Кит Мори - Flotsam and Jetsam

The emporium van passed and once he had passed through the swarm he looked round at the retreating van. Then a couple of bars of a hornpipe rang out as the van horn was pumped.

Torquil grinned. ‘Those blasted midges, Crusoe. That would be an inglorious end for us, ending up under the wheels of Alec Anderson’s van.’

Crusoe barked, then whimpered and started biting at his fur.

‘Have you taken a few stray midges on board?’ Torquil asked. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give the Bullet a burst on the next straight bit. That’ll soon get rid of them.’

And with that he let the machine fly, much to Crusoe’s pleasure and bark of obvious relief.

Morag put the phone down and felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She was not sure that she could believe what she had just heard.

‘It is not possible! I’d better tell Torquil.’

But before she did that she felt a hollow feeling expand within her and she felt the need, a desperate need, to talk to Sandy.

She phoned his mobile and waited. The phone was picked up after several rings and she heard his voice.

‘Sandy, thank goodness. Listen I—’

‘… in a moment you will be connected to the voice mail of—’

With a grunt of exasperation she pressed the cancel button.

‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’ she moaned. She was about to phone Torquil then thought better of it.

‘Damn! I wish one of the others was here.’ She glanced at her watch and considered calling Ewan or the twins and bringing them back to look after the station. Then she made her decision. She locked up, grabbed the station’s Escort car keys and let herself out of the back door.

Calum and Cora had arrived at the luxury rented cottage on Calum’s old yellow Lambretta. Calum had grinned all the way there at the warm feeling that having Cora’s arms about his middle had given him.

You are a fool, Calum Steele; part of his mind had castigated himself. But she’s a bonny lassie and she’s lovely, another part protested.

And just to make him grin even more, from time to time he felt the grip tighten and he felt her face pressing against his back.

Be professional, Calum you numbskull! Later, you can ask her out.

He felt himself bristle when he turned off the engine and Wee Hughie appeared at the door. He came across the gravel to meet them, smiling broadly at Cora and ignoring him.

‘I’m glad that you rang us, Cora,’ Wee Hughie said. ‘I wasn’t sure what we were planning to do today. There’s been a bit of a problem here.’

‘What sort of problem?’ Calum interjected, as he pulled off his helmet.

‘A bit of a bust up between the boss and McNab. The bloke doesn’t seem to know which side his bread is buttered.’

‘What do you mean? Has Bruce McNab been dismissed?’

‘He sacked us, more like,’ returned Wee Hughie with a grin. ‘The boss is fair annoyed. People don’t talk to him like that.’

Cora smiled at Wee Hughie and Calum noticed how the big man melted. He could understand exactly how he felt, but it peeved him nonetheless.

‘Could we come in and talk to Mr Farquarson?’ Cora asked.

Wee Hughie laughed. ‘And here was me thinking that you had come to talk to me! Of course you can. And then maybe later you and I could—’

‘Actually, I think that Cora is going to be busy all day after we finish here,’ Calum said quickly.

Wee Hughie glared at him. ‘You’d better follow me then.’

And they followed him into the cottage and found Dan Farquarson busily texting someone on a Blackberry.

‘Dan,’ said Calum, ingratiatingly. ‘Thanks for letting us have a few minutes.’ He looked about the room. ‘Er – where’s Sandy?’

‘I thought you wanted to speak to me, not Sandy,’ Dan Farquarson asked without looking up from his Blackberry.

‘Oh aye, it’s you, Dan. For a feature in the Chronicle .’

‘No feature!’

‘Sorry?’ Calum returned.

‘I said, no feature. You can ask a few questions, but here are the rules first.’ He pressed the send button on his phone then flicked it closed and looked up. ‘You are the editor of the local rag, right? I am a Dundee businessman. I am here with my associate and with my good friend Sandy King. Those are facts. The first rule is you don’t leap to any conclusions. We are here on a hunting holiday, not on any kind of business trip.’

‘Of course, Dan,’ Calum began. ‘I wasn’t suggesting that—’

Dan Farquarson smiled; a smile without any warmth whatsoever. ‘Of course you weren’t. You have already had an interview with Sandy King. The second rule is that there must be no adverse publicity. Nothing! Understand?’

Calum nodded emphatically. ‘Totally understand, Dan. I just wanted—’

‘You just wanted to stick your nose in and make some sort of connection, didn’t you? You and your girlie here.’ He nodded at Wee Hughie. ‘Show him what we do to nosy-parkers, Hughie.’

Wee Hughie stared at his boss and then at Calum. Then at Cora. With a shrug he stood up and took a pace towards Calum.

‘Just you sit down, Hughie!’ said Cora, shooting to her feet. ‘What do you think you are doing listening to a windbag like that? He’s just a big bully and he’s using you, can’t you see that?’

‘Sit down, girlie!’ Dan Farquarson snapped.

‘Oh shut up, fatso,’ Cora returned. ‘We are not frightened of you. We are journalists. Calum Steele is the finest local paper editor in Scotland and he’s not frightened of you and your big bank roll, wherever it came from.’ She looked at Calum for support. ‘You’re not scared of the likes of him, are you, Calum?’

Calum stood and drew himself up to his full five foot six inches and puffed out his chest. ‘Not a bit of it, Cora. And this little conversation has just confirmed all that we needed to know. Read the paper tomorrow, Farquarson, and sue me if you dare.’

‘Hughie!’ Farquarson screeched. ‘Don’t just stand there.’

But Wee Hughie just looked at his boss and despite himself he tossed back his head and roared with laughter. ‘She’s right. You are just a windbag. And you’ve even been sacked by your gillie today. Well, let me make it three. I’ve sacked you, too. You can find someone else to do your dirty work. I’m going off with my friends here. They can have all the information they want.’

The Dundee businessman huffed and puffed and then slumped down in his chair.

Wee Hughie walked outside with them.

‘Cora, you are fantastic!’ he said.

Cora started to tremble and Calum immediately put a protective arm about her shoulder before Wee Hughie could act. ‘Aye, you were. And I am proud of you, lass. Dead proud.’

Wee Hughie shrugged as he saw the loving look she bestowed on Calum.

‘Do you want me to follow you into town for a wee chat about Farquarson? I’ve been meaning to kick the old fart into touch for a while now. It’s not the sort of work my old mother would like to see me doing.’

The sound of a car crunching up the gravel made them all turn. The West Uist police force’s Ford Escort pulled up beside them and Morag Driscoll leaned out of the window.

‘I need to speak to Sandy King,’ she said, addressing all three of them.

‘He’s not here,’ Wee Hughie volunteered. ‘I’m not sure where he is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had gone to sort things out with Bruce McNab.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ muttered Morag. ‘Thanks,’ she called, shoving the car into reverse and speeding back up the gravel drive.

Bruce McNab sat in his kitchen staring out of the window with a bottle by his side and his shotgun cradled over his knees. He had been drinking since cock crow. It was not something he normally did, but his spirits had sunk pretty low over the past few days. Farquarson’s party had been an increasing irritation, what with them showing up as and when it suited them rather than as arranged. After his second drink he had phoned Farquarson and told him what he could do with his party!