Chapter 13: First Responders

Monday Twenty-third December, 2019

11.09GMT Call received by the emergency operator on the 999 service from a mobile phone reporting the abduction of Alison Galbraith, seventeen, and Kate Ogilvie, twenty, by Robert Janes in a seaplane from Lochan Glas, Argyle and Bute. The vehicle used was sufficiently unusual to capture the immediate attention of Police Scotland to whom the call was relayed.

There was an initial problem with the location and enquiries were channelled first to Lochgilphead. The emergency call was made by Fergus Galbraith, father of the younger of the victims but he handed the phone to Elaine Archibald, and it was she who gave the police an accurate location of the scene of the crime.

Jenny and Elaine, alerted by Jon’s response, were making their way down the track from the ridge as quickly as the slippery conditions allowed. This proved to be something of a blessing for they were high enough to see the seaplane turn south along the length of the Rosneath peninsula and to watch it turn west until it went out of sight beyond Helensburgh. Jon and I, down at water level could see nothing after the plane cleared the ridge.

The first few minutes after we realised what had happened were very confused. Elaine was the coolest of us, but she quickly became angry at what appeared to be the wilful obtuseness of the first police officer she spoke to on the phone. Even now, I find it hard to excuse his inability to grasp the simplest facts. Jon had fallen to his knees and was wailing and rocking back and forward; Jenny knelt in front of him and folded him in her arms.

It was that, I think, that brought me out of my frozen disbelief: I could come to terms later with what had happened but, for the present, I had to be clear-headed to prevent further catastrophe. Elaine was beginning to shout at the officer on the other end of the phone, so I took the receiver from her.

“Who’s in charge?” I asked, pleased that my voice was under control.

“Just a minute, I have Inspector Maitland on the other line.”

There were a series of clicks and then an educated voice with the trace of a highland accent, spoke to me. He asked who I was and then invited me to tell the story from the beginning. I told him everything including Jenny’s sighting of the plane heading towards Loch Lomond; I told him of the fight between Rob and Anya and gave the inspector her telephone number. I think I asked him what he was going to do about things.

“I’ve alerted air traffic control, Scotland although he’s probably out of their sight if he’s flying amongst the hills. The satellite people will check their latest pictures but it’s unlikely they will have anything useful. I’m waiting for the police helicopter and I’m trying to organise an aerial search; the plane has to land somewhere, and it shouldn’t be too hard to spot when it does.”

“For God’s sake be careful. Don’t provoke him.”

“Do you think he might be violent, Sir?”

“I don’t know him well enough to guess but Anya says he’s not and she’s known him since she was fourteen.”

He asked about next of kin and reluctantly agreed to let me call Rachel, although he asked for an hour so he could have a policewoman at her door when she was given the news. That sound advice was a timely reminder to me of the care I must take in this situation. He sounded calm and very confident, repeating that a seaplane would be easy to spot, and they had highly-trained negotiators to talk to Rob. He asked how much life was left in the battery of my phone; another thing I would have forgotten to check. I gave him the numbers for Elaine, Jenny and Jon. He then handed his phone to Detective Constable Forsyth who would keep the line open until Maitland arrived in the chopper.

There was a massive lump of lead in my stomach, and I was struggling to force my mind to concentrate on purely practical matters. but I must admit that I was heartened by the ten minutes or so I had been talking to the inspector. I became aware that Jenny was back on her feet and was trying to lift Jon, with some help from Elaine.

Keeping my phone open in one hand, I hauled him upright and carried most of his weight as we returned to the farmhouse. Without discussion, we made for the kitchen where Jenny put on soup to heat and boiled a kettle for tea. I told them all what Maitland had said, and Elaine crouched in front of Jon repeating what I said a word at a time and forcing him to acknowledge that he had heard us.

12.48GMT The sound of an aero engine caused my heart to flutter for a moment, until I realised that it was the police helicopter and not the seaplane that had made the noise. Inspector Maitland was dressed in slacks with a chunky sweater showing under a police parka; I had pictured him as tall and solidly built, the image of his reassuring voice, but he is slim and no more than five foot ten.

He was just as impressive in the flesh as on the phone. He had brought with him a police doctor who took charge of Jon. I explained the relationships amongst the four of us and our connections to the missing girls. He accepted a bowl of soup from Elaine, telling her and Jenny that he was optimistic about the case although he admitted that they had no sightings so far. He had talked to Anya and would be flying off to interview her when he was finished with us. He took a call from someone before turning to me to tell me it was time to phone my ex-wife.

Before I could move the doctor put his head round the door asking who the young man was who was chatting to the helicopter pilot.

“Oh my God! That’s my son and I had forgotten all about him!”

I rushed out to find Don – Doh - standing chatting to a man in flying overalls.

