red lips shone in the bright crystal lighting as they mouthed silent obscenities whilst slowly undressing. Shouts of delight filled the room and, in time to the music, most of the remaining clothes were gradually, but purposefully, removed until they were modelling their new swim wear. Very slowly they unpeeled their costumes, the expectation of their audience rising rapidly with Gordon and Dean leaning intently forward on their seats. Exaggerated groans of disappointment mixed with ribald comments followed as the final items worn by Cindy and Paulette were revealed. The women paraded up and down the large room several times before stopping in front of their partners. As each removed their bra in unison, they were careful not to reveal much of their upper body by judicial placement of their hands. Now wearing only a hat and the tiniest G-string imaginable they turned and faced away from their partners. Still dancing in rhythm to the beat of the evocative music they took three steps and slowly eased their G-strings down until they fell to the floor and could step out of them. As the music ended, they flung their arms into the air, took off their hat and placed it over their pubic area. In a grand finale, the two make-believe strippers performed a full 360 degree turn giving their excited audience only a brief glimpse of their bare breasts before they ran out of the room. Everyone dissolved into laughter.

“Encore, encore”, came the shouts from the sofas, but Paulette and Cindy declined as they dressed in the hall before coming back to gather up their discarded clothes.

“I think that's quite enough for you at your age,” mocked Paulette speaking to her husband. “Too much excitement isn't good for you.”

“Weren't they just marvellous, Gordon? Tremendous. Well done!” said Assiter, beaming.

The fun continued with them playing some not too serious games of snooker, before they ended by taking a late night plunge into the pool, splashing each other and generally larking about. It had indeed been a great evening: one to remember; one to savour; one never to be repeated.