Ken McClure - The Anvil

‘Consider it done.’

MacLean knew that he had drunk a great deal of whisky over the course of the evening but still felt stone cold sober. It told him something about the state of his nerves if he could burn off alcohol that quickly. He opened the door of the bedroom Leavey had told him was his and stopped on the threshold. It was like stepping into a different world. The room was decorated in traditional Japanese style and had a Futon in place of a bed in the middle of the floor. He was surrounded on all sides by Japanese screen-walling, depicting scenes from long ago while Japanese lanterns provided subdued lighting.

MacLean removed his shoes and proceeded to examine his surroundings. He found the control panel for the lighting in the room and with it some extra knobs with a musical symbol beside them. He pressed one and the room was filled with the soft tinkle of oriental music and a background sound of running water. The room was an escape from reality, which MacLean acknowledged with admiration for its creator. He undressed and sat cross-legged on the futon to look at the charcoal drawings on the screen walling.

Weeping cherry trees reminded of him of his promise to Tansy in the hospital garden, not that he needed reminding. It had become his raison d’etre. In front of him a Samurai warrior reminded him of Leavey himself, not physically, but in spirit. Leavey had that enigmatic inner strength which defied definition and went beyond bravery. He knew that he could trust Nick with his life but he also knew that he could never get close to him. No one could.

MacFarlane was very different, being as open as the day was long. He was a generous man with a big heart and a stubborn streak; in many ways he personified Glasgow. He took Leavey’s word for it that Willie was as skilled as he said he was and, if that was so, MacLean decided that he could not wish for two better companions for what lay ahead.

The next panel of screen-wall showed a vase with three flowers arranged in classical Ikebana style; Ten, Chi, Jin. Jutte had once explained to him the significance of the configuration. The longer he examined the flowers the more he imagined that Chi and Jin were intermingling as if life was returning to the earth. It unnerved him. He’d experienced the same feeling in Geneva when he’d sabotaged the car and watched three men die. He had taken an irrevocable step and nothing could ever be the same again. He’d crossed his own personal Rubicon and there could be no going back, just a relentless ongoing test of strength and courage ahead of him until an end was achieved. He looked back to the Samurai and could have sworn that he saw a smile on his face… or maybe the whisky was having an effect after all. He fell asleep.

‘It’s years since I was last in Edinburgh,’ said MacFarlane as they walked up the steep hill out of Waverley Station and into the sunlight on Princes Street. ‘I must have been fourteen at the time. I remember I was with a girl called Karen, my first real love. We came to Edinburgh for the day, which is about as much as any true Glaswegian can stand of the place. We climbed that.’ MacLean pointed to the Gothic spire of the Scott Monument, towering up out of Princes Street Gardens.

Leavey said, ‘I didn’t realise you had an interest in Scottish architecture Willie?’

‘I haven’t,’ said MacFarlane. ‘I thought I might get a flash of her knickers if she went up the steps first.’

‘And did you?’ asked Leavey with a smile.

‘It was too dark, damn it.’

Tansy served roast beef for dinner. MacLean knew that she had been nervous about meeting Leavey and MacFarlane but watched her warm to them as the evening progressed. MacFarlane in particular was an asset to the party with his easy-going nature and lack of self-consciousness. His determination to be on his best behaviour and be mindful of his language in Tansy’s presence made his stories sound even funnier.

When Tansy went to the kitchen to make coffee MacLean joined her leaving Leavey and MacFarlane to pursue some obscure argument. He put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her hair. ‘All right?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Tansy. ‘They’re nice people.’

‘Then what’s troubling you?’ asked MacLean, keeping his arms around her and nuzzling her hair.

‘I… Oh it’s nothing,’ said Tansy.

‘Tell me,’ insisted MacLean.

‘I keep wanting to thank them,’ said Tansy, ‘But I can’t find the words and it makes me feel so awful. I should be able to say what I feel, especially now, but I can’t. I just can’t.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ said MacLean. ‘They understand.’

‘No,’ insisted Tansy. ‘There’s more to it than that. I keep making comparisons between these men out there and the people I used to consider were my friends, the Nigels and Marjories of this world. My kind of people. How could I have been so wrong?’ Tansy turned to face MacLean. Her eyes showed bewilderment. ‘Nigel and Marjorie made me feel so beholden to them over a few nights bed and breakfast while these two men are going off to risk their lives for my daughter with no more fuss than if I had asked them to change a tap washer! Help me; I just don’t understand.’

MacLean smiled. ‘There’s no great mystery. You’ve just made the same discovery I did after I went to work on the rigs. There’s a basic goodness in ordinary people which most of us in our own sheltered, prejudiced little worlds never even suspect, let alone see. Some might suggest it only comes into its own when evil is around. Don’t worry about it. You’ve just become one of the privileged few. You’ve seen the light.’

Tansy said softly, ‘Thank you Sean MacLean. I’m so glad I met you.’

MacLean kissed her gently on the lips and said, ‘And I you, my lady.’

Tansy used a piece of kitchen roll to dab at her eyes and said, ‘I got the flight information you asked for.’

‘Good,’ said MacLean.

‘Looks like Monday or Tuesday.’

MacLean had the advantage of knowing the Lehman Steiner building from the inside. He drew a map from memory and pleased MacFarlane when he added the underground car park. ‘That’s our best bet for entry,’ he said. ‘I can go to work on the staff elevator.’

‘I think we have to face the fact that most of the Personnel files will be on computer discs not lying about in filing cabinets,’ said Nick Leavey.

‘That’s no problem unless they are protected,’ said MacFarlane.

‘Protected?’ asked Leavey.

‘Password access,’ said MacFarlane.

‘I think we can safely assume that any file connected with X14 will be protected,’ said MacLean.

‘Then we’ll need the passwords.’

‘Won’t they be kept in people’s heads?’ asked Leavey.

MacFarlane said not. ‘Big companies insist on all passwords being written down and stored somewhere safe. It gives employees too much power if individuals have sole access to company files. If they fall out with the management they might refuse access to their superiors.’

‘Blackmail,’ said Leavey.

‘Or even if a code holder falls under a bus it could mean lots of valuable data lost for ever,’ said MacFarlane.

‘So where would a company keep these code words?’ asked MacLean.

‘In a company safe,’ said MacFarlane.

MacLean could not help with the location of a safe in Personnel.

‘We’ll find it,’ said Leavey.

Leavey quizzed MacLean about his last trip to Geneva, asking whether or not he could be sure that his ‘Keith Nielsen’ alias was still safe. MacLean had to admit that there was no way he could be absolutely certain but the fact that he had successfully left Switzerland using that name suggested that it was still okay.