the glaring light of the possibility that he might be more than a mere mystery man and in fact the Mysterious One -
- Harry Keogh had become very important to her. So important that perhaps it was time B.J. took a short 'holiday.'
She had already closed the bar down and split her five girls into two teams: one pair of girls searching for Harry locally, and the second team staking-out the wine bar in its immediate vicinity to see if they could sight this watcher Harry had warned her about and discover his business with her. Which left B.J. herself and one other girl. Well, now she had somewhere to go, with or without Harry Keogh, and couldn't risk being followed. And she knew exactly how to employ the last of her girls ...
In the wee small hours of a wet and windy Sunday morning some four days before B.J. was due to hear her Master's call, she headed north. She felt sure that once she'd explained why she was early, Radu would understand her zeal in this respect.
She drove a hired car, a cheap, old, reliable but unspectacular model that wasn't likely to attract unwanted attention.
Even so, she wouldn't drive it directly from the bar but took a taxi to the home of one of her girls who had picked the car up for her. The girl lived in a northern district of the city.
It was a well-timed operation: Bonnie Jean left the taxi and paid the driver, got into the hired car and drove it away.
And in the mirror she saw the girl - one of her 'lieutenants' - following close behind in her own car. The girl wasn't just acting as a decoy; she would become a physical obstruction if B.J. should be followed. She would simply put herself and her vehicle in the way of the pursuer! But it was 2 a.m. and the weather was bad, and with the precautions B.J. had taken, she didn't think it likely that she'd be tailed.
To further bolster her confidence in that respect, there was the fact that despite all her vigilance there had been no further spying on her place as reported by Harry Keogh. So perhaps it had been a one-off sort of thing after all, a coincidence that hadn't involved her directly. Well, maybe ... but B.J. was becoming less and less inclined towards coincidences, and in any case she hadn't been willing to risk it.
And now there was only one hazard, one gauntlet left to run: the Firth of Forth bridge, the only way into or out of the city from the north. If anyone had seen her leave home, and assuming they knew she would ultimately drive north, the bridge would be the ideal place to pick up her trail.
But the bridge came and went without incident, and so did B.J.'s escort. A mile or so beyond the Firth of Forth, heading for Perth, the headlights of the car behind flashed three times in her mirror, and she knew what the signal meant: there was no one in pursuit, no one to track her to the lair in its mountain fastness. But even so her lieutenant would park at the side of the road, and wait there a good hour, recording the details of passing cars and observing what she could of their drivers.
And the rest of it was all down to Bonnie Jean Mirlu ...
Dawn found B.J. at 'a friend's house' in tiny Inverdruie; she stayed there whenever she was up this way, which of necessity meant regular quarterly visits. But Auld John was always here, as his father had been before him. John 'belonged' to her Master no less than Bonnie Jean herself, but his blood was not of the blood, and so he was merely a thrall - a watcher or sentinel - here on the approach routes to Him in His lair high in the mountains. But having been sworn to Him by moonlight, John was nevertheless his Master's true man.
B.J.'s route had taken her through Perth, Pitlochry, Kingussie and Kincraig, and finally across the Spey to Inverdruie. And as true dawn's light limned the misty horizon of the Grampians, so Auld John was there to greet the 'wee mistress,'
as he thought of her, when her car pulled into his drive. And:
'Better garage the car, John,' she told him, after a brief hug. 'I've had snoopers at my place in Edinburgh, and we cannot afford such up here.'