Iceline

Jill Darling finished her shift late after the police had questioned Steel and spent time interviewing her as well and they went over it again and again, but no matter how many times they covered it, there was nothing further she could add. On the way back to her tenement flat she called at John Menzies to buy a newspaper and bumped into Rob Maclean as she left the store. "Did Jack Cocker get hold of you yesterday, he wanted a chat about some accident information," she said,

  "I tried, but just got his machine, I'll try again later to-day."

  "Don't leave it too late; you never could get the hang of the time difference, could you. You'd better ring him sooner, rather than later, unless he's gone back to sea again."

  Rob hummed a bit, "Yeah, you're right. I'll give him a bell when I get in and leave a message if I have to," he said, "by the way, how's your new patient, the lad they airlifted in the other day?

  "Well on the mend, he is, getting quite chatty at times."

  "So the man with no name, now has one, so what is it then?"

  "Not telling you, because you'll only tease me, the way you always do, he'll be my Mister So-and-so."

  "Fine, that'll do. How is your Mister So-and-so?" He laughed. Jill slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "OK, OK, I get the message. No more teasing." Seriously he asked, "How is he?"

  "He's on the mend.”

  "Does he know that he was a maggot infested wreck?"

  "I haven't told him and he wasn’t that bad, but I’ll leave that to the surgeon when he does the rounds this morning, but the police had a boat load of questions.”

  "Ah well, what do you expect, they like a quiet life, so they will want to know everything they can. I'm surprised they haven't been round to the office yet."

  "They will be." She said, as they reached the corner of Albany Street.

  "Are you working tonight?" He asked.

  "No,” she replied, "what about you?"

  "I'm off to-day, back on mornings tomorrow, for three days, then two nights and then afternoons for three days." He said, screwing his face up thoughtfully as he calculated his work schedule for the next week, "I think."

  "How about I pop round for a bite to eat?" Jill Darling invited herself for dinner, knowing he wouldn't mind.

  He didn't, "OK, if you're inviting yourself around, then you can cook something."

  "Leave it with me, now you go and ring Jack, see if you can get any more sense out of his request." She might do the cooking, but he would be left with the washing up.

  "I can't remember the last time that happened." Rob grumbled.

  "Well, go and have a chat with him anyway, you could both probably do with it." She nudged him. He stuck his hands in his pockets and scuffed a stone around with the toe of his shoe, then kicked it smartly into the gutter. "Yeah, why not, OK then, I'll see you later." he winked at her and grinned as she turned and walked up the road to the door of her block

  Kurt Langhers set the plate down in front of Josie and she looked aghast. "I can't eat all this," she said jokingly, "I've got a figure to watch."

  Kurt chuckled. "You eat the food; I'll watch your figure, that way we both get some pleasure out of it." They sat at three sides of the table and Jardine was already in his place and tucking in to the large breakfast. Langhers settled himself and picked up the fried bread in his fingers, took a bite and crunched it enthusiastically, demanding to know between mouthfuls of food, what the hell was going on. Jardine obliged by explaining, once he'd managed to get Josie to stop trying to interrupt him, the sequence of events that had unfolded. Josie was animated, the cool, almost clinical clerk he was familiar with was absent and yes, he knew she liked Steel, but by her normal standards this was almost passionate. She really was relieved that the news was not worse. Jardine finished his tale and waited for Langhers to swallow his last mouthful of fried egg. "So, where do we go from here Sir?"

  Jardine pushed a piece of bacon around his plate, bulldozing the smears of egg yolk into one place while he thought about it, then popped the meat into his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders, swallowed the bacon and said. "I don't know yet, I need a better picture of his injuries and his general condition, then a good projection of his recovery. I really don't know. I have too many unanswered questions at the moment. So, the one thing I do know is, I need some people I can trust in the locality."

  Josie looked at the two men in turn, then straight at Jardine. "You haven't a fully formed plan yet, but you're working on something aren't you, you're following a hunch."

  "Yes," Jardine admitted, "I have a gut feeling we haven't seen the last of whoever it was that took Steel out of circulation."

  Langhers poured a cup of strong black coffee, shovelled in three sugars and stirred it vigorously, changing direction twice. "Are we assuming that, they'll have another go?"

  Josie nodded with her mouth full of breakfast, until she gulped it down and said. "Yes, it's possible," then she looked at Jardine, "Is that another reason why you want reliable people in the locality?"

