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<title>10</title>
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<h1>10</h1>
<p>At ten minutes past five Margery Burns made an excuse to get out of the office and took the back corridor
down to the loading bay where she waited for two minutes before selecting Ed Kane’s card from the slot and
feeding it into the time-stamp.</p>
<p>Ed was only sixty yards away and twenty feet higher, reading an old Hello magazine he'd found in the
washroom, out of sight, mostly in shadow, but with just enough fluorescent light to read by. It was
comfortable here in the barrel store and the smell of oak and old sherry thickened the dusty air to a mellow
fug. He had sneaked out to the washroom and from there taken a side door to the big load store where the
barrels were stacked lengthways in a great pyramid that reached almost to the high ceiling. It had taken him
only seconds, using the big kegs as steps, to get up almost to the roof and then along the stack just below
the skylight. Nobody could see him here, but the position gave him a view through to the loading bay and to
the bottling hall beyond. </p>
<p>There was no night shift, not this close to the end run, and in any case Sproat was saving as much as he
could before having to pay out the statutory redundancy, so at the back of five, everything started shutting
down. Ed watched Kerr Thomson, the fat customs man begin his round of checks before locking each
self-contained sector. In the distance, the other guards rattled their keys like jailors. Gradually
Aitkenbar Distillery was battened down for the night. Ed listened as the other sections shut down, the
clanging noises getting fainter with the distance, and then the place grew quiet. Muffled sounds told him
the cars were moving out of the car-park and finally the big front gate rumbled shut on its rollers. </p>
<p>Madonna grinned gat-toothed from the front cover, hugging some guy she'd married up in the highlands a while
back (and divorced later) and Buffy the Slayer pouted doe-eyed down the page. It was an old magazine. He
read the banal captions, forcing himself to wait until it was all dead quiet and then eased himself along
the top of the barrel stack. </p>
<p>Tam punched him a right hook that caught him on the cheek right under his eye, and if Tam hadn't been knotted
with cramp after six hours in a hogshead, it would have raised a hell of a lump. </p>
<p>Donny had marked the keg in big yellow stencil letters and that made it stand out from the rest of them,
which was just as well, with more than a hundred of them, all virtually identical, in the loading bay. It
was jammed in between two others, still on its end. A very faint grunting sound told him Tam was still
trying vainly to turn the handles to unscrew the lid, but he was getting precisely nowhere at all. </p>
<p>Ed rapped a knuckle on the base which was now the top panel. </p>
<p>"Tam. It's me."</p>
<p>"Where the hell have you been?"</p>
<p>"Never mind that. I'm going to get you out. Hold still will you?"</p>
<p>Ed put a foot to the base and hauled on the top, just giving it enough to cant the keg off balance. He stood
back and let it drop onto its side, rocking violently, spinning slowly at the same time. Something inside
clunked hard on wood. He hoped it was the tools. </p>
<p>"What in the name of Christ..... ?" Ed steadied the hogshead with a foot and jammed a big screwdriver into
the slot, heaved anti-clockwise and the panel suddenly popped out and rolled away on its edge. </p>
<p>Tam Bowie fell out onto the concrete floor, rolled, groaned, tried to get up and only managed to a knee. His
head was still bent over to the side and his shoulder hitched up almost to his ear. In the dim light of the
big bay he looked like some twisted, cursing goblin. </p>
<p>"Bastard," he repeated. "Left me upside fucking down."</p>
<p>He scuttered across, still unable to straighten his legs, and aimed a quick one at Ed who didn't expect it
and took it on the cheek, but there was no force behind it. </p>
<p>"It wasn't my fault."</p>
<p>"You put me upside fucking down," Tam said again, trying to straighten knotted muscles. "Look at the state of
me. I nearly died in there."</p>
<p>He hobbled forward quickly and aimed another one. Ed jinked back and Tam punched air. </p>
<p>"Come on Tam. It wasn't me."</p>
