“The ‘B’ stands for ‘boat anchor,’ I think,” muttered her apprentice, Callum, hefting the old unit. “This thing is prehistoric.”
Eilidh turned the note over. On the back, in different ink, a second message: hager bp10140
The rain over the Outer Hebrides didn’t fall so much as materialize , a cold, horizontal mist that found every gap in a person’s clothing. Inside the small, leaky electrical substation on the Isle of Barra, Eilidh MacNeil wiped a sleeve across her brow. The job was supposed to be simple: swap out the old, failing circuit protection and get the island’s radar station back online. “The ‘B’ stands for ‘boat anchor,’ I think,”