Empty Nets and Promises (5 page)

10

‘Looks as though we're heading for the edge of the bloody world,' said Marshall, as he wiped the steamed-up windscreen with the back of his hand. ‘I hope you know where we're going?'

‘Just about on the Piper's Pass,' Grant replied. ‘I've been here a couple of times, but that's all. Do you have any idea what they're doing here, Mr Watson?'

‘Aye, I have that. Geordie McCallum has a croft jeest a bit further on. Keeps some sheep, chickens and the like, grows neeps and cabbages. He's got a lobster boat, too, down in the bay. I'll tell you this, you couldn't find a more isolated spot on the whole peninsula to be up to no good, and that's a fact.'

Marshall grinned. ‘Looks as though we've struck lucky here. This could well be their base of operations. I wouldn't be surprised if those two strangers were prospective clients come to sample the wares before they buy. This is just what we were after.'

Sergeant Grant said nothing as they drove on between the steep hills. He watched a swollen burn charge into a culvert below the road, a riot of white froth and peat-stained water. He'd heard stories about the Piper's Pass, and though he wasn't a particularly superstitious man, a shiver ran down his back, making him flinch at the wheel. He'd been dubious about Hoynes' involvement in an alleged smuggling operation, but he had to concede that something wasn't right.

‘Can you hear that?' said Marshall, his head cocked to one side. Despite the rain, he cracked open the passenger window.

‘Will you close that!' shouted Watson from the back. ‘I'm getting soaked here.'

‘Who would be playing bagpipes in this weather?' Marshall frowned.

Looking in his rear-view mirror, Grant caught a look of apprehension cross Watson's face. ‘I never heard a thing,' he said nervously.

Marshall persisted. ‘I know the skirl of the pipes when I hear them.'

They carried on along the narrow pass in silence.

All of a sudden the road dipped. They were heading into a broad valley now, the single-track road snaking into the distance under the glowering sky.

‘Nearly there,' said Geordie. ‘Jeest a few hundred yards now.' Between a gap in the hills, the grey waters of the North Channel were visible.

‘I widna be happy being oot on the ocean the night,' said Hoynes, spotting the red corrugated-iron roof of Geordie's bothy in the distance.

‘We'll be fine once we get a fire going,' said Hamish.

Geordie slowed the vehicle and turned onto a rough path, at the end of which sat a small stone building, abutted on both sides by small wooden structures – barns would have been too grand a name for them.

‘Right, gentlemen,' he said, pulling up outside the bothy. ‘Here we are, a home fae home.'

Rather unsteadily, the passengers got out of the vehicle and waited, shivering, while the small man pushed open the door. In the gloom he made his way to a windowsill upon which sat an oil lantern. After fiddling in his pocket for a lighter, he managed to put flame to the wick, and soon the cottage was bathed in a pale, flickering light.

‘It's a bit gloomy whoot wae these tiny windows. If you give me a couple o' minutes, I'll get the other lanterns lit and put a match tae the fire. We'll be fair toasty in no time.'

‘I see you've peat in the fire already, Geordie,' noted Hoynes.

‘Aye, I always leave it set – even in the summer. You canna beat a peat fire.'

‘It's just like
Brigadoon
,' said Ralph excitedly, making himself comfortable on an old couch. ‘Exactly what the doctor ordered. We've been up in Scotland for months now, and all we've seen is the inside of the plane and the barracks.'

‘And the Douglas Arms,' said Bertie.

With another two lanterns lit, Geordie busied himself lighting the fire with scrunched-up pieces of old newspaper. The heavy rain beat a tattoo on the iron roof. The bothy appeared to be a one-room affair, with various old chairs and the couch gathered around the fireplace. In a corner of the room a flimsy-looking camp bed was covered by a grey blanket, while on the other side of the dwelling sat an old pot-bellied stove and a tiny basin.

‘No' much in the way of home comforts,' observed Hamish. ‘Where's the cludgie?'

‘Och, I jeest pee in thon bucket while I'm here. But if it's the secondary function you need to oblige, there's a dry closet oot the back. It can be a bit breezy in the wind, mind – I keep meaning tae get that hole in the wall fixed,' said Geordie as he got to his feet and lit his pipe.

‘Damn near the Savoy, my bonnie lads,' said Hoynes, producing two bottles of whisky from a duffel bag. ‘Here, I'll put on the wireless.'

