Ken McClure - The Anvil

‘Well done!’ said Carla and Fernanda burst into tears. She was comforted by the others as they made their way up the tunnel.

When MacLean, supporting Leavey, arrived at the head of the tunnel with the girls they found the door open and the boiler house deserted. The panic of the fleeing guards and the uncertainty and rumour about the size of the invading force had spread to the Hacienda. A muffled explosion followed by a deep rumbling sound behind them said that someone in the Hacienda had decided to obliterate as much evidence of the X14 project as possible. They emerged into the night air to see the flashing lights of police vehicles winding their way up the mountain road.

MacLean put Leavey down gently and took Carla to one side. He explained that he did not want to wait around for official questions and explanations. He had pressing business elsewhere. ‘I want you to look after Nick for me,’ he said. ‘See that he gets to a hospital. Jose and Maria will help and I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.’

‘I understand,’ said Carla. ‘And thank you.’

MacLean knelt down beside Leavey and said, ‘I’m going to leave you this time old son, but you’ll be OK. Carla will see that you get to a hospital.’

Leavey who was just managing to hold on to consciousness smiled and said weakly, ‘You fix that kid’s face… you hear?’

‘You bet,’ said MacLean. ‘We’ll have a drink when you get back. He clasped Leavey’s hand tightly to convey his thanks for all that had gone before and with a final nod to Carla he was gone.

MacLean made his way back down the mountain using the route that he and Leavey had used for the ascent. High above him, the Hacienda was ablaze with light and above that the sky was lit with a dull red glow from the fires in the secret valley. It was still red when he edged the Erinia out of the marina and said a silent farewell to the friends he had left behind. He turned his back on the high Sierra and started heading west, hugging the shoreline but staying far enough out to be invisible from land. His plan was to follow the outline of the coast until he reached Gibraltar.

He used the intervening time going through the papers he’d taken from Von Jonek’s office, separating out anything that seemed relevant to techniques used for the X14 project. When he was satisfied that he had extracted everything he took the sheaf of papers on deck and started tearing them into shreds. He scattered the confetti on to the sea. With luck no one would ever be able to repeat the experiments of the Hacienda Yunque. He realised that it would mean the end for Cytogerm too, just in case anyone ever got the same idea as Von Jonek. God willing, Carrie would be the last person to receive Cytogerm surgery. He thought of Tansy and Carrie as the wind got up and spray swept over the bow to catch his face as the lights of the Spanish coast slid slowly by on his right.

Convincing the British authorities in Gibraltar that he was who he said he was proved no easier for MacLean than he had imagined but the assault on the Hacienda had brought him too close to physical and mental exhaustion to even contemplate making a bid for home on his own. He steeled himself for successive interviews with progressively more important people in the scheme of things, starting with the port authorities police and ending up with an aide to the governor named Hargreaves.

Hargreaves began by showing scepticism and MacLean understood. He had sailed into Gibraltar, having come through the night from the Costa Del Sol, the most notorious bolthole for British criminals on the run in Europe. His lucky break came when he mentioned the name of the Hacienda Yunque and found that Hargreaves had heard of it. The wife of one of his friends had come back from there looking ten years younger. He agreed finally with MacLean’s suggestion that he telephone the Spanish police in Fuengirola.

MacLean had to wait on his own while Hargreaves went off to make the call in private. There was a policeman stationed outside the door. His uniform was British bobby but his features were local.

‘It appears that there is something in what you say Doctor,’ said Hargreaves on his return. It seems that our Spanish friends are hearing much the same story from a dozen or so Spanish girls who were held captive in the Hacienda. The question now is what to do with you. You are travelling under a false passport and appear to have broken every immigration law in the book.’

MacLean said, ‘Mr Hargreaves, you have just discovered that what I have been saying is true. Would you believe one more thing?’

‘Try me,’ said Hargreaves.

‘It’s a matter of life and death that I return to the UK as quickly as possible.’

Hargreaves sucked in breath through gritted teeth and put his head to one side. ‘You are putting me in a very difficult position Doctor,’ he said.

‘I’m serious,’ said MacLean.

‘One moment,’ said Hargreaves. He left the room to return a few minutes later. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘It seems that this mess along in Mijas is going to take forever to sort out. We’ll confiscate your false passport and revoke the one under your own name for the time being but you can return to Britain. We’ll dress that leg for you and put you on an RAF flight in the morning.’

‘Thank you,’ said MacLean.

MacLean’s reunion with Tansy was long and tearful. Despite a reasonable night’s sleep, thanks to medication supplied by the doctor in Gibraltar who dressed his wounded leg, he appeared haggard and drawn and walked with difficulty.

‘God, I’m so glad you’re back,’ murmured Tansy through her tears. ‘I should never have let you go.’

‘I got it Tansy,’ whispered MacLean as he held her close. He took out the vials of Cytogerm to show her. ‘I got it.’

‘And Willie? And Nick?’

The look in MacLean’s eyes warned her of what was to come. ‘Oh no,’ she whispered.

‘It will all be over soon Tansy,’ said MacLean. ‘I promise.’

MacLean contacted his old surgical colleague, Ron Myers in Glasgow and asked for a favour. The favour was that he not ask questions when he requested that Myers book operating facilities at a private clinic and an anaesthetist for the next available date when Myers was free. It turned out to be two days hence.

‘Who is operating, you or me?’ asked Myers.

‘You,’ replied MacLean. ‘I’ll assist.’

‘But surely I need to know… ‘ began Myers.

‘Trust me,’ said MacLean. ‘You will know everything you need to know before you start.’

‘All right,’ agreed Myers doubtfully. ‘But this is pushing friendship to the limit.’

With Carrie safely installed in the private clinic on the eve of her operation, MacLean sat up late; he had arrived at the last hurdle. A close examination of Carrie’s skin had revealed no likely blemishes that Cytogerm might trigger but there was no way that he could be absolutely sure. He was under great stress and it showed on his face. Booze would have helped but he couldn’t risk it. He wanted to be more alert in theatre in the morning than he’d ever been in his life.

Tansy got up to join him saying that she couldn’t sleep either. She stood behind him and kneaded her fingers into his shoulders in an effort to help him relax. Her eyes kept moving to a pair of envelopes lying on the mantelpiece. She had been wondering when to show them to MacLean. She decided that it might as well be now. She gave the envelopes to him and said, ‘Nick and Willie said I was to give you these if they didn’t return. I was to open them myself if none of you came back.’

MacLean opened the envelope with Willie’s name on it and brought out the last will and testament of William David MacFarlane. In the event of his death, everything he possessed was to go to Sean MacLean or, in the event of his death too, to Mrs Tania Nielsen and her daughter, Carrie. MacLean looked to the window. Dawn was breaking. He handed the paper to Tansy who dissolved into tears.