  "Yes, I want you two up there, as soon as possible. That's why I wanted diaries cleared for the next week."

  "At least, you said earlier," remarked Josie, "that is about as far as I can commit, without a major rescheduling of the clerical staff rota."

  Jardine put down his toast and marmalade, resting his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of his face. "How long would that take to get out of the loop for the foreseeable future?"

  "A couple of hours to do the job properly; a rush job I can finish in about forty minutes. May I ask why you want me off the rota for that long?"

  "Certainly, you may ask. I have a job for you. Now, I don't want to make anything permanent for the time being, at least until we know what the situation is regarding Steel and his future. It does tie in with why I want you two in the area. I trust you both and I know Steel does. He's known you, Kurt, for a long time and he will trust Josie because she has my trust, although I don't think you know him that well, does you."

  "Well, I wouldn't call us best friends, but we get on alright, he's always been a bit distant about getting too friendly with the female staff, but yeah, we get on." She said.

  "You notice he didn't make it an order, he asked us." Langhers asked Josie.

  Josie looked thoughtful. "You're right he didn't, did he. This is worrying, I think he knows us too well," she said, "he was pretty confident of the result before he made the request."

  Langhers agreed." Dead right, do you think he's expecting enthusiasm?"

  "Quite likely, so, let's not disappoint him. We wouldn't want to break his heart." Josie chuckled gently and Langhers discovered that he liked the sound. "When do we go?"

  "Soon as you're ready."

  "That's fine. Will we be going in cold, or will there be a reception committee?" Langhers probed.

  "There will be a contact in the area, but I don't as yet know exactly how local to you he will be. Your contact will be a forty-foot ketch called Westering Home; the skipper is one of Ben's duffel coats. He is a last resort. But he will have sorted out a place for you to stay. I spoke to him last night and he's finding a self-catering flat for you, provisionally booked for a week. He will meet you to hand over the keys, after that unless you call him back he will carry on with his sailing. He has assured me that he will be reachable by radio and he hopes not more than four, possibly five hours sailing time away from Oban," Jardine put up a hand to stop the question, he was expecting it. "He will be in the Forth of Lorne pub for the next three nights, unless he makes contact with you tonight, then he will miss the other two."

  "Does this duffel coat have a name?"

  "He does, it's Charlie, just Charlie. He says that does for everybody who knows him and you shouldn't be the exception." Jardine concluded.

  "Will we recognise him, or he us, will he know what to look for?" Langhers was angling for a description, or even better the possibility of a photograph from the records section, most of Ben's duffel coats had visited the Grange at some
time or other and there should be a picture tucked away somewhere.

  "He's going to look for you. I've told him he's looking for a couple and the woman has dark auburn hair."

  Josie frowned. "Oh thanks Sir, another man who's only looking at what's on the top of my head. That's the story of my bloody life that is."

  "I'm sorry, but it's the easiest way to identify you and I'm hoping that whoever we're up against hasn't worked out that we would be daft enough to put someone who stands out in the crowd as much as you do in a scenario like this. The idea is that you will stand out so much that no-one will ever believe you are anything other than friends or family of Steel who have arrived in the area to see him recover and bring him home," Jardine explained,

  "My turn to apologise, I know you could have sent someone else to do this and I appreciate the trust you're showing and I am aware of the potential risk, both to myself and the people I will be operating with." She was contrite, "about this job Sir, obviously for the duration of the situation regarding Steel I will be concentrating on that, do I take it that you want a schedule for my return to normal duties?"

  "No, because you will not be returning to normal duties when this is resolved."

  "Oh," Surprisingly, the response came from Langhers, who was a split second ahead of Josie, who said. "Then what are you proposing I do?"

  "You continue with the work you are about to begin."

  Josie finished eating and began to stack her crockery neatly to one side. "Humour me, I must be a bit thick this morning, I know it's probably the lack of sleep, but what work is that?"

  "I'm offering you a new job. I need the services of a personal assistant and I would like you to take it on. It's a pretty obvious choice really. "

  "So why the sudden change of heart?" She asked.

  "Basically, you’ve been doing the job for a while, even I’ve noticed that I seem to look for you when I want something done, not a word against the rest of the clerical and admin team, but you have a way of working that I can get along with. So, what do you say? Are you interested?"

