The Lethal Target(12)

‘My future’s here,’ said Robbie firmly. ‘This is my home. If you can make a living here, so can I.’

‘There’s always tourism,’ said Lauren.

‘And archaeologists.’ Jake grinned.

Robbie scowled, not amused.

‘Come on, Robbie,’ said Dougie. ‘We’d better get on with this before the paint starts to dry. Have a good day, Miss Cooper. Nice to meet you, Mr Wells.’

Dougie and Robbie turned back to their painting, and Jake and Lauren continued their walk along the shore.

‘Well, what do you think?’ whispered Lauren. ‘D’you think Dougie’s a Watcher?’

‘With the small number of residents on this island, especially those with a long ancestry here, that makes sense to me,’ agreed Jake.





Chapter 8



That evening, Jake and Lauren found themselves comfortable seats in the small bar area, and were just toasting one another with drinks, when a short but stocky man came over to them, holding a drink in his hand. Jake saw that he walked with a slight limp. This must be Muir, thought Jake. The mysterious American.

It was confirmed as the man gave them a smile of greeting, and said to Jake in an American accent: ‘Hi, I’m Ian Muir. You must be Jake. Miss Cooper said you were coming. Do you mind if I join you?’

‘Not at all,’ said Jake, gesturing at the empty chair.

‘Can I get you folks a drink?’ asked Muir.

Jake and Lauren shook their heads.

‘We’re fine, thanks, Mr Muir,’ said Lauren.

‘Ian, please,’ said Muir.

He put his own glass down on the table, and made himself comfortable in the chair.

‘Some island, huh?’ he asked.

‘It certainly is,’ agreed Jake.

Muir took a sip of his drink, then said: ‘I saw you talking to our Russian friends at their dig today. You interested in archaeology as well, Jake?’

‘I certainly am,’ said Jake.

‘Mind, if you ask me, the Russians are lucky to be able to just turn up and dig like that. No red tape, no form-filling, just get right on with it.’

‘I’m sure it’s not that simple,’ said Lauren. ‘I expect they had to make submissions before they could dig, just like anyone else.’

‘I hear what you say.’ Muir nodded. ‘But I bet you they got their permissions faster and easier than most. And with less restrictions. Look at that fence they’ve put up, for one thing! What an eyesore! On a beautiful place like this!’

Jake smiled at Lauren. Muir was echoing her own sentiments about the dig.

‘But then the system here in Scotland’s still pretty feudal,’ continued Muir. ‘Throw the local laird enough money, and you can do pretty much anything. Providing you grease a few palms of the local councillors and members of the Scottish Parliament.’

‘I get the impression you don’t have much time for the people in power locally,’ said Jake.

‘No, Jake, I don’t,’ said Muir. ‘I come back here, and it seems not a lot’s changed since the Clearances forcibly kicked out my great-great-great-grandfather and sent him off to Canada back in the 1800s.’ He obviously saw Jake’s puzzled expression, because he asked: ‘You don’t know about the Clearances? The Highlanders were evicted from their homes and sent to Canada and Australia just so the landowners could graze sheep on the land.’

‘No,’ admitted Jake.

‘You don’t know about the history of your own country?’ asked Muir accusingly.

‘I’m English,’ said Jake. ‘This is Scotland.’

‘But isn’t it all the same country?’ asked Muir. ‘The United Kingdom?’

‘That depends who you talk to,’ said Jake. ‘As far as many of the Scots and Welsh are concerned, no. Their countries are separate. Hence the independence movements.’ He frowned. ‘But I’m surprised we haven’t heard about these Clearances. Every day there seems to be some new revelation of the bad things the Imperial English did in the past to other nations. The famine in Ireland. Suppression of the Welsh. Massacres in India.’

Muir chuckled.

‘This wasn’t the English. It was the Scots doing it to themselves. Scottish landowners, the Scottish aristocracy, getting rid of Scottish peasants.’

‘Ah,’ nodded Jake in understanding, ‘that explains it.’

‘Calgary in Alberta in Canada is actually named after Calgary Bay here on Mull, because it was from that same bay that many of the ships went across the Atlantic, taking the Highlanders to their new life,’ said Muir. His expression clouded as he added, ‘Those who didn’t get on the ships voluntarily were hunted down by dogs, and then bound hand and foot and thrown on board.’