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They reached the top of the rise where a newish fence stretched the other side of the creek.

‘But it were once up over yonder knock.' She pointed to a small hill. Then she pointed at the stream and then a mountain. ‘From ault tae yon ben.'

‘Dewar?'

‘He convinced ma da that ta geology was diamonds, and they had a deal. Da got some worthless shares and Dewar got ta land. An' there were nae diamonds, but Dewar noo has ta farm. Like Jack and ta beanstalk, only nae beanstalk.'

‘The one girl you finally get into bed is the key to the whole thing?'

‘I'm telling it as it happened, Terry.'

‘You are riding a bike in the rain in the middle of Scotland and the one girl who comes along...'

‘It's a small island, Terry, even if it has two names. It's like Perth. Not many degrees of separation.'

‘Ah'll show ye a thing,' said Deidre scampering expertly across a line of rocks before stepping up to a larger boulder and over to the other side of the fence.

Dave followed, aware of his wounds from Lewis MacDonald's fists again.

They crossed a particularly rocky field up near the road, where a yellow drilling rig sat rusting. Larger rocks jutted, as the field started to turn into the mountains not far off.

Deidre crouched where the core holes had been drilled. ‘They took samples for a week, and naught.'

Dave looked at the mud in one of the drill holes. There was lichen regrowing.

‘How long ago?'

‘Four year, aboot.'

Dave looked over the ancient rocky ground wondering what the north of WA would look like if you added a million years of rain.

‘For fook's sake!' exclaimed Deidre.

Dave turned to see a newish-looking jeep pull up on the road. Lewis MacDonald stepped out.

‘Oh-oh,' said Dave turning his empty tea mug as a weapon.

‘Bloody men!' said Deidre.

‘Men!?'

Lewis called from the roadway fence. ‘Ah'm no'here tae start, Deidre. Ye've hurt me, but ah forgive ye.'

‘Ah dinae want yir forgiveness, Lewis. Ah want ye to piss aff.'

‘Ah'm here for this Ken. We've business.'

‘Whether ye bash him or no', it makes nae difference to us.'

‘Ahh, it'd make a difference to me,' offered Dave.

‘Are ye working for ta police noo, are ye, Lewis?'

‘What's he bin sayin'? What ye bin sayin'? Ah can explain that, Deidre.'

‘Tell those who care.' Deidre snatched Dave's mug and started down the hill.

‘Wait,' yelled Dave. He turned back to Lewis. ‘Be right back.' Then he went after Deidre. ‘Hey, look I know all these men seem to be doing you not much good, but maybe there's one that can make it up to you.'

Dave brought out the condom.

She looked up, murderous.

‘No. It's got the stones in it. Will you look after it? Till I get back?'

She looked doubtful.

‘Might be worth something. We'll see.'

She took the condom.

Dave said, ‘I couldn't help noticing those electronic bits in your shed.'

Dave clambered into Lewis's jeep with his hands full of slightly rusted electronics.

‘Ye spent the night?' Lewis looked from him to the farmhouse.

‘To tell you the truth, with all that whisky and the concussion and all, I'm not sure of anything right now.'

Lewis looked doubtful, but then examined Dave's bruised and cut face and gave a satisfied grunt, before crashing the jeep into gear and lurching off.

After a kilometre in silence, Dave said, ‘So, to Dewar's?'

‘Aye.'

‘And then?'

‘Ye're supposed tae be the expert.'

They drove in silence until they neared Ardvourlie when Lewis said, ‘So what's that then?'

Dave looked at his electronics. ‘There's an old school across from his house. And a phone line still attached. I thought I'd try to listen in to see what's what.'

‘Ye soom kind o' super undercover cop, aren't ye?'

‘Me?'

‘Aw fookin' bastards.'

Dave let that sit for a while. As they came down the last hill into the settlement, he said, ‘Given that, and everything, then why are you helping? Not that I want to change your mind.'

‘Ye've got me by the balls, aye. Ye bring my auld smugglin' charge up every time ye need soomthin'.'

‘Ahh. Well, not me. I'm not a cop. They've got me by the same balls.
Well, not exactly the same balls. Mine.'

Lewis pulled up near the school and studied Dave again.

Dave didn't really care if he believed him or not. ‘These places still have shared lines. Shouldn't be too hard. Can I borrow a pair of pliers?'

