Dreams to Die For (50 page)

Maythorp and Curry had been discussing the tactical situation. A substantial amount of equipment had already arrived or was nearing its deployment at the hotel. The full complement of electronic resources they required was at least twenty minutes away and it would be some considerable while before the substantial reinforcements of men arrived. However, a lot of equipment was now on site and being installed. The TSG would have to travel from Glasgow and possibly Edinburgh, but the commanders agreed to send two police vehicles, each with four fully armed officers, to drive slowly along the Kinloch Hourn road, keeping one hundred metres apart, until they reached the dam. The convoy was given orders that if the terrorists had not been intercepted they were to set up a road block whilst three officers secured the dam wall access. They were not permitted to cross the dam to the lodge. One vehicle only was permitted to drive slowly along the road towards Kinloch Hourn, but not to intercept or engage the targets unless it was to protect themselves. If they saw anything they were to stay at a safe distance and report it. Another two vehicles of four armed officers each were despatched urgently to enter Mealag Lodge by the Arkaig entrance. There were to be no heroics. If the lodge was occupied by terrorists they were to report back and retreat, setting up road blocks to prevent escape. An ESU unit was readied to be sent to the lodge in case the terrorists were holed up there. If it was unoccupied, and the entire complex could be safely secured, the helipad was to be made ready for a specially equipped helicopter.

Eagles Rest now scarcely resembled a hostelry. Various assorted vehicles, cars, vans and trucks were steadily arriving. One disgorged twelve specially trained and well-armed officers whilst another carried a vast amount of weird looking electronic equipment. Two satellite dishes had been erected; one, a couple of metres high, was affixed to a pole that had been rather unceremoniously banged into the lovingly manicured lawn. The other sat aloft an innocuous looking van, which was slowly making its way around the car park. Inside the hotel, perched in front of a box of electronics that included a monitor from which a green light glowed brightly, was an operative waiting to pick up the signal from the van. As soon he did so, he called out “OK” and the van stopped.

“Full comms and video working whenever it's needed,” the operative called out; his message logged and timed, noted by Curry and Maythorp, as it was written up in front of them. Maythorp had also requested a police launch, with armed officers, be sent by sea towards Kinloch Hourn. He was informed it was berthed at Arisaig, where a couple of nights before it had been used to intercept a minor drug running operation organised by local youths from the mainland and the Isle of Skye. The boat was presently moored at least twenty miles away from Kinloch Hourn and its crew of officers were now in Glasgow having escorted the miscreants there the previous day and was therefore discounted by Curry and Maythorp as offering viable assistance. However, as a further precaution the Royal Navy fisheries protection vessel, currently patrolling off the Isle of Rhum, was placed on alert in case the terrorists had a powerful sea going boat moored offshore near Kinloch Hourn. On receiving the signal, Captain Harris of HMS Varsity immediately ordered a change of direction and full speed.

Gold command agreed with Silver that the Special Air Service (SAS) at Hereford be put on alert and provided with all maps and drawings of Mealag Lodge, the estate and surroundings, just in case a serious hostage situation developed there and needed their expertise and intervention. The receiving stations at Menwith Hill and Morwenstow, plus personnel at GCHQ, were tasked with two immediate specific roles. One was to intercept all telephone traffic, electronic signal or other communication emanating from an area of twenty-five square kilometres from grid reference NH0701502488 and to also search their archives for any intercepts as and when names or details became known as the incident unfolded. The significance of the alarm triggered at the garages was actively being considered by several advisers within Silver command, who were liaising by telephone with Curry's deputy at Bronze. The benefit of such a command structure is that calm, rational evaluation leading to better judgement can be made by persons distanced from the pressures of operational minute-by-minute decision taking. Additionally, by virtue of being more remote Silver was totally free of bias and not influenced by the high levels of adrenalin surging through Bronze's veins. Curry was passed a note. On it was Silver's assessment of the current position:-

The alarm proves at least one person is alive.

