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<h1>25</h1>
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<p>They were on the move with the rising sun at their backs as the mist still hung in a thick veil over the curves of
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the river.</p>
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<p>Neil was at the controls of the crane in the wee cold hours, when the night watchman on the site was asleep and
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snoring loud enough to make the hut shake. It was too early for any movement except the flutter of small birds in
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the bushes beside the fence. The town was almost silent.</p>
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<p>The crane, that hadn't been difficult to get a hold of, not when Shug Cannon was the chargehand in the direct works
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site yard. Neil had told him he'd only need it for a couple of hours and would put it back long before the shift
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started. Shug was okay about it for a couple of bottles. It was a town council mobile job and security was would be
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so haphazard that nobody would ask any questions unless Neil hit an overhead cable or a passing bus, but he promised
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not to do that.</p>
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<p>Big Lars called at half past midnight when he and the Valkyrie and his four-strong crew were down off the south tip
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of Kintyre and heading round to the little port at Tarbert on the Atlantic coast of Argyll, the jump-off for the
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western isles. Jack took it on the spare mobile in the back seat of Jed's runaround.</p>
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<p>"We have to change the plan <em>Yack.</em>"</p>
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<p>"We can't change the plan. We're getting ready to move right now."</p>
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<p>"It's the harbour at Tarbert." Lars bawled against static on the ship-to-shore. "There's a big boat stuck on a shoal.
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They have to wait for the high tide to tug her off. You can't get in there with the load and I can't get in with the
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Valkyrie."</p>
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<p>"So what do we do? Put it on a boat and row out from shore?"</p>
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<p>"It's okay. I spoke already to the harbourmaster at Oban. It's only two more hours and they have a boom rig to lift
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heavy cargo. All fixed up, it is now. And the Valkyrie, the screw is okay. She is running sweet."</p>
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<p>"Problem?" Ed asked. His face was rough with the scrapes and scratches of his flight through the bushes after he had
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climbed out to battle Foley. Otherwise he was cool as ever.</p>
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<p>"Was there ever a day without one? Eric the Red says we can't load at Tarbert. It has to be Oban. But at least his
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screw is working."</p>
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<p>Neil leant back over the seat. "Der scroo is voorking in de vooter." It got a laugh.</p>
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<p>"How many miles to Oban?"</p>
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<p>"Just over a hundred. It's nearer here than Tarbert, but he'll need another two hours, which is two hours more
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exposure. We have to move now before the town wakes up."</p>
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<p>The keys were in the crane truck. It belched black fumes until the engine heated up and Neil used the side roads to
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get it beyond the building site and down the little track road on the other side of the fence, hidden from view from
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most of the building site. Ed had the snippers and unzipped the chain-link in a matter of seconds. He and Tam
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squeezed through the gap and made their way to the stack of big tanks.</p>
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<p>"What's the weight of these things?" Neil was getting used to the controls. He was a good singer and good with his
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hands. Jack thought he under-rated himself because of his weight.</p>
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<p>"A zillion tons," Jack said. "Each of them's full to the top."</p>
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<p>"This should take it."</p>
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<p>"It better. You spill one and we're done for."</p>
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<p>"We spill one and Donny will get down in the mud on his hands and knees and start licking."</p>
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<p>They used the cradle hawsers to snag the first tank, Ed and Tam working fast and quiet. Tam stood on the stack and
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waved the all-clear and Neil eased back on the sticks, taking the weight. The whole crane shuddered and the line
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sang with tension and then, very slowly, the ponderous weight sucked up from the rain-wet earth and swayed in the
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air.</p>
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<p>"Told you it would take it." Neil pulled back on the little control with one hand and flipped down his sunglasses
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against the sharp rays of the rising sun.</p>
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<p>"Thank God for that." Jack allowed himself to exhale. Neil touched the lift again and the crane creaked and squealed
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in a protest of metal and the big yellow tank raised slowly upwards until it was just over the height of the
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fence.</p>
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<p>"This is the tricky bit," Neil said. Jack said nothing while he worked. The crane arm swung slowly to the left and
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the tank began to pendulum even more slowly, following the motion.</p>
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<p>"Perfect," Neil said, but Jack's breath was backed up again as the first load approached the concrete fencepost.</p>
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<p>Without any warning everything tilted downwards in a blur of movement and Jack was thrown forward so hard his bruised
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cheek thudded against the window. The crane groaned as it lurched down and to the left.</p>
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<p>Beyond the fence, somebody shouted in alarm and the yellow weight careened to the end of the pendulum swing, hit
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against the post and then dropped to the ground again. Everything stopped.</p>
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<p>Jack picked himself up, shook his head.</p>
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<p>"What the hell happened?"</p>
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<p>"Maybe it couldn't take the weight after all."</p>
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<p>The whole cab was canted forward and the cables on the gantry arm had gone slack. Beyond the hedge and the fence, Ed
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was bawling at them to lift the tank. A sharp whiff of whisky soured the morning air.</p>
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<p>"Shit, we've sprung a leak," Neil said.</p>
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<p>Ed came pushing through the hole on the fence.</p>
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<p>"You have to lift it up again. Tam was under the tank when it came down."</p>
