Donnie was an old family friend. He’d served with Cameron over many years in the Marines, both rising through the ranks together. He was a legendary character: joined at sixteen, fought in the Falklands War, highly decorated, and eventually commissioned as a helicopter pilot. He’d stayed in the Corp for over thirty years, retiring a couple of years previously when he managed to get employment with Bristow Group in Inverness as a search-and-rescue pilot. It was a perfect home-from-home for Donnie, as almost all the pilots and crew were ex-Navy or RAF. He lived close by Cameron and Shona and they remained good friends, often going out on the hills and fishing together. He was also a big character who didn’t suffer fools gladly but would do anything for Cameron and Tom.

‘Listen, Donnie, I don’t have time to explain. I’m on my way up now and will be at Inverness airport in about forty-five minutes. Please tell me you’re on duty?’

‘Certainly am, mate: on all night. What’s going on?’

‘For reasons I don’t want to go into right now, I urgently need a lift up to the bothy as soon as I land. It is, quite literally, a matter of life-and-death. Can you help?’

‘Possibly, son. But I’ll need a little more than that.’

‘It’s to do with Cam and Shona and it’s urgent—as in life-and-death urgent—and I can’t call it in officially or it will all go bad. I’ll explain as much as I can once I get there. Can you trust me that much at least?’

‘Tom, I trust you, of course, and I owe Cameron everything. I’ll meet you off the plane; what flight are you on?’

‘It won’t be on the flight list. It’s a standard RAF business jet: I think it’s an HS215. It will be there in about forty minutes.’

‘Jesus, are you on a private jet now? I’m intrigued. I’ll meet you there.’

Bill looked quizzically at Tom, one eyebrow raised slightly.

‘I seem to be calling in a lot of favours at the moment.’

Bill reached behind him and pulled out a plain, matte black, vulcanised Pelican case. ‘Shall I brief you on the tactical package Mike asked me to leave you with?’

‘Please do.’

Bill snapped the case open, revealing that it was inlaid with dense foam with cut-outs storing various items. Bill reached inside and pulled out a short machine pistol.

‘Heckler and Koch MP7 personal defence weapon, telescopic stock, folding front-hand grip. It has 4.6 x 30mm ammunition, and this one has an Armasight NYX 3 third generation night-scope with eight-times magnification. Are you familiar with this weapon?’ Bill was clipped and business-like in his delivery.

Tom nodded. ‘I used it in the military but not with this sight.’