Amber came out of the office. In her hands was a fax, which she read and then pa.s.sed to Alex. Alex skimmed over the text and handed it to Paulo before opening the door. A woman in a cream-coloured suit was stepping out of the taxi and looking expectantly at the hostel.

'Before we hand you over, I'll just go and make sure this lady checks out,' said Alex to Tiff. He strode across the drive, his hand outstretched in greeting.

Tiff watched him balefully. 'You won't take my word for anything, will you?'

Amber met Paulo's eye. He gave her a long-suffering look.

Alex came back. 'Yep. She checks out. Going somewhere nice, Tiff?'

Tiff took her case from Hex. 'Nicer than this dump. Somewhere you creeps could never afford.'

She walked awkwardly out to the waiting taxi, her suitcase dragging a wake through the gravel.

Alex came back in and shut the door. His face broke out in a big grin and he punched his fist into the air in triumph. 'Yes! Let's get going.'

17.

SECRETS.

'All clear,' said Paulo.

Alex dropped to one knee in front of the door to the bothy and slipped a probe into the keyhole. He let his eyes zone out as he felt his way, gently flipping the tumblers of the lock.

It was stiff; it wasn't coming as easily as he'd hoped. Alex could feel himself getting frustrated. He took a deep breath and slowed down. You couldn't rush something like this. Think calm, he said to himself, and feel your way. You never know when it's going to go.

He felt the satisfying click as the bolt inside the lock pulled back. He turned the handle and the door swung open.

Paulo dived in after Alex and closed the door. Inside, the bothy was like a small, spa.r.s.ely furnished cottage, the kind you saw reconstructed in museums. A fireplace was dusted with ash. An oil lamp stood on the simple wooden table. Two rough benches stood by the fire. A washing line stretched across the room for drying wet clothes.

'So what secrets is this place keeping?' said Paulo.

'Secrets that have to be locked away,' said Alex. 'Search everything.'

Paulo started with the fireplace. There was a pile of wood to the left-hand side. He lifted a few pieces.

The middle was hollow. There was something inside, wrapped in a blue plastic bag. Paulo pulled it out and unwrapped the plastic. Inside were lots of small Ziploc bags; hundreds of them, each about ten centimetres long. 'Alex?'

Alex looked up from the narrow bunk at the other end of the room. 'Interesting but not incriminating.'

Paulo peered into the hole again. 'There's another lot.' He pulled out a green plastic bag. Inside were more Ziploc bags, this time yellow. 'Hmm. Two colours of bag. Two products?'

'Probably,' said Alex.

Paulo rewrapped the bags and put them back. He moved on to the fireplace and poked the ashy remains with some tongs. It didn't look like it was all wood ash. There were charred sc.r.a.ps of cardboard cardboard that had been cut into small pieces. He swished away the ash at the back. Here was something. A few small lumps of royal blue plastic, as if something had melted.

'Alex they've been burning cardboard here. And something else.'

Cardboard, thought Alex. Why did burning cardboard ring a bell? It came to him. 'Paulo, remember that gamekeeper at the lodge who made a fuss about the ketamine box? He said he was going to make a bonfire. What if he was going to come up here and burn it? What if this is where they get rid of the evidence?'

He squatted down beside Paulo to look.

Paulo sc.r.a.ped at the pieces of melted plastic but they were fused to the hearth. 'They've been burning this too. They've cut up something. Maybe more packaging. Doesn't look like it burns very well.'

Alex went back to searching the other end of the bothy. 'That still isn't very much. It's not worth locking the place for.'

Paulo straightened up and looked further along the wall beyond the chimney. There was mortar dust on the floor. And shards of stone. As if something had sc.r.a.ped the wall. He looked carefully up the outside of the stone chimney. One of the stones looked loose.

He pulled it out and mortar dust sprinkled down. He'd have to be careful not to leave signs he'd been there. A nice footprint would certainly give the game away. He reached in with his fingers. And touched a wooden box. 'Alex!'

Alex hurried over as Paulo brought out the box and laid it on the floor. It was about the size of a box of tissues. The top was sc.r.a.ped as if it was taken out and replaced frequently.

Paulo lifted the lid. Inside were pale rubber gloves and green surgical masks.