That person is likely to be an occupant of Mealag Lodge.

The two women seen on the dam wall should be found. Their identities are probably that of Paulette Assiter and Cindy Crossland.

Highly improbable any terrorists are in the vicinity of the garages.

Silver recommend early deployment to garages.

If garages are secured and no visible sign of terrorists consider using any boats at jetty to cross to Mealag Lodge, or use the dam.

Curry read the note and immediately ordered the vehicles slowly making their way to the dam to increase speed and to go to the garages and report. He glanced at the white-board slightly to his left and read the constantly updated status of his resources and their deployment. Directly in front of him was a projected map of the area on which markers had been placed for ease of visually identifying where those resources were located, and at some point, when known, would show where the terrorists were. A computer operator had responsibility for the map generation and projection, electronics having superseded the once laborious manual task. Curry checked the location of the road blocks. He would like to have more but with his current manpower, that was simply not possible. The Bronze commander felt he ought to be doing something, anything, and subconsciously began to whistle a favourite tune whilst he waited for more information.

The weather continued to slowly deteriorate. The cloud thickened and Mattar, driving in and out of the mist, had to use the intermittent setting on his windscreen wipers to maintain his visibility. He was about to embark on the most hazardous road journey he had ever undertaken and he, and his compatriots, were fully aware of the danger they faced. He had driven as fast as he was able on the winding road and reached a point where a mile-long finger of the loch passed under a road bridge. This pushed due north whilst the main loch continued its vast spread west towards Kinloch Hourn. Just past the bridge, he swung the vehicle hard right and off the road, progressing along a track that followed the contours of the long inlet. After a few minutes, he turned sharply left and started to climb the massive and dangerous Sgurr a Mhoaraich mountain.

He momentarily stopped the vehicle and engaged four-wheel drive and the low ratio setting for the gears. The powerful Land Rover had made this journey once before, but then Mattar was the only occupant. He was not concerned as to whether the vehicle could climb the unmarked track – he knew it had sufficient power, but he was worried about the grip of the tyres on the uneven, wet grass that was littered with scree and boulders washed down by the torrential rains of numerous winters. The passage, since to describe it as a track was a gross overstatement of its quality, had shown no signs of it having been used for decades and it was only his sharp eyes on their reconnaissance earlier in the year that noticed the slight indentation that ran along the middle of the mountain. At some time, but probably not for a hundred years and never by a vehicle other than Mattar's, the pathway had been used, but Mattar had no time to speculate upon why. At times, the nearside tyres came close to slipping off the edge, and at others it took all his skill to steer the vehicle around the rocks without making heavy contact with the mountain on his offside. As it was, the additional people in the vehicle and full fuel load had made it heavier and therefore slightly compressed its tough suspension system and he regretted not ensuring they had hired a vehicle that had been fitted with an axle clearance height adjustment. At times the sound of rocks hitting the underside of the vehicle alarmed him, but he did not let his fear show. The engine and low gears made a deafening noise inside the Land Rover as it ground its way onwards across the face of the mountain; going in and out of cloud with Mattar wildly turning the steering wheel full lock one way and then the other. The tyres spun, slipped and created deep channels of mud but somehow Mattar kept the vehicle going forward, even if it was haphazardly so at times. It was a highly accomplished piece of true off-road driving and in other circumstances would have been much admired and no doubt earned him, and his tough vehicle, well-deserved accolades. As it was no one, other than his silent and ashen-faced passengers, was a witness to his prowess. Or so he thought.

“Can you see anything of them?” Gordon shouted to Cindy above the roar of the boat's exhaust and the noise of the wake rushing past them as the craft split apart the calm water. Cindy had his powerful field glasses pressed to her eyes and was searching for anything that might reveal Fadyar's whereabouts.

“Not a thing. I don't think they are on the road. Of course it isn't always in view, but I should have thought by now we would have spotted them. Maybe they are already at Kinloch Hourn.”

