Cook should be in a good mood. Their Supervisor is away in Inverness all morning, perhaps even till after lunch, they're at least a day ahead of schedule, and Gadgie hadn't filled the cab with his noxious farts. He drives down the rough forestry track perhaps more than a few miles an hour faster than he should, taking the bends fast enough for the crew in the back to be thrown to one side, there's noisy complaints, even Gadgie wakes up.

"Wooh, Jimmy, slow doon aye? Yoor nae fuckin' rally driver"

Cook says nothing, but takes his foot off the accelerator pedal a fraction, the green becomes individual trees, rather than a blur. He knows this will be his last day here, and despite himself, he knows he'll miss them. They've become close, it's difficult not to, living as they have done for the last couple of years in a small caravan on the edge of endless forests. These guys have become like a surrogate family to him. There's almost an unwritten Omerta between them. Ask no difficult questions, buy a round when it's your turn, and try to not cheat too obviously at cards, simple rules.

He pulls up next to the marker they left yesterday, kills the engine. There's almost total silence. He breathes in the sweet pine sap, sits in the cab of the Landy for just a moment longer than usual while the others climb out, stretch and unload their gear. Gadgie comes round to the window,

""Off yer arse boss, aye?"

"Right enough Gadgie, you old fucker, let's get the day fucking going, right?" he's overly jovial. Forcing it. He ties his hair back, scratches through a few days growth, gets out of the Landy, stretches, and walks into the dark canopy.

Working as a lumberjack sounds romantic to people who've never done it. In reality, like most manual labour its hot, dull repetitive hard work and the conditions are oppressive, especially in Scottish mono culture forests. Sitka Pines planted close together, ankle deep in rotting pine mulch, and nameless stinking shit. The midges are intense, biting any exposed skin, and almost no sunlight penetrates through the dense plantation. There's nothing to take your mind off the dull ache in your shoulders from the heavy chainsaws, no time for mind drift, as you stay constantly alert for dangers from and to your crew. Even minor injuries can be life threatening when the nearest A&E is a 5 hour cross country drive away.

Cook loves it.

OooooO

From the moment the deal was finalised, and Cook was no longer responsible on a day to day basis, he'd felt a relief akin to a couple of years before after being released from prison. Almost straight away he'd left London, and taking the train rather than the 911 headed first back to Bristol, crashed overnight at Naomi's. They'd predictably got drunk, and of course, predictably he'd fucked it up by trying it on, again.

"Cook, don't. Why d'you have to spoil it..." Naomi had been disappointed rather than really upset. She got up from the sofa, unsteady on her feet. He looked at her, the only person he could really call a mate now.

"Going in the Morning, away." He looked at his feet, unsure.

"Where?" she looked concerned.

"Far enough so I that I don't fuck it up no more" he sorted out the forestry contract using an old prison officer contact.

Naomi knew better than to try and argue with him, "We're a right pair of fuck-ups us, aren't we?"

"What happened Noams?" He shakes his head "It was all supposed to be better than this, why are you still here, why isn't she..."

She'd interrupted "No, don't", she shakes her head, "I love her, that's it, Ok?"

He's stood, moved over to her, and folded her into his arms, "Yeah, she says the same thing."

"Have you seen her?" She'd been suddenly tense

Cook had trodden carefully, "A few weeks back" he'd thought back to the uncomfortable time he'd spent in New York with Emily, How she gone from happy smashed to crying, telling him in a drunken blur about their spirallingly failing relationship.

He'd felt her begin to sob, later when she'd fallen asleep on him; he'd carried her to bed.

In the garden, he called Katie, knowing she'd still be up "While I'm not around, make sure you look out for Naomi, OK?

"What the fuck?"

"Listen, I'll do you a deal, I'll keep in contact through her, you make sure she's OK, ok?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope"

OooooO

The walkie-talkie crackles into life, he hears Gadgie

"Boss, visitors right enough, wee lass here and a fucking giant, asking fer you. Yoo'll no believe the size o the fucking car they've got, man".

Cook takes in a breath "Right, Gadge, I'll be there in a minute" He starts to walk back.

Out of the canopy, he winces in the sunlight, covers his eyes, with a palm, sees Katie, arms crossed, Moses leaning against the car.

"Katie"

She spins, looks his way "Fucking hell, you look like a fucking tramp" takes in his long hair, working clothes," and I can smell you from here"

"Nice to see you too, " he nods "Moses"

"Mr Cook" Moses gets off from the car "We should get going"

Cook turns, sees Gadgie hanging back, walks over. "Gadge, I've got to go, right?"

"What's this all aboot, aye?"

"Past catching up with me, mate. See you around, tell the fellas, right?"

He walks back to the car, gets in without a word.

Katie and Moses exchange a look, they climb in, Moses starts the car, and they begin the long drive back to civilisation. Katie opens the windows so she doesn't have to smell Cook.

After an hour or two they find themselves on the outskirts of Lossiemouth. Cook finally speaks

"Care to tell me why you've come all this way after all this time to come and get me, or can I take a guess?"

"Singapore has come back to bite us on the arse" replies Katie

"Thought it might" Cook looks out the window, "Do we know where he is?"

"Nope, do you?" Katie turns in her seat, "Jesus, Cook, you stink"

"How the fuck would I know where he is, Dinkytits I've been cutting wood for the last few years".

Katie's eyes narrow, "Stop the car Moses" as they pull off to the side of the road, she turns again to Cook, "Out"

He climbs out, lights up a fag, Katie's pacing in front of him. "One, we're in a fucking serious situation here, I'd appreciate it if you'd take it fucking seriously. Two, don't you ever and I mean ever, call me that in front of the staff again, I work my arse for this...your fucking company, a little respect is fucking due. Three, you fucking need a shower, and fucking haircut. Four," she begins to falter," don't think you can walk back and straight into my knic...affections, that isn't going to fucking work". She stomps around to the passenger side, "Get back in the fucking car"

Cook raises his eyebrows, throws the fag to the ground, and gets back in the car.

They stay silent until they reach the RAF base; Moses pulls up at the guardhouse.

"What are we doing here" asks Cook

"Plane's here" replies Katie quietly

"Inverness is just down the road" Cook looks out the window as they drive along the tarmac to the flight line, he sees the private Jet being re-fuelled.

"Our interests and the Government's Foreign interests...overlap sometimes", Katie's being careful, "We get to use their facilities occasionally, and we help them transport things away from prying eyes...It's a reciprocal agreement "

"Fucking hell, I don't even know what that fucking means" Cook is impressed, although he's not about to say so.

The take off is uneventful, in the air Katie gestures to the back of the plane. "There's a shower, go and use it, and there's suits, clothes get changed, yeah?"

Cook closes the door behind him, the first shower he's had in a long time as he turns on the hot water, he takes is time, scrubs weeks of accumulated dirt and sweat off his body. He hears the door latch, and smiles, there's a pause, and then a figure slides into the shower behind him. "Scrub your back?" Katie says quietly.