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<title>13</title>
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<h1>13</h1>
<p>They came down from the plantation in silent convoy. Up beyond the town, hidden from the lights by the black bulk of
Drumbuie Hill, it was truly dark, all shadows. They freewheeled it from the heights, rather than gun the engines and
wake people in the ranch-style houses of High Overburn and then on the straight slope they started up. Tam led the
way on the Dragstar, gauntlet easy on the throttle, his yellow reflector sash just visible in the tanker sidelights.
Jack stayed in low gear, keeping his foot off the air brakes so they wouldn’t sneeze, and let the engine take the
weight on the downslope. Jed followed nose to tail, handling the rig nicely. It was easier with them empty. Full,
they would take some hauling on the big wheel to get round some of the corners they’d face.</p>
<p>Above them the sky was solid as dark crystal, flawed with stars and a single blazing Venus like a guiding beacon,
hanging right over Levenford.</p>
<p><em>Three wise men,</em> Jack thought. <em>Three bloody lunatics.</em></p>
<p>Him, Jed and Tam trundling down from the hills in two stolen tankers and a big easy rider, sneaking them down the
narrow access road, hoping nobody would see them. His hands were clenched on the wheel, knuckles white in the
dashboard light and he had to tell himself to relax. Two in the morning and it was really happening. Overhead the
sky was clear, but as they rounded the sleeping bulk of Drumbuie Hill, it was evident the summer weather was finally
beginning to break. Way down the river firth, fine filament edges of approaching clouds brushed the thin crescent
moon. The air was still warm and humid, but far-off sheet lightning, way distant where the Mull of Kintyre stretched
down into the Irish Sea, flickered an insistent warning. Already the tops of the tall redwoods in Overburn Estate
were beginning to tremble in a gathering breeze.</p>
<p><em>Hold off,</em> he told the weather. <em>Give us a couple of hours.</em></p>
<p>The rumble of thunder was barely a murmur, miles and miles distant, but it was rolling eastwards on the warm wind.
Jack looked in the side mirror and got a pale glimpse of Jed mastering the wheel, caught in a brief flicker. He
could handle the tanker just fine.</p>
<p>It had taken them almost three hours to transform the big Fruehaufs, the three of them plus Neil, watched by
Fannieboz, whose personal problem was still chronic. Tam had got the paint while Ed was working on the pump and they
used the oldest sets of sheets any of them could heist to mask off the wheels and arches and then Jed and Neil had
swarmed over the surfaces with big soft brushes, changing the silver steel to the muted dun colour of the council
drains department. Jack and Tam barely had time to let the paint dry before Donny jig-sawed together the thin
plastic sheets with the blue logo on them and fixed them to the sides, and then they worked on the lengths of old
shelving brackets from the back-yard at Halfords, making sure they would fit the holes Tam had bored in the frame.
That was for later. For the moment, they bundled them together and lashed them snugly under the big cylinders and
out of sight. Donny took Willie McIver's van down to Castle Street to wait for them. Fannieboz whined and fretted in
amongst the tarpaulins in the back of the van.</p>
<p><em>Hold off.</em> Jack was talking to himself and to the sky. The last thing they needed tonight was a summer
rainstorm.</p>
<p>They had really started at five the previous morning, up with the first rays and down to Gillespie's boat. Jack had
opened the book and began to tick each item off. Everybody sat around the cabin table, all serious now that they
were getting down to it.</p>
<p>"Ladders?"</p>
<p>"Check." Tam had spent another fifty on a light aluminium set that were now lashed to the second tanker.</p>
<p>"Sheets? Tarpaulins?"</p>
<p>"Sure. They're in the van."</p>
<p>"Donny, what about the fish?"</p>
<p>"No bother. I got them today."</p>
<p>"Are they fresh?"</p>
<p>"You could make a rare sushi. They're still trying to get away."</p>
<p>"Neil? Still chatting up the birds?"</p>
<p>Everybody laughed, nervous and high. When it came down to the wire, the tension was beginning to show. Before this it
had been a game, a plan, a <em>gameplan</em>. Now they were really going through with it. For the past two days Ed
and the rest of the workers in Aitkenbar had rolled the wide oak barrels of Glen Murroch from storage, old fine
malt, popped the bungs and emptied them into the big decant tank.</p>
<p>Ed had waited until the next man was trundling the empty barrel back and the customs chief Jim Gilveray had turned
away with the supervisor and then he had gone swiftly down the back steps, reached under the massive container and
used the turnkey Tam had given him. The little square nut had slowly rolled its half-turn and a faint hiss of
escaping liquid told him he'd got it just right. He was back up and down the other side, shoving the hogshead in
front of him and was fifty yards distant in less than a minute.</p>
<p>The geese were a problem. Jack had gone down for the previous feed after Neil had told him and the birds had started
up their racket long before either of them had got anywhere hear the fence. The big guard-dogs at the front gate had
picked up the alarm and began howling and gnashing, and they just added to the difficulty.</p>
<p>"Are the dogs here all night?"</p>
<p>"Just at the front. The birds have the run of the rest of the place."</p>
<p>"This won't do," Jack said. "They'll kill us dead."</p>
<p>"I told you. They love this stuff, but they can smell it a mile away."</p>
<p>They had got to the fence and the whole troop of the geese lined up at the chain links, squabbling in high flat
tones, and when Neil started shovelling the corn through the mesh, they fell on it like vultures in a free-for-all
frenzy.</p>
<p>There had been so little time to find a solution, so they had to go on instinct and invention. They sent Donny round
to his aunt Jean. Tam hit a couple of the pubs in Castlebank, and Jack borrowed a gallon of high-octane smelly mash
from one of his uncle's big plastic bins. Neil fed the birds at eleven, when there was still a hint of light in the
north sky and they just hoped for the best. If it failed, Jack had told him just to get his brother's slug gun and
shoot the damn things. It was too late to think of anything else. At a pinch they could eat the evidence.</p>
<p>Three hours later, they hitched the pump to the back of the trail tanker and the van followed on down past Drymains,
with Tam still escorting in front. They took the side road along by the castle rock and then swung up the wide bend
of the river, doubling back in from the west. They stopped in the lee of the sycamore and chestnut trees that formed
a natural barrier to the main road and pulled in, nose to tail, at the lay-by. </p>
<p>Thunder rolled, still distant but more threatening now. They gathered in a huddle.</p>
<p>"Get the tent set up," Jack said. He wet a finger and raised it, catching the faint, charged breeze. The wind was
coming in straight from the west. Neil opened the van door and everybody got to work. The dip in the road under the
