Murcaldy was situated on a small river at one end of a wide glen, the sides of which, Bond could see by the now risen and bright moon, were devoid of trees. Ahead, at the far end of the glen and above the village, the castle stood against the sky like a large outcrop of rock.
The village appeared to be deserted except for occasional lights from the cottages, and Bond calculated that it took him less than forty-five seconds to travel through this little cluster of buildings. At the far end, near the kirk, the narrow road divided, a signpost pointing its two fingers in a V. Murik Castle lay directly ahead, up the glen; the other sign showed an equally narrow track leading back towards the road to Shieldaig, though Bond considered the track would eventually meet yet another narrow road, with its inevitable passing places, before one was really on the main A896 to that small town. The track thus marked, however, would have to follow the line of the glen to the east, so would probably lead him to a vantage point from which he could gain a view of the castle.
Pausing for a second, Bond slipped the infra-red Nitefinder kit over his head so that the little protruding glasses sat comfortably on his nose. Immediately the moonlit night became as clear as day, making the drive along the dry track a simple matter. He switched off the headlights and began to move steadily forward. The track dipped behind the eastern side of the glen, but the upper storeys of the castle were still visible above the skyline.
Both village and castle had been built with an eye to strategy, and Bond had little doubt that his passage through Murcaldy had already been noted. He wondered if it had also been reported to the Laird.
At last Bond reached a point which he considered to be parallel to the castle. Stopping the car, he picked up the binoculars and, with the Nitefinder headset still in place, got out and surveyed the area. To his right he could clearly see low mounds of earth, just off the track and running for about a hundred yards, as though somebody had been doing some fresh digging.
He paused, thinking he should investigate, but decided the castle must be his first concern. Turning left, Bond walked off the track and made his way silently towards the rolling eastern slope of the glen.
The air was sweet with night scents and clear air. Bond moved as quietly as possible, almost knee-deep in gorse, bracken and heather. Far away a dog barked, and there came the call of some predatory night bird beginning its long dark hunt.
On reaching the top of the rise, Bond stretched himself out and looked around. He could see clearly down the glen to the village, but it was impossible to gain any vantage point above the castle, which lay about a mile away in a direct line, having been built on a wide plateau. Far away behind the castle he could just make out the jutting peak of Beinn Bhan breasting itself almost three thousand feet above sea level.
Taking up the binoculars, Bond adjusted them against the Nitefinders and began to focus on the Murik Castle. He could see that half-way along the glen the track from the village became a metalled road, which ended at a pair of wide gates. These appeared to be the only means of access to the castle, which otherwise was surrounded by high granite walls, some apparently original, other sections built by later hands. Indeed, most of the present castle seemed to have undergone vast reconstruction. To the rear Bond could just make out what could well be the ruins of the original keep; but the remainder looked more like a great Gothic-style heap, beloved of Victorians all gables and turrets.
Three cars stood in front of what was obviously the main door a wide structure with a pillared portico. The castle seemed to be set in the midst of large formal gardens, and the whole aspect produced a half-sinister, half-Disneyland quality. Craning forward, Bond could just make out the edge of a vast lawn to the right of his view. He thought he could glimpse the corner of a marquee. For tomorrow's Games, he presumed. Well, Dr Anton Murik certainly had a castle and, no doubt, acted like a king in it.
Bond was just about to get to his feet, return to the car, drive back and present himself at King Murik's court, when he realised, too late, that he was not alone.
They had come upon him with the craft and experience of professional hunters, materialising from the ground like spirits of the night. But these were not spirits particularly their leader who now loomed huge above him.
'Spyin' on Murik Castle, eh?' the giant accused him in a broad Scots accent.
'Now wait a minute...' Bond began, raising a hand to remove the Nitefinder kit; but, as he moved, so two hands, the size of large hams, grasped him by the lapels, and he was lifted bodily into the air.
'Ye'll come guy quiet wi' us. Right?' the giant said.
Bond was in no mood for going quietly with anybody. He brought his head down hard, catching the big man on the forward part of his nose bridge. The man grunted, letting go of Bond, who could see the butt had been well placed. A small trickle of blood had begun to flow from the man's nostrils.
'I'll kill ye for...' The man was stopped by another voice from behind them.
'Caber? Hamish? Malcolm? What is it?'
Bond instantly recognised the slight nasal twang of Mary-Jane Mashkin. 'It's Bond,' he shouted. 'You remember, Miss Mashkin. We met at Ascot. James Bond.'
She appeared, like the others, suddenly as though from the ground. 'My God, Mr Bond, what're you doing here?' She peered at the giant. 'And what's happened toyou, Caber?'
'Yon man gied me a butt to the neb,' he muttered, surly. Mary-Jane Mashkin laughed. 'A brave man, doing something like that to Caber.'
'I fear your man thought I was a poacher. He well, he lifted me up, and became generally aggressive. I'm sorry. Am I trespassing?'
Caber muttered something which sounded belligerent, as Mary-Jane Mashkin spoke again, 'Not really. This track is a right-of-way through the Laird's land. We've been, doing a little night hunting, and looking at the digging.' She inclined her head towards the other side of the track where Bond had seen the low earth piles. 'We've just started working on a new drainage system. Just as well you didn't wander that way. You could've stumbled into a pretty deep pit. They've dug down a good fifteen feet, and it's over twelve feet wide.' She paused, coming closer to him so that he caught the scent of Madame Rochas in his nostrils. 'You didn't say why you were here, Mr Bond.'
'Lost,' Bond raised his hands in a gesture of innocence.
He had already slipped the Nitefinder set from his head, as though it was the most natural thing to be wearing. 'Lost and looking for the castle.'
'Which I guess you found.'
'Found, and was observing.'
She put a hand on his arm, 'Then I think you'd better take a closer look, don't you? I presume you were coming to visit.'
'Quite,' Bond nodded. In the darkness the men shuffled and Mary-Jane Mashkin gave some quick orders. There was, apparently, a Land Rover up the track a little way. 'I'll guide Mr Bond down and you follow,' she told Caber, who had calmly relieved Bond of the Nitefinder set.
'You should have taken the track straight ahead at the village,' she said when they were settled in the Saab and moving.
'I gathered that.'
The Land Rover was close behind as they swept up to the gates. A figure appeared to open up for them, and Mary-Jane Mashkin told Bond they kept the gates closed at night, and on special locks. 'You can never tell. Even in an out-of-the-way place like this, where we know everybody, some stranger might...'
'Come in and ravage you all?' Bond grinned.
'Could be fun,' she laughed. 'Anyhow, it's nice to know we have a guest like yourself, Mr Bond or can I call you James?'
'No need for formality here, I suppose,' said Bond as they came up to the main door with its great pillared porchway.