“Mmmm. Maybe, but it's a long, slow road. Here, take the wheel. Keep us headed straight down the loch and pass the glasses to me.” Gordon briefly gave her a quick kiss as she handed them to him. He surveyed the road for several minutes and confirmed that she was correct.

“They're definitely not on the road.”

More out of curiosity than hope, he started surveying the Munro to his right. The cloud was fairly low down on the hill but suddenly, almost as if appearing out of nowhere, he saw them.

“I've got them. They're on the mountain! My God, the bloody mountain! That's some feat. There isn't even a track there. I've walked every inch of that hill deerstalking and there is definitely no road or track. Some of the locals tell the tale that a century ago a few cattle drovers used that hill as a means of getting their beasts to Glenelg, but is wasn't used much even then as easier passages were found. There must be a hell of a driver at the wheel of that 4x4, the whole area is littered with rocks, loose gravel and scree – to say nothing of the slope itself that he's on.”

After his initial euphoria the realisation that the vehicle was not going to Kinloch Hourn struck him. He turned and in a sombre voice spoke to Paulette. “Paulette, almost certainly they have Dean. The fact that they did not kill him at the dam is a good sign, and from what Cindy and you have said that is not their intention anyway. But the bad news is I really have no idea where they can be headed. If they are prepared to risk their lives by driving along the side of the mountain, they must have worked out some sort of route off it, or have something else planned, but what and where? There is nothing in those hills where they can rest up or hide, not even a shelter.”

“What do you think we can do then, Gordon?” a nervous Paulette replied. Gordon did not immediately answer, but when he did his reply surprised them.

“They will not be going to Kinloch Hourn. They would have used the road or a boat if that were the case. They may be going to try and get through the hills to somewhere along the main A87 or they may be able to get through the mountains to somewhere beyond Kinloch Hourn, like Corran or Arnisdale.”

The trio were silent for a few minutes, deep in their own thoughts.

“What would you do, Gordon – if you were them?” Cindy asked.

“The group who have captured Dean are obviously very skilled and also ruthless. This is not a back of a fag packet operation. It had to be well planned and resourced. Even when unexpected things occur, they remain focused on their task and carry it out with deadly efficiency. Driving on that mountain is what convinces me they will not do the obvious thing and head for the A87. My bet is they have found a way to traverse the next mountain and will come off it somewhere close to Corran or Arnisdale. Corran probably, as it's nearer, and from there they will either have a boat waiting at the coast or drive along the road probably to Skye. Of course they were not expecting anyone to spot them on the mountains.”

“Can we stop them?” enquired Paulette.

Gordon laughed. “I don't think
we
can stop them, Paulette. These are professionals and fully armed. All we can do is call the police when we get a damned signal on this phone.”

“But we brought all those guns. Surely we can delay them from taking Dean?” persisted Paulettte.

Before he could reply, Cindy spoke, “I thought you had another boat at Kinloch Hourn. Can't we at least use that to see if we spot them at Corran, or wherever?” Cindy was thinking of her friend Paulette, worried, and now sitting in silence nervously tapping her impeccably manicured fingernails on the side panelling of the boat. “At least if we spot them we might be able to tell the police,” implored Cindy, who wanted to do all she could to help her friend.

“I suppose there is no harm in that. OK. We'll use the
Greek Dancer.”

“Is that its name?” giggled Cindy “Don't tell me now, later. But it sounds as if there is a story there!”

“There is, or more accurately, was,” a sombre Gordon retorted.

Ritson arrived at Inverness Airport and was soon speeding under escort towards Corach. Curry was anxious to receive information of the terrorists' whereabouts and was pacing around the eerily quiet room.

“Where are they? Where are they?” he muttered to himself, but his voice still sounded loud as it broke the silence.