Amidst a crackle and a high-pitched whine, the sound of twanging guitars backing a distinctive baritone could be heard. The five men listened in silence for a while, as drams were handed round in chipped mugs. The fire began to smoulder.

‘Whoot on earth is that racket?' asked Hamish, his face screwed up.

‘That's the Rolling Stones,' replied Bertie. ‘My boy plays them all the time on a little Dansette record player his mother was stupid enough to buy him.'

‘The Rolling Stones, eh?' said Hoynes, sounding as though the words were something new to him.

‘As far as I'm concerned, they can jeest keep rolling – as far away as possible,' said Hamish. ‘For me, you canna beat Jimmy Shand. Have a fiddle aboot wae that wireless and get us some proper music on, skipper, before thon wailing drives me mad.'

‘Och, you're no' like a young man at all, Hamish. You should be up there gyratin' aboot like these young folk I see wae Pete Murray every Saturday on the television. If I was young you widna be able tae keep me back. There wiz nae such thing as the permissive society when I wiz a young buck. And it's still no' arrived in my hoose tae this day,' Hoynes observed, somewhat ruefully.

‘Can't you get no satisfaction then, mate,' said Ralph, making his fellow pilot guffaw. The three fishermen were bemused. ‘Oh, never mind,' he said with a smile.

‘Wait the noo,' said Geordie. ‘There's another Land Rover at the road end. Who the hell can be oot on a night like this?'

‘They'll see us, Sergeant Grant,' said Marshall, a note of panic in his voice.

‘Aye, well, they'll have to sometime,' replied Grant, turning the vehicle onto the track that led down towards Geordie's bothy.

‘What if they're disposing of the evidence?'

‘That would be a neat trick,' chortled Watson. ‘There's no such thing as plumbing away out here.'

‘Is that a crown on the side?' asked Hamish, peering through the tiny window, Hoynes at his side.

‘It's no' the Fishery Officer, is it?' said Hoynes, his nose pressed to the glass.

‘Whoot would it matter if it was, Sandy? There's no' a fish tae be had in the place.'

‘I've got a couple o' tins o' sardines in the press thonder,' said Geordie.

‘Och, you widna put anything past that Watson,' replied Hoynes. ‘He'd likely find an excuse tae impound them, no matter that they're fae Spain and got tinned before the auld king died.'

‘Are you worried aboot oor freen wae the eight legs, skipper?'

‘Wait,' said Hoynes, relief in his voice. ‘Is that no' oor Duncan?'

‘Aye, but look who he's wae,' groaned Hamish in dismay.

Sure enough, Duncan Grant, Iain Watson the Fishery Officer, and a smartly-dressed man whom neither of them knew were out of the Land Rover and making their way to the front door.

‘Turning into quite a party,' quipped Ralph. ‘The more the merrier, I say.'

‘Gie me another gulp o' that whisky, Hamish. I don't like the look o' this at all,' said Hoynes as three businesslike knocks sounded at the door.

‘Sandy, Hamish, Geordie, open up!' shouted Grant. ‘We need to have a word with you.'

‘Och, I knew fine I should have got that light fixed on the motor. I've been meaning tae dae it for ages,' moaned Geordie.

‘They widna come all this way tae pull you up aboot a tail-light, Geordie. Oor Duncan's straight as a dye, but even he's no' that keen,' said Hoynes.

‘An' how wid he bring Watson wae him?' said Hamish.

‘I'd better open the door,' said Geordie. ‘We'll soon find oot.'

‘Just stay here for a minute, Beth,' said Maggie. ‘Look, they're all away into the cottage now. My poor Duncan all unsuspecting, likely, not realising he's about to be spirited out of the country to bugger knows where.'

‘And there's thon snake, Watson,' said her mother. ‘Your faither won't be happy at the sight o' him hoving intae view. The Piper's Pass was fair busy the night, an' no mistake.'

The women looked on as the door closed behind the three new arrivals. ‘I canna think Iain Watson wid be part o' any caper,' said Beth. ‘I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him smile – that poor wife o' his has got a terrible life. She must be fair miserable sitting in that cottage while he plots tae bring doon another decent fisherman trying tae make a living.'

‘Well, one thing's for sure,' said Marjorie. ‘We'll not learn anything sitting away back here. We'll park up behind these whin bushes, Beth. Then we can sneak over and surprise them before they get a chance to overpower my Duncan.'

