‘For a while I thought I was barking up the wrong tree but then I mentioned to the librarian what I was doing. She’s been doing Spanish classes at night school. She thought the name could be Spanish and suggested a likely spelling. I found it. It’s a small town in southern Spain. It’s spelt, M-I-J-A-S but it’s pronounced, May Haas. ‘
There was silence in the room until Leavey said, ‘That makes a lot of sense.’
‘You’re absolutely right,’ agreed MacLean. ‘Eva told me that Jean-Paul’s search had been successful. She wouldn’t have said that if all he had come up with was a woman’s name. Tansy, that was brilliant.’ He gave her a hug.
Tansy brought out a map of Spain, which she’d gone into town to get after leaving the library. She spread it out on a low coffee table and the others crowded round. She traced her finger along the south coast of Spain, exaggerating the contours as she searched for Mijas. ‘There!’ she announced. ‘A few miles west of Malaga and three or four kilometres up into the mountains.’
‘Is there an airport at Malaga?’ asked Leavey.
‘Yes,’ replied Tansy. ‘I’ve been to the airline office as well.’
‘Well done,’ said MacFarlane.
‘We can’t use it,’ said MacLean.
‘But why not?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘Lehman Steiner would pick us up right away.’
‘But we’ve only just found out about the place!’ said MacFarlane.
‘If X14 is located in Mijas, Lehman Steiner will be watching the local airport.’
‘You’re right,’ said Leavey.
‘Apart from that,’ continued MacLean, ‘Jean-Paul must have confessed that he had found out the location of X14 before they killed him. Lehman Steiner would have to assume that he passed the information on even if he said he hadn’t. They’ve probably been wondering what’s taking us so long! They don’t know we’ve had to wait for Tansy to figure it out for us.’
‘So they’ll be lined up ready for us,’ said Leavey.
‘Geneva is beginning to sound attractive after all,’ said MacFarlane.
‘Our only edge is that they don’t know who we are or what we look like.’
‘And the fact that we haven’t turned up yet,’ said Leavey. ‘Maybe that will work in our favour. They must be starting to think by now that maybe Jean-Paul didn’t pass on the right information after all.’
‘So what do we do?’ asked MacFarlane.
‘We certainly can’t risk flying in to Malaga,’ said MacLean. ‘Three men arriving together…’
‘What about a holiday charter flight?’ suggested Leavey.
‘That’s a possibility. The south coast’s a popular holiday area but it still leaves us with the problem of being three men travelling together. Lehman Steiner might be monitoring charter flights too.’
‘Valencia!’ exclaimed MacFarlane out of the blue.
‘What about it?’ said Leavey.
‘Rangers are playing there on Wednesday night in the European Cup.’
There was a stunned silence before MacLean said what he and Leavey were both thinking. ‘Perfect! Absolutely bloody perfect!’ They rushed back to the map and found Valencia.
Leavey put his finger on it and said, ‘We could rent a car and drive from there down to the south coast.’
MacLean agreed but asked whether or not it would be possible to get on to supporters’ plane at this late stage.
‘Leave it to me,’ said MacFarlane, asking Tansy with exaggerated politeness if he could use the phone.
‘Of course Willie,’ she said with a smile.
The sound coming from the hall suggested that it was not going to be as easy as MacFarlane had thought to get them on the flight. Tansy, Leavey and MacLean had no trouble filling in the missing half of the conversation.
‘Aw c’mon Rab, there must be room… I know it’s a big game and it’s a bit late but… Rab! You owe me a few favours pal… ‘ There was a long silence before MacFarlane spoke again. This time he said, You can? Magic! I won’t forget this Rab. Right, let’s have the details.’
MacFarlane came back into the room to an expectant audience. He smiled and said, ‘We’re going. Wednesday morning at Glasgow Airport; Rab will meet us at the check-in.’
‘Well done Willie,’ said MacLean. Tansy and Leavey echoed their praise.
‘Now we have to get the gear,’ said MacFarlane.
‘The gear?’
‘Aye. Scarves, bunnets, rosettes. You know, the colours…’
Tansy hid a smile behind her hand.
As the three of them stood in the departure lounge at Glasgow Airport, MacLean looked around him and blessed Glasgow Rangers Football Club’s involvement in European competition. The cover of travelling to an away match was perfect: they would be as inconspicuous as grains of sand on the beach. His initial reservations about wearing a scarf and Tammy had worn off and he now saw them as badges of immunity, protection from officials who waved on the many-headed beast, anxious to see the back of football supporters.
There was a carnival atmosphere in the lounge, full of optimism and anticipation, amplified by booze and encouraged by camaraderie. MacFarlane brought over three large brandies from the bar and said, ‘Might as well enter into the spirit of things eh?’
MacLean swallowed a comment about the hour before it reached his lips and chased it down with brandy. Willie was right, he decided. There would be little enough time for relaxation when they arrived in Spain and who was he to lecture men like MacFarlane and Leavey when they were risking their lives for a child they’d never even met.
They were joined by MacFarlane’s contact. He was a big cheerful man with shoulders like an ox and a grinning red face. He shook hands with Leavey and MacLean, asking them how they had managed to get time off work.
‘We’re on the rigs too,’ said Leavey. ‘Like Willie.’
‘Works out handy sometimes,’ said the red-faced man. ‘I’m burying my mother-in-law. Come to think of it, it’s the third time since Rangers got into Europe!’ He pulled out a wad of tickets and documents from an inside pocket and asked MacFarlane, ‘Who am I doing business with?’
MacFarlane nodded towards MacLean who said, ‘How much do we owe you?’
The red-faced man pointed to the slip of paper on top of the wad and held by an elastic band. MacLean paid him in cash and the big man got up, saying, ‘I’d best be getting back to the lads. If I don’t see you guys later, enjoy the game.’ He clapped MacFarlane on the shoulder.
‘Cheers Rab,’ said MacFarlane.
‘Nae problem,’ said the big man.
MacLean detected an air of apprehension behind the company smiles of the stewardesses as they filed past them to board the aircraft. One of them had held her smile too long and the corner of her mouth was starting to twitch in protest. It seemed to MacLean that they had little to worry about because good humour was still the order of the day.
The subdued boarding music of Mozart had little success against sporadic outbreaks of club songs. Several probed the air until one caught the mood of the moment and an impromptu male voice choir filled the plane. MacLean noticed that one of the men across the aisle from him had gone very pale; he recognised the symptoms as fear of flying. Unfortunately for him his companions had caught on too and were making the man’s life a misery. Several cracks on the wing were ‘discovered’ not to mention ‘bits’ on the runway.
The cabin went quiet for take-off but noise and banter resumed as soon as the warning lights were extinguished. Periodic announcements from the Captain regarding speed and current position provided fuel for the wags until, as they crossed the northern coast of Spain, the soothing tones of the captain gave way to an ill-at-ease Glasgow voice. The supporters’ club secretary had an announcement to make. He began by blowing into the microphone. This was rewarded by loud cheers from the cabin. As an encore, counting from one to three proved equally popular.
‘As secretary of this here supporters club…’ Loud boos.