Then he saw Alex's face change. 'Hombre, are you OK?'

Alex nodded slowly. Suddenly he remembered what he had seen; the missing piece of his experience while he was drugged. His voice came out as a whisper. 'This is what I saw. This is what's been bothering me all this time. When I saw the men in here that night they were wearing masks and gloves. But you don't need masks and gloves to gut deer.'

'But,' said Paulo, 'you do need them if you're pouring large quant.i.ties of dusty pills into bags. They must bring the pills up here in the carca.s.ses then decant them into smaller packets for distribution.'

'These must be covered in evidence,' said Alex. 'Dust from whatever drugs they've been decanting. We can bring the police up to search the place.'

There was a sharp rap on the door. Alex looked at Paulo, then jumped up and went to see who it was.

Several things flashed through Alex's mind. Had they been caught? No. The gamekeepers wouldn't knock. A knock was the sound of someone who believed he was on someone else's patch, not someone who had found intruders. So Alex could behave like he was meant to be there. He heard the clop of wood on wood as Paulo put the lid on the box.

Alex pulled the door open.

Outside was a man with a silvered beard and a red Gore-Tex walker's jacket. Around his neck was a pair of high-powered binoculars. He held out an Ordnance Survey map.

'Sorry to disturb you. I wonder if you could show me where exactly I am... I'm not very good with a map.'

'Let's see if I can help,' said Alex. He took the map and got his compa.s.s out of his pocket.

Meanwhile Paulo inspected the fireplace. There was a print from the toe of his boot where they had been investigating the ashy remains. He picked up a wire brush and brushed the ash neatly into a pile again. He could hear the walker chatting to Alex.

Then, suddenly, Paulo caught a smell of something. Like burning. It must be the ashes, he thought.

But Alex spotted a curl of yellow flame behind the man. 'Better come away from the heather the gamekeepers are burning it.' He showed the man in. It wouldn't hurt to wait in the bothy until the flames burned out, but they'd better get away soon if the gamekeepers were starting to work in the area.

Paulo stood up, and saw smoke boiling across the window, yellow curls of flame.

'Well, thanks for that,' the man was saying to Alex. 'My brother used to like coming here, but I don't know the area at all.'

'Used to?' said Alex, as he pulled the door shut. Suddenly the handle was wrenched out of his hand. The door slammed and there was a click as it was locked from the outside.

Paulo ran to the window. He saw a moving figure, then flames flying through the air. A Molotov c.o.c.ktail.

Alex launched himself at Paulo and the man and pushed them away from the window. There was a smash and gla.s.s showered down around them. A gout of flame shot up to the ceiling. The heat was fierce, like a flamethrower, and flaming liquid was spreading towards Alex's hands on the ground. He rolled away. The fumes caught in his throat: petrol.

Paulo pulled the walker to his feet. At the other end of the room the petrol river touched the wooden benches. Flames began to climb them, sizzling and spitting. They had to get out quickly. Once the benches went up the heat would be unbearable. But the window was cut off by a river of flame. The only way out was the door.

Paulo and Alex had the same thought. Together they launched themselves at it, putting all their weight against it, but it didn't budge.

The man started coughing, his eyes wide with panic. Alex took Paulo's arm and gestured towards the hiker, then fell to his knees in front of the door. Paulo stripped his black jumper off and wrenched the lid off his water bottle with his teeth. He tipped the contents over the sleeves and put one to the man's mouth. 'Breathe,' he yelled. He took the other sleeve himself.

Alex was trying to get the lock-picking probes out of his pocket but his body was racked by spasms of coughing.

'Hurry, Alex!' screamed Paulo.

'Help!' screamed the man. His cry ended in coughing.

Alex had the probe in the lock. His hands were shaking, and when he wasn't shaking, he was coughing. He couldn't feel the tumblers moving. Sweat was pouring off him and the probe was slipping in his fingers. It was becoming hot. Alex was coughing so hard he couldn't see; couldn't feel anything inside the lock; couldn't hear the tumblers.

Concentrate, he told himself. This is the only way out. Focus.

Paulo held onto the man and stared at Alex's shaking back. How could he hope to pick the lock in these conditions? It had been hard enough coming in. They were trapped. The walls of the bothy were solid and the windows were cut off by a wall of crackling flame.