‘Overpower's a wee bit strong, dear. This is your faither and Hamish we're talking aboot. The last thing they overpowered wiz a fish or two – aye, an' no' that recently, neither.' Marjorie pursed her lips.

‘And forbye that, we'll get drenched,' declared Beth.

‘It's all for the greater good. Come on. It's taken me long enough to find a husband. I'll be damned if he's whisked off to the Levant before I get a ring on his finger.'

‘Och, jeest your faither a' o'er,' said Marjorie.

‘Where the hell's the Levant?' asked Beth as, pulling her raincoat over her head, Maggie jumped out of the Land Rover and into the rain.

11

‘Well, well, a pretty parcel of rogues here,' said Watson, a look of triumph on his face.

‘You there!' shouted Marshall. ‘Put that bottle down – it's evidence from now on.'

‘You what, mate?' slurred Ralph, taking the lemonade bottle from his lips. ‘I paid for this fair and square. If you want some, go and buy your own.'

Marshall reached into the pocket of his coat and removed an ID card. ‘Alistair Marshall, Senior Collector, Her Majesty's Customs and Excise. That spirit you're drinking is stolen – from both the distillery and the Revenue. You, all of you, are breaking the law, and I'll make sure you'll pay for your crimes.'

‘For goodness sake, son, whoot's this all aboot?' remonstrated Hoynes.

‘I'm sorry, Sandy. We had information that you were shifting cases of the clear stuff. I had my doubts, but here we are.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, man,' said Hamish. ‘We're jeest having a wee dram. That stuff doesn't even belong to us. Does it, boys?' He addressed his question to the airmen, who now looked thoroughly perplexed by the whole situation.

‘And then there's the matter of an octopus,' said Watson. ‘Not declared in the catch, but I have proof positive that you profited from it, Sandy Hoynes.'

Hoynes looked sidelong at Hamish. ‘Noo, come on, men. Let's sit doon and talk aboot this like civilised folk. I've no' seen a bottle o' the clear stuff since Adam was a wean, and that octopus was a squid. We jeest slung it back intae the sea, didn't we, Hamish?'

‘Aye, we did that, Sandy. And in any event, Iain Watson, I'd like to know how you got to hear aboot such a small event. Aye, and manage tae blow it oot o' all proportion, tae.'

Watson held his ground. ‘It was an octopus! I have a witness!'

‘Sergeant, I want you to arrest these men on suspicion of smuggling,' said Marshall. ‘I'll take the evidence we need.' He made a lunge for Ralph's bottle, just as the door swung open and Maggie rushed to the side of her fiancé.

‘The first one to try to get my Duncan onto a plane will have to get past me first!'

‘Maggie?' said Hamish.

‘Marjory?' shouted Hoynes.

‘Beth?' said Geordie.

‘What on earth is going on here?' enquired Grant.

‘Haven't the foggiest, mate,' said Bertie, looking on as his friend Ralph wrestled determinedly with the Customs Officer over the bottle of illicit spirits. ‘One thing's for sure, you Scotch know how to throw a party.'

Before anyone else could speak, a low rumble interrupted the pounding rain. In a few heartbeats, the ground began to shake.

‘Whoot that?' yelled Hoynes, as everyone froze.

‘It's the Piper's Pass,' cried Geordie. ‘It's a bloody landslide!'

Hoynes raced outside. Sure enough, he could see a great sheet of earth sliding down the mountainside like warm icing off a cake. Hamish and Duncan Grant were right behind him.

‘Well, that's us stuck here for a while,' said Hamish. ‘Did it no' take them the best part o' a week to clear this the last time?'

‘It did that,' confirmed Hoynes.

‘Father! Duncan!' shouted Maggie, poking her head out of the front door. ‘You better come quick. The Customs man is out cold.'

Marshall was lying on his back on the stone floor, his eyes closed. A small pool of blood was congealing under his head.

‘For any's sake,' screamed Marjorie. ‘I think he's deid.'

Grant leaned over the injured man and checked the pulse in his neck. ‘His heart's beating, but he's out cold. We'll have to try and stem the flow of blood. What on earth happened?'

‘I was just trying to stop him whipping my bottle,' replied Ralph sheepishly. ‘I stood up, and he went flying onto the floor. Must've cracked his head when he landed. Will he be all right?'

Beth turned on her heel, yanked the sheet from the camp bed and ripped a narrow strip. ‘I'll use this as a bandage. At least it should stop the blood.' As Grant held up the unconscious man's head, she wound the impromptu bandage around his skull and tied it gently with a knot at the back.

