"I think we should leave now," said Olivia, much to Hamish's relief.
They all rose. As Hamish passed Anna's table, she looked up at him and gave him a glad smile.
Hamish cut her dead. He was supposed to be with his wife. Also she had left him with a bill for fifty pounds, which he would somehow have to explain away on his expenses. Anna's face fell. Hamish felt like a heel. But didn't the silly girl know what an awful sort of existence she was on the threshold of?
Pieter stopped by the Americans' table. Then he introduced them to a party of Turks and then some Spaniards before leading them towards the exit. There was no sign of the Undertaker.
"Do you know," said Pieter outside, "how the Spaniards are shipping cannabis into Britain?"
"No," said Olivia.
"They put the cannabis resin into onions. So when Customs and Excise see a truckload of onions, they simply look for the man with the dart."
"The dart?" asked Hamish, his eyes roaming up and down the cobbled street.
"A man carrying an ordinary dart, you know, darts? Like in English pubs? Well, he simply stabs this dart into the sacks of onions until he finds the hard onions and he knows he's got the right sack."
Olivia shivered. "Let's eat."
"I'll take you back to your hotel. Probably safer for you to eat in your room. I have business."
He flagged down a cab and gave the driver instructions. Hamish looked wistfully out at the night lights of Amsterdam. "I wish we didn't have to eat in the hotel."
"We'd best do as we're told," said Olivia. "What a cold night it's turned out to be."
Hamish noticed that her attitude to him had thawed.
Once in the room, they ordered steaks to be sent up. Olivia switched on the television set and they ate and watched the news. Then watched an American sitcom and drank coffee and there was a friendly atmosphere between them when they both went to bed. Hamish smiled in the darkness. Soon it would all be over. Soon he would be back at his police station.
Rain was drumming down on the car park at Inverness Airport when they arrived. They got into the Mercedes and Hamish set off on the drive back to Strathbane. "So do we just wait out the rest of the week?" he asked.
"I think we should try to speed things up," said Olivia. "We'll go and see Lachie tomorrow and tell him to tell Jimmy that the consignment is on its way."
For some reason, Hamish suddenly found his thoughts turning in the direction of Chief Inspector Blair. He wondered if Blair had got wind of what he was up to. He knew Blair hated him.
"I'll be glad when this is over," said Olivia suddenly.
"Why?"
"I don't know. I've got a bad feeling about it. Things have been running a bit too easily, apart from your gaffe in Amsterdam."
"I'm sorry about that," said Hamish ruefully. "I thought I had landed lucky at last. I could even see us married. I would never have believed I could be so naive. If you see any of the prostitutes in Strathbane, well, they've practically got labels round their necks screaming prostitute. I meet the girl of my dreams and then she says, 'Leave the money on the table as you go out.' "
"Pieter did say she was a happy amateur, but she won't be happy for long."
"She told me she was a student."
"Student of what?" commented Olivia dryly. "A lot of these silly girls just drift into it. It can start with a simple date with an older man. He gets the wrong end of the stick and pays up. Girl is mortified, then she giggles about it a bit with her friends, and the money comes in handy. Who knows? Maybe Anna was a student, and recently, too. It seems a harmless way of making a bit of money on the side. Some pimp starts to sit up and take notice. He acts as the John, introduces her to dope, gets her hooked and then puts her on the street."
"Perhaps she'll just stop."
"I doubt it. Are you so lonely, Hamish, that you should want to marry some girl you had just met?"
"I suppose I'm a romantic."
"You're in the wrong job. A lot of the men down in Glasgow consider me cold and harsh, but I have found that any sign of softness is taken as a come-on."
"I'm glad I'm not a woman," said Hamish, negotiating a hairpin bend.
There was a companionable silence and then he said, "I wasn't making a pass at you in the bed at the Grand. I really wasn't."
"I believe you, but I'll get us a room with twin beds this time so there will be no… awkwardness."
"You were saying you had a bad feeling about this job," said Hamish. "You know something? I cannae help worrying that too many people at headquarters know about it."
"Only the top brass, surely."
It's the top brass I'm worried about, thought Hamish.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Our fears do make us traitors.
– William Shakespeare
The following day, Hamish and Olivia held a secret meeting with Chief Superintendent Daviot and Kevin and Barry on the moors high above Strathbane.
"We have decided on a further cunning plan," began Daviot. Hamish suppressed a groan. "We have a yacht registered to you, Hamish, the Marie~Claire, a ketch. She will only be carrying one kilo of heroin. This, you will say, is to prove the quality of the stuff and to make sure the landing place is safe. We will let that deal go through. Then you will promise the rest of the shipment. They will be lulled into a false sense of security. On the second delivery, that is when we will pounce."
"I don't like the delay," said Hamish. "I'm always frightened that the longer we wait, the more chance there is of word leaking out that the whole thing is a scam."
"Chief Inspector Chater?" asked Daviot.
"It sounds all right to me," said Olivia. "With so few people knowing about it, I can't see anything going wrong. We're going to Lachie's tonight. When will we say the first shipment is due to arrive?"
"Say two days' time. That should speed things up enough for you, Macbeth." Not "Hamish" this time. The super was obviously disappointed in what he saw as Hamish's sad lack of enthusiasm.
"Very well, sir," said Olivia. "We will do what we can."
"Let's hope the weathers all right," said Hamish. "Who will be skippering the ketch?"
"A police officer from Inverness. And the crew are policemen as well."
"Will they be armed?" asked Hamish.
Daviot looked at him impatiently. "There will be no need for that. Jimmy White will not be expecting them to be around."
"On the contrary, sir. I would think that any drug baron would expect a crew bringing in heroin to be armed."
"I don't believe in guns," said Daviot severely. "Guile is the answer. Just do your part, Macbeth, and leave the rest to Chief Inspector Chater."
"Won't it look odd my wife going along as well?" asked Hamish.
"You'll think of something," said Daviot crossly. Why couldn't Macbeth show some enthusiasm! "You can hardly leave the senior officer on the case behind."
What was that American phrase? thought Hamish. Amateur night in Dixie, this was it.
"And what do we do when we know the landing place?" asked Hamish.
"Olivia will contact us. The first shipment, we will have men observing. The second shipment, we'll seize them."
"Very good, sir," said Hamish in a hollow voice.
"Well, I'll be on my way." Daviot cast a stagy look around the moors. "Coast's clear."
Hamish watched his retreating figure. "Now I know why so many top policemen are Freemasons," he said. "They like playing games."
"Show respect," snapped Olivia.
"I don't like it at all," said Hamish wearily.
Olivia suppressed a qualm of unease. She had, she remembered, considered the whole business at the beginning quite mad. "We've got our orders," she said briskly. "We'll go to Lachie's tonight."