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<p>"Is he hurt?"</p>
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<p>"I don't know. He's yelling like a banshee."</p>
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<p>Jack hauled himself out of the cab and ran for the hedge. It was only five in the morning and everything was going
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wrong. He just had time to notice the crane's front wheels were buried up to their axles in the soft earth at the
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side of the track and the whole machine was leaning at a drunken angle. He shoved through the gap in the fence.</p>
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<p>"Get this off me," Tam was yelling. At least he was alive.</p>
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<p>"Shhh...you'll wake the whole town." The early sparrows scattered in alarm.</p>
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<p>"Screw them. Are you trying to kill me?"</p>
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<p>Tam was face down in the mud, arms splayed out to the side. The back of his thighs and his calves were jammed
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underneath the big tank and a tiny jet of good whisky was hissing from a puncture close to the top where the tank
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had slammed into the upright. It splashed on Tam's back and soaked into his shirt.</p>
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<p>"Are you hurt?"</p>
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<p>"How should I know. I can't feel my bloody legs."</p>
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<p>Neil came barrelling through, snagged his sweat shirt on either side of the gap.</p>
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<p>"I can fix it," he said. "There's a set of bracing legs on the front, but I need something to wedge them on. Hi Tam,
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are you okay?"</p>
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<p>"No thanks to you. I thought you could operate that crane?" Tam made the statement a question. His fingers were
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scrabbling at the rough earth, trying fruitlessly to pull himself free.</p>
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<p>"I need some planks and I'll get you out."</p>
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<p>"If my back's broken I'll kick your arse," Tam threatened. Jack managed a laugh despite the panic, sounding almost
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hysterical. It was clear Tam was just stuck and not hurt. It took them another fifteen minutes to get some
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scaffolding planks from the site and form a thick platform to brace the jacks against the mud. Neil was up in the
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cabin again and the runners protested at the cable went taught again. Jack watched from ground level, just able to
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see Neil beyond the hedge.</p>
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<p>The big tank sucked upwards an inch at a time and when it was just clear of the muck, they dragged Tam free.</p>
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<p>"Look at the state of these," he said, clawing the thick clay off his trousers. "I got these in the Gap sale and
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they're totally ruined."</p>
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<p>This time Neil got it right and the container cleared the fence by at least a foot, drizzling whisky all the time.
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The hole in the tank was very close to the top, and they'd have to live with the small loss. If Jack could find the
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duct tape he'd make an emergency repair to minimise the damage, but they were getting near to the end now.</p>
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<p>It was almost six thirty when they got the last container onto the back of the flatloader and lashed into place. Ed
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had found a hose hear the cement mixer and used it to jet the mud from Tam, pressing his thumb over the flow to set
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it at stun. Clay flew everywhere but after a few minutes, most of it was elsewhere. Tam stood glowering and
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dripping.</p>
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<p>By seven they were gone and it was only when the flatloader cranked up to move out in a rumble of gears that old
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Charlie Oliver woke up in his watchman's hut and stumbled out into the morning. It took him another half hour to
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notice that the big tanks had disappeared and when he went to investigate the vacant space, he discovered the
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miraculous puddle of pure scotch whisky.</p>
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<p>He used an old enamel mug to scoop some for a cautious taste and by eight in the morning he was as drunk as a lord.
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That's how the site foreman found him when the shift started and he called the police right away.</p>
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<p>By that time the boys were on the road again.</p>
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<p>"I never knew you had a gun until you started firing," Neil said. He'd taken the crane back to the old depot on the
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broad meadow near the river and now they were all at the lorry park close to Gus Ferguson's yard, with the tall
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tanks lashed and wedged in-line on the back of the flatloader. "It sounded just like a pop-gun from up there."</p>
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<p>"It was like a cannon down there," Donny said. "He never told me what was happening. I nearly shit myself."</p>
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<p>"I had the binoculars right on them. You should have seen the look on Cullen's face. He was like a goldfish when you
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pointed the shooter at him. I kept thinking of that guy in Dirty Harry."</p>
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<p>"What guy," Donny asked.</p>
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<p>"You know the one." Neil's voice went husky and western. He held up his hands together, finger on an imaginary
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trigger.</p>
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<p>"I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots or only five? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this
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excitement, I've kinda lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world,
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and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya
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punk?"</p>
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<p>Jack laughed, and not just at Neil's word perfect soliloquy. He was picturing his uncle in mask and balaclava in
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Whitehead's scrap yard, with the fake gun up at Foley's ear. <em>"Go on, make my day."</em> He'd been doing Clint
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Eastwood too.</p>
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<p>Neil snorted with laughter. "And then the cops came in. Oh, you should have seen that. Cullen was down there in the
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puddle with the gun in both hands, and six of those swat guys on him. It was like Lethal Weapon all over again."</p>
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<p> "What do we do about him?" Donny asked.</p>
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<p> "He was caught shooting at the cops. We don't need to bother about him."</p>
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<p>"No, I mean <em>him.</em>" He jerked his thumb towards the top of the tanker. Nobody had mentioned Foley for a while.