“Are you Ok dad? Of course you’re not. Patrick’s been telling me all about it.”

He was doing a pretty good job of putting a brave face on things. My instinct was to hug him, but I stopped myself: I decided that it was important to leave him with his pride in his reaction to the appalling news.

“Patrick says they’ll find Ali soon. You can’t hide a seaplane very easily. Do you know where Jon is?”

I became aware that I was still standing in the porch of the farmhouse but Doh was now right in front of me nearly a hundred feet from the helicopter. His question about Jon nudged my brain into motion but I still could not move my limbs.

“Jon took it really badly. The doctor gave him something.”

“He’s upstairs in his own bed and the younger lady is with him,” the doctor added, having joined me in the porch.

Doh asked if he could go to see his friend and scuttled off when I nodded.

“I can’t believe that I forgot all about my own son.”

“I’m relieved that you did,” the doctor laughed. “I was getting concerned that you were too controlled, but you were just focused on the important problem. I’m Iain, by the way, and that’s Jim,” he added, pointing to Inspector Maitland.

I remembered that I had to call Rachel, but she phoned me before I could act.

“Is everything Ok up there, Fergus? I’ve got a police car at my door. What the hell have you done now?”

“Nobody’s hurt, Rachel but Alison has gone off with Kate. I’ve really screwed up and I need you here - they’ve been kidnapped.” I was fighting hard to keep the tears out of my voice.

There was a long silence, with noises in the background indicating that there was someone else in the house.

“The police are here. I’ll pack a bag and get there as fast as I can. You must be desperate but hold on until I get there.”

“I thought you would curse me.”

“How’s Donnie?”

“I forgot all about him for hours but he’s doing really well. He’s with Jon who’s having a bad time.”

“I must go, Gus. We’re going straight to Heathrow. I wish I had come with the kids yesterday.”

I added ‘me too’ but she had already put the phone down.

Doh hated to be called ‘Donnie’, making it very clear when he was about five. I thought, fondly, that it was typical of Rachel to cherish the forbidden name to use in a moment of crisis. It was like a timely reminder to me that he is still a little boy.

“Things are going to be all right, you know,” Iain told me. “Your daughter isn’t going to fold. I’ve seen you and your son, and I’ve heard your wife; Alison will handle whatever is thrown at her. Tell me about the other girl, Kate.”

I explained that she and Jon were orphaned as babies and that the bond between them was particularly strong. Iain drew the whole story from me, and I even mentioned that she and Ali had not been particularly close.

“Two girls competing for a single father, if you ask me,” Jim Maitland suggested.

Without seeming to listen, he had not missed a single word or gesture.

Was that the reason for the animosity between the girls? It was possible but it only mattered if it would make their captivity more difficult. Would they sink their differences and work together for the common good?

“I’m going up to the ridge to collect the painting gear,” I told the doctor and the policeman. “I need a minute or two alone to think.”

“I need a few more words with you and I want to be away to talk to Anya very soon. I’ll walk with you, and we can chat when you’re ready.”

My thoughts were tumbling as Jim and I worked together to collect the paints, canvases and chairs left behind when the abduction took place. I was delighted and very relieved that Rachel was being so supportive; I knew there was nothing either of us could do but I would feel more confident with her beside me. Then I tried to be as objective as possible about the girls, finally deciding that they would bond and help each other to endure the ordeal. After all, I thought, I like them both and see similarities between them so perhaps they will come together in adversity.

I was ready to talk to Jim, when my phone rang giving Hugh McLean as the caller’s name. The inspector unashamedly leaned over my shoulder to see the identity. I explained that Hugh had been gathering information about the people associated with the Retreat and he asked if I would authorise disclosure of what Hugh had discovered to the police. He was clearly familiar with my friend and, I guessed, respected his work.

The inspector proved incapable of walking, talking and carrying simultaneously so I carried the painting paraphernalia back to Chalet 1 while he talked to Hugh. It was only after I returned to the house that he handed me my phone so I could hear my friend’s offer of assistance. There was very little he, or indeed any of us, could do but I promised to call him day or night if there was anything I needed.

13.54GMT The police pilot announced that this was the last possible minute that the seaplane could remain in the air. An air search had already begun with fixed wing aircraft and helicopters checking every body of water on which a float plane could land. I was not convinced that the authorities had the logic worked out: it seemed to me that Rob could have landed in one place, moving to another location after an hour or so.

Jim Maitland told me not to let my imagination run away with me as he climbed into his chopper for the flight to Loch Dochard and the interview with Anya. Left to myself, I started to think at the edge of the box; I have made my living by finding solutions other people disregarded. It was clear that the police had a well-considered routine that had swung into action; I had neither the resources nor the experience to contribute to that well planned operation. My only value was to consider the unconsidered – to think the unthinkable.