He tramped across the thick soggy grass to the shuttered little school. The paint was faded, the wood beginning to weather. He stepped carefully over a broken board on the veranda and found a door with a broken lock.

Inside were two classrooms with the remains of a couple of smashed desks, a scattering of multiple-choice maths papers. Someone had spray-painted FUK YE in yellow paint on the blackboard, which also had a couple of good-sized dents in it. The graffiti was an indictment of many kinds.

He found the office, furnitureless and dark because of the boards across the windows. Under the window was the telephone outlet. He stripped out a little plastic to expose the copper wires, and connected up one of the telco jacks to the socket in the wall, winding the exposed wiring around an old RCU jack. He plugged that into the little speaker he'd found in Deidre's shed.

Then he listened to a series of very uninteresting conversations and quite a few monologues of which he understood very little until finally someone said, ‘Lord Fotheringham's residence.'

‘Aye. Lord Fotheringham. Tell him it's Dewar.'

‘Very good sir.'

There was a fairly long pause before a voice clearly close to the English throne said, ‘I assume there is a problem.'

‘There might be. Someone may have followed t'diamonds. A lassie.'

There was another pause. The sound of breathing. ‘Where is she now?'

‘Locked in t'cellar.'

‘How did she get in?'

‘She was posing as a sightseeing widow.'

‘I see.'

‘Noo, ye dinae. I was suspicious from t'start. T'mystery woman from Amsterdam. T'burglar monitors shoo her searching last night. Ah confronted her in t'study.'

‘I'm sure you did, old boy. But now what?'

‘Ah've goot local help. To lend a hand with t'heavy work.'

‘She's confessed?'

‘Not yet.'

There was another pause and the Englishman's voice came in more softly, ‘Need I remind you, Mr Dewar, if any word of this leaks out – any word at all, the whole share strategy will collapse.'

‘Doon't worry. Ah'll no' waste these years of work.'

Click.

‘Hoi!' Lewis was at the school office door. ‘'Arris MacLeod's truck went intae Dewar's.'

‘Well, I'm glad the local help is him and not you. We better get in there.'

They drove past the entrance to Dewar's lodge and down to the loch, then along a track, parking near an upturned boat and some drying nets. Lewis led Dave past a stone outbuilding and up worn stone steps. He tried the kitchen door and it opened.

Lewis laid one of his big paws on Dave's shoulder. ‘Ye noo I huvnae finished wi' ye. After this business o'er here.'

‘Oh, fair enough. Goes without saying, I suppose.'

As soon as they entered the kitchen, they heard shouting below.

It was Margaret, but speaking in a broad rural Aussie accent. ‘James, I know I'm a bit of a stickybeak, but can't we work this out?'

‘Who sent ye?' It was Dewar.

‘James, you seemed nicer on the ferry. You invited me! Geez, you take no for an answer bloody badly.'

‘Careful Harris, she's got a kick on her, I hear.'

‘Aye.'

Then came the sound of smashing glass. Wet breaking glass.

‘What are ye doin'?' yelled Dewar.

‘Defending me bloody honour, ya drongo.'

Smash. Smash.

‘No' t'reds? Cheryl, doon't throw t'reds.'

‘Then let me go.'

Dave edged down the steps towards the open cellar door. There
were broken bottles everywhere and a din coming from inside. Dave looked back, but Lewis had gone.

He peered into the wine cellar.

Harris, bleeding from a gash on his forehead, held out a Scottish shield as he edged towards Margaret. She took a dusty bottle from the wine rack behind her.

‘I've got the Grange!' she called, losing her Aussie country accent.

‘Noooo,' yelled Dewar in agony.

But Harris kept coming and Margaret launched the wine at him. He deflected it with the shield and then rushed her, pinning her back against the back wall of the cellar.

‘Ye'll pay fir this, lassie,' said Dewar.

‘Hey,' said Dave, stepping into the room. ‘You should let her go.'

Dewar turned, looking like he was seeing a ghost. That's when Dave noticed he held a pistol.

Margaret called, ‘Angus, nice timing. You look like you've been in a fight.'

‘Ye are working taegither! Ah knew.'

Lewis stepped into the room holding a shotgun. ‘That how ye huv tae get a lass is it, Harris?'

‘That's my shotgun,' said Dewar.

‘Aye, and loaded.'

Dewar dropped his pistol. ‘This isn't yir affair, Lewis MacDonald.'

