Dan saw the distinctive badge above the grill of the car, its nose just visible at the far side of the Seascape van. As he watched, a hugely overweight man with a head like a turnip and dressed in a billowing blue serge overcoat appeared from the back of the van and walked slowly along its side, casting a furtive glance into the cab as he passed by.

“Is that the owner of the car?” Dan asked.

Ronnie stepped forward and glanced out the window. “Aye, that’s Maxwell Borthwick, our self-styled Robin Hood of the Highlands.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He’s all for taking from the rich and giving to the poor, excepting that he’s got his wires a wee bit crossed over what he’s trying to achieve.”

“Which is?”

Ronnie twisted his mouth into a wry smile. “To put it in a nutshell, he would be a happy man if he were to be given credit for ridding this land of all those who spoke with anything other than a Scots accent.”

Dan grimaced. “In other words, he wouldn’t be very pleased to meet me.”

“Oh, he’d like to meet you all right. He knows all about you, but I’m thinking that we won’t give him the pleasure. He’s a dangerous man, that Maxwell Borthwick. Like all quasi politicians, he has friends in all the wrong places, and his number one enemy just happens to be Patrick Trenchard.”

“How did that come about?”

“Patrick had a head-to-head with him once during a political discussion on the local radio station and he succeeded in leaving the man spluttering for answers. Unfortunately for Maxwell, the programme was heard by a journalist who wrote a scathing report on the man’s inability for debate. It was printed in most of the national newspapers the following day. Now, Maxwell is the type of man who doesn’t take kindly to being made to look a fool. He’d certainly like to get his pound of flesh off Patrick.” Ronnie pulled back from the window. “Right, that’s him away now. I don’t know where he’s headed off to, but hopefully, it will give you time to get loaded up and away out of here before he finds out that it was you who was driving the van.” He opened the door of the café and jumped down to the ground without using the step. “I’d better be getting myself off to Lochgilphead.” He pointed to a large shed two hundred yards away at the town end of the quay. “If you take the van round the back of that shed there and ask for Tommy, he’ll get you loaded up. He’s expecting you. And take care going in through the gate. It’s awful narrow.”