railway bridge was only four hundred yards downslope, a natural depression bounded by the big Victorian brownstone
railway wall that gave natural cover from the side of the distillery. Somewhere along the front, a dog barked, low
and hollow, and another one followed on. Fannieboz whined and fretted, pulling at her leash. Her tongue lolled from
her narrow jaws. Jack grinned.</p>
<p>"They can smell her already," he said.</p>
<p>Ed and Tam started work on the canvas shelter they'd picked up the week before down at Arden after scouting all over
the area for twenty miles in either direction. It was typical, Ed said. Every time you drive there's a hole in the
road with a gang of men working in it, and a mile of traffic backed up at the lights. And when you need one, they've
all gone on strike. Finally they'd found a hole where a sewer had developed a smelly leak and the council team had
set up their camp, dug a hole, and promptly vanished. It could be another week before they noticed their little
canvas shelter had disappeared.</p>
<p>The pair of them used the iron key grips to lift the triangular manhole cover and clanged it on its side against the
wall, and without a pause, they set up the red and white striped tent. </p>
<p>Jack and Neil drove away in the van while Fannieboz pawed and scratched. They reached the front gate, where the
halogen spots glared down on the guard post and the car park, sped on past, and took the little access track along
the side of the iron fence, all lights off.</p>
<p>"This should do," Jack said. He got out, stripped off his black gloves again and tested the air.</p>
<p>"Perfect," he said. Neil unhitched the leather thong and Daisy Ray bounded out, straining at the choker, whip thin
and hungry, big eyes all a-glitter.</p>
<p>"<em>They</em> can smell her? She stinks like K-9's whorehouse."</p>
<p>"You would know," Jack said. Neil wrinkled his nose and hauled back, wafting the air with his free hand. The
greyhound wheeled around, keening an odd high-pitched note and stuck her nose right into Neil's crotch.</p>
<p>"Doctor Doolittle. First the geese fancy you, and now you've got a greyhound going for your goolies. Is there
something we should be told?"</p>
<p>"Get off, you daft bitch," Neil hissed.</p>
<p>Fannieboz whined again, nuzzled in a couple more times and them turned right round, tail in the air, backing in
towards him, head arched back, giving him a hungry look.</p>
<p>"You've done this before," Jack said, trying to suppress the laughter. "When's the engagement?"</p>
<p>A couple of hundred yards away, the big dogs began to bay. Fannie yipped and forgot about Neil. He dragged the
protesting bitch deep into the low trees, well out of sight, and tied the leash to a thin sapling. </p>
<p>The Rottweilers hit the fence like rhinos only yards beyond the bushes, howling and scrabbling at the mesh, charged
up with the scent of the bitch in heat. Somewhere off in the dark a man cursed and a light came on in the security
hut.</p>
<p>"That should keep them occupied for a while," Jack said. "By the time we're finished, she'll be primed and ready for
you."</p>
<p>He slapped Neil on the shoulder and they went back to the van, started up, and kept on the access road to get to the
river side close to the cooperage. So far, so good. </p>
<p>The fish smelt almost as strongly as Fannie. Donny Watson had wrapped them in a couple of plastic bags and emptied
the ice-trays in the freezer to keep them as fresh as possible, but even through two layers of polythene, there was
no mistaking what was inside. He made his way round the track by the golf course and then followed the little
rivulet upwards until he reached the concrete outflow from the distillery, hidden by a thicket of blackthorn. He
began to unwrap the fish and then slowly made his way back downstream, dropping one here and another there, making
sure there were plenty that could be easily seen by passing golfers. The smell would do the rest.</p>
<p>When he'd finished, he bundled the plastic up, making sure he got none of the fish stench on his hands, retraced his
steps back to the thicket again and bulled his way through the thorns to the outflow. The big eight gallon plastic
container was still where he had hidden it, well out of sight to any but the most determined bush-crawler. None of
the pringle sweaters would risk their expensive knit on these thorns. </p>
<p>Donny took the container and wedged it under the lip of the pipe which protruded from the banking about three feet up
from the streamlet, jammed it in with a couple of big water-smoothed stones, and backed out. If this all went right
he'd end up with a personal bonus without having to wait for the next phase of Jack's master-plan. What they didn't
know wouldn't hurt them, and Donny hated to see such a waste.</p>
<p>They almost fell about laughing when they reached the fence right at the corner of the cooperage. Neil said it was
the first time in a fortnight he'd turned up here without the geese going berserk and when they finally came round
the corner and got up close to the fence that separated the barrel-yard from the distillery grounds, they could see
why.</p>
<p>The grey plump shapes were scattered over the short grass.</p>
<p>The mix of barley mash, Lebanese hash and Aunty Jean's diazepam that they'd stirred in with the feed had worked
almost like magic. Jack held onto the chain link and kept a hand over his mouth, stifling the giggles. Neil was
holding his belly, but couldn't prevent a tight explosion of laughter from bursting out.</p>
<p>One of the birds stirred and drew its head out from under its wing, raised up its long neck to its full extent, but
then all the strength seemed to drain away and its beak flopped to the grass.</p>
<p>It made a pathetic little honk sound.</p>
<p>"Drunk as skunks," Neil said. "Smashed out of their brains."</p>
<p>One of the birds seemed to rally a little. It eased itself to its feet, made a strangled coughing sound and spread
its wings.</p>
<p>"It's trying to take off," Neil said.</p>
<p>"Chocks away."</p>
<p>It flapped a couple of times, head craned forward, but the force of its wings only sent the bird tumbling backwards
and it landed on its back with a heavy thump, yellow feet paddling at the air. A companion stirred and took a slow
motion peck at the fallen goose. Its beady little eyes looked as if they were completely of focus. The one on its
back blurted a white slug of guano that seemed almost luminescent in the flashlight.</p>
<p>"Quis custodiet custodii?"</p>
<p>"What's that?"</p>
<p>"Latin. Who guards the guards?"</p>
<p>"Hash, jellies and your uncle's hooch, who the hell needs guards?"</p>
<p>Over on the far side of the distillery, the big guard dogs had the scent of Fannie at her most fertile and were
attacking the fence like demons, trying to barge through the chain links, while the handlers were powerless to pull
them back.</p>
<p>When they got back to the tankers, Neil went in the back of the van, ignoring the musky greyhound scent and the
powerful stench of fish, and hauled out the AA roof sign he and Jed had picked up in the scrap yard. It clipped on
with a couple of bungee rope hooks and in the light of the street lamps, Willie McIver's wheels could pass muster as
