Page 78 of Savage Redemption

“I can’t spare any of the men. I’m relying on you to make the flight arrangements, make sure our jet is fired up, fuelled, and ready to take off as soon as we get to Oban, then take charge here, coordinating everything.”

I’m not trying to humour her. It’s true, I don’t want my wife in the middle of a war zone, but it’s also the truth that no one handles logistics better than Cristina. “Please,” I add. “I need to know I can rely on you.”

She glares at me some more, then finally softens. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Immediately, she’s all business. “Our jet’s a fifty-seater. Will that be big enough?”

“Perfect.” I drop a kiss on her mouth. “I love you.”

CHAPTER 21

Rosie

I feel bad about Magda.I think she believed me when I phoned to say I’d been held up and would make my own way back to Caraksay. I hope so, anyway. The last thing I need is for the alarm to be raised and someone to intercept me, stop me getting on that flight.

I tell the cab driver to drop me at the departure terminal entrance, then sprint through the terminal building into the departure lounge. I make a beeline for the first departures board I see. There are two scheduled flights to Tenerife later today, the first in just under two hours, the other one in six hours.

I need to be on that flight in two hours.

I note the airline and ask at the information desk for directions to their booking office. It’s a five-minute walk, but I make it in three, even allowing for a brief stop at a cash machine where I withdraw five hundred pounds.

“The five-seventeen flight to Tenerife,” I gasp, trying to get my breath back. “I need a seat on it.”

“Just the one seat, madam?” The perfectly coiffed and made-up ground crew member smiles at me.

“Yes, just the one.”

“Luggage?”

“No. Just this bag.” I hold up my duffel bag crammed with a change of clothes, my passport, and a few toiletries.

She nods and taps several keys on her computer, her artfully painted fingernails clacking as she does so. “Hmm, you’re in luck, madam. We have a cancellation.”

“I’ll take it. How much is it?”

“You’ll be needing a return, I assume.”

“No. One way will be fine.” Coming home is a problem for another day, and I have no idea what my onward destination might be.

Those immaculate eyebrows lift slightly, but she continues undaunted. “One way only. That will be… fifty-four pounds, madam. Cash or card?”

“Cash, please.” I don’t want anyone checking my banking details, and if I’m any judge that’s the first thing Casey would do. I shove the crisp notes across the counter.

“Passport, please?”

I drag that from the pocket on the side of my duffel bag, glad it is new and up to date. “Here.”

“Thank you, madam.” She glances briefly at the details and my photograph, then slides it back across the counter along with the flight ticket. “Check in has just opened. Desk forty-three.”

“Thanks.” I clutch the ticket and my passport as I dash back through the departure lounge, checking the desk numbers. There’s already a queue at number forty-three, and I have no option but to join it.

Twenty anxious minutes later, I’m handing over my passport and ticket and explaining that no, I have no luggage to check in. I’m provided with the requisite boarding pass and directed to security.

I get through the security checks without managing to set off any metal detectors, and at last I’m in duty free, one short step away from boarding my plane.

I perch on a high stool in a coffee shop with a latte and an overpriced brie and salad sandwich, watching the information board for instructions that it’s time to go to the gate.

Surely, no one can stop me now.

The flight leaves bang on time. I have a window seat, and it’s not until I see the airport buildings receding below me that I finally relax.

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