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</p>
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<p>"Better get him down here. We have to use everything we got. By now Baxter will have my name and I don't want to be
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around when he comes sniffing. Old Sandy, he'll keep the family tight, but very soon Tam's site boss is going to
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notice a big space where these tanks used to be, and with the amount of hooch we managed to lose, somebody's bound
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to make a connection. So it's diversion time."</p>
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<p> After he'd told them he had a market for the stolen whisky, four of them had gone out in Jed's wreck and Tam's bike,
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scouting possible routes north. In this part of the west, roads are narrow and twisting and some of them won't take
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a heavy load. It was imperative to Jack to have alternative ways to go, just in case of trouble. As he told them
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many a time, straight from the manual of good business practise: <em>There is absolutely no substitute for a genuine
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lack of preparation.</em></p>
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<p>Tam came rolling up on the bike. He'd gone home and changed into his leathers. The spare helmet dangled on the
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pillion hook and he swapped it with Jed's white racing lid. He slipped on the pale jacket with the big reflectors
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while Jed carefully stuck the chequered tape round the helmet.</p>
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<p>"All set?"</p>
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<p>"Ready to rock and roll," Neil said. "Give us a hand with old Wiggy, would you?"</p>
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<p>"I just had a shower."</p>
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<p> Jack rapped his helmet with hard knuckles. "Don't get squeamish on us."</p>
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<p>They got the heavy roll down from the frame Neil had fixed to disguise the tanker's shape, manhandled it to the
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ground, and then stood it up as best they could against the lorry.</p>
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<p>"Jed, you and Neil take him with you. But you better unwrap him first."</p>
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<p>"Aw, come on," Neil protested. "I'm not travelling with that stinking up the place."</p>
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<p>"It's okay," Jack said. "Me and Jed, we were out yesterday checking out some places. You just go along with him and
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we'll be cool. Both of you, keep listening to the police band and make sure you watch my back. Make sure you run
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interference all the way."</p>
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<p>Foley's grey face lolled from the top where the canvas unpeeled and his wig was askew. Dried blood stuck to the scalp
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where the hairpiece had been scraped off by the rough oak bark.</p>
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<p>"God, he smells as bad as ever," Neil said dismally. "It's like Weekend at Bernie's."</p>
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<p>Despite his misgivings, he hauled the stiffly sagging corpse up to the passenger seat, with a look of serious disgust
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twisting his mouth downwards. </p>
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<p>"Who's got the spare phone?" </p>
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<p>"What happened to yours?" Neil reached for the bag.</p>
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<p>"I stood on it. It's as dead as he is."</p>
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<p>Jack took the mobile and put it in his inside pocket.</p>
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<p>"Okay, this is it. We blow it now and we're blown away, so try hard not to blow it."</p>
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<p>Jed took the other helmet, hauled Neil's arm and pushed him ahead into the cabin, up against their unwelcome
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passenger. Ed climbed up into the second tanker and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, no need for words.
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He started the engine and gunned the throttle.</p>
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<p>Jack waved to them, got in the cabin of the flatloader and closed the door. He clapped Donny on the shoulder, checked
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the phone, made sure Neil had programmed the one-touch.</p>
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<p>"Calling Elvis?"</p>
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<p>"Uh-huh-huh."</p>
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<p>"Wagons <em>ho!</em>"</p>
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<p>"Thang you ver' much, ladies n' gennelmen."</p>
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<p>The big diesel snorted and the whole frame shuddered. He eased the long stick forward and the transporter picked up
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speed as it headed for the gate. They all went in convoy and Tam paused outside, closed the gate behind them and
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then got back on the bike, following the trail of new blue exhaust fumes.</p>
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<p>Jack took the north route that would take the load up past Loch Lomond, easing the rig round the bends on the Quarry
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Road where Foley had taken his fatal last powered flight.</p>
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<p>The phone rang.</p>
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<p>"Retro?" Neil's voice.</p>
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<p>"Speak to me."</p>
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<p>"It's 106 miles to Oban," his Philadelphia accent was spot-on this time. "We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of
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cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses."</p>
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<p>"You keep your mind on the job and tell him to keep his eye on the road."</p>
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<p>"Sure. But which movie was it." Jack could hear Jed laughing in the cab.</p>
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<p>"Elroy Blues. Blues Brothers."</p>
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<p>"Got it in one....."</p>
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<p>A tremendous crash blasted through the receiver and Jack jerked the phone away from his ear. He tapped his foot on
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the brake. Neil bawled a curse that even through the phone could be heard yards away.</p>
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<p>"What's happened?" Donny turned round.</p>
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<p>"Sounds like they've wrecked the truck."</p>
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<p>Angus Baxter hunkered down to examine the marks on the scaffolding planks on the other side of the fence, puffing
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furiously at his pipe. He'd been on his way to ask a few questions when the call came in and he'd diverted fast when
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he heard the mention of whisky. The solid clay had kept the puddle from draining away.</p>
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<p>"Is the watchman sober yet?"</p>
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<p>"Not until next Tuesday," Jimmy Balloch said. "He's had a tankful."</p>
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<p>"These marks here. Something heavy was pressed down on them. They've made square indentations in the surface."</p>
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<p>Colin Dundas bent to join him. "Those are struts. You can see where the wheels went down in the mud, but the planks
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took the weight here."</p>
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<p>"And there's a yellow mark on the concrete post," Baxter said. "So it seems they used a crane to steal your
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tanks."</p>
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<p>"That's a bit risky for what they're worth," Dundas said.</p>
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<p>"Not if they were filled up with the finest Glen Murroch, which is what I'm thinking."</p>
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<p>He eased to his feet and turned to Balloch. "Get me control room. We've a chance to tie this whole thing up
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today."</p>
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<p>He walked away with him to gain some privacy.</p>
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<p>"From the barrels in Ferguson's yard, they had only half the load, assuming the rest of it didn't all go down the
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drain, which it didn't from the evidence here. But we know there were two tankers, so my guess is, they hid the
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other half of it here where nobody would think to look. But they're moving now, and from the amount in that puddle,
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they're not gone long. I want every available patrol car out looking for big loads."</p>
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<p>"Where should they look?"</p>
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<p>"Every damned where. I want tankers and containers. They're not daft, these people. They'll either have pumped the
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stuff back into the tankers, or they'll have covered those big drain sumps so they don't show. One thing we can be
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very sure about."</p>
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<p>He sucked on the pipe until it blazed: "They won't be travelling very fast."</p>
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<hr />
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<p>Manky Franky Hennigan got such a fright that he fell off the pile of pallets he used for a bed and dropped his last
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bottle of Eldorado wine. It shattered like a bomb on the old brickwork floor. The whole place shook and shuddered
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the way it had on the night the black figure had come striding out of the light and replaced the wine with whisky.
