'How long has he held the tenancy?' asked Martin.
'This time, these six months past.'
'This time?'
'Yes sir. A few years ago now, when my father was estate factor here and I was his assistant, in the time of Lord Erran, Mr Peters also rented the cottage. When he gave it up, we assumed we'd seen the last of him, but when he turned up again, I remembered him well enough.
'I had no hesitation about letting him have the place once more.
My father used to comment on how good a tenant he was. Always paid his rent on time, by bank transfer, and always kept the place spotless. He even made a few improvements.'
'Such as?'
'Well, when he was here the first time he had the telephone put in.
Since he's been back, he's painted the outside, and he's instal ed a television satellite dish.'
'What sort of car does he drive?' asked Skinner.
'Last time he came to see me it was a Subaru,' replied McDonald.
'Silvery grey in colour, four-wheel drive. You really need that here.'
'When did he come to see you last?'
'About four months ago, to ask if he could paint the place and instal the dish.'
'And when did you last cal on him?'
'I don't,' said the factor. 'My father and I have always held that good tenants have as much right to privacy as property-owners. I've seen the place from a distance, seen the repainting and the dish, but that's all. If Mr Peters invited me to call on him, I would, but otherwise no.
'Last time he was here, he used to invite my father and me up for a malt, on occasion, but that hasn't happened since he's been back.'
'What do you know about him?' asked the DCC.
'I know that he was a soldier, because when he rented the cottage the first time, my father took up the references he gave. I saw no need to do so this time.'
'Did he tell you where he'd been since he left?'
McDonald scratched his head. 'Not directly. But he implied that he'd been on service abroad. He did say that he'd retired from the Army, though. He didn't say what he's doing now.'
'I don't suppose that you'l know when he's there, and when he isn't?'
'No. The last time I looked into the Gul y I didn't see his car, but he could have gone to Fort Wil iam to shop.'
'When was that?'
The factor scratched his head a second time, as if to aid his memory. 'A week ago last Friday,' he replied at last.
Skinner nodded. 'Okay. One last question, Mr McDonald,' he said.
He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, and took out a small photograph, taken earlier from the folder on Peter Gilbert Heuer. He held it up. 'Is this Gilbert Peters?'
The grey man peered at the picture. 'Oh yes,' he nodded. 'It's not recent, more like from his first time here, but that's Mr Peters, all right.'
The two policemen looked at each other. 'Plans, Mr McDonald,' asked Martin. 'Do you have any plans?'
'Oh yes,' the factor answered, delving into his briefcase. He unfolded an old sheet of waxed paper. 'This goes back years, to the time that the electricity was installed, but it's still accurate. There have been no internal structural alterations to the cottage since then.'
He spread the plan on Bal iol's desk. The four men stood around it, studying the layout. Mr McDonald pointed to a direction symbol in the top right corner. 'The front of the cottage faces south, across the King's Gully,' he said. 'To catch the sun. It is built more or less on the Gul y floor.'
He took them through the layout. 'This is the front door, here, with a window to the left. There is a small entrance hall with a living room to the right and a bedroom to the left. At the back of the hall there are doors to the kitchen, bathroom and second bedroom.'
'Where's the back door?' asked the Chief Superintendent.
'Through the kitchen. There's a wee garden to the back, with a wee burn running through it.'
Skinner and Martin leaned over the plan, studying it in detail.
'How wide is the floor of the Gully?' asked the DCC.
'About two hundred yards. The cottage is in the centre of the basin.'
'How is it approached, normal y?'
'By vehicle, from a rough track to the east.'
'And what's the terrain?'
'Bracken,' said the factor. 'Tal green bracken. None of the estate workers ever go into the Gul y. There's no point. It's no use for pasture, so you don't get sheep or deer going in there either. Only rabbits. Mr Peters is free to shoot as many of them as he likes for the pot. There's a wee loch just to the north. He can fish that for trout if he wants, too.'
'Does he shoot, do you know?' Skinner interposed.
'I've never seen him, but I've heard shots that could only have been him. If it had been poachers, the keeper would have found their signs.'
'What sort of firearm? Shotgun?'
'No. Rifle, it sounded like.'
'Mmm, I see,' mused the detective.
'One more thing,' he asked. 'Can you remember where the phone is?'
'The telephone, sir? Yes, it's on a wee table by the front door, beneath the window.'
'Is that the only one, or are there extensions?'
McDonald shook his head. 'As far as I recall there's only the one, unless Mr Peters has put in more. But it would not be easy to do that, because it's an old-fashioned instal ation, not the kind they have today that you can unplug and move about.'
'Right,' said Skinner, pointing at the plan. 'The phone's under this window. Can you remember, is there a curtain or a blind?'
'No, sir, there is not, or at least there has not been. The front door is solid, so there is only the window to catch the light.'
'That's good. That's very good,' said the DCC, almost to himself.
He picked up a hamburger, glancing at his watch in the process. 'It's nine thirty, so there'll be some half- decent light left. Could you take us up towards the Gul y, now, to a point about a mile short? So that we know how to get back there in the morning?'
McDonald glanced at Bal iol, who nodded.
'Thanks,' said Skinner, taking his mobile phone from his belt, where it was clipped. 'Before we go, I must cal my daughter. Will I get a signal up here?'
'Sure,' Balliol told him. 'I had a cell specially installed so I can be contacted anywhere on the estate, anytime.'
He stepped to the study window and dial ed Andy and Alex's number. The signal was strong and her voice was clear when she came on line. 'That's good, love,' he said. 'I wasn't sure this thing 266 would work up here. Andy and I have had to go up north. We'l be back tomorrow.'
'Okay, Pops. I know better than to ask why. Tell him to bring back some salmon.'
'Venison, more like. We're off hunting. See you.'
He reclipped the phone and turned to see Martin follow McDonald from the study. Only Bal iol remained. 'See here. Bob?' he asked.
'What's this about?'
Skinner looked him in the eye, debating with himself for a moment or two. At last he decided. 'Your Mr Peters has killed two women and kidnapped their children. He's holding them for ransom, in your cottage. Pay-day is the day after tomorrow. Andy and I have to get those kids out before then. That's if they're still alive.'
The billionaire's sallow face went pale. 'I have done some things in my time,' he snarled. 'But women and
