True to his word, Leavey returned fifteen minutes later but not alone. He was accompanied by a short, smiling man with a barrel chest and thinning fair hair who MacLean thought he recognised from somewhere but couldn’t remember where. Unfortunately the look on the man’s face said that he knew him well enough. MacLean’s embarrassment was cut short by the man opening the front of his shirt to reveal a jagged scar. ‘Willie MacFarlane,’ he said. ‘You saved my life.’
‘Of course,’ exclaimed MacLean. ‘You got hurt on the rig; I never saw you again. How are you?’
‘Right as rain, Doc,’ said MacFarlane, fastening up his shirt and sitting down at the table. ‘I never got a chance to thank you properly.’
‘No need,’ insisted MacLean. ‘I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He got up to go to the bar but MacFarlane stopped him with a hand on the arm. ‘The very least I can do is buy you a drink,’ he insisted.
MacLean agreed with a smile and MacFarlane went to the bar leaving Leavey and MacLean alone. MacLean asked the question with his eyes and Leavey said, ‘I think he would be useful to have along.’
‘Ex-serviceman?’
‘Ex-safe-breaker.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘I’m perfectly serious,’ said Leavey. ‘Willie can open locked doors with his feet. He sees every lock as a personal challenge and what’s more, he’s moved with the times. As electronic protection systems have got better so has Willie. On one occasion he even managed to break into a safe that was monitored by close-circuit television 24 hours a day.’
‘How did he do that?’
‘He took along a video recorder, cut into the close-circuit cable and recorded the picture. The he connected the video playback to the cable and cut it beyond the join. He emptied the place while the guards watched a video of a closed safe.’
‘Ingenious,’ admitted MacLean but he had doubts about taking MacFarlane along and it showed.
Leavey said, ‘Face it Sean. We can go a long way together but when it comes to breaking into locked buildings equipped with fancy alarm systems we’re going to be babes in the wood. We need someone like Willie.’
‘We don’t know that he’d go,’ said MacLean.
Leavey smiled and said, ‘There are two things in this life that Willie MacFarlane would die for. One of them is Rangers Football Club and the other is you. He’s never forgotten what you did for him out there.’
‘I suppose I should say, I don’t want him coming along out of a sense of obligation, but the truth is, I need this stuff real bad. I’m prepared to play any card I’ve got,’ said MacLean. ‘That’s something you have to consider too.’
Leavey put his hand on MacLean’s arm. ‘I already have.’
MacFarlane returned with the drinks. The bar was beginning to fill up and the sound of male laughter reminded MacLean of his own time on the rigs. The first night back was always something special, a shower, a change of clothes and off to the pub with plenty money in your pocket. Even the married men would come to the pub before going home. Domestic bliss could wait; there was an important male ritual to be observed. The earlier damp smell of the place had given way to after-shave and cigar smoke. Faces were animated: eyes were bright.
MacFarlane did most of the talking at the table, keeping them laughing with a seemingly endless fund of stories from the rigs. Much of the humour was directed against himself and MacLean found himself warming to the man. He noticed that, at intervals, Leavey would slip in a question relating to MacFarlane’s personal circumstances. It was done so cleverly that MacFarlane did not realise that he was being interrogated So far, Leavey had established that he was married but had no children. He had also exposed an undercurrent of bitterness in the man.
After a few more drinks Leavey said, ‘So you’ll be off home to the wife then Willie?’
MacFarlane’s eyes said not. He dropped his eyelids and said, ‘No… she’s left me.’
‘God, I’m sorry,’ said Leavey, exchanging glances with MacLean.
‘I got a letter. She’s been seeing this other guy; he’s got his own business.’
Leavey and MacFarlane exchanged glances again. ‘Have you been married long Willie?’ asked MacLean.
‘Three years.’
‘That’s tough, man,’ said Leavey.
‘To think I gave up a perfectly good “career” so that she could say that she was married to an honest man!’ fumed MacFarlane. ‘I’ve been freezing my arse off on the rigs while she’s been…’
‘Have another drink, Willie.’
MacFarlane looked at his watch and shook his head. ‘No, I must be off. The last train to Glasgow leaves in fifteen minutes.’
‘So, you’ve something planned then?’
MacFarlane looked at Leavey as if it was a trick question then said as if he had only realised it himself, ‘No, not really.’
‘Then why don’t we all go back to my place. We can talk over old times and you both can stay the night. There’s plenty of room.’
