The Castle and The Redhead (Pt. 5)
Setting: an island off the west coast of Scotland.
Here are: Part 1: Part 2 Pt: 3 Pt: 4
Superintendent Jacobson began the news conference to the assembled media journalists at 10:00 am on Friday.
“Good morning. During the early hours of Tuesday morning last, Rachel McDermot escaped from Jordonhill’s Women’s Prison, where she was being held in connection with the murder of her husband, Ralph McDermot.
On Wednesday evening, the Inverness Police received a report of a stolen car. When officers responded, they found the stolen car abandoned at the harbor. Our detectives identified the fingerprints found in the vehicle were those of Rachel McDermot.
It was further reported that a fishing boat had been stolen from the harbor late Friday afternoon. That same evening, we were alerted that a fishing vessel was sighted after a distress flare was observed around 7 pm. The first responder, another fishing boat, reported the fishing boat had sunk.
We cannot yet confirm that the distressed vessel was the one stolen. Pieces of the vessel found floating were charred, suggesting that this vessel had caught fire before sinking. Rachel McDermot has not been identified or confirmed as having been on the stolen vessel. No other person or persons were found in the waters.
That is all I have for you at this time. I will answer your questions when we have more information.”
Several reporters tried pushing their questions at the departing Superintendent, who ignored their calls for answers.
When MacAlistair walked into the breakfast room, several guests, including the violinist Veronica Stafford, were already enjoying breakfast. There was no sign of Aline or Blair Campbell, the missing person.
“Good morning, everyone, excuse me for being late,” he said in a lively, sunny tone. Throughout breakfast, more guests arrived, and the conversation around the table was light and playful.
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When Aline entered, she looked at her brother, shook her head subtly, and sat next to Veronica, who MacAlistair had just heaped praise on for her playing.
Before everyone had finished breakfast, Broderick and Turney were subtly signaling MacAlistair that they wanted a private conversation. MacAlistair suggested the three have coffee on the terrace.
“Thomas, I’ll not hide the fact I’m interested in funding the acquisition of Aeromart Airlines. The talk is about how their suppliers resolve matters involving late payments for aircraft parts and manufacturing issues. The company is spinning out of Aeromart as part of a cost-cutting drive.
The government is due to review the airline’s maintenance records after pilots have complained about a spate of quality issues to the chief executive.
I think this is an excellent time to begin talks about a takeover. Acquiring Aeromart would further strengthen your push for more routes, serve the interests of your customers and employees, and bring forward an opportunity to go public.
The whispers are out there, so I assume you have leaked your interest to the media. It is being reported that your airlines, commercial, and cargo have a combined worth of more than $4.2bn,” Broderick said, tipping the last of the coffee down his throat.
Turney added another fact: “Aeromart employs more than 7,600 people around the world, including about 3,400 in Belfast and 1,120 in Prestwick. We are definitely interested in financing the acquisition, should you choose to proceed, but Thomas, strike while the iron is hot.”
The three men returned to the breakfast room. Most of the guests had left and were packing to leave the island.
Aline approached MacAlistair, asking for a word. Broderick and Turney shook MacAlistair’s hand and left the room.
“We’ve searched everywhere. She is not here, Thomas. What do you suggest?”
“Aline, let’s not get anxious. There’s an innocent explanation. Let me get everyone aboard the helicopters. What time do they arrive?”
Aline looked at her watch. “The two H160s will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, I’ll see our guests off, and we’ll have a look. Have you checked around the far side of the island?”
“It’s too steep, she couldn’t… could she?”
MacAlistair shrugged.
Then Aline said, “But that wouldn’t explain the missing rowing boat, Thomas.”
At two minutes to 10.00 am, the H160s came thundering into view, mythical rotary machines one could imagine. MacAlistair watched their approach, remembering his early days flying. Being a military pilot had taught him a great lesson. It’s far more dangerous to fly too low than too high because it feels safe to fly low. Low expectations create small dreams and guarantee us less than we can achieve. The mountain climber knows when outside the safety zone feels uncomfortable and stops — and lives to climb another day. But what was higher, he’ll always wonder. MacAlistair had learned that a deeper personal connection to oneself lies in going higher.
Within two minutes, the helicopters settled safely from his private Augusta 109.
As the rotors slowed, Gibbings, who had been trained by MacAliStair, escorted the departing guests in groups of two, first to one helicopter and then to the second.
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Five minutes later, the aircraft ascended into the sky, buffeting the gardens and shivering the shrubs.
Tomorrow: Where the hell is Blair Campbell. Aline is convinced she’s drowned.
Part 6: Below
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