There was a roar from the other end of the room. The heat increased. One of the benches had gone up in flames. Then the door swung open.

Alex fell outside, coughing. Paulo pulled the hiker out of the bothy.

It was almost as hot outside. The heather was burning and the air was thick with smoke. Had they escaped the fire inside only to burn outside?

Alex grabbed the man's arm. He fixed him and Paulo with a purposeful look. 'Run, as fast as you can, after me.'

He turned and took off through the burning heather. If he kept moving swiftly he might avoid being caught. The heather spat and crackled around him and he felt its heat. He had to keep running. Ahead was a clear area, where the heather had already been burned and the fire had died down. The flames couldn't reach him here. He bent over, dragging air into his ravaged lungs. He was safe. Where were the others?

Paulo was running hard. The man was behind him, his binoculars swinging, his red jacket flying out behind him. He was keeping up surprising considering he was well into his fifties. But that was what panic did to you.

Paulo realized Alex had stopped. He fell to his knees and for a few moments just stayed there, breathing, thankful that he was alive. Behind him the hiker dropped to the ground and rolled to and fro on his back. Paulo started towards him, but the man was soon sitting up, brushing at a burned hole in his jacket and coughing. He'd been on fire but he'd managed to put it out.

'Nice one,' coughed Paulo.

Alex was looking carefully at the man. Inhaling smoke and fumes could be almost as dangerous as burn injuries. 'Are you OK?' he asked.

The hiker nodded. 'Just catching my breath.' He coughed again, but his face was pink and his lips were a healthy colour not the bluish pallor of someone poisoned by smoke.

Behind, through the smoke and the crackling heather, they saw orange flames leaping out of the window and open door of the bothy and licking through one of the roof trusses. Alex swallowed, realizing they had got out just in time.

'Is everyone all right?' said Paulo.

Alex nodded, and coughed; the hiker was coughing again too.

'Should we try to contain the fire?' asked Paulo.

The flames near them were dying, leaving twisted clumps of black heather.

'I think it'll sort itself out,' said Alex. 'It's a natural process.'

'That Molotov c.o.c.ktail wasn't a natural process,' said the hiker. 'That was arson. We'd better report it to the police. I never thought you'd get vandalism out here.'

Alex got out his mobile. He was surprised to see it wasn't damaged. But there was no signal here. He looked again at the bothy.

Beside him Paulo sighed. His breath wheezed slightly.

All the evidence was going up in smoke.

18.

TARGETS.

Hex walked slowly through the wiry gra.s.s of the moor, looking at his palmtop screen. He took a final pace and stopped. 'It's here somewhere.'

Amber took something out of her rucksack and unfolded it. It was a pole with a disc on one end: a metal detector. Paulo had found it in the loft at the hostel. It hadn't been working, but he had dismantled it and found a loose connection. Then he asked Li if he could borrow her opal ring. He tossed it away onto the gravel drive, then gleefully found it with the machine. Li was only mildly grateful.

Li looked at the open moor. She remembered very well the faint outline of light around her hands and knees but she couldn't see any sign of the trapdoor now. 'I can't see it,' she sighed. 'Try the gizmo.'

Amber switched the metal detector on. It made a low humming noise and a red LED winked. As she walked towards Hex it started to bleep. 'There's metal here,' she said. She swung it away; it still bleeped. 'It seems to think there's metal everywhere.'

Hex frowned. 'Maybe there is. Try it over there.'

Amber took it to where the ground sloped away. The beeping stopped.

'OK, I've got to the edge.' Amber began to walk in a straight line away from the other two. The bleeping started again. 'There's something buried here,' she said. 'Something big.' The bleeping stopped, then started again at a right angle to the first line.

In the distance, just over one of the hills, a plume of black smoke was rising. 'Funny,' said Li, 'they're out burning the heather early today.'

Hex followed her gaze. 'I didn't think heather made as much smoke as that.' He looked at Amber.

Li giggled.

Amber came back brandishing the metal detector like a weapon. 'There's something big and metal under here. I'd say it's about twenty metres by ten.' She switched off the machine and folded it up again.

'And it's metal?' said Li. 'Why would it be metal?'

'Shh what's that?' said Hex.