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He stumbled out of his little niche into the misty morning, pushed his way through the undergrowth until he came to
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the side of the road and then he stopped dead, swaying only slightly.</p>
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<p>The big silver thing was only yards away.</p>
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<p>Franky took two steps backwards, reaching a dirty hand into his pocket for his glasses.</p>
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<p><em> "We come from a distant galaxy far far away. We know who you are."</em> The clarity of that memory was pretty
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spectacular for Franky at this time in the morning.</p>
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<p>The figure had pushed in further and a black shiny finger touched him in the middle of the chest. <em>"Tell no-one,
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or we'll be back with a death ray to fry your brain."</em></p>
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<p>A sudden panic filled him. That crafty big policeman had got him to tell everything and then they'd stuck a
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microphone in front of him and he just couldn't help himself. Didn't the thing in the black suit know he was a
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drunk?</p>
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<p>Had they come back? Had the come all that way for him?</p>
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<p>The frame was a clear foot higher than the cabin roof and when they came to the low railway bridge behind Aitkenbar
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Distillery, that bare twelve inches was just enough to catch the cast iron lintel edge as they went underneath.</p>
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<p> It hit the metal with a sound like an explosion and the force of it ripped back the entire covering off the top, the
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way Foley's wig had peeled.</p>
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<p>"What the hell was that?" Jack heard the blurted question on the other phone.</p>
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<p>Jed stamped on the brake and brought the whole rig to a sliding stop. His heart had somersaulted into his throat and
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sat there shuddering. He finally got his breath.</p>
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<p>"I think we hit the bridge."</p>
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<p>Foley's body had pitched violently forward and was now jammed against the windscreen, the grey mouth oddly
|
|
fish-like.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Put a seat-belt on that, would you?" Jed opened the door and hauled out. He swung on the footplate, looking
|
|
backwards and let out a groan. All of Neil's handiwork was a tangle of metal struts and tarpaulin, accordioned back
|
|
from the leading edge and piled at the rear.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"So much for the camouflage," he said. "The truck's okay, but we'll have to shift that lot."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He took the phone.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It's okay, we did hit the bridge."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You did what?" Jack sounded furious and incredulous all at once.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"No, it was just the covering on the tank. It was too high. We'll just strip it off and dump it." </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Nobody hurt?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Just Foley. He wasn't wearing a belt."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'll send him a get-well card. No more crazy stuff, Bullitt. Remember it's not a stock car."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Roger wilco."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>It took them only five minutes to rip the thin framework from the back and leave it beside the road under the bridge.
|
|
They were just about to pull away when Jed spotted Franky Hennigan standing in the undergrowth, face wide and pale,
|
|
mouth working silently. He grabbed the phone from Neil and reached out from the cab.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You've been told before," he said, pointing the antenna straight at him. "You saw nothing."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Manky Franky Hennigan slowly sank to his raggedy knees, closed his eyes tight and clasped both hands together in
|
|
unspoken plea. By the time he opened his eyes again, the big silver machine had vanished in a swirl of blue
|
|
smoke. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They were rolling through the morning countryside by the time Inspector Baxter got round to Jack's house and already
|
|
Jack knew the big policeman had got the arithmetic right. Ed had picked up the cavalry call on the police band and
|
|
relayed it to him as he drove up past Luss on the Loch shore road.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"They're looking for tankers and heavy load," he said.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Contact Bullitt and let him know. I need those diversions now."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Ed made the call and waited until he got to the junction of the main road crossing east to west and took the west
|
|
route, which could keep him well in range while Jack hurried on northwards. Here, the roads were narrower, and
|
|
allowed for some manoeuvre, especially with the height and panoramic advantage you got from the cabin as you
|
|
travelled past the country hedges. Sometimes you could get plenty of warning in the distance and take action.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Sandy Bruce let Baxter and Jimmy Balloch in. Alice sat at the table with a cup of tea. After the one-day lapse when
|
|
Michael was missing she had reverted to non-smoking mode. Michael ate his toast, nose buried as usual in a
|
|
text-book.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'm looking for Jack Lorne," the inspector said. He flashed a card very quickly. Sandy Bruce recognised him alright,
|
|
but he wasn't in the mood to make it easy.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Who are you?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Detective Inspector Angus Baxter, Levenford CID."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Show me your card."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I showed you already."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You must think I've got eyes like a hawk, young fella." </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Baxter showed it again. Sandy took it, made a play of unfolding his glasses and putting them on. Jimmy Balloch
|
|
smirked behind his superior's back. Michael bit down on his toast to keep from laughing, despite his own
|
|
nervousness. Jack always said, <em>keep them off balance.</em> He must have got that from his uncle..</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Police eh? What do you want our Jack for?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Can we come in?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Sandy stood back for a moment, rubbed his chin as if considering and finally nodded. "I suppose so. I expect he's
|
|
found some money and you're here to return it? Maybe a reward?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"No, not that. Is Jack in? Or his brother?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Jack's down in London. He went two days ago, looking for work. It's a crying shame what a young fellow has to do to
|
|
get work around here these days. It's cost him an arm and a leg in train fares. Hey Alice, you think Jack should
|
|
apply to the police? He's got the height for it. And he's easily got the brains as well."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Michael snorted, unable to keep it in. Sandy made it sound as if he was rambling. Alice looked up as the two
|
|
policemen came crowding into the kitchen.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sit down," she said. She offered them a cup of tea, which both of them accepted, and then she asked what this was
|
|
about.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We're hoping to speak to your son Jack."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"My brother-in-law just told you he isn't here."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And is this your other son, Michael?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Mike looked over the edge of the book, grinned and stuck his hand out quickly. Baxter took it, shook it, taken by
|
|
surprise. Sandy threw the boy a wink. <em>Keep them off balance.</em></p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Pleased to meet you. You're an inspector? CID? Cool." He made himself sound naively enthusiastic. "Can I see your
|
|
badge?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Baxter showed him the warrant. "Michael, can you tell us where you were on Monday at eleven am?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I don't think so, Mr Baxter," Alice butted in. She put both hands on the table. "You're in my house and you haven't
|
|
told us what you're doing here. I asked you what this is all about and so far you haven't answered."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jimmy Balloch looked at her with some respect. His boss had been wrong-footed three times now. Baxter leant back,
|
|
seemed to ponder a moment.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We're investigating a number of incidents surrounding the disappearance of a large quantity of Scotch Whisky."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And you think my Jack is involved?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We're just checking out some information, which may or may not be correct. But unless we ask, we won't find out."
