"But to get there you'll have to go through the village of Drim," said Hamish, "and believe me, the locals will know you're there."
"No, they won't. You'll be coming in my boat and we'll go in from the sea as well."
"In that case, why not go out to my boat and pick the stuff up at sea?" demanded Hamish.
"Could be caught by the Customs and Excise that way. My boat will drop us there one hour before the meet. I assume your lads have the stuff well hidden. If the Customs come cruising around, they won't bother much with one boat, but two together would excite their suspicions."
I hope Jock's given up playing with his monster, thought Hamish.
"Well, Hamish?" demanded Jimmy. "Can you get the stuff there in two days' time? That'll be Monday morning at two A.M."
Hamish thought quickly. He was sure that for this operation the ketch would have a high-powered engine.
"It's a deal," he said, holding out his hand.
Jimmy shook it, and then, holding on to Hamish's hand, looked at the calluses on it which Hamish had got from working round the croft.
"Done time?" he asked.
"South America," said Hamish, pulling his hand away. "Bribed my way out."
"Okay, let's have a drink," said Jimmy.
Fortunately for Hamish, Jimmy liked to brag rather than listen. He told of drug deals and contacts. Hamish felt himself go almost weak with relief. Jimmy trusted them.
But he only breathed easily when they got out of there and back to the hotel.
"Can we start writing down what he said?" Kevin looked anxious. "All those names, all those drug contacts."
Olivia laughed and unbuttoned her blouse. Underneath, she was wearing a brief lacy bra and in her cleavage was tucked a little black tape recorder. "Got every word," she said.
"Very good, ma'am," said Hamish curtly as Kevin and Barry goggled. "I think you can cover yourself up now."
Olivia turned a faint shade of pink as she quickly buttoned up her blouse. "I'm going to try this out and phone Daviot," she said.
She went off into the bedroom. "Anything going on between you two?" asked Kevin. On the other side of the bedroom door, Olivia pressed her ear to the panel.
"Don't be silly," she heard Hamish say clearly. "She's a good officer and I've forgotten she's a woman."
"With boobs like that!" exclaimed Kevin.
"You chust forget she's a woman as well," snapped Hamish.
Olivia moved away, grateful to Hamish for keeping quiet about their afternoon on the rock. She phoned Daviot.
Hamish lay awake a long time that night, not because Olivia was lying in the bed beside his, but because he was now worried about Jock Kennedy and his monster. But Jock would know that one more sighting of his rubber beastie would bring Hamish down on his head. So much to worry about, thought Hamish. Jimmy had said he would pick them up at their hotel on Sunday evening. Nothing he could do until then but wait and worry.
Hamish and Olivia mostly kept to their hotel room. Kevin had bought them a Scrabble board and they played games and watched television and read. It seemed a long time until Sunday night but suddenly it was upon them and there was one of Jimmy's henchmen to drive them down to a high-powered boat in the oily, polluted harbour of Strathbane where even the seagulls looked dirty.
They joined Jimmy in the cabin, all sitting around the table, but not saying much. One of the crew landed them on the point at the head of Loch Drim. "Now we wait," said Hamish. He looked across the darkness towards the cave but there was no sound and no sign of life.
The night was frosty and calm. He had never known an hour pass so slowly. Then at last they heard the faint sound of an outboard engine.
"That should be it," he said with an air of relaxed ease which belied the rapid beating of his heart.
The sound of the engine approached and then cut off. There was silence apart from the lapping of the waves and then the sound of oars in rowlocks. Hamish took out a torch and gave a brief flash. There was an answering flash and then in the starlight they could see faintly a dinghy rowed by two men, pulling towards the point.
Hamish strolled forward to meet it. "Any trouble?" he asked.
"No trouble, sir." Hamish cursed inwardly. That "no trouble, sir" had been a damn sight too polite and official. He took hold of the oilskin packet the man was holding up as he stood in the rocky boat.
"Get off fast," he ordered. "I don't want you hanging around."
"Yes, sir." Damn, it's a wonder he didn't salute, thought Hamish furiously.
He turned to Jimmy. "There's the first instalment."
"Bring the torch here," Jimmy ordered one of his men. He took a wicked knife out of his pocket and cut open the package and looked down at the cellophane bags.
"Aye, that'll do, Hamish. Now we wait a bit until my man comes back."
"So if you're satisfied," said Hamish, "we can let you have the rest of the stuff in, say, another two days."
"Aye, we'd best make it here. Say Wednesday morning. I'll pick you up same as this evening."
"You know what I'd almost forgotten about," said Hamish when he and Olivia were back in their hotel room. "The person whose death started all this. Tommy Jarret. I've no doubt his parents have been trying to get hold of me. They must have thought I'd forgotten about the whole thing."
"When we catch them, we'll sweat it out of Lachie."
"I think such as Lachie won't talk."
"Anyway, let's get this over with. If you like, I'll get us some time off and we can see if we can find out anything further about the boy's death. I'm going to bed. It's been a long night."
Hamish waited until she had finished using the bathroom and then went in and ran himself a hot bath. He put on his silk pyjamas-courtesy of the police force-and went into the bedroom.
He felt his way in the darkness to his bed. He should be tired, he thought, but he was plagued by a strung-up, restless feeling mixed with an uneasy feeling of apprehension.
"Hamish." Olivia's voice was soft in the darkness.
"Yes?"
"I can't sleep. I'm worried."
"Me, too."
"Hamish?"
"Yes."
"If you come over here, we could worry together."
"Yes, ma'am," said Hamish Macbeth. It was the first time he had obeyed a senior officer's orders with any enthusiasm.
It was a pity that Superintendent Daviot could not tell the difference between duty and grovelling. He rated Blair highly because Blair always praised him. The temptation to boast about the latest success of the operation was too much. He sent for Blair.
"We're doing just fine," said Daviot, rubbing his hands. "Just fine."
"So what's the latest, sir?"
Daviot told him about the success of the first drug delivery. "So all we have to do is hope the second meet goes as well and then we'll have them. And Detective Chief Inspector Chater has done splendidly. When they went to Lachie's and Jimmy White was bragging about his contacts, she taped every word. We could do with someone bright like that here. We haven't got a single woman detective and it's bad for our image."
"I think the success of the whole thing is due to your meticulous planning, sir," said Blair.
"Well, I must say I've had a hand in it. But give credit where it's due, I think we owe a lot to Hamish Macbeth. He's been rotting up in that village of his for too long. Drink?"
"That would be very nice, sir. Just a splash of whisky."
Blair's mind raced. This was awful. Hamish Macbeth transferred to Strathbane was bad enough, but to have a woman of the same rank was worse. Women should stay at home and in the kitchen where they belonged.
"So you were saying," said Blair, taking the glass of whisky handed to him, "that the final operation is at two o'clock on Wednesday morning at the head of Loch Drim?"
"That's it and then we start a massive round-up of all the other villains. Thanks to Chater, we've got all the names."
Blair went back to his desk afterwards and brooded over the problem. He then took out his book of informants, or snouts as they were called, and ran his finger down the list. He picked up the phone. "Callum," he whispered. "Blair here. Meet me down at the Fisherman's Bar at the docks. Can you be there in an hour? There's big money in this for ye."