a patrol van, so long as nobody took a really close look. Neil jammed the plug in the cigar lighter and the sign
glowed orange. He shrugged himself into the uniform. Tam was beside him, stripped out of the leathers and into Jed's
white stock-car helmet with new chequered stickers round the perimeter. Jed helped him into the white jacket with
the reflector cuffs.</p>
<p>"Shame about the bike," he said. "Just don't get too close."</p>
<p>"I'll tell them I'm from CHIPS."</p>
<p>"And you'll have had your chips."</p>
<p>Jack came across. "All set?"</p>
<p>"Now or never." Tam got a leg over the bike. He was about to clamp the visor down when Jack stopped him.</p>
<p>"This plumbing will work?"</p>
<p>"A bit late to ask now," Tam said. "Trust me, I'm a plumber. You do what I told you and it's whisky galore."</p>
<p>"Okay. You keep on the mobile and let us know what's moving. The sooner the better." He held up the bottle Ed's girl
Donna had given them. "We need time to get the masks on."</p>
<p>Franky Hennigan woke up with a blinding light in his eye. He'd been drinking wine for most of the night, straight
from the bottle, no niceties. He was huddled in the little access tunnel under the old railway, hidden from the road
by a burgeoning clump of elderberry. He grunted dozily, giving a little snort as he came close to being awake,
almost exactly like the staggering goose had done.</p>
<p> "Whassamatta...?"</p>
<p>The dry stone was shaking under him, just a shiver of vibration, but it had been enough to jolt him out of sleep. The
harsh light speared into his one open eye and he recoiled in some pain. Through the bushes, a big engine growled and
the beams made the saplings and bramble runners stand out in stark silhouette. A cloud of dust came billowing
through the arch of the railway bridge, backlit by the powerful lights.</p>
<p>Franky Hennigan saw movement out there and backed into a corner. He instinctively reached to protect his emergency
bottle of Eldorado fortified wine.</p>
<p>They got the first tanker down from the lay-by and Jed backed the second one up between the trees just off the
roadside. They had cut some saplings that morning and Jed stuck their sharpened ends in to the soft earth. As
camouflage it would have been ludicrous in the light of day, but at this time of night, it was enough to hide the
big truck from any passing traffic. Jed made it down the hill on foot just as Jack and Ed were setting the ladders
over the sharp spikes of the fence. Ed and Tam had keyed up the manhole and laid it on its side and the workman's
shelter was set around it.</p>
<p> Jack stood back and nodded. In black jeans and shirt and his grandfather's old balaclava he looked the part. "It
would fool me."</p>
<p>"Let's hope everybody else is as gullible," Ed said, his voice tight and tense, and that was understandable. He'd
already risked plenty and he was going back in to risk more. Jack turned and took a grip of the ladder.</p>
<p>"Hold this still," he said to Donny. "Once we're over, get it out of sight and wait for the signal. Five seconds and
it has to be back up again."</p>
<p>Donny said okay and Jack went up the rungs, got to the top, raised the second section of the aluminium steps over and
down, and then disappeared into the dark. Ed followed him, fast as a cat, and was gone in the gloom.</p>
<p>They went straight across the grass, angling to the right, in the opposite direction to where the deep bass of the
guard dogs echoed on the gathering wind. Jack could smell the cut grass and the ozone in the air, as if all of his
senses were somehow heightened and pin sharp. Their feet thudded on the hard-pack and then they were on the cobbles
close to the big store. Ed worked the gate between the two buildings, using the screwdriver to ease the hasp back
and they were through. On the wall, two red boxes were marked with flame signs. Ed opened one, Jack took the other
and then they started unreeling the big fire hoses. Jack lit out for the fence again while Ed headed for the little
doors at the drain. He fumbled the keys in gloved hands, dropped them, scrabbled in the dark and found them again
and managed to get the shutter open. By this time Jack was haring back across the grass.</p>
<p>"Say a big prayer," Jack said.</p>
<p>"Holy fuck, make this work." Ed laughed. Jack slapped him on the back.</p>
<p>"Move it."</p>
<p>The brass ferrule fitted the end of the pipe exactly. Ed jammed it upwards, gave it a quarter turn clockwise. They
both heard the metallic snick of good engineering.</p>
<p>"Holy Moses, take these hoses." Ed sounded as if he was strangling. Jack punched him on the shoulder. He grasped the
turnkey, the same one he'd used on the inside.</p>
<p>"You lock the other hose on?"</p>
<p>"Locked and loaded."</p>
<p>He turned and blipped the little laser pointer he'd picked up in the gadget shop the last time he'd been in Glasgow.
A red pin-point came from the shadows over by the rail bridge.</p>
<p>"Hit it."</p>
<p>Ed pulled on the key. It made a squeal of protest. Jack leaned in, got his weight to it, and the handle turned. For a
second there was a silence, then a sound like a cistern filling and the flat fire hose began to fill up like a
hungry worm. A hundred yards away, the sound of the diesel pump kicked in and settled down to a steady throb. The
hose jerked, straightened, became a cylinder.</p>
<p>"No turning back now," Jack said.</p>
<p>Way down the firth, a big flash of lightning careered and stuttered across the sky. A minute later came the rumble of
thunder.</p>
<p>"Twelve miles away, maybe a bit more."</p>
<p>"How can you tell?"</p>
<p>"I'm a smartarse," Jack conceded. "Trust me."</p>
<p>The car pulled in from Corrieside and came nosing down the narrow lane between the dairy and the railway bridge. Its
dipped lights had swung round as it turned in at the bushes, briefly illuminating the side of the tanker. Ed and
Jack had been half-way over the fence and they jumped for cover into the brambles. Jed hit the red switch on the
pump and the engine died. Tam had been patrolling the north main road, watching for any traffic that would take a
turn off down the Bridge Vennel proper, so it was only after the car turned that he saw the red flicker of its tail
lights and went chasing after it.</p>
<p>By the time he got halfway along the lane the car lights were off, but he could see its pale shape in against the
crowded elderberries. As soon as he had turned on North Main, he had switched the bike beam off and let the Dragstar
coast when he reached the lane. Whoever was inside the car had been in a big hurry. </p>
<p>He sat a few yards away, grinning, listening to the loud rhythmic squeak of the springs. The Toyota rocked on its
axle, back and forth. Inside, a woman's muffled voice spoke and a man grunted a response. Tam strolled forward,
realising this posed no danger. He reached the car and flipped the visor half way up, leant forward and peered
inside.</p>
<p>A pair of white cheeks loomed up from the back seat, flexing and closing in time to the squeaking sounds. The woman
muttered something and then a bare foot lifted up from the dark and planted itself against the nearside window. Tam
chuckled and pushed himself away, walking as quietly as he could towards the bike, opening his pocket as he walked.