  "Yes, why not, I'll give it a try. Were you planning on a probationary period, or is it straight into the deep end with no hope of rescue?"

  "Deep end, my girl, straight in at the deep end."

  "Typical," she said, "does nothing ever change. Ah well, I'd better get this new schedule sorted out. So I'll leave you two gentlemen to do the washing up." and left. Langhers and Jardine watched her go. "Bad move that one boss, she's barely got the job and she's chucking her weight around already." said Langhers. Jardine got up and collected the crockery. "You wash, I'll dry." He said.

  Langhers grabbed a handful of cutlery and followed him through to the kitchen. "Sod that, stuff it in the dishwasher and we'll sort it out later. Meanwhile, I'll talk to Smithy I need to draw stores." They loaded the machine.

  "You're cleared for defensive equipment on this one and I don't want you packing anything illicit, especially the Mauser, it's too distinctive. If you have to plug anyone with that there could be too many questions asked."

  "I get the drift."

  "Defensive only OK?"

  "Got it boss defensive only." He said and slammed the door of the dishwasher. Jardine set the programme and switched it on and they left the lodge for the walk back to the Grange. The latch on the door dropped with a clunk as Jardine closed the door.

  The two men found the Grange a hive of activity as the guests mingled with the team running the vehicle section and they were ushered into the drawing room for a final briefing. Then they would start a four-hour session chewing up the landscape, concentrating on a particularly well-churned muddy bit. The vehicle section leader, Frank Brown detached himself from the crowd and headed for Langhers, who excused himself from Jardine and met him halfway. "Morning Frank, what's the crack?"

  "Hiya Kurt, we're waiting for you." Frank enquired.

  "Can't do it, the boss wants me somewhere else you'll have to add my brief to yours. The word is that Steel's been found and he's injured. The boss wants Josie and me in Scotland, hanging around in the locality ready to move him to a place of safety. I'm just off to see Smithy for some tools to do the job." Langhers explained.

  "Oh bugger, sorry, I mean, no, that's good news. It's shit that, oh bollocks. I am glad they've found Steel, but I could do with a bit more warning before you hand me the whole lot on a plate."

  "Couldn't we all mate, don’t have the luxury. Relax, I trust you to do a good job and you've got a pretty decent team around you."

  Brown stuffed a clipboard under his arm and rummaged through his pocket for a pencil and finding it, jotted a note on the top of the paper clipped to the board. "How public is the information regarding Steel?"

  "Keep it to yourself for now, I want a mark one eyeball confirmation before we tell everybody and we should have that by midnight tonight, or first thing tomorrow morning. As soon as I have I'll get word back to you and the lads. For now, let them know we have a sighting and it looks good. In the meantime, give the guests a good run this morning and if you've got time this afternoon, either extend the time on the vehicles, or see how they feel about a rematch of yesterday's action. If they say yes, play it straight, but don't worry too much if they do better than you think."

  "Are you suggesting we throw a fight?"

  "Piss off; I'm just saying they might not be the push over you think. They showed promise last time. They have learned a thing or two and they have good team cohesion which they had when they arrived."

  "Yes, they do they’re a bunch I can work with. The team's already there, we're not trying to do the impossible in a week-end," he reached out a hand and Langhers took it, they shook hands briefly. "Good luck Kurt, take care of yourself and bring that miserable bastard back. Bring him back in pieces if need be, then we'll have a party and get him totally blathered."

  "I’m sure he'll appreciate the gesture, but he might hate you for it the morning after." Kurt Langhers grinned and put a hand on Frank Brown's shoulder. "Just look after things 'til I get back, then we'll get our heads together."

