Perfect Strangers

‘Miss?’ said the guard. Sophie looked up, fully expecting someone to put their hand on her shoulder and lead her away. ‘Your passport?’ he said, holding it out for her.

‘Sorry,’ she stuttered. ‘I was miles away.’

‘Long journey, huh?’

Sophie gave a thin smile. ‘You could say that.’

And then she was gliding through customs and out into the rain. She was back, she was home. It just didn’t seem real, like she had been plucked from one place and dropped into another. The difference in temperature from Cap Ferrat, Miami – even the balmy London night – was shocking. Her thin T-shirt and jacket were no protection from the night breeze whipping down from the mountains.

‘Josh, what happened?’ she said, shivering. ‘How come we got through?’

‘Feels weird, doesn’t it?’ said Josh, taking off his jacket and draping it around her shoulders. ‘I guess Hal Stanton thought our theory about finding the missing Asner millions via a name scrawled in a file was somewhat ridiculous.’

Sophie gave a grim smile.

‘When you put it like that,’ she nodded, ‘I suppose it does sound like a wild goose chase.’

‘Exactly. So why would he waste time trying to trace your mobile or talking to foreign policemen? He probably forgot all about us the moment they pulled out of the diner car park.’

Sophie shook her head and turned her face up to the now dark sky, feeling the misty rain on her face. It felt good, actually. It felt familiar – even the taxis queuing up outside the arrivals hall smelled different from the ones in France or America; they smelled right.

‘Are you two going to stand out there in the rain all night?’

They both looked up; Lana was climbing into the passenger seat of a black Range Rover. As Josh and Sophie ran over, the driver got out and handed Josh the keys.

‘You’ll be driving, sir?’

‘I suppose so,’ said Josh, looking at Lana.

‘I have a migraine coming,’ she huffed. ‘And I can’t be expected to drive in these conditions.’

‘I wouldn’t want to be out in this either,’ said the driver, as he helped them load their bags into the back. ‘You folks going far?’

‘About forty miles north,’ said Josh, his accent noticeably stronger, ‘up towards Lairg.’

‘Over the Bonar Bridge?’ said the man. ‘You’ll be lucky if it’s open in this weather.’

As he waved them off, Lana turned to Josh, her eyes flashing.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ she ordered. ‘We’re going straight to the mountain.’

‘Look, Lana, I grew up around here,’ said Josh. ‘When the storms come, it’s like God has had a really rough night and is taking it out on us. We don’t want to be on the roads in this if we can help it.’

‘Do as I say,’ she snapped.

‘Okay,’ sighed Josh. ‘You’re the boss.’

It was slow going. Even with the windscreen wipers on full, the rain reduced visibility to about twenty yards, and more than once Josh had to swerve to avoid some debris blown into the road. By the time they had left the coast and limped inland towards the bleak and scattered stone outbuildings of Lairg, the roads were awash and they could all feel the gusting wind from the north broadsiding the car when they topped a rise.

‘Look, Lana,’ said Josh, ‘there’s a sign for Ben Grear just up ahead. But even if we make it, we’re not going to be able to see a bloody thing. I know you’re worried about the Russians getting there first, but if they’re here – and that’s a big if – they’re in the same boat.’

‘Very well,’ said Lana. ‘There is somewhere we can stay just past Lairg. We’ll start for the mountain at sunrise.’

They turned off the main road and on to a low single-track road, skirting the dark waters of Loch Shin, so wide it looked like an inland sea. Finally they pulled up at a grey stone building; from what Sophie could see, it looked like an old hunting lodge.

‘This belongs to Edward, one of Simon’s friends,’ said Lana as they got out. ‘I told him I might be stopping by. I think you’ll find it comfortable enough.’

Sophie stepped out of the car. The rain had stopped at least. Circling her shoulders to relieve knots of tension, she breathed in the cold Highland air. It was gone nine, although her body clock was telling her it was mid-afternoon. Still, she felt dog tired. Lana went round the side of the building and returned brandishing a large brass key. As she pushed it into the lock of the heavy oak door, they were met by a gush of warm air.