Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  Damon tutted and rolled his eyes before glaring out of the window, sulking.

  CHAPTER 10

  One Eye’s ankle was feeling slightly better, the pain reduced to a dull ache, although to his dismay he still couldn’t bear any weight on it. He showered with some difficulty, balancing on one foot before dressing in a thick knitted cream Arran jumper, which wasn’t exactly to his taste but he did think was rather cosy and warm. He hobbled into the dining room, so early Cherie was still setting up the tables.

  “Didn’t you sleep well?” she asked him with concern.

  “Like the proverbial log,” he replied with a charming smile. “But I went to sleep much earlier than usual, so I was awake at the crack of dawn.”

  “Oh good. So you’re ready for some breakfast?”

  “Yes please. I’m famished.”

  “How about a full Scottish breakfast with all the trimmings?”

  “Perfect, thank you,” he said, taking a seat at his usual table in the corner.

  “Why do you always hide yourself away there? Normally our guests are fighting for the tables by the window and that amazing view.” The corner of her mouth curled into a smile. “Unless you’re hiding from someone?”

  “Not at all. I just prefer the corner, it feels more private.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you Nik,” she said playfully. “Is that why you were found in the road, covered in mud with a busted ankle, because you were running from someone?”

  “I wish my life was that exciting,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “But I’m afraid it’s not. I was merely hiking, which I love to do.”

  Her grin increased. “Your memory seems to be returning.”

  “It would seem so.”

  They stared at each other, a challenge in Nik’s single twinkling eye, daring her to ask more questions. Cherie for her part was thrilled. She’d got the feeling this man was a mystery and he was proving her right. He was just the ticket to liven up her dull life. “Tea?” she said instead, deciding to retreat for now.

  “Lovely, thank you.”

  “Coming right up,” she replied, giving him another knowing smile before heading into the kitchen.

  Nik sighed with relief but he knew the respite was only temporary.

  After breakfast he decided to take a hobble into the village. It was vital he called for help.

  He felt like a child taking his first steps as he left the B&B while balancing on his crutches, Cherie, Alan and Helen looking on.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this?” said Cherie for the fourth time.

  “For God’s sake Mum,” said Helen. “He’s a grown man, he knows his own mind.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” said One Eye. “But I can manage and I’m desperate for some fresh air.”

  He was conscious of their eyes on his back as he limped his way down to the village main street, which consisted of more of the lovely whitewashed cottages, a pub, small community centre, library, hair salon and shop. It was the last one that was his goal.

  An elderly woman coming out of the shop held the door open for him, One Eye thanking her as he entered. He didn’t think he’d see the day pensioners were holding the door for him. It did nothing to make him feel any better about his current situation.

  The man behind the counter got to his feet to greet him with a smile. “Well, it’s our very own Wild Man. We are honoured. Bess, get in here,” he called in the general direction of the back of the shop. “The Wild Man’s here.”

  “The name’s Nik,” he said pleasantly, leaning on one crutch so he could extend his hand, which the man heartily shook.

  A very pretty plump lady emerged from behind a set of shelves, her lips cherry red and hair a deep russet colour. One Eye admired the impressive curve of her hips and breasts encased in a soft green woollen jumper. He tore his eyes off her when he considered he was unable to make a quick getaway from an angry husband and that he needed the villagers on his side if he was going to survive Silas.

  “Well hello. You scrub up well,” she said in a surprisingly flirtatious manner. “Cherie told me how handsome you are but I thought she was exaggerating, as usual.”

  One Eye glanced at the man, who chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s not my wife.”

  “Oh no,” said Bess with a wave of the hand. “Arthur just works for me. I’m single,” she said meaningfully.

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” said One Eye, giving her his most charming smile, making her blush and giggle. Bess might have seemed forward but he guessed they didn’t get many unattached men around here.

  “So what can I give you?” she said with a mischievous grin.

  “I have a list,” he replied, producing it from his pocket and holding it out to her.

  Her smile faltered at the long list. “At the risk of sounding crass…”

  “I’ve got money to pay you,” he said. “Fortunately some of my money was in my trousers, so I’m fully equipped.”

  “I’ll bet you are,” she grinned.

  “I’ll take my break and leave you to it,” said Arthur tactfully before wandering through a door into a back room.

  “Well, it looks like I can give you pretty much everything you want,” said Bess, looking from the list to One Eye and winking.

  “I have absolutely no doubt about it,” he smiled.

  One Eye exited the shop after managing to purchase most of the items on his list with a promise to meet Bess in the pub that evening. He’d even managed to get some more clothes after Bess said he could have some of her ex-husband’s items she still had kicking about in the upstairs flat, which Arthur would kindly deliver along with his purchases to the B&B.