He flicked on the light switch and then took the four strides to reach the car. Without hesitation he opened the
back door, lifted Jack's little camera and flashed it inside, catching the frozen startled faces in white light. A
man's voice growled and the woman let out a high canine yelp. Her foot flopped out of the car and pawed the air.</p>
<p>"Who the <em>fuck</em>....."</p>
<p>Tam stood with his back to the lights. He shot off again and all the startled pair could see was glare. He bent
forward and slapped the man on his bare cheek with the palm of the thick white gauntlet Jed had lent him. It made
him even more look the part.</p>
<p>"Well, well, well," he said. "What's all this here then?"</p>
<p>He used the flashlight to illuminate the parts hidden by his own shadow.</p>
<p>"Who the fuck are you?" the man finally got the sentence out. He was trying to turn to face the light, but the woman
held him by the shoulders, pulling him back on to her. She had seen the white helmet and tried to use him as cover.
She drew her leg back inside the car. Gooseflesh stood out like a pale rash on her thigh.</p>
<p>"Lewd and libidinous practises in a public place," Tam stated solemnly. He pushed in further, swinging the beam
across the woman's face. She closed her eyes.</p>
<p>"I assume you know this gentleman, ma'am?"</p>
<p>"I never...I mean...we never..."</p>
<p>"Never what, madam?" Tam kept the lights behind him. He tucked the flashlight under his arm, keeping them pinned in
the glare, pulled out a notebook from an inside pocket. He peered forward and suddenly the man's pale, wide face
seemed to come into clear focus. Tam had seen him before.</p>
<p>"Is this your car sir?" It was Kerr Thomson, the fat customs man from Aitkenbar Distillery. He and Ed had seen him
and Sproat re-marking the barrels in the distillery store.</p>
<p>"Please officer, we weren't doing anything." The woman sounded as if she might suddenly burst into tears.</p>
<p>"So I see," Tam said, twisting the light so that it beamed down on the man's bare backside.</p>
<p>"Name?"</p>
<p>She reached for a jacket on the back of the passenger seat and pushed the man away, rolling out of sight behind him,
frantically covering herself. Thomson almost fell out of the car. His legs were pure white in the light and his
socks were still pulled up to the calves. </p>
<p>"Listen man, can we not just keep this...."</p>
<p>"Name, please. Unless you want to come to the station as you are?"</p>
<p>"No. It's just that, <em>shit</em>, I'm married, you know?"</p>
<p>"What about me?" the woman said. Her hand came out of the dark and slapped him on the back of the head. </p>
<p>"Fuck off," Thomson grunted.</p>
<p>"Sir, I have to warn you about your language. Now let's have that name."</p>
<p>Thomson gave it, along with his address. Tam flicked the torch beam across the woman, now covered, but dishevelled
and pale.</p>
<p>"Ma'am?"</p>
<p>She lowered her voice until it was barely audible and gave her details. Tam recognised her as the manageress of one
of the charity shops in town.</p>
<p>"Please officer. We never meant any harm. I never meant to do it."</p>
<p>"Of course."</p>
<p>"Can't we just forget about this?"</p>
<p>"I don't know if I can, now that it's in the book."</p>
<p>"But I never did any harm," she said. Tam could picture her in her plain, long skirt and her hair pinned up in a bun,
a picture of respectability. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he hadn't seen that foot pressed against the
window. She had no taste, that was certain.</p>
<p>He let the light fall back on Thomson who had managed to get his pants back up and was urgently tucking his shirt
back in.</p>
<p>"Where do you work sir?"</p>
<p>"Aitkenbar Distillery."</p>
<p>"I thought so. A Customs and Excise officer, am I right?"</p>
<p>Thomson looked as if he would shrivel inside his shirt.</p>
<p>"That's a responsible position sir. Pity to jeopardise it. And you ma'am, I would imagine you would have more, em,
decorum."</p>
<p>She nodded meekly, now trembling with fright and embarrassment.</p>
<p>"Right then. On your way."</p>
<p>"What happens now?" Thomson asked.</p>
<p>"We'll just have to see, won't we?" He backed away and motioned them to turn back up the lane. Thomson hauled himself
into the front, shirt-tail still trailing, while she stayed in the shadows in the back. The engine started and he
cleared off fast. As soon as they were out of sight, Tam burst into uncontrollable laughter. No matter what Thomson
might have seen in the light of his headlamps, he'd never mention it to a living soul.</p>
<p>Tam hit the one-touch and Jack answered on first ring.</p>
<p>"Harley, who the hell was that?"</p>
<p>"Nobody to worry about. I've seen them off."</p>
<p>"You should have seen them sooner."</p>
<p>"Okay. I'll block off the lane. But I can't be everywhere."</p>
<p>"Do your best man. You just cured my constipation."</p>
<p>"Not just yours," Tam said. "Wait till I tell you."</p>
<p>"Later." The diesel pump kicked in again and Jack stifled a curse. "Get lost now and keep them well peeled."</p>
<p>Tam laughed and got back on the bike.</p>
<p>The fire hose sprung a leak. It was three in the morning now and the storm was picking up. Franky Hennigan crawled
out from the access space, head throbbing enough to make his vision blur. He still clutched the emergency bottle of
Eldorado. Normally he'd have slept at least until noon, but the rumbling thunder and the pounding of the pump had
roused him and finally he'd come as completely awake as was possible. The lights stabbed in through the brambles,
harsh enough to cause him to jerk back, eyes screwed up tight. He held a hand up and peered through the gap between
his fingers. The lights blazed under the railway bridge and every now and again, a blurred shape would drift in
front of the beam, sending long and eerie shadows up the walls and across his watery vision.</p>
<p>He shrank back, unsure of what was happening, but for Franky, at this time of the morning, that was far from an
unusual state of affairs. He managed to unscrew the top and poured himself a long glug of sweet fortified wine and
wiped his mouth with the back on his hand. After a while, he fumbled in his pocket for his glasses, believing
against experience that his vision might clear.</p>
<p>Dogs were baying somewhere in the distance. The second tanker was now in position. Jed had eased the first one up the