<p>"Six bloody hours in there. You could have killed me. Jesus, look at the state of me. There's no two bits of
me hanging together the right way."</p>
<p> He came lunging at Ed again, like a skinny bat-eared <em>Quasimodo</em> and Ed began to giggle. </p>
<p>"Come on, you twisted loony, give it a break."</p>
<p>"Give it a break? I'll give you a bloody break. Break your bloody neck. How would you like it, stuck upside
down in a barrel all day?"</p>
<p>"It was just the afternoon," Ed said, dancing away like a boxer. Tam swung and missed. Ed jinked in and
tapped him playfully on the chin. "Prince Naseem you ain't. Float like a bumble bee, sting like a flea."</p>
<p>"Bastard," Tam spat, all froth and temper now. "And when I get that ginger farty nutcase, I'll put a
blowtorch up his arse."</p>
<p>He came for Ed and managed to grab him and the pair wrestled each other for five minutes before Tam ran out
of steam and temper and Ed was unable to move for laughing and finally they collapsed in a heap. </p>
<p>"Are you all done now?"</p>
<p>Ed looked over at Tam. His neck was still twisted stiffly to the left and his arms still hugged in tight to
his body and Ed started to laugh again. </p>
<p>"Yeah, go on, laugh," Tam said. "I suppose you think this is funny."</p>
<p>Ed burst into another fit of the giggles and despite himself, Tam began to laugh and for a couple of minutes,
neither of them could move as the sound of it echoed all over the bay. </p>
<p>They hauled the toolbag through to the decant hall. There was a small ventilation and access hatch high on
the wall that they could reach from the barrel stack and then, once through, two parallel pipes only a foot
from the roof led round the perimeter. Ed slung the strap over his shoulder and the pair of them inched
their way along the pipe for thirty yards, almost twenty five feet off the ground, until they got to an
upright H-beam that let them shin down to ground level. They waited for five minutes to catch a breath. </p>
<p>"Where now?"</p>
<p>Ed pointed at the big tank lip. They were close to the half landing that would let them down to the maze of
pipes and connections below. Ed shouldered the bag and Tam followed him down into the dark. </p>
<p>The tank was fifteen feet across and its stainless steel sides gleamed in the faint light from the high
hatch. An intricate maze of pipes ran this way and that. </p>
<p>"Looks like a plumber's nightmare," Ed conceded. </p>
<p>"Not just looks like," Tam said. "I'm hoping I wake up soon." He opened the bag, drew out the blueprint copy
and spread it on the ground. Ed flipped on the flashlight and stood it on its side, so that light pooled
between them. </p>
<p>"Do you know what's what?"</p>
<p>"Not yet, but I'm working on it. You'll have to show me around." Tam was suddenly glad Ed was with him now.
He didn't fancy working here alone in the middle of the night, even if it was summer. From the looks of
things, it could take until dawn, and no matter what he'd told Jack Lorne, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be
able to do this at all. </p>
<p>"Right," he said twisting his shoulders to ease the ache. "Talk me through it."</p>
<p>"I thought you knew all this."</p>
<p>"You work here. Save me time."</p>
<p>Ed got to his feet, scratched his head. </p>
<p>"Okay," he strolled across and lay a hand on a manifold of pipes snaking round the tank. "These are coolers,
they come from the refrigeration unit. They help prevent evaporation. Here," another tap on a thick steel
pipe. "this is the wash drain. One of these will empty the tank after cleaning. This one will fill it with
cold, and this one with hot."</p>
<p> He marked them all off. Tam watched him and kept bending down, following them with his finger on the
blueprint. </p>
<p>Finally he stood up and brought the flashlight with him. Ed watched him angle across to the wall, following a
set of brass pipes. </p>
<p>"Where do these go?"</p>
<p>Ed shrugged. "I dunno."</p>
<p>Tam tapped the pipe with a wrench and the harsh metal clang echoed right across the hall and came back in a
jangle of sound. </p>
<p>Ed jumped. "Quit that. They'll hear it all through the building."</p>
<p>"You said it was shut."</p>
<p>"Yeah. But there's a security team and night customs."</p>
<p>They'll think it's a rat," Tam said. He moved back to the tank and crawled into the space underneath where it
