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at her to stop pedalling. There was science to her pain. In 1979 a study by Di Prampero et al came up with a formula which laid out the three forces faced by cyclists:
     
    W = krMs + kaAsv2 + giMs
     
    The three forces at play were rolling resistance, air resistance, and gravity. Rosalind would have given anything to have had the assistance of gravity in helping her to hurtle down the other side of the mountain, but that was still 10k away. Steve was trying to help, but she could barely focus on what he was saying, simply putting one foot forward and maintaining her steady momentum was her one and only goal.
    “Dig deep Rose, you’re doing great. We’ve just got one more steep climb then we’re back on easy street.”
    “One more steep climb; we’ve just cycled through a fucking cloud. How much further can it be?”
    Steve was laughing. He’d heard it all before but he was sure that Rose was going to crack the mountain; she was that kind of woman. “Just keep going, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t make it.”
    He couldn’t see Rosalind’s eyes for the wraparound shades but the contortion of her mouth told its own story. Sweat poured like a wave down her forehead. Reaching down to her bottle, the bike wobbled as she momentarily lost control. Two more experienced cyclists chose that moment to overtake. A man with sideburns laughed as he sped past, “See you at the top.”
    A roadside sign said they’d reached the steep climb – 20%. It was a crime worse than murder. Rosalind was convinced she wouldn’t be able to make it. The pain was extreme. I can’t do this. The road was shrouded in the mist from the cloud below but suddenly she was back in strong sunlight. She could see the summit; she was going to make it.
    At 2,190 metres Rosalind had nothing left. The last few kilometres had been completed at a snail’s pace; so slow in fact there were times she felt that she’d come to a stop. But as Steve cajoled and coached, feeding her energy sachets and promising the end was in sight, she kept going. The clips on her shoes kept her attached to the bike, the legs kept pounding, and the wheels kept turning. But when she reached the top she fell off, exhausted but exhilarated.
    Steve ran over, “Are you OK, did you hurt yourself?”
    Rosalind was breathing hard. Steve had been right, the sun was at its height and they were exposed; but what a view. Looking down she could see cloud covering the entire island, with the skies above the canopy the bluest she’d ever seen. The jagged lunar landscape was like something out of a movie. The rocks looked razor sharp, while in the distance the highest point of the mountain climbed further.
    “Don’t worry about that, you’d need the cable car to get up.”
    Rosalind laughed, “No, you’re alright; thanks for getting me this far, though, it’s fantastic to have made it.”
    “I knew you’d do it. You’re stubborn.”
    “Think you know me now? There’s more to me than meets the eye.”
    “I’m sure there is. It’s your last night tonight. I suppose you’ll want to pack before you head off?”
    The innuendo was obvious but Rosalind was happy to play along, “I’m sure I could find a little time to relax.”
    Steve was back on the bike. “Well you’ll have to catch me first.”
    As the pair raced down the other side of the mountain at 45mph Rosalind Ying felt ready for anything.
     

9
     
    Graeme Donald didn’t think the force was ready for any of it. As Chief Constable he had the ultimate responsibility for security and this was by far the biggest operation he had co-ordinated. With more than a million people expected to visit Glasgow in the next two weeks for the Commonwealth Games, he was uneasy about the prospect of another terror attack. Last year had been unexpected and brutal. This year it felt like they were inviting trouble. The crowds would be unprecedented and although the official line was ‘we’ve got it under control’ the