|
|
Baxter was trying hard to get control of this. "Now, can you tell me where Jack was on Monday at that time?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Sure," Sandy said. "I can tell you. He was up at his lawyers in Glasgow. He had an appointment. Do you want the
|
|
number?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What would he need a lawyer for?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"That's surely none of your business, inspector," Alice cut across.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Maybe we should call the lawyer, Alice. This sounds like harassment."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Baxter changed tack. "We have information that Jack may know some thing about the disappearance of whisky from
|
|
Aitkenbar Distillery."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p> "Where did you hear that?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'm not at liberty to say. Michael, were you down at Ferguson's car yard on Brewery Lane?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Me? I don't have a car. I'm still at school."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Is that where the shooting was?" Alice demanded.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You think my nephew was involved in that?" Sandy put both hands on the table. "That's taking a big leap, Mr Baxter.
|
|
The boy's still at school, he just told you that."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Michael's nervousness was evaporating. He could see the big policeman struggling.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What happened to your face son?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Michael's hand flew to his cheek. Baxter smiled. Changing direction often produced results.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"It was my uncle. He hit me with a big bit of wood."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"He what?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Yeah, I was helping him with his pigeon hut and he turned round with a plank. It was an accident. That was on
|
|
Monday. At about eleven, I think. Grandad took me to the cottage hospital for a check.. Then he bought me a
|
|
burger."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"And you weren't down in Ferguson's yard?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What would I go down there for?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Has Jack ever owned a gun?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"You should check your records, inspector," Sandy came in. "And you should check with Jack's lawyer. Here's the
|
|
number. And if you have any more questions about guns and shooting, that's awfully serious business and I really
|
|
think you should speak to him. And when Jack gets back from London, I'll get him to call on you. With Mr Deane, of
|
|
course."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Jimmy Balloch tried not to smile. His boss only had Cullen's word for it, and while they had to check out every
|
|
statement, the big man had been on to a hiding here. Baxter said his grudging thank-you and after he left, he sat in
|
|
the car for a while.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"There's something not right about them," he said.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What's that?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"They had that too pat. As if they expected me and had rehearsed it."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Or maybe they were just telling the truth."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Maybe. We'll see when we speak to Mr Jack Lorne himself."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Before Jimmy Balloch could reply, the radio coughed and he put it to his ear before handing the receiver over to the
|
|
inspector.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"They've a possible sighting of one of the dairy tankers," he said.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Bingo." Baxter smiled for the first time that day.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The patrol spotted Ed's rig just south of the Cardross Hills on the back road from Levenford. He was driving alone,
|
|
the way he preferred it, rather than having Donny in the cab chattering for an Olympic title. Jack said he needed
|
|
Don to help with the unloading up in Oban and Ed reckoned that had been diplomacy. Whatever it had been, Ed knew he
|
|
had room to manoeuvre when he only had himself to worry about and he'd thought about this for a while. He was in so
|
|
deep there was no point in worrying at all. That's the way he had felt when he had climbed out the back of the truck
|
|
to face Foley. It was make or break. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p> They all had a chance to make it.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He saw the white top of the patrol car from half a mile, well before the policemen saw him. It was moving fast on the
|
|
parallel road that would curve north to meet this road when it turned south, at the Cross Keys junction. Ed had the
|
|
phone stuck against the dashboard with glued-on velcro and the fine hands-free clipped to his shirt pocket. There
|
|
was no point in calling Jack. He had Donny to listen out on the radio and watch the rear-view. He keyed the third
|
|
number and raised Tam.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Harley here. What's happening?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I'm coming down to the Cross Keys, heading east. A mile and a half to go and there's a boy scout coming up to it,
|
|
moving pretty fast."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Got the picture," Tam said. The wind was muffling his words, but he shouted over it.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Bullitt's four miles away with the canopy ripped off, so he'll be right in line if they keep going and it's a dead
|
|
giveaway. I think we try Plan B."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Give me some time to catch you up," Tam said. He clicked off, dropped the visor and the front wheel lifted off the
|
|
tarmac when he fed the engine in a tight twist.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Ed hammered down to the cross, needing to get to the junction in time to catch their attention. The road curved to
|
|
the left and he held the rig close enough to the hedges on the slow bend that the thorns spanged off the struts that
|
|
held the green canvas taut. Any closer and he'd rip the whole cover right off.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Down in the distance, the white top bobbed above the hedgerow and a flash of red showed every time the patrol passed
|
|
a gate. Beyond it, about a mile away, Ed got a glimpse of the pale helmet. Tam was moving on the straight at suicide
|
|
speed, racing to catch up. They had gone over this in a lot of detail, using the road maps and a big cross country
|
|
ordnance survey job that covered the table, and then they'd gone out to get it first hand, Ed and Jack and Jed and
|
|
Tam, working out a few moves, if they ever got the chance.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The policeman saw him just as the patrol car crossed the junction. Ed had hoped it would be sooner, but on these
|
|
roads he couldn't get the weight moving fast enough, and he was doing plenty by the time he got to the cross.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The car reached the corner, nosed out. Ed was aware of it before the driver saw him. The policeman did his crossing
|
|
code, right, left and right again, judging the distance by the size of the truck and the speed of the road. He was
|
|
half-way across when he realised the big rig was moving faster than anything should have been on the narrow country
|
|
route.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The man's face was a pale oval and his mouth a dark one inside it that expanded hugely as Ed's juggernaut barrelled