Soon the centre would become a frantic, but disciplined, noisy hub of people talking or writing, phones ringing, pictures bouncing off walls, speakers blaring – but not yet. This was the quiet before the storm. He had hoped that the gang would have been sighted by one of the road blocks established at several key points along the A87, the A887 the A82 and at the Skye (Kyle) Bridge, but he did not yet have the resources to block off every exit from every major road and so had allocated his resources where they could be the most effective.

Many roads that led from the major trunk routes were either long cul-de-sacs (like the Kinloch Hourn road) or simply went in a large semi-circle returning to the major route several miles farther along the highway. These roads were not blocked. Also, as there was no road beyond Kinloch Hourn, Curry did not position any road blocks or patrols along the Glenelg Road, reasoning that the terrorists could not reach there. He had received confirmation that the specially equipped helicopter with camera and an armed crew was only a matter of minutes away.

His yellow phone rang. An officer reported in that Mealag Lodge was secured but it was evident that some sort of struggle had occurred. Blood was spattered onto clothing and around the kitchen. A window was broken, apparently shot through by a high velocity bullet and plastic ties used for handcuffs were scattered onto the kitchen table and floor. The personnel had left in a hurry. Blood spattered bathing robes and a large hunting knife were strewn across the floor and no attempt had been made to secure the property. The phone line and alarm systems had been rendered inoperable. Worse, two SP officers were found dead in close proximity to the lodge, and the search was continuing for other casualties but none was so far apparent. Footprints leading to the loch would indicate that someone may have tried to escape and drowned in a peat bog. The area was being sealed as a crime scene pending detailed forensic examination. The helipad could be used, if required. Realising that little more was likely to be achieved at Mealag in the short-term, Curry recalled most of the officers, leaving two on armed guard.

Even for the experienced police officers and specialist personnel in the three command centres the reports which were being instantly relayed to them, were chilling. It was unusual that terrorists and civilian personnel were missing from a scene, leaving only the murdered special protection officers. Bronze Command started to get busy, and the phones on Curry's desk started ringing. Silver gave an updated assessment that several hostages had probably been taken. The red phone bleeped and an aide answered; the Westland helicopter was only a minute away. The green phone again: Silver once more. Gold had ordered no concessions if terrorists and hostages located. Gold had also sanctioned a shoot to kill policy in the light of the terrorists having already committed murder. Curry heard the rhythmic beat of the helicopter rotor blades as it passed overhead, on its way to scour the loch area. Minutes later, more phones were ringing and more reports, all being written up, almost verbatim, by the shorthand note takers and in précis form by the small team in charge of the whiteboards. The latest entries concerned the garages which had provided additional evidence that someone had left in hurry, its two large doors were swinging open in the breeze and the alarm was sounding but no one was present. A cursory examination around the area had not revealed any bodies and there was no sign of blood. At the Bronze control room a voice came through one of the powerful side speakers hanging by a nail that ESU had recently banged into a wall.

“This is Sky 1. Are you receiving?”

Curry was shown a microphone amongst the vast array of equipment now on his desk and switched it on, “Bronze here, receiving loud and clear.”

The helicopter radio operator wasted no time, “Sky 1 here. We can see at least two bodies halfway up the mountain beside the dam. There may be more. Wait. Now a third. Suggest you send a team up or do you want us to winch down? Over.”

“Bronze here. We are seeing everything from the camera. Continue flying due west to Kinloch Hourn. We believe that is where target is headed. Follow the road. Do not intercept if sighted and keep out of rifle range. We believe they have at least one high velocity weapon. Over.”

“Understood. Out.”

Curry dispatched some officers to go up the mountain. As the road was secured and safe, he also sent two ambulances but didn't believe their life-saving equipment would be needed. He was passed a scribbled note. Ritson had arrived and was being briefed in an ante room. Curry rather resented the presence of someone from London sitting on his shoulder but he had to admit, even to himself, that the Met had a lot more experience at handling these situations than he possessed.

