Scotch Mist Read Free

it to be such a massive one. I’d guess the culprits are appalled right now.’
    â€˜They’ll be more than appalled when I catch up with them,’ vowed Tom. ‘Make no mistake, what happened tonight wasn’t the result of a joke gone wrong. No trained soldier could so badly underestimate the power of explosive material.’
    Connie looked troubled. ‘What are you suggesting, sir?’
    â€˜That we’ve just witnessed a deliberate threat to human life.’
    At the riverside inn favoured by Max Rydal he was enjoying a quiet dinner with Clare Goodey, the Medical Officer at the base. They lived in adjoining apartments on the outskirts of town and had become friends during the four months following Clare’s arrival as replacement for the previous doctor. Their separate professional lives frequently crossed paths, and they also had personal interests in common, one being that they were both losers in affairs of the heart. Clare had just gone through an aggressive divorce, and Max had recently discovered that the woman he hoped to marry was irrevocably in love with his own father.
    They were not, however, commiserating as the lovelorn are wont to do. Max had that afternoon returned from the UK where he had given evidence in the trial of four bikers who had mugged a young officer before chaining him up in a disused barn and riding off. Max had traced him four days later, seriously ill and too exhausted from freeing himself to crawl to the main road for help. He was telling Clare how the accused had spun so many wild tales the Defence had thrown in the towel, advising them to plead guilty.
    â€˜A Legal Aid guy, no doubt,’ commented Clare, stripping the meat from her barbecued ribs with strong teeth. ‘And did they?’
    Max nodded. ‘With snarls and growls, against a background of loud protests from the public gallery. Half the biking fraternity were present. Unfortunately, their united hatred of the military will strengthen, and the four accused will see their punishment as a badge of macho toughness. Street cred, if you like.’
    Clare grinned with greasy lips. ‘You’re one of the biking fraternity now. Aiming for street cred?’
    He grinned back, at ease with this woman. ‘Wait until you see me in sexy leathers with a helmet revealing just my steely eyes. You’ll be scared to death.’
    â€˜You think?’ she jeered. ‘You’ve forgotten that I used to race my dad around the track when he was training. See me geared up and The Stig wouldn’t even compete.’
    Max poured more wine for them both, feeling relaxed and appreciative of Herr Blomfeld’s wisdom in dividing his expansive restaurant into small units upholstered in Volk style which allowed for more intimate meals. It suited his personality. Max disliked large noisy groups when dining. In warm weather he was quite happy to eat in the beer garden amid locals who celebrated with song and much merriment. That seemed appropriate in a large garden strung with coloured lights, where the river flowed past beyond the lawns and lovers drifted by in boats, but when winter came it seemed to him more appropriate to cosy-up in low-lit snugs. His late love had teased him by claiming his inclination was to hibernate in winter.
    He determinedly switched his thoughts to more upbeat ones of the Harley Davidson motorcycle he had splashed out on when it became clear that he would not be buying a house for himself and a new wife. Ever since his student days he had longed to emulate Steve McQueen’s dash for freedom in The Great Escape , but an early marriage that had ended with his wife’s death in a road accident had dampened the urge to be reckless. This humiliating end to his second serious love affair had revived it, so he was now regularly and robustly enjoying cross-country scrambling with a local club.
    Taking up Clare’s last comment, Max said, ‘The way you drove here