Laura…she seemed such a nice girl.”
“Oh, yes. She was. Damned nice family. Daughter of a very eminent admiral, you know. It all happened so damned quickly. I never knew what had hit me. She suddenly met this bloody American, here in Scotland, and announced she was buggering off with him. Shook me up, I can tell you.”
“Well, Douglas, you look to me as if you’ve made a satisfactory recovery,” said Ben, smiling.
“Haven’t I?” said Douglas, laughing loudly. “I was a bit bloody lucky really, landing a beautiful younger woman like that…she’s only twenty-eight now. I’m forty-five. She keeps me young, and I’ve taught her how to catch a salmon. Not much of a deal for her really. But she seems to like it up here…and we have nice holidays.”
“Where did this bloody American come from?”
“Well, that’s all been a bit secret, Ben. You remember that United States Navy aircraft carrier that got itself blown up about four years ago? Well, apparently the Pentagon thought it might have been hit by some fucking Arab in a submarine, and this Baldridge Johnny — that was his name — was over here trying to find out who he was. Apparently Laura knew the chap they all suspected…an old boyfriend, I think, when he was training here. Nothing serious, of course…just some bloody foreigner learning how to drive a submarine. Her father was the Teacher at the base at that time.”
“Hmmm. Did they find him?”
“Don’t think so. I never heard any more. Except my wife had cleared off with the American investigator. Left me high and dry. My luck changed in the summer…my mother’s on the board of the Edinburgh Festival, and we had a group of the actors and directors out here for dinner one evening. Natalie was playing the lead in the main theatre. I drew her next to me at dinner, and we never looked back.”
“Well, Douglas, you have been very kind. The only thing I wondered was, could you possibly let me have Baldridge’s address? I think my wife would like to send Laura a Christmas card or something, and let her know we did try to get into contact. She’ll be very disappointed to have missed her.”
“No problem, Ben. Natalie mentioned that…and I have it right here. Baldridge Ranch, Burdett, Pawnee County, Kansas, plus the zip. My daughters are going over there in a few days for the first time. I did hear that Laura and her husband might show up here…but I think they’re bringing the girls back after the Easter holiday. No one tells me much…not now I’ve remarried. I believe American Airlines are in command of the outward journey.”
Ben stood up and offered his hand. “Douglas, I’m sorry to have taken your time. It has been most enjoyable, and I wish you every happiness. You have a very lovely wife.”
“Thank you, Ben. I’m glad to have met you. I hope you have a nice stay in Scotland, and please give my regards to Darlene, whom I nearly met.”
They both laughed, and Ben took his leave, walking out into the dark, and starting the car, heading out through the spruce trees, and the A68 back to Edinburgh.
Admiral Sir Iain MacLean answered the telephone in his study just after 1800.
“Oh hello, Douglas. How nice to hear from you.”
“Yes…well it’s been a bit of time, hasn’t it? We don’t seem to run into each other so often these days. How’s Annie…and the American branch of the family?”
“Oh, they’re all fine…Bill and Laura are here actually.”
“Oh, they are? I thought the idea was that their mother would bring the girls back.”
“Well, it was. But they had a change of plan, decided to come over for a few days, and take the girls to Kansas. Then they’ll fly them up to Chicago and put them on the direct flight back to Edinburgh. You don’t want to speak to Laura, do you?”
“I don’t think so, Iain. Tell you the truth, I was just looking for an excuse to have a chat for a few minutes. Nothing very important. But I had a rather unusual visitor this afternoon, looking for Laura.”
Iain MacLean’s voice went ice-cold. “You did? Who was it?”
“South African chap. Nicely dressed, expensive sheepskin coat, driving an Audi. Told me he and his wife had been friends with Laura about eight years ago. But the address he had was mine. He thought we were still married.”
“What did he look like, Douglas?”
“What do you mean, what did he look like? Perfectly ordinary sort of chap, well-spoken, in the mining business.”
“No, Douglas. What did he
“Well, he wasn’t all that tall. I’d say a bit less than six foot. Quite broad, well built.”
“What kind of coloring?”
“Oh, dark. I took him for a South African Jew. Black hair, curly, cut short.”
“Did he tell you his name?”
“Yes. But I can’t remember…the surname anyway. His first name was Ben.”
Admiral MacLean’s mouth went dry. He said, “Just a minute, Douglas…” He poured himself a glass of mineral water before continuing.
“Was there anything else about him that you noticed?”
“No, not really.”
“Did he say where he and his wife met Laura?”
“Yes, he did. Cairo. Laura went out there with her girlfriend Annie about eight years ago. Stayed at the Mena House out near the pyramids. According to this chap, they all met there and exchanged addresses. I just thought it was a bit strange. You know, Laura never mentioned anything about a South African couple to me, and I just wondered if the chap rang any sort of a bell with you.”
The admiral was silent for a few moments, hearing about ten thousand bells of pure alarm ringing in his head. But he said, quietly, “No, Douglas. She never mentioned anything to me…I was going to ask you if you had told him that Bill and Laura were here, but of course, I forgot, you didn’t know.”
“No. But I think I mentioned they were expected sometime soon. You know, bringing the girls back from America…that sort of thing.”
“Did he say how long he and his wife were planning to be here?”
“I think he said a week or so. His wife arrives in Edinburgh tomorrow.”
“Well, Douglas. I thank you for ringing. Sorry I can’t help much. I hope to see you soon.”
They said their good-byes. But without putting down the phone, Admiral MacLean instantly made another call, transatlantic to Washington, straight to the White House main switchboard.
“Would you connect me to Admiral Arnold Morgan, please.”
“Certainly, sir. Who shall I say is calling?”
“MacLean. Admiral Iain MacLean in Scotland.”
“Admiral Morgan’s office…”
“May I speak to the admiral, please. This is Iain MacLean in Scotland.”
“Morgan. Speak.”
“Arnold, it’s Iain.”
“Hey, Iain, old buddy. How ya bin? Anything hot?”
“Hottest. He’s here.”
“Who? No. Jesus Christ. You at home?”
Morgan paused for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts…no secure line.
“When you say he’s here, Iain, do you mean the he I think you mean? And do you mean he’s in the country, in your house, or in your study?”
“The very one, Arnold. He’s trying to find Laura. He turned up at her ex-husband’s house this afternoon looking for her.”
“JESUS CHRIST!”
“Look, Arnold. I have been fairly certain for some weeks now that he was in Scotland. Can you get hold of a chart of the North Atlantic, the eastern side?”
“Yeah, wait a minute.” It took two. Then, “Got it. I am looking at it.”
“Right. Get a pencil and mark with a cross the following positions…yes, that’s it…two on 30 West, one on 53 North, 20 West…right…where the airliners went down. Right, now put a cross at 57.49 North, 09.40 West…that’s it…now one at 08.35 West, same latitude. Now one at the port of Mallaig on the coast of Scotland opposite the
