Pierre and I had agreed that, even although I was back in circulation again, it was highly unlikely that there would be any more danger.

I had done what I thought was right. Purdy was gone. Dewar would assume I was gone too and, when he did find out that I had survived, he no longer had a reason to get rid of me because AIM was definitively in other hands now and he would just have to get used to the idea that he had lost a neat source of revenue.

We did agree, however, just to be on the safe side, that now that I was back, Mike and Doug would keep an eye on Dewar for a week or so. Mike was happy to do so as he would then be in Edinburgh while Sophie was there.

Sophie would do a good job for Ian and I would help him in any way I could if he needed it. Pierre and I could now perhaps plan that trip round Scotland that we had talked about.

On Tuesday afternoon I got a call from Ian to tell me that Sophie had arrived the day before and that he was most impressed with her. He had introduced her to all the staff and she was now hard at work.

“There is one other thing, Bob, which might interest you.”

“What’s that?” “Well you told me to keep my eye on Firkin, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and . . .?” “It so happens that I can’t anymore. He’s resigned.” “What do you mean – resigned?” “He came in to see me this morning and explained how he had worked very closely with Purdy and, now that he had left the company, he didn’t want to stay on. He regretted it but was leaving with immediate effect – he and a guy called MacLean who works with him. They both cleared off at lunchtime, which, according to their contract, they could. I just thought I’d let you know.”

“What does this guy MacLean look like? Big, muscles, crew-cut?”

“Yes. Do you know him?” “I think so – and thanks for the information.” I wished him luck and hung up. Firkin and No Name (MacLean) had immediately resigned the day after Sophie arrived to audit their IT systems? In the back of my mind I had suspected that they were the two who had grabbed me out of my garden and, if I was right, I didn’t much like the idea of them being on the loose again.

I felt I was back in a mist again, not knowing in which direction to go. The last time I had, thank God, picked the right direction. Maggie had told me afterwards that any other direction would have left me walking twice as far before I came to any civilization. This mist was pretty thick so I sat down to think it out with a good stiff whisky.

I still thought Purdy incapable of the mountain operation and I was sure it was Dewar who was behind it. If that was the case, and if Firkin and MacLean had done the kidnapping and dumping, it must have been on Dewar’s orders. Therefore they were working for him. Perhaps he had planted them in AIM to keep an eye on Purdy. That seemed to make sense.

Conclusion: warn Mike and Doug to watch out for any meeting between these two and Dewar. I phoned Mike straight away and gave him a brief description of the two. He was to let me know if he saw any meeting taking place and, if there was one, to try and get a sense of the relationship between the three.

Over the last three years I had gradually got used to being on my own. I had slid gently into a rhythm of life which I thought suited me. The last five weeks had completely upset that, but I realised that I had enjoyed it. Apart from the obvious danger I had gone through, there had been a purpose – a certain excitement. Sitting there, thinking back to my life before Pierre had knocked on my door, I realised that things had been a bit empty. Even the house felt, all of a sudden, empty. My thoughts drifted to the quieter, calmer part of the last few weeks – Maggie.

When I had gone back to return the trainers she had definitely been glad to see me – and had said so. We had spent two totally comfortable days together, happy in each other’s company. We had walked in the hills. We had explored each other’s histories, likes, dislikes and experiences. It had been a haven of peace without any hint of pressure or tension. On parting I think we both knew that we would see each other again.

There was a long way to go before anything more permanent might happen but already I was wondering how it would be like being a couple again. Maybe my house did need a woman in it. Liz had never lived here so there would be no ghosts.

Suddenly I wanted to make a move.

Sophie was doing her audit. Pierre had gone back to France for a couple of days. Mike was watching Dewar. There was nothing to keep me here.

I decided that I was going to do something about it. I heaved myself up from my chair, washed up my glass in the kitchen and went straight upstairs to pack a bag. Why sit being morose when I don’t have to be? I said to myself. With the house safely locked up, I knocked on Mrs. Clarke’s door to tell her I was going away for a few days, threw my bag into the back of the car and hit the road north.

When I arrived Maggie was as welcoming as I had hoped she would be.

Unlike the last time, there were a few guests in the hotel but that didn’t matter. They were mostly hikers or elderly couples, all of whom tended to go early to bed so we had our evenings together. I did a lot of walking which did my back no end of good. The hotel had a good stock of books and I was able to do a bit of motoring around in the glens and the mountains, appreciating the breath-taking scenery and the wildness and beauty of it all.

Saturday came round all too quickly. I had promised to check in with Mike to see how Sophie’s week had gone and to hear about his tracking of Dewar.

“Sophie’s week went fine. Ian McLeish was very pleased and he told her he would give you a call next week to let you know the reaction of the Board.”

“And Dewar?” I asked. “Disappeared,” said Mike. “Haven’t seen him since Thursday, so I reckon he’s gone off to Spain. I suppose he’ll be back but it looks like you don’t have anything to worry about anymore. And I haven’t seen the two guys you told me about.”

“Great. I’ll be back down tomorrow and, if you want, Sophie can take us out for a good meal on the fees she got from AIM. I think Pierre is due back tomorrow as well.”

Mike agreed and we hung up. Saturday evening there were no guests. Maggie and I had the place to ourselves. She rustled up a magnificent meal and we shared an excellent Burgundy. The night was one of gentle love-making – completely satisfying for both of us – and we drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. How great it was to be able to give pleasure to someone again, I thought as my eyelids closed, Maggie’s gentle breathing ruffling the hairs on my chest as she snuggled up against me.

We were up fairly early and, after a good Sunday breakfast I volunteered to walk down to the village shop to get the Sunday paper. It was a fresh day and the cloudless sky promised a sunny morning. The sun was still low in the sky, creating strong light and shadow on the hillsides.

I picked up the newspaper, put it under my arm and strolled back up the village street to the hotel where I knew a cup of coffee would be waiting.

We sat down in the lounge and, as usual, I started with the sports section, handing the rest of the paper to Maggie. I had got as far as the first few football reports when Maggie looked up.

“Bob, have you seen this?”

“What?” “They’ve found a walker’s body up in the Cairngorms.” “Thank goodness that wasn’t me,” I said. “It could have been, if you remember.”

She handed it over to me to read. The headline read ‘Man’s body found in Cairngorms’. Underneath the headlines was a head and shoulders photograph of a man in his early fifties looking seriously at the camera. I started to read the article and stopped suddenly after five lines, stunned.

“Bloody hell,” I cried. “What’s up? Do you know the man?” asked Maggie. “Not personally. I’ve never seen him before but I know who he is.”