was supported on a series of short concrete pillars. </p>
<p>"Is this a drain?"</p>
<p>Ed nodded. That's for when it gets cleaned out."</p>
<p>"So it's a gravity feed?"</p>
<p>"Sure, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Right. I got the picture. He put his hand on a two-inch steel pipe. "This here feeds the bottling lines, am
I right?"</p>
<p>"I think that's the one."</p>
<p>"Sure it is." Tam was into it now. "Okay. I need to see the valves."</p>
<p>"Over here." Ed hunkered down. "They're all marked."</p>
<p>"So we have to join the fill to the drain." He started unloading the tool-bag. "If we have to rely on gravity
it's the only way."</p>
<p>He pointed to the small hatch in the outside wall. "That's an ingress for a fire hydrant. I thought it was an
outlet pipe, but it lets water in."</p>
<p>"Is that a problem?"</p>
<p>"Not unless there's a fire. If I can get a connection to that, then we're cooking."</p>
<p>"And what if there's a fire?"</p>
<p>"They're going to flatten the place anyway, aren't they? But if all we have is gravity, then this is the only
way out, and we have to get to somewhere lower than that tap out there."</p>
<p>"There's only one place lower," Ed said. "Under the railway bridge."</p>
<p>"I hope that fits in with Jack's plan," Tam said, "Because it's the only way we're going to do this, and
we'll still need a pump."</p>
<p>He rummaged around and brought out a big tap wrench. </p>
<p>"Right, I need to find a two inch bore that nobody plans to use in the next two weeks." He went back to the
plans, spent five minutes tracing lines again with his finger. "Got it. Now watch the master at work."</p>
<p>He rummaged in the bag again and brought out a hacksaw. He bent to the pipe. </p>
<p>He was half-way through the pipe, building up a sweat when the phone rang. The pair of them jumped like
startled cats. </p>
<p>"Tam? Ed?"</p>
<p>"Ed. What is it?"</p>
<p>"Are you both in?"</p>
<p>"We must be in, or you wouldn't be speaking to us."</p>
<p>"Don't get lippy. Where the hell are you? And what the hell's that noise?"</p>
<p>Ed turned to Tam and held his hand up for his to stop sawing at the pipe. </p>
<p>"It's El Capitan," he said. "Hold it a minute."</p>
<p>Tam pulled back. </p>
<p>"Ed. Somebody's on their way in. A couple of cars pulled up."</p>
<p>"Great, that's all we need."</p>
<p>"Better find some cover. I'll give you a shout when it's clear. But tell Tam to stop that racket. You can
nearly hear it out here."</p>
<hr />
<p>Alistair Sproat came in through the security doorway at the side of the big storage hall. It was dark now,
with only the small winking light from the heat detectors on the roof giving a faint illumination. Sproat
could walk round this place blindfold. </p>
<p>"Who's that with him?" Ed had his eye up against the security slot in the door that separated the decant hall
from storage. When the rattling of keys echoed through the empty space they'd frozen in sudden fright. </p>
<p>"Cops?" Tam's face had gone pale. Ed shrugged, face blank. Tam pulled back from the pipe and gentle levered
the hacksaw from the groove it had cut. It made a creaking scrape of sound that set the hairs on the back of
his head standing on end, then finally it worked free. Ed was already wrapping up the rest of the tools in
the big blanket. </p>
<p>A second door opened and they heard footsteps. Ed stashed the toolbag right underneath the decant tank and
the pair of them tiptoed to the far door. Tam eased the slot back and peered through. </p>
<p>"Two of them. It <em>is</em> the cops."</p>
<p>"Let me see." Ed shouldered him out and got his eye to the hole. "No. It's Sproat and Kerr Thomson. He's one
of the customs men. What are they doing in here at this time of night?"</p>
<p>Tam breathed a long and eloquent breath. </p>
<p>"You think they heard something?"</p>
<p>Ed paused for a moment, watching Kerr Thomson turn to re-lock the door they had just come through. That was
odd enough. Thomson was still in black uniform, a dumpy figure with badly pocked skin that he tried to hide
with a sparse beard, and an arrogant manner that came with the customs and excise uniform.</p>
<p>Sproat stopped ten yards from the door and waited for Thomson to catch up. He had a clipboard under his arm
and a thick file folder. The pair of them walked down the side of the hall and stopped at the first rank of
barrels. </p>