He smiled broadly and held out his hand as Ritson entered, “Welcome to Bronze. I understand you've been fully briefed. Anything else you need to know?” He beckoned Ritson to sit beside him.

As he slid easily into the chair Ritson replied, “No, thanks. Its John, isn't it? I'm Bill.”

The informality surprised Curry and immediately he felt more at ease. At least the guy didn't appear to swagger about, full of his own self-importance. The two sat back, eagerly watching the monitor pictures emanating from Sky 1. The black, incoming land line telephone on Curry's desk rang and he and Ritson looked at one and other each unsure who should answer.

Curry laughed, and said, “You answer. It's patched through into the loudspeakers anyway”

“Sir, we have caller on the line. Name of Truscott. Says it is to do with Mealag Lodge.”

“Good God. Put him through immediately.” Ritson said, looking at Curry.

* * *

Gordon, Cindy and Paulette quickly tied up the boat at the head of the loch and ran as fast as they could the three quarters of a mile to Kinloch Hourn. They saw no one, and rushed to remove the protective canopy tarpaulin covering
Greek Dancer
and slipped the mooring ropes. Crime was unknown in such a small community and Gordon had no qualms about leaving its spare ignition key in a galley drawer. The powerful inboard Volvo engines burst into life at the first press of the electronic starter and Gordon pushed forward on the twin control levers. As he neared the open sea, his mobile flickered into life and the signal bars appeared. Holding the steering wheel with one hand and beckoning Cindy to help him by also taking hold of the large chromed spoke wheel, he pressed 999.

“Emergency. Which service do you require?” a female voice.

Gordon quickly managed to convey a degree of urgency into the operator who dispensed with some of the usual formalities, though insisting that Gordon provide his name and location. Her experience of recognising someone genuine and in trouble was considerable and as the man who called was asking for Chief Inspector Keith Maythorp by name, and also mentioning Mealag Lodge, she transferred the call to her duty supervisor who immediately looked up Maythorp. The computer told him of a suspected terrorist attack and that Maythorp was currently active on that assignment. He wasted no time in making contact with Fort William who instantly patched the call through to Bronze Command, not to Maythorp at Silver.

A breathless sounding Gordon started speaking excitedly down the phone. My name is Gordon Truscott. I own Mealag Lodge. We have been the victims of a terrorist attack. Several officers have been killed. We are… ”

Ritson interrupted. In a very calm voice he said, “First things first Mr Truscott, I would prefer to call you Gordon. My name is Bill and we know of the incident. We are currently in pursuit of those responsible. We have considerable resources already deployed. Are you alone and are you hurt?”

“No. Yes. I mean I have my partner Cindy Crossland with me and Paulette Assiter the wife of the US Secretary of State. We are basically unharmed. The terrorists though have taken Dean.” Gordon was still having an adrenalin rush.

“You say ‘taken', Gordon. Do you know if Mr Assiter is hurt or where his captors are headed?”

“I don't believe he will be hurt. They told Cindy they would not harm him, but take him hostage. We are in a forty foot cabin cruiser, with a black hull and white stripe, heading out of Kinloch Hourn. There is no sign of the terrorists here, but they escaped by going over the mountains towards the coast. The clouds prevented me from keeping them in our sight.”

Ritson remained poised, despite the fact that he wanted to ask a hundred questions, he knew that others would already be acting on the information being blurted out from the loudspeakers.

“Can you remember what type of vehicle they had?”

“No. But it had to be a bloody good 4x4. They took a most dangerous route that is not even marked on any map I know of. The driver must be highly skilled, especially in this weather.”

“Do you know how many of them there are, Gordon?”

Gordon hadn't considered this until Ritson posed the question. He looked at Cindy and Paulette.

“There was a woman according to Cindy, and there were two men who attacked us on the hill when they killed the US agents. So at least three, possibly more, but there cannot be many unless they have help elsewhere. The escape vehicle wasn't huge, it couldn't be to drive on that mountain.”