I was aware that a great deal was happening, but I only discovered how much, long after the event. I imagined all the emergency services in Scotland being involved but I had no idea that help was already pouring in from all over the world. Hugh had learned about the abduction from Jerome Mason who had been called by Anya; he spread the word to everyone who had any connection with either Kate or Alison; they in turn spread the word, so by early on the afternoon of Twenty-third December, half the people of Scotland had pledged their help, as I discovered a few hours later.

Eddie was in the kitchen with Heather and Dandy when Jim Maitland left and they catered for all of us from then on, including the police officers who set up an operations base. When, at half past two, I decided to make a dash to Glasgow, Eddie insisted on driving me, telling me in no uncertain terms that I would be a menace to other road users. Elaine and Jenny took care of Jon and Doh throughout the emergency.

It was Elaine who insisted that I ate something, and I sat in solitary state in the bar with a bowl of soup thinking hard. When I finished, I went up and looked into Jon’s room; he was asleep in his own bed looking pale but calm; Doh was on the other single bed, which he had claimed as his own, also asleep but he was snuggled into Jenny with his head resting on her breast. She turned her head when I entered the room and smiled at me. I smiled back and left the room easing the door closed behind me. Seeing her comforting my son lifted an enormous burden from my shoulders: I knew with absolute certainty that I could put his welfare out of my mind until we had his sister back.

Anya called me while Inspector Maitland talked to Hector and Shona. She repeated that Rob was no physical danger to the girls. I did not altogether believe her, but it was a comforting thought to hold on to. She was telling me that Hector was trying to remember places he and Rob had visited in their youth, when I recalled that she had said something about a gold mine.

“Och that’s just nonsense, Fergus. Olaf used to wind Rob up by telling him he had found a cave where you could pick up nuggets from the sand beneath your feet. He had one or two wee bits of gold about the size of a pea that he used to show them, but he told me he found them in a burn when he was fishing.”

“Are there any caves near Loch Dochard?”

“Aye, there’s one or two but there’s no gold in them. Don’t get your hopes up on that score, Fergus.”

It took me about five seconds after she broke the connection, to decide that practically no hope is better than no hope at all. I phoned Hugh and asked him if he knew a mineralogist.

“I know a geologist, as a matter of fact. She’s a member of my sky-diving club and she teaches in Glasgow University.”

“Would she talk to me about gold mines, do you think?”

He did not even ask what was in my mind before arranging a meeting with Doctor Elspeth Reid for as soon as I could get to her father’s house where they were having a family party. Eddie drove me to the Victorian mansion in the Prof’s Quadrangle at Glasgow University. Dr Reid’s father is emeritus professor of geology, and he has kept his home alongside the chancellor and other important members of the senate.

Elspeth Reid was dressed in mini-skirt and a chunky sweater, and it was hard to picture her casting her dainty figure out of an aircraft with nothing but a parachute between her and destruction. I have no idea what a skydiver should look like but it was definitely not like Elspeth. There again, I found that I could not imagine Hugh jumping from an aeroplane.

She was scathing about gold mines in the area north of Loch Dochard. It is true that there is a viable mine near Crianlarich but that geological formation runs too many miles south of the area I was interested in. I was ready to give up and find another rainbow to chase, when her father came through to find out what was going on. Elspeth told him the story very fairly, I thought, without disclosing her conclusions.

“No chance of a gold mine,” he answered almost without thought. “Too far north, and the wrong geological structure.”

“Some nuggets have been found in the area,” I tentatively suggested.

“Any caves?” the old man asked, while his daughter made a sort of ‘oh father’ gesture behind his back.

I told him there were and he asked me if I knew how gold formed. When I admitted my complete ignorance, he gave me a brief lecture. I am sure that he skipped a great deal, and I certainly was less than totally attentive but he did make it clear that gold is dense and pretty well indestructible. It remains when other minerals have weathered or formed chemical compounds, it settles to the bottom of anything it lands in.

In the gold rush camps, the miners collected sediment from riverbeds and washed away the lighter material in shallow dishes leaving the gold in the bottom of the pan. Highland downpours can carry gold a long way from its source and nuggets are sometimes found at a distance from gold-bearing rock.

“I have a theory,” the old man twinkled. “My daughter thinks it shows softening of the brain, and I will admit that I have no evidence.”

His idea is that a natural cave could act as a massive gold pan; floods would carry silt into the cave, the gold would settle to the bottom and the lighter material would be flushed out by the next flood. He has a reputation, apparently, as a bit of a joker and his daughter thought that the golden caves were simply a story to wind her up. He was called back in to his guests and Elspeth showed us out, apologising for her father’s ill-timed humour.