<p>"What's he doing here?" Ed asked in a whisper. "Nobody's supposed to be inside after lockup."</p>
<p>"As long as they're not after us, I couldn't care less."</p>
<p>"Thomson's a scumbag. He'll shop anybody unless he gets a cut."</p>
<p>Sproat and the customs man walked towards the stack and the distillery owner opened the file. He was just ten
yards from where Ed peered through the hole. Thomson flicked on a fluorescent flashlight and set it on top
of a barrel, casting a blue light over the first rack. </p>
<p>Sproat's voice came clear in the hollow. </p>
<p>"Let's start with the eighty six blend." He flipped the first page of the file and brought out a pen and
pointed to the rack. The light caught the stencil number. Sproat read it out. </p>
<p>"Fifty six gallons."</p>
<p>"Make it forty five. You can match this with the whisky safe records?"</p>
<p>Ed pulled back from the hole. </p>
<p>"Sproat's at the fiddle," he whispered. "That's the stock he's clearing out. He's changing the tallies before
it goes to the brokers."</p>
<p>"What good does that do him?"</p>
<p>"He'll declare a loss, and sell the rest off and pay only a fraction of the duty. That's neat. You need the
customs to back you up. Thomson must have a way into the back records. All the gear that comes out of the
still is counted up in the whisky safe. They must be fiddling them."</p>
<p>"But how can he say there's less whisky in the barrel?" the voices on the other side of the door were
checking off the tally. </p>
<p>"Easy. He'll just say there was extra evaporation. The customs can't do anything about the Angels Share. If
it's in the book, it stays in the book. Devious bastard."</p>
<p>"I don't care what he does," Tam said. "As long as he gets it over with before the morning and we can get
done and out of here."</p>
<p>"We better let Jack know," Ed said, grinning. "It's nice to have something on that smarmy bastard. And
Thomson? He's a snake. I'd like to see him fixed."</p>
<p>It was close to midnight and the tank hall was dark by the time Sproat and Thomson finished checking off the
barrels in store. Sproat finally flipped the folder closed and the pair made their way out by the steel
door. Ed and Tam listened silently as the successive gates clanged shut and the locks shot home and then
waited another ten minutes before they called Jack Lorne. </p>
<p>"They're gone now, whoever they were," Jack said. "I thought it was the cops."</p>
<p>"So did we. Tam nearly filled his pants. It was Sproat the stoat, and that spawney-faced Kerr Thomson, you
know him? The customs man?"</p>
<p>"Not personally."</p>
<p>"They were fixing the totals in storage. They never knew we were watching."</p>
<p>Jack listened silently as Ed talked him through what they'd seen and he was silent for a little while
longer. </p>
<p>"Can you get the barrel numbers?" he finally asked. </p>
<p>"What for?"</p>
<p>"Knowledge is power. You never know when we'll need it."</p>
<p>"I'll see what I can do."</p>
<p>"Roger," Jack said. Ed just laughed. </p>
<p>Tam sawed through the pipe in less than half an hour and it was tough going. He had to change the blade close
to the end before he could remove a whole section that was maybe ten feet long, and then he used the monkey
wrench to screw on two pressure ends that were half hidden behind other pipes. Unless somebody knew the
layout intimately, no-one would see that a length of steel pipe had vanished from the maze. </p>
<p>Ed watched him use a length of steel spring to bend the pipe, bracing it against the concrete pillars, into
right angles and curves until it was twisted all out of shape. </p>
<p>"This is the piece of the resistance, mon ami." He manoeuvred the misshapen pipe up against the wall,
threaded it behind the others until the one cut end was in line with a steel piece of exactly the same
width. The far end, ten feet away and kinked at an angle where it met the corner of the wall, came to rest
against the fire hydrant inlet. </p>
<p>"Perfect." Ed had to admire his skill. </p>
<p>"Now what?"</p>
<p>"Now we join them all up." He fished in the toolbag again and brought out a big butane blowtorch. </p>
<p>"Some solder and flux and then we can get out of here."</p>
<p>Ed looked at him. "You can't use that here."</p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p>Ed pointed up at the winking blue lights. "No naked flames, no matches, no smoking. They're heat sensors.