MacFarlane agreed after only a moment’s thought.
‘Fine by me,’ added MacLean.
Leavey’s flat in Aberdeen turned out be on the third floor of an unprepossessing tenement block not far from Union Street. The greyness and the rain made it appear more unwelcoming than it might have done in sunlight but MacFarlane admired the quality of the locks on the door as Leavey undid them. Leavey said by way of explanation, ‘I’m away a lot,’ and they all smiled.
When they got inside MacLean could see immediately why Leavey was so security conscious. The apartment was beautifully furnished with the most expensive of materials. Leavey apologised for the coldness adding that there was no point in having the heating on while he wasn’t there.
‘Have you won the pools or something?’ asked MacFarlane in admiration. He was examining the stereo system.
‘I don’t have anything else to spend my money on,’ said Leavey. ‘Besides, when you spend most of your working life up to your arse in shit, it’s good to have somewhere nice to come back to.’
MacLean nodded in agreement.
‘Maybe I’ll get myself a place like this too,’ said Willie. ‘Now that I’m single again.’
‘Why not,’ said Leavey.
Leavey and MacLean sat on facing armchairs, sipping Laphroaig whisky while MacFarlane did the same from one end of a matching settee. Miles Davies was playing quietly on the stereo. ‘So what brings you back to Aberdeen, Doc?’ he asked. ‘You’re not thinking of coming back to the rigs?’
‘I’ve got a problem Willie; I need help,’ confessed MacLean.
‘If it’s something I can do, you just have to say the word,’ said MacFarlane.
‘It’s dangerous.’
‘So’s crossing the road.’
‘I mean it. You could end up in a foreign jail or even dead.’
‘That dangerous,’ exclaimed MacFarlane in a muted voice.
‘Yes.’
‘I owe you, Doc. You can count on me.’
MacLean held up his hand and said, ‘You owe me nothing but I’m not a big enough person not to ask you.
MacFarlane looked at Leavey and asked, ‘Are you in on this?’
Leavey nodded.
‘Why?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘It’s a good cause,’ said Leavey matter of factly.
MacFarlane turned back to MacLean and said, ‘Tell me about it.’
MacLean told him the story and when he had finished MacFarlane said distantly, ‘Poor wee mite. You know, I always wanted a wee lassie myself.’
After a few moments silence Leavey said, ‘Well, in or out?’
‘I’m in,’ said MacFarlane. ‘Most definitely in.’
‘When do we start?’ Leavey asked MacLean.
‘As soon as possible.’
‘I’m ready,’ said Leavey. ‘How about you Willie. Is anyone going to miss you in Glasgow?’
‘Only the bookie.’
MacLean suggested that they travel south to Edinburgh in the morning. They could stay at Tansy’s place until they had arranged their travel to Geneva and then set off from there. Leavey asked him how the operation was being funded and MacLean told him about the insurance money from the bungalow.
‘That’s rough,’ said Leavey.
MacFarlane agreed and offered to carry out a ‘wee funding operation’. MacLean declined with a smile but thanked him anyway. They decided on a late morning train to allow MacFarlane time to go shopping for some ‘bits and bobs’ he thought he might need. MacLean said that he would accompany him and pay for the tools and equipment but MacFarlane wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Just a few wee odds and ends,’ he insisted.
Despite the lateness of the hour, MacLean phoned Tansy to say that he had finished in Aberdeen and that he would be home with two friends by mid-afternoon on the following day. Tansy assumed by ‘two friends’ that he meant Doyle and Leavey and was shocked to hear of Mick Doyle’s death. ‘Death suddenly seems so close to us,’ she said sadly. MacLean, anxious to divert her attention to something more positive, asked her to go up to the airline offices in the morning and pick up some information on scheduled flights to Geneva.
‘Consider it done.’
MacLean knew that he had drunk a great deal of whisky over the course of the evening but still felt stone cold sober. It told him something about the state of his nerves if he could burn off alcohol that quickly. He opened the door of the bedroom Leavey had told him was his and stopped on the threshold. It was like stepping into a different world. The room was decorated in traditional Japanese style and had a Futon in place of a bed in the middle of the floor. He was surrounded on all sides by Japanese screen-walling, depicting scenes from long ago while Japanese lanterns provided subdued lighting.