|
|
down the road, clipping off pieces of straggly hedge that remained untrimmed. The patrolman let out a one-syllable
|
|
sentence that Ed lip-read with no difficulty whatsoever, and stamped on the accelerator. The car jumped across the
|
|
junction and almost into the hedge at the corner, so fixed was the driver's attention on the approaching
|
|
destruction. He compensated just in time and scooted up the north side of the cross as the lorry hurtled west,
|
|
buffeting them with its passage and missing them by mere feet.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The police driver cursed non-stop for forty seconds without repetition. He stamped on the brake just as hard as he
|
|
had hit the throttle, slammed into reverse for a very swift three-point turn while his colleague, equally pale and
|
|
shaking with the fright of near miss, dropped the receiver and had to bend to pick it up again and call in.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Baxter heard about the close call just two minutes later.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>By this time the patrol car was moving in the opposite direction, following the tail of exhaust and clipped hawthorn
|
|
flourish in the wake of the big covered tanker that was doing at least sixty on a road where thirty was risking it,
|
|
but Ed had the height advantage and could see everything coming. Nothing was.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The phone beeped and he answered. "Ace."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Harley. You've got an audience."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I see them. I've got five miles."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Okay, let's take them round the houses. Stay on line."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Tam was coming up fast, with the police car a half mile ahead, seen only occasionally on the few straight sections.
|
|
The patrol were closing quickly on the rig, pushing their own luck, but the driver was determined to get this one,
|
|
get in on the kudos of the Aitkenbar job, and to get revenge for the little cooling wet patch in his jockeys after
|
|
the fright he'd just had.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He looked in his mirror, saw the white shape on the bike, and the chequered helmet, and growled under his breath. No
|
|
traffic cop was going to steal this one. The road here was twisted and narrow and nothing could get past him on the
|
|
tight zigzags.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Ed pushed the speed up, now assured that Tam was close behind, and they kept going all in a line round the twists for
|
|
close to five miles until they got to the curve behind Cardross Hill where the road leads down to the little village
|
|
of Arden on the Clyde. Here there is a short straight section that has been widened to let traffic filter down to
|
|
Arden, and Ed knew the patrol would make their move at this junction, using their acceleration to get ahead. He
|
|
slowed down just a little, swaying from side to side, sure there was no oncoming traffic, keeping them behind
|
|
him.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The swerving kept the driver's attention on the shifting back of the big twelve wheeler where the tarpaulin flapped
|
|
like a loose flag. Because he was so focussed in front, he mistimed the straight by only a couple of seconds, but
|
|
that's what Tam had counted on. He came right up to a couple of feet from the patrol rear lights, and as soon as the
|
|
little filter gap expanded, he gunned the engine and went through it in a flash of white.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Bastard," the policeman snarled. "What's that idiot up to?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Tam never heard that. He was up parallel to the patrol car window and without changing his line, he took his clutch
|
|
hand off the grip and thudded the white gauntlet against the glass, three hard slaps. The driver was so startled, he
|
|
almost lost control and had to jerk the wheel again to avoid ending the chase in a ditch.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Okay. I've got it," Tam spoke into the throat mike. "Give Bullitt a call and then get back." He keyed the off,
|
|
twisted the clutch to lower gear and swung right in front of the car.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Who <em>is</em> that lunatic?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The bike was careering left and right, only inches from the front bumper, blocking their passage and slowing down as
|
|
it did so. The high rig picked up speed, got past the wider straight and onto the narrow. There was no change of
|
|
getting past the bike now. It slowed still further.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"That's not a BMW," the passenger said. "It's a... it's like a Harley D."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Son of a bitch. He's not even a cop." Realisation hit them simultaneously. "You better tell them he's getting
|
|
away."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>In front of them, the drag-bike with the white jacketed figure had slowed from fifty down to thirty, crazily risking
|
|
a collision with his back wheel. The truck disappeared round the corner. Two small vans came in the opposite
|
|
direction, but each time one passed, the bike swung out to prevent a sneak overtake. He slowed to twenty, then
|
|
ten.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The police driver was now fuming with frustration. The bike slowed even further, forcing them to follow suit and then
|
|
eased to a halt right in the middle of the road. The patrol stopped just behind it, and for a moment of impasse,
|
|
nobody moved. The biker looked just like a police cyclist on an outlandish set of wheels. He cocked his head to
|
|
check the rear view, held his right hand up and waggled his fingers.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Cheeky bastard. Get his number."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I got it. They're checking."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What next?"</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We arrest that joker," the driver said. "Then we get him in the back here and kick the shite right out of him."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The driver plipped the lock, pushed the door, hauled out warily. The bike engine revved and the cop almost got back
|
|
in the car. but the machine didn't move. He walked forward and his companion got out the other side. There was only
|
|
a twenty yard gap between bike and car. They got half way and Tam gave it a little fuel and eased away from
|
|
them.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They started back to the car and he stopped. They turned, knowing he was taunting them.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"We'll never catch him on foot."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"This is why they should give us guns," the driver said.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"What's that smell? Did you piss yourself."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Don't <em>you</em> start."</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>They began to walk forward again and the biker turned right round in the saddle, beckoned them on. He held both hands
|
|
up. The big driver thought he had an opportunity and broke into a sprint. His hat flew off as he raced to make a
|
|
grab.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The phone chirruped a warble of notes and the biker dropped his hands to the grips. The cop skidded to a halt, turned
|
|
back to where his companion was now racing towards the car. For a second he looked as if he couldn't make up his
|
|
mind, which was true, and then he dashed forward again, hand outstretched to grab. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The engine roared and the bike took off like stallion, wheel in the air, rear treads burning a black strip on the