They decant double strength whisky in here. The whole bloody lot could blow."</p>
<p>"I thought they just worked on smoke."</p>
<p>Ed looked at him. "No. You set of that torch and we'll have everybody down on us."</p>
<p>Tam leaned against the pillar. His big ears reflected, even more magnified, on the polished curve of the
massive steel tank. </p>
<p>"Okay then, I can fix that. Lift that blanket and bring it over."</p>
<p>Ed did as he was told and Tam rummaged in the box again and drew out the powered drill bit. "Just as well I
charged this up."</p>
<p>He reached up amongst the tangle of pipes on the wall, touching each one in succession and finally chose one
which came down vertically from the ceiling. He got Ed to use the blanket to form a sound shield around him
and triggered the drill. It bit into the metal with a high-pitched scream. </p>
<p>"What's this for?"</p>
<p>"You'll see in a minute," Tam, said, grinning. </p>
<p>The drill screeched again and little whorls of silvery metal peeled away from the hole. </p>
<p>"Come in closer," Tam said, moving to allow more space close to the pipe. Ed moved in. Tam kept up the
pressure and then, as the bit began to shudder in the hole, he motioned Ed even closer. </p>
<p>"Look at this."</p>
<p>Ed craned in. Tam squeezed the trigger, put his weight to it and then suddenly pulled back. Something hissed,
loud as a snake, and he snatched the drill-bit out of the narrow hole. </p>
<p>A hard jet of well-chilled water belted out of the tiny perforation under high pressure and hit Ed in the
eye. He yelped and fell backwards, slipping onto his backside while the thin stream expanded into a thick
spray that drenched him from head to foot. </p>
<p>"It's freezing.... " he finally said, catching his breath, crawling away from the misting spray hissing from
the cooling pipe. </p>
<p>"That's what we need. Get the blanket."</p>
<p>Ed shivered violently. The spray was condensing on his dark hair in silvery beads and the whole front of his
overalls was soaked from chin to crotch, but he reached for the blanket that had served as a sound dampener.
Tam made him hold it up to catch the cold water and waited until it had absorbed enough to start dripping to
the ground. </p>
<p>"Right Ed, you'll have to spread it round me, so keep it in the jet." Ed moved closer, holding the thing at
arm's length, but it didn't provide enough cover. </p>
<p>"Huddle round me," Tam told him. </p>
<p>"But that means I'll get soaked again. It's freezing."</p>
<p>"We need it freezing. Come on Ed, I'll be quick as I can, but if I can spend six hours upside down in a
barrel you can spend a couple of minutes in the damp." Tam grinned and Ed glared at him. "If somebody had
told us about the heat sensors, then I'd have thought of something else. But nobody told us and that's a
shame really, isn't it?"</p>
<p>"You're just getting your own back, aren't you?"</p>
<p>"Would I do a thing like that?" Tam nudged him with his elbow. "That's it. Stand right inside there." Ed's
teeth began to chatter and he held the blanket round him like a cloak. Tam sparked his lighter and the
blowtorch flame suddenly growled, a sharp blue dagger of heat. </p>
<p>"Nice and easy Ed, keep us all covered." Tam bent to the pipe and began to apply heat and solder to the
two-inch yorkie ring that could join the ends of the pipes. He worked carefully, making sure he wouldn't
have to go back over the job, and every now and again he leant back out of the protection of the damp
blanket to make sure the blue heat warning lights were still flashing at one per second. </p>
<p>"Come on," Ed said, hardly able to articulate the words. "I hate the bloody cold. I can't hold this much
longer."</p>
<p>"Another ten minutes," Tam said, trying not to smile. This revenge was worth spinning out.</p>
<p>Ed swore a shuddery curse. Even Tam could feel the cool of the spray water. Ed had the blanket across his