MacLean removed his shoes and proceeded to examine his surroundings. He found the control panel for the lighting in the room and with it some extra knobs with a musical symbol beside them. He pressed one and the room was filled with the soft tinkle of oriental music and a background sound of running water. The room was an escape from reality, which MacLean acknowledged with admiration for its creator. He undressed and sat cross-legged on the futon to look at the charcoal drawings on the screen walling.
Weeping cherry trees reminded of him of his promise to Tansy in the hospital garden, not that he needed reminding. It had become his raison d’etre. In front of him a Samurai warrior reminded him of Leavey himself, not physically, but in spirit. Leavey had that enigmatic inner strength which defied definition and went beyond bravery. He knew that he could trust Nick with his life but he also knew that he could never get close to him. No one could.
MacFarlane was very different, being as open as the day was long. He was a generous man with a big heart and a stubborn streak; in many ways he personified Glasgow. He took Leavey’s word for it that Willie was as skilled as he said he was and, if that was so, MacLean decided that he could not wish for two better companions for what lay ahead.
The next panel of screen-wall showed a vase with three flowers arranged in classical Ikebana style; Ten, Chi, Jin. Jutte had once explained to him the significance of the configuration. The longer he examined the flowers the more he imagined that Chi and Jin were intermingling as if life was returning to the earth. It unnerved him. He’d experienced the same feeling in Geneva when he’d sabotaged the car and watched three men die. He had taken an irrevocable step and nothing could ever be the same again. He’d crossed his own personal Rubicon and there could be no going back, just a relentless ongoing test of strength and courage ahead of him until an end was achieved. He looked back to the Samurai and could have sworn that he saw a smile on his face… or maybe the whisky was having an effect after all. He fell asleep.
‘It’s years since I was last in Edinburgh,’ said MacFarlane as they walked up the steep hill out of Waverley Station and into the sunlight on Princes Street. ‘I must have been fourteen at the time. I remember I was with a girl called Karen, my first real love. We came to Edinburgh for the day, which is about as much as any true Glaswegian can stand of the place. We climbed that.’ MacLean pointed to the Gothic spire of the Scott Monument, towering up out of Princes Street Gardens.
Leavey said, ‘I didn’t realise you had an interest in Scottish architecture Willie?’
‘I haven’t,’ said MacFarlane. ‘I thought I might get a flash of her knickers if she went up the steps first.’
‘And did you?’ asked Leavey with a smile.
‘It was too dark, damn it.’
Tansy served roast beef for dinner. MacLean knew that she had been nervous about meeting Leavey and MacFarlane but watched her warm to them as the evening progressed. MacFarlane in particular was an asset to the party with his easy-going nature and lack of self-consciousness. His determination to be on his best behaviour and be mindful of his language in Tansy’s presence made his stories sound even funnier.
When Tansy went to the kitchen to make coffee MacLean joined her leaving Leavey and MacFarlane to pursue some obscure argument. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her hair. ‘All right?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Tansy. ‘They’re nice people.’
‘Then what’s troubling you?’ asked MacLean, keeping his arms around her and nuzzling her hair.
‘I… Oh it’s nothing,’ said Tansy.
‘Tell me,’ insisted MacLean.
‘I keep wanting to thank them,’ said Tansy, ‘But I can’t find the words and it makes me feel so awful. I should be able to say what I feel, especially now, but I can’t. I just can’t.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said MacLean. ‘They understand.’
‘No,’ insisted Tansy. ‘There’s more to it than that. I keep making comparisons between these men out there and the people I used to consider were my friends, the Nigels and Marjories of this world. My kind of people. How could I have been so wrong?’ Tansy turned to face MacLean. Her eyes showed bewilderment. ‘Nigel and Marjorie made me feel so beholden to them over a few nights bed and breakfast while these two men are going off to risk their lives for my daughter with no more fuss than if I had asked them to change a tap washer! Help me; I just don’t understand.’
MacLean smiled. ‘There’s no great mystery. You’ve just made the same discovery I did after I went to work on the rigs. There’s a basic goodness in ordinary people which most of us in our own sheltered, prejudiced little worlds never even suspect, let alone see. Some might suggest it only comes into its own when evil is around. Don’t worry about it. You’ve just become one of the privileged few. You’ve seen the light.’
Tansy said softly, ‘Thank you Sean MacLean. I’m so glad I met you.’
MacLean kissed her gently on the lips and said, ‘And I you, my lady.’
Tansy used a piece of kitchen roll to dab at her eyes and said, ‘I got the flight information you asked for.’