|
|
good country road.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Come on," his partner bawled, quite unnecessarily. The patrolman reached it just as the bike was disappearing round
|
|
the corner.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"Hurry. We'll lose him." He hit the pedal and the car fishtailed crazily as he took off in pursuit.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>"I see you," Ed said into the phone.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The bike came whizzing round the corner, going like a streak and seconds later the patrol car shot into view, lights
|
|
flashing, siren wailing. Ed was up the farm track where a big line of new birches had been planted as a windbreak
|
|
from the sea breezes pushing up from Arden. They were just tall enough to give the rig some cover. Ed eased the
|
|
clutch off, held everything still with the brake, though the powerful engine tried to shove everything forward. With
|
|
no load in the tank, there was a lot of spare muscle.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>He was forty yards up from the entrance, watching through the only gap where he could see the road on both sides. It
|
|
would all depend on whether some innocent passer-by was travelling in the opposite direction. Ed craned in his seat,
|
|
making sure no farmer was plodding up from Arden. None was. He held his breath, fed in fuel.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Tam hurtled past the gap and was gone in a blur. Ed heard the protest of gears and axle as he launched the truck
|
|
forward right across the road and stamped on the brake. The tyres squawked like the angry geese and ground like rasp
|
|
files as they dragged grit across the surface. The rig juddered and the engine stalled. The road was now completely
|
|
blocked.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Out to the left, the police car was doing sixty, just coming out of the turn. He got a blur of white, a flash of blue
|
|
and red, and just an impression of two pale faces in aghast mode. He snatched up the phone in his gloved hand,
|
|
shouldered the door and was out the other side and running hard. All he could hear was the wailing ululation of the
|
|
siren and the urgent scream of rubber against rough road metal.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>If he had been in the patrol car he would also have heard two grown men screaming.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The driver forgot every lesson he had learned on the advanced pursuit course. Maybe it was his temperament, or the
|
|
way the rider had blatantly taunted him, thumping the window, slowing them down, daring him to hit. </p>
|
|
|
|
<p>Whatever it was, all caution and prudence turned to uncontrolled rashness. He saw the bike disappear in a flicker of
|
|
white past the trees on the bend and took off in pursuit, cut the corner on the wrong side of the road, causing his
|
|
partner to grab the strap-handle and pray a hay-spiker or anything else big and mechanical wasn't out for a trundle
|
|
at that moment.</p>
|
|
|
|
<p>The pursuit cop double-declutched, dropped a gear tight on the cusp of the corner and used the centripetal force to
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gain him another couple of clicks on the turn.</p>
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<p>"I'll get that bastard if it's the last fuckin' thing I........"</p>
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<p>The tanker lurched across the road like a charging dinosaur, its green tarpaulin skin iridescent in the spangled
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light through the leaves, and sun glittering on the curve of the windscreen.</p>
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<p> "Holy mother of......hit the brake...hit the fuckin' braaaa......"</p>
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<p>That last consonant was lost forever in the horrified wail.</p>
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<p>The driver stamped down, gripped the wheel in two death grips, eyes bulging in sudden realisation as the big truck
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stopped dead, jolted back on its massive wheels as if pausing for breath.</p>
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<p>The patrol car just kept on going. Hedges whizzed by in a blur and the slab-like side of the juggernaut just got
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bigger and bigger until it filled the screen.</p>
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<p>"You stupid mother-fucking pratt... we're going to hit the..."</p>
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<p>The sound of the tyres on the road and the wide mouthed yell drowned out everything else. The patrol car fishtailed
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again, burning parallel curves from one side of the narrow road to the other. They clipped a sturdy hawthorn stump a
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foot in from the verge and lost the driver's mirror in one hard crack and then they were juddering forward, smoke
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billowing from underneath as the brakes seized entirely. A tyre burst like a bomb.</p>
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<p>"Hold on we're going to hit the....."</p>
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<p>They were twelve feet away from the exposed nearside when the partner realised what would happen if a saloon car
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their size hit the trailer-chassis that was four feet from road level. In a sudden burst of frantic motion, he
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scrabbled to get the belt release and squirm downwards, out of the path of that murderous edge.</p>
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<p>"Oh Jesus," he blurted feebly when the belt refused to loosen.</p>
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<p>They hit with an almighty crack and the nose crumpled into the low protection bar, dived under it and the angle of
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metal sliced the whole bonnet backwards in one violent rip.</p>
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<p>The driver let out one last yell just as the side stanchion loomed towards his face and then everything just stopped
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in a tremendous wrench of torn steel and the two airbags exploded simultaneously, smashing them back against the
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head rests.</p>
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<p>It took a couple of minutes for both of them to realise they were still alive.</p>
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<p>The partner clutched his chest where the expanding bag had punched so hard it cracked two ribs. The driver made a
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little mewling sound.</p>
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<p>"You crazy fucking lunatic," the other man groaned weakly from behind the deflating bag. "You nearly had us
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decapitated."</p>
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<p>The driver moaned, got a hand to the door. </p>
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<p>"What's that smell?" he managed. "Did you just piss yourself?"</p>
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<p>"No I didn't," his partner grunted.</p>
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<p>"Oh fuck. Tell me you haven't shit.....!"</p>
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<p>Ed was on the back of the bike and they were gone down the Arden Road in a streak, leaning forward against the wind.