hill, close to where Kerr Thomson had been caught with his pale backside in the air, and Jack Lorne had steered the
empty one out of cover. Jed pushed the saplings back in place once Jack had trundled the machine down the hill and
they'd started the pump once more.</p>
<p>Then the hose sprung a leak. Donny was up on the gantry, close to where the umbilical joined with the tank and the
big corrugated pipe curved away down into the manhole. Jack and Ed were at the pump, huddled down among the exhaust
fumes that billowed out to catch the main headlight beams and writhed under the railway arch like electric blue
ghosts. A stutter of forked lightning jabbed across the sky and backlit the whole scene.</p>
<p>Without warning, a thin fountain of whisky spurted upwards in a clear golden arc and sprayed straight down into the
open manhole.</p>
<p>"Leak!" Donny bawled so loud and sudden that Jack jumped back with a start and almost tumbled down the hole. </p>
<p>"What's up?" Ed turned and saw the curve of escaping whisky. A heady scent cut through the fumes and the breeze
carried tiny, tasty droplets.</p>
<p>"Oh no."</p>
<p>"Plug that," Jack ordered. Donny clambered down and positioned himself over the thin arc, opened his mouth and let
the whisky jet straight inside. He gulped without closing his lips and excess whisky began to trickle from the
corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>"I said <em>plug</em> it, not glug it," Jack said. Jed stifled a laugh. Donny closed his eyes, gulped, choked and
coughed out a whole mouthful in a fine spray.</p>
<p>Donny pulled back, wiped his mouth. "We can't let it go to waste."</p>
<p>"And we can't have you getting pissed."</p>
<p>Jed shoved Donny out of the way and bent low over the leak. He sucked it in like a kid at a school drinking fountain,
pulled back and they saw his cheeks bulge.</p>
<p>"Christ, it's alcoholics unanimous," Jack groaned. </p>
<p>Jed swung his head back and began to swallow. He coughed, even more violently than Donny, and sprayed overproof
whisky into the headlight beams.</p>
<p>"Man, that would cut glass." He stood up, eyes swimming, giggled again and then took a smaller mouthful. "But it's
class, man. That's the real stuff."</p>
<p>"Come on guys," Jack said. "You can smell that a mile away."</p>
<p>Ed came across, cupped his hands out and let some whisky fill them up. </p>
<p>"Dead posh," Donny said. Ed took a sip.</p>
<p>"Not bad." </p>
<p>Jack held Ed's hands up. He supped a mouthful, swished it around with his tongue and spat it out. </p>
<p>"Good. It <em>is</em> real class. And we've got five thousand gallons to go, so plug that gap or we'll lose the whole
bloody lot."</p>
<p>Donny peeled away and climbed up into the cab. He came back with a big plastic container with a chamois cloth jammed
through the handle-space, unscrewed the lid and emptied all the water out of it. He pushed it under the curve of the
spray until the nozzle was right underneath it and immediately it began to fill.</p>
<p>"Five gallons," Donny said.</p>
<p>"Plug it," Jack insisted.</p>
<p>"In a minute," Donny countered. The water-drum boomed hollow as it slowly filled.</p>
<p>He turned back and a light blared just beyond the arch and they all froze.</p>
<p>"Only me," Tam said. He stopped and jacked the bike up on its stance. "Hey, you can smell drink halfway along the
street."</p>
<p>He bent to a knee and was just about to cup a mouthful when the phone chirruped. Jack answered. Neil spoke.</p>
<p>"Are you there Jack?"</p>
<p>"Use code."</p>
<p>"Okay, Elvis to Retro, somebody coming," he said. "It could be the cops."</p>
<p>"Where are you"</p>
<p>"Up on North Main, just at the corner."</p>
<p>Jack pulled Tam to his feet. "North Main corner. Intruders. Go see."</p>
<p>Tam looked thirstily at the trickle of whisky, but he did as he was told.</p>
<p>Up at the corner, Neil was leaning with his elbows on the top of the van, binoculars jammed up against his eyes.</p>
<p>"It <em>is</em> the cops."</p>
<p>"What do they want?"</p>
<p>"Your arse if they catch you."</p>
<p>Tam looked blank for a second.</p>
<p>"The uniform," Neil said. "Impersonating the fuzz."</p>
<p>"Oh shit!"</p>
<p>The car was approaching slowly on the narrow road and by now they could read the police sign on the roof. Tam jerked
the helmet off, threw it in the back of the van and crouched down behind the bike. Neal leaned over it, angling his
flashlight down at the engine.</p>
<p>"Need a hand?" The policeman leaned out of the passenger side.</p>
<p>"Just a broken chain. He'll be out of here in no time."</p>
<p>A big flicker of lightning sizzled across the sky. Ten seconds later, thunder rolled right across the firth.</p>
<p>"Looks like you're in for a filthy night," the policeman said. "Somebody reported some dogs out here. Have you seen
anything?"</p>
<p>Neil straightened up, but kept his face away from the light.</p>
<p>"Probably the lightning got them worked up," he said. "You can hear them now."</p>
<p>Down on the far side of Aitkenbar Distillery, the big Rottweillers were still baying in the dark, deep booms of sound
that echoed from the bay walls.</p>
<p>"We'd better check it." The window rolled up and the car moved forward. Tam eased himself up from the lee side of the
bike.</p>
<p>Neil was already on the phone.</p>
<p>"Police on the way. Coming <em>now.</em>"</p>
<p>Jack spoke fast, urgent. Donny froze, mouth wide.</p>
<p>"Don't just stand there." Ed was moving, down into the manhole. Jack was hunkered down, delving into the
haversack.</p>
<p>"Plug that leak," he ordered. Donny unfroze, cast left and right, and then got to his knees. He pulled the chamois
cloth from the container, screwed the lid back on. Ed grabbed it and dragged it down into the hole. He slipped the
white mask over his face and they all followed suit, just as Jack opened the bottle of solution Donna Bryce had
given them, bent and poured its contents straight into the puddle of water and whisky at the bottom of the hole.</p>
<p>A cloud of acrid vapour billowed green in the light.</p>
<p>"Jesus <em>fuck</em>!" Donny coughed again, this time deep and retching.</p>
<p>"Mask on. And plug that hose." Jack got the words out fast before his throat began to constrict. Donny slammed the
mask over his nose, grabbed the chamois cloth and without a pause he stuck his finger into the little hole in the
hose fabric. The jet of whisky died. He covered his hand with the cloth and quickly wrapped it around the hose.