‘Good,’ said MacLean.
‘Looks like Monday or Tuesday.’
MacLean had the advantage of knowing the Lehman Steiner building from the inside. He drew a map from memory and pleased MacFarlane when he added the underground car park. ‘That’s our best bet for entry,’ he said. ‘I can go to work on the staff elevator.’
‘I think we have to face the fact that most of the Personnel files will be on computer discs not lying about in filing cabinets,’ said Nick Leavey.
‘That’s no problem unless they are protected,’ said MacFarlane.
‘Protected?’ asked Leavey.
‘Password access,’ said MacFarlane.
‘I think we can safely assume that any file connected with X14 will be protected,’ said MacLean.
‘Then we’ll need the passwords.’
‘Won’t they be kept in people’s heads?’ asked Leavey.
MacFarlane said not. ‘Big companies insist on all passwords being written down and stored somewhere safe. It gives employees too much power if individuals have sole access to company files. If they fall out with the management they might refuse access to their superiors.’
‘Blackmail,’ said Leavey.
‘Or even if a code holder falls under a bus it could mean lots of valuable data lost for ever,’ said MacFarlane.
‘So where would a company keep these code words?’ asked MacLean.
‘In a company safe,’ said MacFarlane.
MacLean could not help with the location of a safe in Personnel.
‘We’ll find it,’ said Leavey.
Leavey quizzed MacLean about his last trip to Geneva, asking whether or not he could be sure that his ‘Keith Nielsen’ alias was still safe. MacLean had to admit that there was no way he could be absolutely certain but the fact that he had successfully left Switzerland using that name suggested that it was still okay.
Leavey nodded thoughtfully and said, ‘I’m just trying to look into the minds of the opposition. They think that Sean MacLean is dead so we have no worries on that score and, from what you say, it seems a pretty safe bet that they don’t know about Keith Nielsen. They have however, been alerted to the fact that someone is interested in the X14 project so they’ll be on the look out for nosy parkers. Three of their people were taken out in Geneva but, as far as we know, none was left to tell the tale. That means that they don’t have much to go on but on the other hand they’re certainly not going to be asleep.’
‘Lehman Steiner is a very big organisation,’ said MacLean.
Leavey gave him a look that said, ‘So?’
‘I was thinking it wouldn’t be possible for them to tighten up security everywhere. As they don’t really know where the threat is coming from maybe the wisest thing for them to do would be to tighten up security around the X14 project itself and leave it at that.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Leavey.
‘You mean they won’t be expecting a raid on Personnel?’ said MacFarlane.
‘Unless Rives was already trying that angle when he got caught,’ said Leavey.
‘No,’ said MacLean. ‘Jean-Paul did think of it but he told me that he didn’t know anyone in Personnel. He was trying to find X14 through accounting records.’
‘Does that mean he was looking for a place and not a person?’ asked Tansy, speaking for the first time.
‘Yes,’ agreed MacLean. ‘And he found it. He just didn’t live long enough to tell us.’
‘Only the name of the woman, May Haas,’ said Tansy thoughtfully.
On Sunday, Leavey and MacFarlane diplomatically went off on their own leaving MacLean and Tansy to spend their last day together. MacLean had booked the three of them on to a flight to Geneva on Monday. He and Tansy visited Carrie in the afternoon and then walked by the shores of the Forth in the early evening. They stopped at Cramond, a pretty village, which had seen the legions of Rome come and go, and had a quiet drink at the inn. MacLean didn’t say much and Tansy didn’t prompt him. She knew from earlier experience that tension was building and he would not want to talk but, before they got up to leave, she said, ‘There is one thing I must ask you before you go. How long has Carrie got before a start must be made on surgery?’
‘It would be best if things got under way within four weeks,’ said MacLean.
Tansy wrung her hands uneasily then dropped them below the level of the table to disguise the fact. She began, ‘If… ‘
MacLean interrupted her, saying, ‘If for any reason I should not return, I’ve left a letter for you in the flat with the name and phone number of a Glasgow surgeon you must contact. Ron Myers is one of the best. Give him the sealed letter I’ve included and let him arrange the rest. On no account let Coulson touch her.’
Tansy’s eyes were full of uncertainty. She took MacLean’s hands in hers and whispered, ‘Come back to me… please.’
MacLean did his best to reassure her. He said softly, ‘I intend to. I also intend bringing Cytogerm home with me.’