  Brown grinned. "OK, sounds good. I'll see you later. By the way, Smithy's trogging" he said and turned away to follow the stragglers into the drawing room. Langhers waited until the space at the foot of the grand staircase had cleared before he slipped down the passageway to the left of the stairs and opened a door in the panelling. It wasn't a secret door, the handle on the wooden panel was a give-away, but it was listed as one of the few areas in the Grange restricted to staff. The door swung shut behind him, returned by a spring and he started down the worn stone steps into the cellars. The lights were already on, which meant that someone was down here already. Langhers was unaware of the Grange running anything clandestine at the moment, so he reckoned it would be the Smith and that saved him the job of tracking him down in the far reaches of the Grange or across the estate. The steps ended at a door of dark oak planks, on the surface it matched the description on any number of the doors you would find filling the doorways around the Grange; only when it swung open at the electronic command from inside, responding to Langhers’ buzz and a perusal by the CCTV behind armoured glass high on the wall, was it possible to see any substantial difference. The door had been very carefully dismantled and rebuilt around a half-inch thick steel plate. It wouldn't survive a determined assault, but it would slow things down long enough for those on the other side to mount a reasonable defence. Langhers leaned on the door as it swung open and stepped inside. He was in Smithy’s domain, Light Engineering and Armaments Department, LEAD for short. This was his workshop, an underground lair where he spent so much time he was occasionally dubbed the troglodyte or Trog for short. The door returned to the closed position by a hydraulic piston. The light inside the room was hard; the brittle white light of fluorescent tubing and Langhers stood and took in the sight. What had once been the wine cellar and cold rooms of the Grange had become an arsenal. A diverse collection of weapons and the bits and pieces that
made the waging of a small war a viable possibility filled the room and a second doorway, further under the Grange led through to a small firing range. The reinforcing of the door had been carried out in conjunction with extensive soundproofing. The range could be used while life went on as normal above ground level, even at the dead of night, a particular favourite of Langhers. He had interrupted a live firing session. "Oh it's you Kurt." George Smith pulled off his protective goggles, tousling his thick dark hair. Bright grey eyes peered at the world through small tortoise-shell spectacles that somehow managed to remain in place no matter how roughly he dragged the protective goggles away from his face. Clean-shaven cheeks came to point at a chin hidden behind a small goatee. It was a face more suited to wandering the reverential silence of a great cathedral or art gallery than down here in the hellish din and stink of gunfire. Langhers wondered if that was how he spent his spare time, on the rare occasion he allowed himself away from his troglodyte existence in the cellars of the Grange. To George Smith the engineering that went into firearms was a form of art, arguing that the level of workmanship and construction that went into a well-made rifle or machine pistol if applied to the average motor car would make it a damn sight more reliable. The weapon he carried was basic, solidly built and looked like it meant business. "Yes, it's me and what the devil is that?" he asked.

  Smithy hefted the gun and beamed. "Technically the American M3 sub-machine gun, affectionately known as a Grease Gun and if you pull off the magazine you can probably see why, it does resemble the big grease guns used in garages, world war two vintage. The American answer to the Sten. Forty-five calibre, simple construction, very robust. Not the most accurate weapon ever made, but handy for house clearance. Lob a grenade in, step back and wait for the bang, then stick that end through the doorway, squeeze the trigger and wave it about a bit."

  "Not defensive then?" Asked Langhers with an air of disappointment.

  Smithy shook his head, "Sorry Kurt, definitely not, very offensive. This really will ruin somebody's day and probably the rest of the week as well."

  "Pity, the boss has cleared for defensive only and I need to draw gear for three people."

  "Defensive case for three, small arms, probably 9mm with extra magazines. Maximum one hundred and fifty rounds."

  "Browning High Power, with holsters, any chance of a silencer or two, maybe three."

  "Is that really a defensive option?"

  "Shall we agree on discreet rather than defensive, less noise, less attention and we all know that too much noise is going to attract the wrong sort of attention, so a degree of discretion would be useful, wouldn't it?"

  Smithy sighed, "You’ve got a point, but I’m not entirely convinced, but leave it with me and how do you want to transport them?"

  Langhers thought about it, "A couple of the grey pelican cases, GRP body, O ring seal, watertight to ten metres, bleed valve for air travel."

  "I know what a Pelican case is like. Do you want the cameras as well?"

  "Yes, one surface, one underwater." Langhers said.

  "Two cases, three small arms, ammunition and holsters, spare magazines, two camera systems. I'll put you a Nikonos five in, but watch it, careful with the door seal. The O ring is the part likely to fail. Strip it down and dry it as often as you can. If the Nik Five does flood and you don't deal with it, the electronics will screw up."

  "I'm not actually intending to use it; I just need a bloody cover for the arsenal."

  "Come back in twenty minutes," Smithy told him.