Seconds later, the police car headlights swung round the corner, swept twin beams across green fence spikes and came
moving slowly down towards the dip under the bridge.</p>
<p><em>Keep moving-keep moving-keep moving.</em> Donny's plea was a monotone litany.</p>
<p>"Shut up, you numpty." Jed punched his shoulder and crawled into the shadow under the back wheels out of sight.</p>
<p>The car stopped. The window rolled down.</p>
<p>"Got a problem here?" Constable Derek Travers poked his head out. Jack recognised the voice he'd heard outside old
Tim Farmer's door.</p>
<p>He stood up, his grey hair blue-tinged in the light. He cupped a hand to hear over the throbbing of the pump and the
policeman pushed out further. He caught a whiff of the ammonia fumes and his face screwed up into a grimace.</p>
<p>"What in the name....?"</p>
<p>"It's a wee leak," Jack said. The ammonia swamped the sweet scent of the whisky. Mixed with the carbon monoxide from
the pump engine, it tasted rank and poisonous on the warm air.</p>
<p>"A leak of what? Toxic waste?"</p>
<p>"Old sewage," Jack said. "Don't come too close unless you've had tetanus jags."</p>
<p>"My god, boys, that smell is awful. I don't envy you at all, working in that shite."</p>
<p>"Somebody's got to do it."</p>
<p>"Rather you than me." The policeman sat back and scanned the scene, taking in the masked men in the hole, the pump,
the big tanker. "I hope you're on double time."</p>
<p>The car began to ease forward as the window rolled upwards and Donny turned, keeping his back to them. His finger was
growing numb from the high pressure in the hose. Just on the point of turning he lost his balance and reflexively
moved his hand to steady himself.</p>
<p>Whisky jetted up in a powerful squirt and splashed across the back window of the police car.</p>
<p>Everything seemed to stop. Ed let out a low groan. Behind the mask it sounded as if he was in deep pain. Jack's heart
thudded in his chest and then seemed to somersault. For a second his hearing faded out in a sudden thick pressure
pulse.</p>
<p>The patrol car stopped.</p>
<p>"What was that?" The window was only half-way up. "I hope that wasn't sewage."</p>
<p>Donny scrabbled to get his finger back on the leak. Ed jumped up out of the hole. He hoisted the big container that
now sloshed whisky.</p>
<p>"Not at all. Just some of this disinfectant. Keeps the germs down."</p>
<p>Jack put his face in his hands. The ammonia smell was catching in the back of his throat, making him want to retch
very hard. His stomach was turning over in loops, but that was caused by a powerful attack of awful anxiety. He
tried to hold his breath.</p>
<p>Ed stuck a hand in the pocket of his overalls and pulled out a towel rag. He leant forward and rubbed the whisky off
the window and the bodywork.</p>
<p>"Funny smell for disinfectant."</p>
<p>"Got a lot of wood alcohol in it," Ed said, thinking on his feet. "Kills all known germs dead. Environmental
protection."</p>
<p>He moved up towards the front.</p>
<p>"Don't breathe any of that in," he said. "And give the car a quick slunge down, just in case."</p>
<p>The first policeman turned to the driver.</p>
<p>"Don't bother. I'm not touching that stuff. We'll just run it through the wash."</p>
<p>The driver coughed, rasping. "Roll that up, would you? That stench is making me vomit."</p>
<p>The window completed its travel very quickly and the car sped away.</p>
<p>Jack let out the big breath that had backed up in his lungs. Ed tottered back against the side of the tanker and
clamped his hands to his chest.</p>
<p>"Nearly gave me a heart attack.," Jack muttered."Now do me a huge favour and plug that leak, loony tunes."</p>
<p>Jed got the duct tape from the cabin and they stopped the pump for a minute while the pair of them wrapped the
binding round the hose until the fountain dwindled to a trickle, then a slow sweat. Jed pulled the starter cable and
just at that moment lightning flashed almost overhead. A crash of thunder ripped the sky only a second later and Jed
jumped so violently his feet came clear off the road.</p>
<p>"Steady," Jack said, but he was wondering just how much his own heart could take. The wind was really picking up now
and that was good. It helped clear the awesome stench of ammonia out of the hole. </p>
<p>"How are we doing?"</p>
<p>Ed checked the gauge. "Three quarters now. Half an hour max and we're full."</p>
<p>The wind eddied around them, swirling up the scent of strong whisky. Donny kept his head down and his hands planted
on the taped hole, making sure it didn't rupture again. The hose flexed again and throbbed like a vein as the malt
began to flow once more. </p>
<p>Fannieboz had done a marvellous job just by being herself. Neil, on the other hand, had been less than conscientious,
but he'd always been chubby as a kid and never really got into the scouting thing. He'd tied the bitch up to a
sapling deep in the cover of the scrub close to the east side of the chain-link fence, and if he'd known more about
knots the big Rottweilers would have exhausted themselves in an attempt to get through the wire.</p>
<p>Nothing the two security men could do made any difference at all. The dogs were just too strong and altogether single
minded to haul back from the fence. Out there in the dark of the trees, the little greyhound whined and fretted,
every bit as excited as the two big hounds. Every zip of lightning and every cannonade of thunder made her jitter
and jump, whimpering as if in pain and hauling at the thong that Neil had slung round a thin stem. By the time the
police car eased round to the front gate, she had almost choked herself in a determined bid to get free.</p>
<p>The gateman pointed over to the dark at the far side of the malt house where the booming of the dogs competed with
the wind that was now whipping the tops of the trees. </p>
<p>They were just nosing down the lane that Jack and Neil had taken in the van when Fannie pulled again and the slack
knot finally tugged free and she was off through the undergrowth in a thin grey streak. The big rottweillers heard
her break through the dry stems and took off in pursuit, parallel to the fence, heading for the river side behind
the kiln where the barley was roasted. The two exasperated security men, neither of whom had much experience with
dogs, followed, cursing.</p>
<p>They just reached the corner, with Fannie well out in front, when the black sky opened and the summer heatwave came
to an abrupt end.</p>
<p>A bolt of lightning hit the old weathervane on top of the high church steeple and sizzled down the copper line,
sending blue arcs stuttering right over the town. The dogs howled their frustration when they skidded at the turn
and slammed into the fence on the river corner.</p>