They left the inn as darkness fell and the moon rose above the treetops. MacLean said, ‘Remember it’s the same moon above us wherever we are. Look at it and wish; I’ll do the same.’
MacLean and his two companions boarded the night train to London. It had been Leavey’s idea to use the train rather than fly to Heathrow on the grounds that it would be one less security check to go through. MacLean knew better to ask why this should be a consideration but he had noticed Leavey taking particular care over what appeared to be a series of metal camera and lens cases when packing his holdall.
Waverley Station was like all stations at midnight, grimy, dark and lonely, a place where no one wanted to be. Embarking passengers were anxious to be on their way, arriving ones wanted to be home and the despair on the faces of the destitute who were planning to spend the night there was plain to see. They didn’t want to be there either but they had nowhere else to go.
An emaciated figure wearing a grubby overall and cap pushed a trolley up and down the platform outside the London train hoping to sell a few last plastic sandwiches. A guard scuffled to and fro, studiously regarding the ground in preference to the passengers who stood by open doors in last minute conversation with friends and relatives.
MacLean watched a soldier say good-bye to his girl friend and a mother and father say farewell to their daughter. In a few more minutes all signs of emotion would be wiped clean from their faces. Impassive neutrality would replace it as sons and lovers became passengers on a train. The station clock said that they were already four minutes late when a whistle blew, doors were slammed and the train slid out into the night.
MacLean knew that his own nerves were being shared by the others. He had not known MacFarlane stay so quiet for so long before and Leavey chose to read rather than chat. He imagined this must be the feeling that troops had before they went into battle, sitting in landing craft as they ploughed through waves towards a hostile beach or waiting in the darkened fuselage of an aircraft for the signal lights to come on and the drop to begin. Leavey would know but now was not the time to ask.
Leavey fell asleep after two hours and MacFarlane shortly afterwards, leaving MacLean awake and resting his head on the corner of the window. There was very little to see out there in the blackness but every now and then he would see a light on in a house and wonder why at that hour. A sick child? Bad news? Insomnia? He would never know and they would never know he’d wondered.
A new day had already been born in London. For most people there was no reason to believe it would be significantly different from any other but they still rushed out to greet it. Kings Cross Station was alive with noise and bustle and people in purposeful motion. MacLean and the other two watched the world pass by from the station buffet where they took breakfast.
MacFarlane looked at the rush-hour crowds and said, ‘There’s something to be said for the rigs after all.’
‘I suppose they get used to it,’ said MacLean.
Leavey just watched.
They put off time until the worst of the rush hour was over before taking the tube to Heathrow Airport. There was still some two hours to flight time so they checked in at the desk which had just opened and waited for a bit before going through passport control. Leavey said he wanted to buy another book for the flight and MacFarlane said that he would have a look at the magazines. MacLean opted for a wash and shave so they agreed to meet up again outside the bookstall.
MacLean had just sluiced warm water up into his face when the public address system crackled into life. ‘Would Mr Keith Nielsen, a passenger on British Airways’ flight to Geneva, please report to the British Airways flight desk… Would Mr Keith Nielsen… ‘
MacLean listened for the second time and no, there was no mistake. The woman repeated what he feared she had said the first time. He dried his face quickly and put his shirt and jacket back on. Leavey and MacFarlane were already waiting outside by the bookstall.
‘Who knows about us?’ asked Leavey whose eyes said that his brain was working overtime on the possibilities.’
‘Maybe some problem with the tickets,’ said MacLean. ‘I’d better go see.’
Leavey put a restraining hand on his arm and said, ‘Maybe someone wants to see what Keith Nielsen looks like; maybe someone carrying a description from Geneva. Maybe even someone who would recognise Sean MacLean.’
The announcement was repeated again.
‘I’ll go,’ said Leavey. ‘My face isn’t in anyone’s scrapbook.’
Before anyone could argue he had walked off.
Leavey approached the British Airways desk and said, ‘You were paging Keith Nielsen?’
‘Yes Mr Nielsen,’ said the peaches and cream complexion with the company smile. ‘We have an urgent telephone message for you.’ She handed Leavey a sealed envelope. Leavey thanked her and returned to the others; he gave the envelope to MacLean who ripped it open.
MacLean stood staring at the message until the other two were becoming impatient. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said in bemusement. ‘It’s from Tansy. It says… “Don’t go to Geneva”.’