To the Death

He returned to the city center and parked the Audi in the open-air lot, close to the castle. He walked back to the Cavendish and waited for Shakira to find him in his room.

Two hours later, she arrived and flopped down on the bed, exhausted. “I was told they were short of staff on the twelfth floor,” she said. “But I didn’t know they were that short. I’ve made about a thousand beds, with only one other girl. I didn’t even get a turn on the vacuum cleaner.”

Ravi laughed and kissed her. And then he said, with great seriousness, “Shakira, time may be running out for us. I have two plans, both of them highly dangerous. Right now I need to attend to the details, and then try to formulate an escape route. There are several tasks you must complete.”

And then, somewhat darkly, he added, “In the end, it may be up to you.”

It was 4:30 P.M. now, and Shakira had to report to room service. “I won’t see you until ten o’clock,” she said. “Where will you go now?”

“I’m going to the Mosque for evening prayers,” he said. “These are difficult days, and I need a guiding light. And there is only one light.”

1600 Monday 6 August Inveraray

A third police car pulled into the MacLeans’ drive, and a detective sergeant disembarked, holding what looked like dry cleaning, three plastic-covered hangers containing police clothing — dark blue trousers, royal blue sweater with insignia, two white shirts, blue tie, and a bright yellow rain jacket. In his left hand, the sergeant carried a white plastic bag containing shoes, leather belt, and peaked uniform cap with its badge and familiar black-and-white checked headband.

He walked to the door and told Angus they were for Commander Rick Hunter. Ten minutes later, the U.S. Naval officer walked out disguised as a Lothian and Borders police constable.

He carried with him his rifle, in the holder that made it look like fishing rods, and his traveling bag. He waved a brief good-bye to everyone in the household and climbed into the police car. Sir Iain stepped out to see him off and called, “See you tomorrow, Rick.”

The police driver pulled out onto the main road and set off on the hundred-mile drive to Edinburgh. The helicopter was considered too ostentatious for an operation as clandestine as this.

They arrived at the Cavendish Hotel a little after 7 P.M., and Rick spoke briefly to the receptionist, who summoned a porter to escort him to the sixteenth floor. The police car waited right outside the main door.

Rick checked his watch, and walked with the porter along to room 168, a large double bedroom that had an open connecting door to the biggest suite in the hotel. This was situated on the corner of the building and was composed of two large bedrooms with bathrooms, and a substantial drawing room suitable for entertaining sixteen people. This was the room that led into Commander Hunter’s bedroom. It formed what could be, at any time, a three-bedroom suite, suitable for visiting royalty and heads of state, with personal staff and protection.

The porter asked Rick if he would be needing him further, but Edinburgh’s newest policeman declined and handed over a £10 tip, which the porter thought was not too bad, for a policeman.

Rick wandered through the rooms, wondering which bedroom he should allocate to Arnold and Kathy, and which to Sir Iain and Annie. The five of them were very much on first-name terms by now, the Scottish aristocrats having long accepted Rick as one of their own — educated, multimillionaire horse breeder, and perfectly mannered naval officer.

It had been agreed that he alone would decide who slept where, since he alone carried the ultimate responsibility to ensure that no one murdered Arnold Morgan. On this, his initial recce, he checked that the windows were fastened, checked the door locks, and checked that the phone lines were all working.

Then he called down to inform the desk that no staff was allowed anywhere near the big suite without his express permission and his personal attendance. That included maids, the housekeeper, room service, and anyone else who might wish to attend the two admirals and their wives when they arrived the following day.

He put his rifle in the wardrobe, hung up his jacket and civilian trousers, and placed the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door handles out in the corridor. Then he placed his Sig Sauer service revolver in his belt, took the elevator down, and climbed into the back of the police car.

“Over to the castle, sir?” asked the driver.

“Thank you,” said Rick. “Main entrance.”

The opening ceremony at 9 P.M. was still an hour away when Rick arrived, but the crowds were already gathering to watch the stirring massed pipers and drummers of the most revered Scottish regiments march down the Esplanade. Rick was rather looking forward to it.