<p>Rain simply fell out of the sky. A couple of big drops thudded on the top of the tanker where it protruded from the
railway bridge, drumming on the cabin roof and then it just came down in a deluge. Lightning flashed again and the
thunder ripped along north main along with the blast of wind that came on the forefront of the storm.</p>
<p>The thin emulsion paint began to wash away in big rivulets.</p>
<p>"Come on," Jack yelled to make himself heard. On the far side of the distillery, dogs were howling. "Are we nearly
there?"</p>
<p>Jed was up at the gauge.</p>
<p>"Eleven thou. Give it another five minutes and we're full."</p>
<p>Jack stood down there in the hole, already soaked through. The rain killed the ammonia stench but it was so heavy
that it simply ran off the dusty soil in the verges and onto the tarmac, spreading in a sheet right across the road
on the downslope.</p>
<p>"Just what we need," Jack bawled. He got on the phone. "Harley? Five minutes and we're out of here. You better come
on down now."</p>
<p>Ed lugged the five gallon drum from the base of the manhole. The pump kept on working. A fine spray of whisky forced
itself past the duct tape in a hazy sizzle.</p>
<p>"I don't think we can wait five minutes," he said, banging Jack on the shoulder. He pointed up at the tanker. Jack
looked up and saw the big silver streaks widen as the rain stripped the paint and he turned his face up to the
rolling sky. Heavy droplets filled his eyes and bounced from his cheeks.</p>
<p>"Thank you Lord, that's just what we need. Any cops come now and we're dead in the water. Nobody said it had to be
easy, did they?"</p>
<p>Jed pointed up the slope, where the cascade was now a stream cutting right across the road. A steady gush was pouring
straight into the manhole. "That's going to flood."</p>
<p>"Okay, get ready to shift."</p>
<p>Down beyond the perimeter fence, the dogs bayed like werewolves.</p>
<p>"They've moved," Donny said. "Something's happening."</p>
<p>Jack stood still and concentrated. The noise was coming from the far side of the distillery, much closer to the
river, where the malt house butted against the cooperage. Fannie's high pitched bark was on the move.</p>
<p>"Damn. She must have got loose."</p>
<p>"If they shag her, we're going to have a weird-looking litter."</p>
<p>"Catch her later. We'll just say it was Neil." The rain dripped from Jack's chin and ran down inside his collar.</p>
<p>"Twelve and a quarter," Jed called down. "Ready to shut off."</p>
<p>"Right Ed, get the ladders." Ed was already pulling them from the undergrowth. A steady dirty stream of water
cascaded from the edge of the bridge and the drain was now full and overflowing. Beyond the tanker a black puddle
was beginning to expand to the far side of the road. Tam pulled up on the bike. He'd changed out of the police
helmet and back onto the black.</p>
<p>"Anything moving?"</p>
<p>"No. Neil's up on North Main. No sign of the gendarmes."</p>
<p>Jed was holding his hand up. "Nearly there. Give it a minute."</p>
<p>"No time," Jack said. The paint was simply dissolving from the big tank and flowing down into the widening puddle,
turning it a hazy pale. Already the duct tape holding the posters was beginning to pucker and shrivel. One corner
had started to peel away from the steel.</p>
<p>"Up and over," Jack said. "You too Jed. As soon as it's full, lock it off and then start rolling the hoses back."</p>
<p>"What about me?" Donny wanted a job to do.</p>
<p>"Stay with Tam, keep your eyes peeled, and if anybody comes, just bluff it. If that fails, faint."</p>
<p>Lightning flickered again, juddered across the sky, turning the whole scene blue for an instant. Purple after-images
danced in Jack's vision and he held onto the top rung until his sight came back. Ed gave him a shove, urging him up
and they scrambled back over the fence.</p>
<p>The ground was sodden. They scuttered across the grass, slip-sliding in the new puddles. Over by the cooperage the
Rottweilers sounded as if they had cornered a bear. A high pitched yipping came from close to the river basin and
then, as if they had just woken up, the geese joined in.</p>
<p>"Better move it fast," Ed said. He reached the junction and was down on his knees in two inches of water. "They're
coming this way."</p>
<p>The turn key was out and he slipped it over the nut. Jack was on the phone.</p>
<p>"Bullitt, tell me when."</p>
<p>"Any time now," Jed said. Jack nodded and Ed put his weight to it. The drumming of the rain almost swamped the chug
of the pump. Jack strained to hear and made a fist when he heard the pump die. The hose lost its rigidity, seemed to
shrink in on itself and then began to flatten out.</p>
<p>Two hundred yards away the geese went berserk.</p>
<p>Ed shoved on the junction, turned anti clockwise and the connector dropped away. Whisky simply poured out of the
narrow pipe and went straight down the drain with a hollow gurgle. Ed coughed, jammed a hand under the flow and
copped a small taste again.</p>
<p>"What the hell," he said. "It's a rotten night."</p>
<p>Jack tapped him a pat on the back and without a word, the pair of them started to haul in the hoses. Several gallons
of the finest Glen Murroch whisky, the dregs of the filler tank, emptied away down the drain.</p>
<p>Down at the tanker Donny was all a-jitter. Jed was over the fence, rolling up the nearest fire hose, and Donny and
Tam had to haul the pump out from under the bridge where they could hoist it on to the back of the van. Tam called
Neil and told him to get down here. The gauge on the tanker showed it was carrying almost twelve thousand
gallons.</p>
<p>"What's that?" Donny said. He had to shout over the drumming of the rain. Big hailstones were mixed in with the
raindrops, and they clattered on the top of the big loader. </p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>Donny stopped, put a hand over his eyes, stared down the slope beyond the arch of the bridge. Tam caught a motion in
the shadows.</p>
<p>"Somebody's there."</p>
<p>"Cops?"</p>
<p>"How would I know?"</p>
<p>The two of them stood, undecided for a moment. Tam took the flashlight from his inside pocket and stabbed a beam of
light down into the side of the road where the saplings crowded out from a niche. A pale face jerked back into
shadow.</p>
<p>Tam turned to Donny, held a hand up for silence, and walked towards it.</p>
<p>Franky Hennigan saw the figure stride out towards him, backlit by the headlamps and turned to scurry back up to the
shelter just as a burst of lightning jittered from the base of the clouds and almost blinded him.</p>
<p>He grunted, barked his shin on the stone step and dropped the bottle of Eldorado that had been clutched in one hand.
