sign in his shop’s front window, locked up and drove out of Inverness, heading east on the A96. He hated to lose a day’s income, but there was no one he trusted to mind the store and today’s meeting in Elgin was important. The others would come from Craigellachie, in the heart of the Speyside whiskey region; Aviemore, a ski and hiking destination in the Cairngorm Mountains; and remote Boddam, bordering the North Sea at Scotland’s craggy, easternmost point. Each participant could make the round trip by car in a day. Their absence would arouse no suspicion. Mackinnon’s belly was comfortably full from his usual breakfast of porridge, a fried egg, and a thick slice of bread slathered in orange marmalade, washed down by two cups of tea with milk. As a widower for the past ten years, he was used to cooking for himself. It pleased him to eat what he wanted when he wanted, not like other helpless old men who had to pay good coin to some woman to prepare their food based on her tastes and her schedule, not theirs.