‘Aye. It is.'

Harris suddenly swung around, pulling Margaret between himself and the shotgun. He pushed the shield up under her throat.

‘T'balance has shifted wouldn't ye say,' said Dewar.

Lewis wavered.

Margaret said, ‘I think if you shot Dewar, Mr MacDonald, then we could all go home. No power balances to worry about at all.'

‘Whoa, lassie. Noo, let's be calm, laddie.'

Dave said, ‘I only came for what you owe me, Dewar. Twenty thousand pounds wasn't it? Campbell and Karushi forgot to give it to me.'

‘Campbell!' yelled Harris.

Lewis hissed at him, ‘Ye work with Campbells, dae ye?'

Harris yelled, ‘Nae. Never.' He dropped the shield and stepped away from Margaret pointing a finger at Dewar, ‘Ye'd work wi' a Campbell?'

‘Noo, Harris, it were work on t'mainland.'

‘A man has 'is honour, Mr Dewar.' Harris strode out, seeming to clutch his honour to his stomach as he went.

Lewis said, ‘Aye. Dogs an' Campbells.'

‘I broke his arm,' offered Dave helpfully.

Lewis passed him the shotgun. ‘Ye're good, Ken.' He started to go, but turned back. ‘An' stay away from Deidre.'

Margaret stepped forward and picked up Dewar's pistol. ‘Well, that's all worked out well.'

Dave swung the shotgun towards her.

‘Angus! Or is it Dave? Ken? After all we've nearly been through.'

Dave tried to glare at her, but it was hard because she grimaced and grinned and mock-winced and seemed to have a pretty good repertoire of naughty girl smiles. But Dave kept the shotgun aimed and she finally relented and put the pistol on the wine rack.

Dave said, ‘Mr Dewar. I only want my money.'

Dewar looked at Dave and the shotgun and seemed to calculate before saying, ‘Ye're a man after me own heart, Ken.'

Dave stepped back and let Dewar pass, crunching broken glass as they went up the stairs and through a dark-wooded hall covered in shields and tartan. There were guns and short swords and a couple of large antlered deer heads.

Dave kept the shotgun aimed at Dewar's back as he followed him into a study. Dewar went behind a big desk and pulled back a large picture of a young Scotsman standing before a castle to reveal a wall safe. Dewar fiddled with the combination.

Dave said, ‘As far as I'm concerned, once I get my money, the diamonds are yours, and I don't care what or why and I've forgotten who.'

The safe clicked open. There was a clear plastic package holding the stones. All of them except the package Dave had given Deidre. Dewar moved them to get to a pile of bank notes.

Margaret said, ‘On the other hand, I don't care about the money. I want the diamonds.'

Dave turned.

Margaret stood in the doorway, pointing Dewar's pistol at him.

‘But ... I mean, I just rescued you. Twice!'

‘And I owe you one. Just not this one. Put the shotgun down on that chair there, before we all get hurt.'

‘Who t'fook are ye?' said Dewar.

‘Yeah!' said Dave. ‘Who the fook are you?'

Margaret indicated for Dewar to step back and went around the desk to the safe. ‘Julie Lansky. I'm an insurance investigator. It's not always this exciting but I do get to meet such interesting people.'

‘Ah knew ye weren't Cheryl,' said Dewar.

‘I kind of liked you as Margaret,' said Dave.

‘Now now, boys, we can't have people taking diamonds that don't belong to them, can we – even if certain arrangements seem to have been made on high.' Margaret loaded the stones into her coat pocket.

Dewar sat down behind his desk, as she backed away, still holding the pistol on them. ‘Ah'm fooked,' he said. ‘Completely fooked.'

‘James, you should be fucked. You were going to do very nasty things to me. And to Angus here too, I believe.'

‘Dave.'

‘I want to thank you for your help on this. All the best.'

‘You've broken my heart, um ... Julie.'

Julie put on a mock-sorry face and then ran out of the room and clattered across the stone hall and out the front door.

‘Ah'm pure fooked,' said Dewar again, staring out the window as the hire car skidded up the drive.

Dave sat down in a chair near the door. He felt empty. Flat. He wondered if this is what footballers felt, when the siren went and they'd lost the grand final by a point. They'd lie on the grass and stare at the sky. What did they find up there? There was a grand final Dave had seen which ended in a draw. All back next week for another go. There was a coach who cried.