  "OK, let me out will you." Langhers replied. George Smith put his hand in his pocket and fumbled with a remote control. There was a soft hiss as the piston retracted into the wall pulling the door open. Langhers stepped through and climbed the steps back to the ground floor. He carried on up the grand staircase to his room on the second floor where he dragged a hold-all from the bottom of his wardrobe, pulled open cupboards and drawers and began throwing clothes on to the bed. Smart, scruff, ordinary and dark, just in case life started to get interesting, in the Chinese sense of the word. Ten minutes later, he had packed and he stripped for the shower. Five minutes under the spray with a vigorous rub down to follow and at the end of ten more minutes he was dressing again in black jeans, dark navy polo shirt and lightweight walking boots of a slate grey colour. He picked up his jacket, a mint green Windcheater and laid it between the handles of his holdall. Then put away everything he didn't need and as an after-thought lifted a packed a day-sack from the bottom of the wardrobe. Langhers carried the bags down to the hall, dropped them outside Jardine's office and went in search of Josie. They would have to sort out a bag for Steel, most of his stuff had been returned to the Grange and whatever he had arrived at hospital in wouldn't be fit to look at if he'd been in it for any length of time. Langhers found Josie in her room adding the finishing touches to her own packing and said he was going to pack a bag for Steel. "Sounds good, have you packed a day-sack as well?" She asked, pulling her own from the corner of the room. "Yes, what about one for Steel."

  "No, he'll get plenty of exercise if he needs it, one of us can carry for him, but we may not have time for leisure."

  "Who said anything about leisure activities, I'm just hoping we don't have to take to the hills."

  Josie, dressed in stone-washed denim with brown walking shoes, moved her bags to the door. She checked that the room was tidy ushered Langhers out, "You go and sort out some gear for him and I'll go down and see what transport is available. If we're lucky it will be reasonably comfortable.”

  "OK, I'll see you later, I've put my stuff down by Jardine's office, I'll see you there with Steel's gear and then we'll go down and see Smithy. He's putting some insurance together for us."

  "Do we really need it?"

  "I'd sooner have it and not use it."

  "How long do you think we'll be out?" Josie wondered aloud.

  "No idea, but I have to think worst case, if everything goes wrong and we come up against strong opposition fairly soon and it becomes persistent."

  "Sounds like you're expecting a small war." She said quietly and they parted; Langhers headed for Steel's rooms while Josie dragged her luggage downstairs. The room had a strange cold air. Steel’s bags were still beside the bed. The rucksack had toppled sideways and leaned drunkenly against his diving bag. Langhers realised that although he wasn't packing the belongings of a dead man, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of rummaging through his friend's personal effects. He set to work, heaving the rucksack on to the bed and opening the flap. Dump what looks worn and chuck it in the wash, then replace like with like from the drawers and wardrobe and the job was done in less than ten minutes, then he slung the pack over one shoulder and went downstairs. Josie was waiting in the hall, jangling the keys to a vehicle in her hand as she leaned against the panelling. "All we need now is to sort out the insurance," she called up the stairs to him. Langhers added the rucksack to the pile by the door and led the way to Smithy's lair. The range was quiet and the smell of spent ammunition had faded, filtered by the air conditioning. Smithy had finished his work and the cases lay on the table with their lids open and the top layer of foam padding lifted out revealing the cutaway sections holding the handguns, ammunition and accessories. Langhers counted only two. "Mm, nice BAPs,” He muttered and glanced sideways out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction from Josie.”

  She leaned forward and looked into the case. “Browning automatic pistols,” She spotted the acronym and the ignored his attempt at smutty innuendo. Smithy smiled.

  Kurt ignored him and remarked. “One missing Smithy, I asked for three."

  "Not missing at all, you're carrying it."

  "No I'm not. I haven't got it yet." Langhers protested.

  "You will be. Jardine wants you to anticipate trouble from the word go. When you leave here, whichever of you is not designated driver, will be riding shotgun." he explained and handed a shoulder holster to Langhers. Josie grumbled. "Err, how c
ome he gets the gun, like what's with the automatic assumption that I'm driving first."

  "Anything else would be ungentlemanly,” said Smithy, his eyes twinkling behind the tortoise-shell rims. "So please don't get all feminist on me, you're much too attractive for that."

  "Sweet talking chauvinist bastard." Muttered Josie and picked one of the Browning’s from the foam nest in the case and checked it over, weighing the weapon in her hands. She slipped the magazine from the butt, laid it aside and began to work the slide, checking the movement slid freely. Satisfied, she replaced the magazine and slipped on the safety catch before she put it to bed again. "Are you sure that's wise?" Said Smithy. She picked up the next layer of foam, with its sections cut out for camera body and lenses. "Wise, best practice, may be, may be not, but I don't want to be scrabbling for the magazine. It goes in loaded and it stays loaded, that second may be vital for me, him, or anyone else who happens to be in the vicinity."

