others followed. ‘Orkney,’ I replied. ‘The last thing anyone thought, me included, was that she’d have been taken north, but she was. She’s been moored in a marina since the day after she was taken, renamed, as you’ll see from the boards that were covering her original markings. They called her MV Revenge. Appropriate, because that’s what it was.’
‘How did you get her back?’ Rory asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I drove her back,’ I replied. ‘Well, to be honest, the other guy did most of the driving.’
‘What other guy?’
‘One of the two who borrowed her in the first place.’
‘Who stole her, you mean,’ Eden murmured.
‘No,’ I replied, ‘I mean it. They borrowed her; that’s what it’s going to say on the completed police file, and on the report to your insurers.’
He frowned. ‘I’m not getting this.’
‘You will,’ I assured him. ‘Here,’ I exclaimed, ‘do you fancy testing her out, just to satisfy yourself that she’s okay? My friends here have been working their buns off dealing with the aftermath of her disappearance. They deserve a wee bonus.’
‘I suppose I owe you that much,’ he conceded.
That much, and my fee for finding the thing, I thought.
‘Excellent.’ I jumped on board. ‘Join me, everyone.’
‘Really!’ Rachel complained to her husband. ‘Do we have to?’
‘Just a short trip,’ he said, ‘a run out into the Gareloch and back.’
She scowled. ‘You all go, then. I’ll stay here.’
‘Aw come on, Rachel,’ I called from the control deck, ‘don’t be a wuss! The fridge is rebooted and the champagne’s cold.’
She threw me an icy look, but mounted the short gangplank and came on board. Everyone else followed, with varying degrees of enthusiasm; Dan Provan and Sammy Pye were positively reluctant.
I went through the start-up procedure as David Gates had shown me, then pressed the remote that raised the sea gate. Having appointed myself captain, I told Rory to cast off.
Gates had reversed her in when we had returned from our two-day journey down the west coast of Scotland, so leaving the dock was easy. I edged her away from the shore, very slowly, then opened the throttle a little, steering her between the buoys and out into the sea channel, wondering idly what I’d do if a Trident sub surfaced suddenly beneath us.
‘Are you a sailor, Sammy?’ I heard Sauce Haddock ask. ‘You must be, since you’re so fond of North Berwick. How about you, Dan?’
I glanced round at the wee DS, and thought I detected a faint green pallor in his complexion. I couldn’t hear Pye’s reply, but I can lip-read ‘Fuck off’ well enough.
I didn’t go much further, only a few hundred yards, until we were clear of any other Saturday-morning sailors. When I was satisfied it was safe, I cut the engines and pressed a button to drop the anchor, then waited until we were solidly moored.
‘We don’t want to sit here, Bob,’ Eden warned. ‘It’ll get cold pretty quickly.’
‘I know,’ I said, ‘but we need to talk. We parted on bad terms last week, and that needs to be sorted, if only to get Sir Andrew Martin off DCC McGuire’s back. Let’s go down one.’
Rachel had taken my unsubtle hint about the champagne. On the lower deck a tray waited for us with nine blue plastic flutes, each half filled. She distributed them without a word or a smile.
‘Cheer up, Mum,’ Rory pleaded. ‘This is a celebration, of sorts.’
I contradicted him. ‘Oh no, it isn’t. Your family has this boat back, but at some price. Isn’t that right, Eden?’
He nodded. ‘Yes. But I repeat, I knew nothing about any of it.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Finally I’m satisfied that Walter Hurrell wasn’t operating under your orders.’
‘Walter wasn’t what?’ Rory exclaimed.
I let his question lie; instead I put one to him. ‘Do you remember Callum Sullivan’s party?’
‘His divorce celebration? Of course; only too well, but how did you know about it?’
‘Through DCI Pye and DS Haddock,’ I told him. ‘They had it from Sullivan. You remember it because there was a bit of a stooshie, and you were in the middle of it.’
His face reddened. ‘Don’t remind me.’
But I did. ‘You’d had a few, and you came on to a girl. I’m guessing this part, but I’m pretty sure I’m right. Her name was Anna . . .’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he interrupted. ‘I never found out.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you did,’ I conceded. ‘But you recognised her, for you’d seen her before, dancing on the bar in tassels and a G-string in