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He was already on the phone, sheltering behind Tam, shouting to make himself heard over the slipstream.</p>
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<p>"This road's blocked. You got ten minutes or so. Anything else will be coming up the Loch Shore Road."</p>
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<p>That plan had worked, just as Jack said it would. He'd known just what Tam could do on a bike when he put his mind to
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it, after the record-breaking runs up to Skye. Now they had one team out of the running. Ed had seen the sudden gout
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of steam and smoke from the far side of the tanker and he'd known they had hit, but the loud cursing after the crash
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told them they weren't dead, which was a bit of a relief.</p>
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<p>"There's only one more car up here," Neil came back. "They're not happy with you."</p>
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<p>"I'll live with it. Where are they?"</p>
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<p>He and Ed shared the details they needed. The patrol was diverted north to check out a heavy load at the head of the
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loch and they all knew there was a fair chance somebody had spotted Jack and Donny. There was a possibility the
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tarpaulin had come loose and the big yellow tanks were showing. Anything could have happened.</p>
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<p>"Do you need a back-up?"</p>
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<p>Jed's voice came on the line. "No. Once they see us they'll follow. We lost the cover at the bridge, so the sign's
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there for anybody to read."</p>
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<p>Ed tapped Tam and he slowed.</p>
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<p>"Drop me off at the junction. I'll get you back at the car." </p>
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<p>He told him what Jed was planning, and Tam gave him a thumb's up from behind the visor. A few minutes later Ed patted
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him on the helmet, waved him off, and began to take a short-cut through a grove of tall beech trees. The sun was
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well up now and it was promising to be a good day. There was nothing else for him to do but enjoy it. A woodpecker
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beat out a rap rhythm somewhere in the shade and Ed started to whistle a happy tune along with it.</p>
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<p>Constable Derek Travers was cruising up the Loch Road, knowing he was on a wild goose chase, knowing he'd been sent
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on it because he and Walter Crum had drawn the short straw and been called out to a couple of barking dogs on the
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night of the biggest heist in the history of Levenford since Bruce took the castle and its garrison back from Edward
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Longshanks; the night he'd seen them in action and failed to notice a thing.</p>
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<p>It would take a long time for his career to get over this hiccup. It would need the equivalent of a Heimlich
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manoeuvre and maybe even cardiac jump leads.</p>
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<p>"There's a million wide loads up this road every week."</p>
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<p>"We just have to check it out."</p>
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<p>"They've sent us because we're the total numpties of the entire force."</p>
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<p>Walter nodded glumly. "What's the opposite of Mensa?"</p>
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<p>"Dunsa. We get to wear the pointy hat and sit in the corner with everybody laughing and pointing. Swear on my
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mother's grave Walter, that big highland git would have been fooled himself. <em>Totally</em>."</p>
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<p>"I've asked for a transfer."</p>
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<p>"You what?"</p>
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<p>"I have to get out of...." Walter paused. "Wait a minute, what's that?"</p>
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<p>A big silver tanker crossed the main road about a half a mile up ahead.</p>
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<p>"Go faster," Walter urged. </p>
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<p>"What, you don't think....?"</p>
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<p>Walter was scrabbling in the glovebox for the little binoculars he used for birdwatching on the quiet afternoons when
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|
the pair of them sneaked up beyond Overburn for a smoke. They'd been having a contest for months, totalling the
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sparrows and robins and magpies. It passed the time very equably instead of cruising around Corrieside and being
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stoned by teenage layabouts and harangued by junkies.</p>
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<p>He pushed the focus ring, just the way Neil had on the high tower block.</p>
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<p>"You're not going to believe this," Walter said. For the first time in days there was a confident ring to his voice.
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He thumbed the zoom just to be sure. The blue lettering stood out against the silver on the massive cylindrical
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tank.</p>
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<p>"Levenford Dairy," he said. "Prop. A. Kerr. Established 1934."</p>
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<p>He turned to Derek Travers. "Consider that transfer application withdrawn. You and me, we're back in business."</p>
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<p>A bird fluttered in a streak of black and white across the road.</p>
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<p>"<em>Magpie</em>," Travers bellowed triumphantly at exactly the same time.</p>
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<p>"We'll split the points later. Let's go catch those arseholes."</p>
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