“You’re no’ thinking of nicking any this stuff, are you?” he asked, nodding at the prop table as he carefully stashed the imprints of the keys in his coat. Eyes gleaming, he picked up an Aladdin’s lamp and looked speculatively over the piles of brightly-coloured fake jewels and the glitter of gold-painted mirrors, vases, lamps and trays that lay strewn across the props table.
Murdo looked at Wullie and almost sighed. “No, Wullie,” he said, “no, the keys are not for that!” He shook his head. “Get real, will you! What would I be doing with this load of tat, you idiot?”
“What do you want the keys for then?” mumbled Wullie, fascinated by the exotic glitter of the props.
“When we’ve lifted the cash from the bank we can hardly walk out through Deacon Brodie’s Tavern with the loot, can we?”
Wullie looked thoughtful and Murdo persevered. “Even that load of thick-heads will suspect something if we walk through the pub carrying hefty sacks of money, don’t you think?”
Wullie looked at him in sudden understanding.
“Especially,” continued Murdo, “if they’ve heard the explosion when we blow up the vault! And they probably will hear it. The pub’s no’ that far away!”
Wullie nodded.
“But,” Murdo went on cunningly, “they’ll no’ hear the noise from away up here, will they?”
Wullie shook his head.
“So we can bring the sacks of cash up here …”
“And,” said Wullie, his brain working at last, “make our getaway through these cellars instead!”
“You’ve got it in one!” Murdo grinned, clapping him on the back. “We’ll have the keys cut tomorrow!”
16. Chasing Shadows
Margaret Grant looked at her husband across the breakfast table as Lewis got up and muttered something about just going to do a bit of work in the library.
“Did you say anything to him, Bob?” she asked her husband.
“About what?” her husband enquired, lowering the newspaper.
“Well, he seems to spend most of his time reading these days and I thought you might have been … pushing him to do a bit of work.”
Bob Grant shook his head. “I haven’t said a word to Lewis but I’m glad to see him taking an interest in something other than comics!”
“But the books he’s reading, Bob. Huge volumes on Scottish History …”
Her husband looked puzzled. “That’s certainly a big jump from comics,” he said, thoughtfully. “Good for him! Heriot’s is certainly having a positive influence on him.”
“He was talking about Rizzio’s murder the other day. He knew all about it, you know. To hear him speak, you’d have thought he’d seen it happen!”
“I didn’t read about that,” her husband turned the pages of his newspaper.
Margaret Grant raised her eyebrows. “For goodness sake, Bob, David Rizzio! In Holyrood Palace. In the days of Mary, Queen of Scots!”
“Oh! That David Rizzio,” he muttered. “Sorry, I wasn’t with you. I’ve been reading all about this Shadow chap that seems to be doing the work of half the police forces in Scotland! He rescued some children from a burning building last night.”
“He’s become quite a hero,” Margaret Grant smiled. “A lot of people owe him their lives.”
“Nevertheless, I think Sir Archibald Thompson must be getting slightly worried,” her husband said, folding his newspaper.
“Who’s he?” asked his wife.
“Sir Archie is the Chief Constable of Edinburgh,” her husband replied, “and by my reckoning, this business must be giving him quite a few sleepless nights!”
“Over the Shadow, you mean? But the Shadow is doing the country a service, Bob! Look at the lives he’s saving!”
“Superman only exists in comics, Margaret, and it isn’t really a matter of who this chap is, it’s what he is that matters! That’s what must be worrying Sir Archie!”
Bob Grant was quite right. The Chief Constable was worried and, realizing at once that the world of magic must be involved somewhere along the line, fervently wished that the MacArthurs would hurry up and come back from Turkey. At that particular moment, he’d have quite happily given up his pension for a peek into the MacArthur’s crystal ball!
The only thing he was really sure about was that the Shadow was a boy. The climbers, the policeman on the bridge and the train survivors had all said he was a young lad. And as the only young lad that Sir Archie knew who was connected to the world of magic was Neil MacLean, he voiced his suspicions to Sir James.