shoulders, taking the whole jet on his back and letting the fabric absorb all of the chill. </p>
<p>"What's a bit of water anyway?" Tam asked. </p>
<p>"It's bloody f... f...... "</p>
<p>"Cool?"</p>
<p>"Fuckin' freezing."</p>
<p>"All the better then." Tam carefully ran the flame over the join, watching the flux carry the gleaming solder
away. </p>
<p>"I'm getting a cramp."</p>
<p>"Nothing like the cramp I got stuck in that barrel." Tam's grin was pasted on. Ed squirmed away from the
jet. </p>
<p>"Back in," Tam insisted. "You don't want to blow it now."</p>
<p>"This is giving me an ice-cream headache."</p>
<p>Tam turned away, unable to keep from laughing. </p>
<p>"Only another five minutes, he managed to say. </p>
<p>"B.... b..... b..... arsehole."</p>
<hr />
<p>Kate Delaney brought him the artwork and it was perfect. She was backstage at the Starlight show in the
little theatre where she was up to her elbows in paint and grease, hair pulled back in a rich copper
twist. </p>
<p>Jack stood in the corner as the cast prepared for the final curtain and he winked at Neil Cleary as his
sister dragged him on for the line-up. </p>
<p>"I thought you'd be all at sea by now," Kate whispered. The sound of applause from the front of the house was
muted beyond the heavy curtain. </p>
<p>"First things first." He still wasn't giving anything away. </p>
<p>"Good. You can make the final night party then, and make sure I don't get up to anything."</p>
<p>He was killing several birds with the one visit tonight. Joanne Cleary was a friend of his sister and he
needed a favour from her and Ed's girl-friend Donna Bryce, who was in the Starlight chorus and doubled as
make-up artist. Kate's flats were as vibrant as the paintings on the heritage wall, characteristic bold
strokes and contrasting shadows. </p>
<p>"Did you do the banners too?"</p>
<p>"You can't rush good art." She left him hanging and he had to wait. "What I don't understand is why you want
one of the council's sewage section. They're not going out of business."</p>
<p>"The committee asked for it," Jack said, knowing he was lying, hoping she didn't notice, not entirely sure
she hadn't. He'd have to get a whole lot better at this. "We have to show what a bunch of shits they
are." </p>
<p>"Oh, you're organised now? That makes a change for you."</p>
<p>"Yes mother."</p>
<p>This time she laughed. "You're up to something, Jack Lorne."</p>
<p>"That's what Uncle Sandy says."</p>
<p>"He's not so old he's addled. Come on, what's going on? What are these things for?"</p>
<p>She held up a big art folder and opened it up. She had done them just the way he'd asked, all in sections, on
clear plastic, the lettering perfect. Just what he needed. </p>
<p>"It's amazing what you can do with computers," she said. "I did some of these myself, and some of the class
did them on the CAD program. It's them you have to thank."</p>
<p>He lifted one of the sheets up and held it to the light. The letters were clearly visible, done in brown in
an old Victorian script, edged with gold. One quarter of an old pot still could be seen in the corner.</p>
<p>"They're terrific," he said.</p>
<p> "Want to tell me what they're really for?"</p>
<p>"The workers' revolution. We're taking over the world." </p>
<p>"You and daft Donny Watson? I don't think so."</p>
<p>She handed the artwork over with more questions in her eyes, but he just thanked her and said he'd reveal all
sometime soon.</p>
<hr />
<p>Jack looked at his watch. Ed and Tam were still inside Aitkenbar and neither of them had phoned, which meant
they were still working, but there was nothing he could do to help them now. Donny had complained at being
left as a lookout with the spare phone, but he had the geese to feed for Neil anyway, and Jack had other
things to do. As long as Tam Bowie knew his stuff, they were on their way. One step at a time, that was the
way. But this was a big step. </p>
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