By a miracle it landed right on the cork, bounded and rolled onto a patch of soft wet earth. Big hailstones tinkled
against the glass as the bottle slid back down towards the step.</p>
<p>The black figure loomed. The lightning was still dancing in Franky's eyes. All he saw was a big round shiny head and
his own reflection on the visor.</p>
<p>"You should not be here," a muffled voice spoke to him.</p>
<p>"I never did anything," Franky said, bewildered and scared. His eyes flicked to the bottle and the figure half
turned. It reached down, picked the bottle and twisted the cork.</p>
<p>It turned away and slowly vanished into the pool of light.</p>
<p>"Hey, that's my Eldorado," Franky mumbled plaintively.</p>
<p>Tam reached the tanker.</p>
<p>"It's just old manky Franky Hennigan," he told Donny. "Half jaked. He doesn't know whether he's having a shit or a
haircut."</p>
<p>He flipped the visor. "Watch this."</p>
<p>Tam emptied the remains of the cheap wine into the hole and then quickly opened the drum. He eased it forward and
poured carefully until the bottle was filled again. He winked at Donny and then flipped the visor back down
again.</p>
<p>Franky huddled in the corner of the shelter when the figure came striding back through the swirl of the halogen
lights, wreathed in the vapour of the fumes and the rain sizzling on the hot pump motor.</p>
<p>"Manky Franky Hennigan," the voice said. The tramp cowered back as it loomed towards him. "We come in peace."</p>
<p>It reached forward and for a befuddled moment he thought it was making a grab for him.</p>
<p>"We come from a distant galaxy far, far away. And <em>we</em> know who you are."</p>
<p>"How come?"</p>
<p>"We just know, Franky Hennigan. We know <em>everything.</em> And to show you our powers, we have chosen you. Take
this."</p>
<p>It held the bottle forward. Franky instinctively reached a grubby hand for it. Drunk as he was, he realised it was
now full.</p>
<p>"Open it and be astonished."</p>
<p>Franky popped the cork and a waft of whisky eddied up. The figure leant in further and a black shiny finger touched
him in the middle of the chest.</p>
<p>"Tell no-one, or we will return with a death ray to fry your brain."</p>
<p>He held up the little camera and blipped the flash. Franky screwed his eyes up against it.</p>
<p>"Nobody. Not a soul. Right. Honest. I'll not say a word." Franky tried to push himself through the stone wall behind
him. The black figure seemed to stare at him a long time before it turned and walked straight towards the lights and
vanished into it.</p>
<p>Franky raised the bottle to his lips and took a huge drink of the best whisky he had tasted for as long as he could
recall.</p>
<p>"It's a miracle," he said, as his vision began to waver.</p>
<hr />
<p>They got out just in time. The storm reached a crescendo and now all the rain had turned to hail, great clear marbles
of ice that shattered on the road and bounced off the tanker. Down at the edge of the cooperage the excited dogs
were slamming into the fence, howling into the thunder and the geese blared back at them, whooping their wings
against the wind. The two handlers tried to pull the Rottweilers back but they were well beyond control. Beyond
them, the two policemen had their own flashlights out, trying to locate the source of the disturbance.</p>
<p>"It's like Sauchiehall Street in rush hour," Ed said. "We'd better get the hell out."</p>
<p>Jed was almost up alongside them now, working from the outside in as he rolled the hose into a spiral. The last of
the whisky was still trickling down the drain.</p>
<p>"What a waste," Jed said.</p>
<p>"That's what will save our hides," Jack shielded his face against the wind. "Believe me."</p>
<p>The little red light flickered over by the fence, three stabs and then it was gone.</p>
<p>"That's it," Jack said. "Store the hoses and let's move."</p>
<p>Donny bawled something from across the grass and Jack cursed.</p>
<p>"Bloody big mouth." Out in the dark the geese were going haywire, but they sounded closer now. The Rottweillers were
stuck at the fence, where the flashlights stabbed through the dark. A grey shape came looming out of the gloom. </p>
<p>"Brilliant" Ed said. The goose lunged for him, furiously beating its wings, running bottom-heavy and ungainly. Its
mean eyes glittered. He jerked back and the snapping beak missed him by a scant inch.</p>
<p>"Come on," Jack urged. Jed came out from the side gate where the hoses were stacked, clanged the gate shut. Jack
slipped the little padlock back on the hatch. The big goose came rushing in again, honking like a donkey and took a
nip at Jed's backside.</p>
<p>"Piss off," he growled and then the three of them were running for the fence with the big grey bird hissing at their
heels. They scrambled over and Jack hauled the ladders up while the angry gander craned its neck through the
rails. </p>
<p>"Stow it," he told Donny, slipping down the nearside into the brambles, catching his sodden boiler suit on the
thorns. He rolled and then tumbled out onto the road. The big tanker stood in its own pale paint puddle. It looked
as if it was sloughing its skin.</p>
<p>"Let's get to hell out of here," Jack said. He clambered into the cabin just as Neil came down in the van. Jed and
Donny unhitched the pump, clipped it to the towbar. Jack backed the tanker out, turned at the corner and waited
until Ed got in front and they pulled up the hill once more.</p>
<p>In his alcove, a bleary Franky Hennigan felt the ground shiver and tremble as the bright headlights seemed to recede
into the storm, leaving nothing but a hazy white puddle and wisps of fumes that rolled blue in the darkening gloom.
The lights winked out and he was alone with his miracle gift.</p>
<p>They worked fast up at the trees while Neil and Tam kept a watch out on either side of the hill. The police and the
security men were still trying to calm the dogs down, though the geese, having woken up, possibly badly hungover,
were now set to attack anything that moved.</p>
<p>Jed and Neil unshipped the metal shelving brackets and Jack pulled the collection of old power drills from the
toolbox. They had practised this before, so there was nothing to be said. They all worked in tight unison, quickly
erecting the frame, using the drills to screw the bolts through the nuts and onto the tanker frames. In less than
twenty minutes they had the simple box-frames assembled. Jack called Tam back down and they hauled the green
tarpaulins from the back of the van and again worked as two teams, tenting the fabric over the makeshift frames. Tam
lashed them down to the stanchions and stood back.</p>
<p>The two tankers had vanished under the tarpaulins. Ed put the finishing touches, unshipping the Fruehauf decals from
the front grilles and bolting on the Daf badges from the scrap-yard. The box-frames were now hidden from view under
the big green sheets. To any passer by, they just looked like covered container wagons. Where Tam had managed to
swipe the Eddie Stobart tarpaulins was his secret, but as camouflage, there was nothing better.</p>
<p>They pulled away from the trees, Jed following nose to tail, and left the furious geese craning up to vent their fury
on the storm.</p>
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