‘Dae you mind Erchie Boyd, Sandy?' asked Hamish. ‘He fell o'er in Main Street one Hogmanay. Never recovered. He was deid afore the second o' January dawned.'

‘Oh, you're a ray of sunshine, Hamish,' snapped Maggie, her hand on her fiancé's shoulder as he cradled Marshall's head in his lap. ‘I'm sure he's just knocked out – he'll likely be fine in a minute or two.'

‘I'm not so sure, Maggie,' said Grant. ‘We have to get him help.'

Watson the Fishery Officer looked at Ralph in disgust. ‘I don't know what schemes you've been cooking up with Hoynes here but you'll spend the rest of your days behind bars if this man dies. And him a representative of Her Majesty, too. I wouldn't be surprised if they brought back the gallows for this. Do your duty, Duncan.'

‘Wait a bloody minute,' said Ralph indignantly. ‘He attacked me, remember.'

‘He was doing his job protecting the Revenue. Crooks like you have no place in a quiet, law-abiding community like ours. Sandy, you're for the high-jump as well, bringing such desperados to Kinloch. You'll likely swing too.'

‘Iain, will you be quiet,' demanded Grant. ‘We need to get this man some medical help. We'll take a look at the pass and see if there's any way through.'

‘I wouldna be holdin' oot too much faith in that,' said Geordie. ‘You've seen yoursel' how narrow the roadway is – a few boulders are enough tae make it impassable.'

‘Nonetheless,' said Grant. ‘Two of you can take one of the cars and have a look.'

‘I'll go,' volunteered Hoynes. ‘I canna bear seeing this poor wretch lying there. If there's any chance o' a way through, I'll get back here pronto, and we'll carry the gentleman aboard.'

‘I'll come wae you, skipper,' said Hamish.

‘No, no, no. You're not making a break for it as easy as that,' said Watson. ‘If there's anyone going with Professor Moriarty here, it's me. You'll not escape my clutches, Sandy Hoynes.'

‘Whoever's going, go now!' Grant urged. ‘If there's no way through the pass, we'll have to think of something else.'

Reluctantly, Hoynes made his way out of the bothy with Watson in tow. ‘And no fancy business, either,' said the Fishery Officer. ‘I'll not be more than an arm's length from you at any time.'

Hoynes pulled his cap down over his forehead in an attempt to shelter from the rain. ‘Do you know something, Iain Watson? I think you're as mad as a March hare.' He ducked into the driver's side of Geordie's vehicle. Soon the pair were making their way steadily back up towards the Piper's Pass.

Hamish, looking down at Marshall, shook his head. ‘I knew I should've paid attention tae that nightmare I had the other night.'

‘What nightmare?' asked Marjorie, biting her lip at the sight of her husband leaving with Watson.

‘The Walls o' Jericho were tumbling doon. Folk were fair scattering everywhere – a dreadful sight, a' the gither.'

‘Right,' said Maggie. ‘I daresay it wasn't a trumpeter that brought the stones down. Would it be a piper, by any chance?'

‘See you, Maggie,' replied Hamish. ‘I've always thought you had the sight. Now I'm sure. You've got it bang on.'

‘Jeest a pity you hadna the sight tae see how this wee caper wid end in such tragedy, Hamish,' said Geordie. ‘I'd be at hame having a right good snooze noo, if I'd no' been foolish enough to join in wae your little plot.'

‘I think it's time I knew just what's going on, Hamish.' Grant looked up at the fisherman.

‘Scheme? What's all this?' said Bertie. ‘What scheme?'

Hamish lit his pipe. ‘Well, now, you see, when there's nae fish, there's nae joy in the world, and that's a fact.'

Geordie shrugged. ‘If they two canna find a route out the pass – and they'll no' – we'll have tae take the Customs man on my lobster boat.'

‘Roon' the Mull in this weather? You'll never make it,' wailed Beth.

‘We canna jeest let him bleed tae death. No, nor turn intae a vegetable, because of his injuries.'

‘And what about my wedding? Just tell me that,' said Maggie. ‘I could strangle you, Hamish.'

The fisherman took a puff of his pipe and stared enigmatically at the ceiling. ‘Do you know, I think we're aboot tae dae something quite exceptional.' A blue cloud of smoke wafted above his head as the rain continued to batter off the roof.