“What you are telling us is excellent Gordon. Can you give us any more information? We have a helicopter in the vicinity, can you see that?”

“No, I can't. The woman is an excellent shot with a rifle though, Cindy has just told me. Oh, and the men have machine guns. Cindy thinks their vehicle might be a Jeep or Land Rover.”

Ritson nodded to Curry. They knew a lot of this detail already from the initial reports at the various scenes of crime, but Truscott was providing vital additional intelligence.

“Gordon?”

“Yes”

“I would hate it if your mobile went dead on us. Do you have a radio on board in case we need it?”

“Yes, of course, I'll give you the details, but my phone should be OK. It's fully charged.”

“Where are you headed now Gordon, and can I ask why?” Ritson was showing just how skilled he was at asking probing questions, designed to elicit maximum information.

“I'm heading west at the moment but then I shall turn and head towards Glenelg. The terrorists may come out onto the A876, but if not they have to come out onto the Glenelg road.”

The name meant nothing to Ritson, but Curry animatedly pointed to the map where the operator immediately highlighted the small village and the road that runs through it. Ritson nodded, signifying he now understood.

“Gordon. Your help has been most invaluable. Can I suggest you now make your way back to Eagles Rest Hotel, which is where I am talking to you from. We can have you all checked out for injuries etc and you will be safe here. We have all the information we need now to track down these terrorists.”

Gordon told his makeshift crew what Ritson had said. It was Paulette who reacted first, “No. No, Gordon we can't just abandon Dean. I want to see him. Please, don't give up now.”

Ritson heard the plaintive cries of Paulette and raised his eyebrows at Curry.

“It will be best if you come back. I do not want any more casualties, Gordon. These people are extremely dangerous, please do not try and pursue them.”

Gordon looked about the boat and at the faces of Cindy and Paulette. He also felt that having come this far, they should continue, but he was fearful as to what they could possibly achieve.

“Well, we've decided to motor on along the coast. If we see anything, how do I contact you again without going through all the emergency call centres?”

Ritson thought quickly. By giving out a direct line he was almost conceding that Gordon could proceed, and under no circumstances did he want them to become embroiled in something that might easily go out of control. On the other hand, he did not have any boat himself patrolling the coast as the police launch was still miles away and Gordon seemed determined to carry on with or without permission.

“I will give you a number, but I must stress to you that if you see anything you are to stay at a safe distance, at least 1000 metres, and report it. You are to remain in the boat at all times and not land until I give you the all-clear. Is that understood and agreed?”

“Yes. Agreed” said Gordon. Cindy suddenly motioned him to pass her the phone.

“This is Cindy Crossland. There is one thing you should know, because it is very important. The woman of the group saved my and Paulette's life this morning and that was nothing to do with their capture of Dean. She and her group did not kill the police at Mealag Lodge, only the ones on the hill next to the dam.”

Ritson was stunned, as was Silver and Gold. For once, no one knew what to say.

It was Curry, who being somewhat detached from the conversation reacted first and replied to Cindy, “Hi. I'm John Curry from Fort William. Say hello to Gordon for me. Can you confirm precisely what happened at Mealag involving you and Paulette, and whether you know who killed the police there.”

“I'm sorry” said Cindy, “but I can't… I really don't want to go into detail about this morning. We can talk later about that. It was totally separate from Dean's capture, but I can tell you that the man who attacked us and the police there was named Donaldson. He fled and drowned in the peat bog by the loch. The woman saved our lives.”

“Thank you, Mrs Crossland. We will contact you or Gordon if we need any more information, but meanwhile please do not approach the kidnappers. They are clearly very ruthless.”

“OK. Bye.”

Curry turned to Ritson. “So we have two incidents now, though the one involving this Donaldson bloke at Mealag Lodge seems to be over, thank God. What about Truscott? Do you think he will stay in the boat if he sees those holding Assiter?”