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Shona and Martin landed heavily on the floor of the storeroom. The door slammed shut behind them and orders muffled through the door, meant a guard was posted outside.
Shona’s shoulders shook. She’d been holding it in, but there was no point now. The sharpness of fear gave way to shock and anger at Davy’s murder. Her own fate still hung in the balance. Sobs came out and breathing became almost impossible.
Martin’s arm slipped around her shoulder.
“Breathe.” His deep voice, soft in her ear, and the warmth of his arm folding around her were the only soothing things in this confused and scary moment. “Deeply in.” Martin breathed, demonstrating what he meant. “And out.”
Shona took shaky breaths at first but eventually matched his breathing.
“My father will get us out of this.” He pressed his lips to her temple.
She continued the rhythmic breathing he’d started and soon was warm and safe tucked under his arm.
“How’s this going to work?” she asked.
“My father will get the money and—”
“No, I mean us.”
Martin looked at her, an eyebrow cocked. “Let’s just get out of this.”
Heavy footsteps tramped up and down the corridor. To their left, where Lloyd’s library was, the men were having a conflab. The door to the library opened and their voices got louder as the men approached the door of their storeroom-cell.
“Out!” Declan pointed a handgun at them while Lloyd walked past the now open door.
Sean stopped Shona just outside the door and tied her hands with plastic pull-ties. He did the same to Martin. Then he shoved them forward and they followed Declan’s back down the corridor to a waiting van. Lloyd was in the front seat and all the men had guns. They pushed Shona into the back and jolted her onto the floor of the van next to Martin.
What if they shot Martin’s father? Then her, and Martin? Lloyd would still get the money.
Shona turned to Martin.
“No talking!” Declan kicked Martin in the back. Martin recoiled, and his brow creased in pain.
The sky passed by Shona’s view out the side window of the van. Dark clouds patched it here and there. The shadow of trees flickered for a while then moved away. Then the road sound changed and the view at the sides became clear, like a Perspex wall. Behind this, poles and thick ropy wire rose in long modern lines. Seagulls hovered next to the road. They were on the new bridge, the Queensferry Crossing. Shona nudged Martin. He turned his gaze from the window and nodded only slightly. He’d probably guessed it too. They were on their way into Edinburgh, no doubt.
Once over the new bridge, they turned off sharply. Shona’s mouth dried, now unsure of their destination. She touched Martin with her toe and raised her eyebrows in question. He shrugged almost imperceptibly. The men in the van had remained silent the whole journey.
The road narrowed and now old stone buildings encroached her view, and the van’s motion pushed Shona about on the floor. She rolled into Martin when the van made a sharp left.
“There he is,” Lloyd said from the front seat. “Stop here. He’s got some muscle with him.”
The van’s brakes squeaked, and they pulled up.
“Stay here,” Lloyd ordered. “This man is a gentleman. I’ll deal with him.”
Martin made to move but Declan kicked him. Martin winced and stayed low.
“But my father—”
Declan leaned down and spoke firmly into Martin’s face. “Shut it.”
Shona heard Lloyd’s footsteps as he walked away a few paces. Voices reached them. Martin stiffened beside her. Had he heard his father? The van door slid open and banged.
“Up.” Declan nudged Martin.
Martin stood but refused to move. “And Shona,” he said, looking toward the front of the van. His chest heaved and he blinked rapidly. He turned back to Declan. “I’m not moving without her.”
“Martin?” A man’s voice with a well-spoken Scottish accent called from a few meters away.
“Shona has to come,” Martin said. “You’re paying for her too, right?”
“Aye. Lloyd, the lass too.” The man’s voice held authority. “That’s the deal and the money’s all there.”
Declan bent down and pulled Shona out. She stood; the glare of the grey day surprising. They were on the old stone Queensferry wharf right on the river Forth. To her right were the masts of sailboats, the boats themselves lower than the wharf due to the low tide. Ahead, on the narrow stone walkway, stood Lloyd. Beside him, a tall man with a strong likeness to Martin and greying hair, neatly styled, wore a sports jacket and a serious expression. The man held a bag which bulged and dragged on his arm. A white luxury class 4WD, with a man in the driver’s seat, parked side-on behind him.
“Walk,” Declan ordered with a shove.
Shona and Martin reached Martin’s father and Lloyd.
“Get to the car, son.” Martin’s father spoke low and firm.
Martin nodded and nudged her to keep going toward the vehicle. The walk to the open door of the 4WD took forever.
“There. Deal done,” Martin’s father said behind them.
Gunshots clapped from Lloyd’s men. A bullet whizzed past Shona’s ear. Martin dragged her the last few paces and shouldered her into the open car door. A thud hit her back. Martin pushed her low into the seat and leaned on top of her. Martin’s father ran behind. Click-clack came from the front seat of the vehicle. A gun fired through the open passenger window. Shona’s ears rang. The engine revved as Martin’s father clambered into the seat beside them.
“Get going!” Martin’s father screamed at the driver. That click-clack sounded again, but right beside Shona. Martin’s father fired as they screeched past the van. More ringing in her ears. Bullets shattered windows and Lloyd’s men returned the gunfire. Small pieces of broken glass fell around her, covering the carpeted floor of the vehicle, as glass fragments showered down on Martin leaning over her. Bullets pinged on metal. The sound of a grunt came through the open front passenger window when they passed close to Lloyd’s van. The vehicle skidded up the stone wharf to the narrow main street of Queensferry.
Shona’s back roared at her. A searing pain to her left side replaced the initial numbness after the thud to her back.
Martin’s father dropped the rifle in the front seat.
“Get us out of here, Ali,” Mr Moffatt yelled at the driver.
“Martin?” Shona grabbed at Martin’s arm, her hands, like his, still in their plastic bonds.
Martin turned and looked down. “Dad! We need to get to a hospital. Shona’s been shot.”