  Smithy nodded. "OK, fine, remember it’s a single action model, so you’ll have to snap the slide or cock the hammer first. Just don't shoot yourself in the foot." he said as she tucked the Nikon and its parts into the foam. Langhers was doing the same with the other case, handling the orange-bodied underwater camera and flash unit with an easy familiarity. He had managed a couple of good shots with this beast in the past, one or two of them were hanging in the drawing room and bar of the Grange as well as in his own quarters. He slammed the lids down, pressed home the O ring seal and thumbed in the catches. Smithy handed over a couple of padlocks. Josie took one and slipped it into her back pocket. Langhers locked the case with the unloaded Browning in, it would be easy to identify anyway, both cases were plastered with stickers, the underwater camera box advertising various dive holiday destinations and the Nikon surface camera with air show and squadron badges. That box remained unlocked. Langhers would position it somewhere close at hand in the vehicle where it could be reached quickly. "Smithy, have you got a carrier bag for this?" He said, hefting the third gun, "can't really walk through the middle of the guests waving this around, now can I." Smithy reluctantly agreed and rummaged in a drawer. He came up with a cloth cash bag from the bank. "That'll have to do; you could always get them to put the money in it."

  "Thank you Smithy, we'll bear that in mind. Now, please open the door, we've got a long way to go." Said Josie, the game was afoot, as somebody once said and she was eager to be about it. Smithy thumbed his remote again and the door swung open, Josie hefted the unlocked case and made a move with Langhers close behind, they were almost through when Smithy called out. "Be careful and bring everything back. “Kurt gave him a wave as the door began to swing shut and followed Josie up the stairs and straight out of the door to the car. He nodded his approval when he saw the 4.6 litre Range Rover HSE parked outside. "And what exactly did you have to do to get this?" He asked. Josie smiled, unlocked the door and lobbed the case on to the seat behind the driver. "Not telling, if I tell you all my secrets they won't work if I have to use them on you."

  Langhers grinned broadly. "Oh, they'll work, doesn't matter how many times you tell me what they are, they'll work. I'll make sure of that.”

  She came over all business like, "We can discuss this later, or we can simply forget you said that. I like you, a lot, but let's leave it at that." and left him standing by the car while she went inside for the rest of the luggage. He slipped the locked case into the foot-well of the rear seat and followed her. Jardine came out to meet them as they finished loading the rear of the car and Langhers locked the tailgate. "I've had cook make up a cool box and there's a couple of Thermos flasks of coffee too, one black, one white, both with sugar."

  "Thanks boss, that’s very much appreciated.”

  "That’s OK; Ring me when you get settled. Use your documentation from here, especially you Josie. The Staff Nurse will probably be useful to talk to; we need to know everything we can. As a named contact you shouldn't have any trouble, if you do, call me and I'll see what can be sorted out from here."

  Langhers nodded. "So we meet Charlie in the Forth of Lorne tonight."

  "Yes and don't be late, once they've called time up there they can clear the place pretty smoothly and have it closed in next to no time."

  "I thought they didn't worry too much about that sort of thing?"

  Langhers remarked. "That's on the islands; it can be a different story in the towns." Josie had settled behind the wheel and turned the key before Langhers finished speaking; the engine kicked over and growled as she blipped the throttle. Langhers got in, slammed the door and belted up. "What are we looking at, nine, possibly ten hours?"

  "Could be," She said, "unless the traffic is lighter than usual. We have motorway to Glasgow, then A roads and they can be single track with passing places."

  "Which route, Callander or Loch Lomond?"

  "Not decided yet, but probably Loch Lomond, it’s a bit more direct," Josie clicked the transmission into drive and slipped the hand brake, gave Jardine a wave and eased the car down the drive. "Two hours on two hours off?" She suggested.

  "Or the nearest services to two hours, sounds reasonable, wake me up ten minutes before we change and we'll have a ten minute stop on change-over." Langhers agreed, eased his seat back and settled down. Josie swung the car out of the gate and turned its nose down the lane for Oxford, she planned to pick up the main roads on the outskirts of the city and then go for the motorway.

  *****

  Chapter Nine