  Next on One Eye’s list was a visit to the library. The two women who worked there were equally thrilled to have the local Wild Man wander in, although they did seem vaguely disappointed that he didn’t resemble the sasquatch they’d been told about.

  Roberta, the middle-aged mother hen fussed over him with tea and a supply of their personal biscuits while Helena, the attractive twenty something with the ridiculously long hair extensions and too much make-up helped him log onto one of the computers. As his hands were seized by another attack of tremor he screwed them up into fists so the ladies wouldn’t see. When the women finally left him alone he logged into his email account and sent out two messages, which took some time as his hands were still shaking. Before turning off the computer he hesitated, again experiencing the urge to contact his children but he knew that was just sentimentality. He would be a poor parent if he brought them here so he shut down the computer, being careful to log out of his email account first and delete his activity from the browser.

  After bidding the two ladies goodbye he left the library to return to the B&B. He had always been a vigorous man but his injured ankle was taking it out of him and he was ready for a sit down and a cup of tea.

  One Eye chuckled to himself. “Old bastard.”

  He paused outside the library to gaze across the landscape to the Old Man of Storr just visible in the distance, one of the most special and famous landmarks of the island, a massive pinnacle of rock sat on top of a rocky promontory gazing out across the water, like a silent sentinel. He loved these ancient natural monuments that had been around a lot longer than human beings and which would still be here when they’d all gone, witness to the changing and maturing of the earth and all life on it. How he’d love to hike up there but there was no way he could make it on his ankle. He vowed if he survived Silas Hagen then he would go up and sit with the ancient sentinel. It would be another one crossed off his to-see list.

  With a regretful sigh he turned and made his way back to the B&B. He hadn’t made it to the far end of the village where he’d taken his unceremonious tumble, neither did he want to see it, it hadn’t been his finest moment. There were more people on the street now who all turned to stare at the newcomer. They were all very friendly and said hello or gave him a wave and a nod, curious about t
heir Wild Man. Used to staying under the radar he didn’t much like this close scrutiny and it was a relief to leave behind the village proper, the B&B emerging up ahead.

  As he passed close by the forest that ringed the village and the B&B there was a rustle and a loud squawk and a pair of ravens took off into the air. He watched them take flight before turning his attention back to the trees, a sense of dread creeping over him. Even though it was sunny the light couldn’t permeate the dense foliage, which flickered with shadows. He wondered if Silas was in there, watching him. Either that or he was being an over-imaginative fool but the presence of the ravens had been a warning, he knew that much.

  He headed back to the B&B, certain he could feel eyes boring into him. He hoped his emails were answered. If not he could soon be dead.

  Raven and Damon continued their northward journey to Braes, not far from the major town of Portree, where Silas had made his presence felt at a local pub. The traumatised landlord told them in a halting voice about the mad scarred giant that had stalked into his establishment like something out of a nightmare fairytale, threatened him, knocked out two of his regulars and thrown his assistant barman into the fruit machine before vanishing into the night, taking with him two bottles of his best scotch. The local police had been informed but so far they’d had no luck tracking him down. The landlord half-hoped they didn’t find him as he didn’t want to give evidence in court against this terrifying individual. He hadn’t seen anyone fitting One Eye’s description. So they got back on the road to continue the hunt.

  Silas stalked the woods, hunting, seeking remnants of his prey. Already he’d found a muddy back pack but not the thing he wanted most.

  Then there it was, half-concealed among the damp leaves. The mobile phone. Scooping it up he jabbed at the screen, growling with annoyance when it refused to open without a swipe of the owner’s fingerprint. Still, there were ways around that.

  The sound of approaching footsteps had him dashing back the way he’d come, leaping over fallen logs. He found a particularly large tree to hide behind so he could watch the uniformed police officer stumble around in inappropriate footwear. Silas was filled with rage when he saw him pick up the muddy backpack. He should have taken that sooner. Who knew what it contained?

  He was tempted to leap out and snap the faen’s neck, he hated police officers. But that would bring unwanted attention to himself. He’d already caused chaos on the island and had people hunting him. He didn’t need that here, not when he was so close to finally destroying One Eye. His thoughts of vengeance saved the police officer’s life.

  One Eye had drifted off in a chair in the lounge of the B&B, exhausted by his trip into the village. He jumped awake when the door banged open.

  “Oh sorry,” said Frederick, looking windswept and uninteresting. “Were you asleep?”

  One Eye nodded while unleashing a yawn.

  “Fabulous day out there,” said Frederick, slumping into an armchair. “I’ve been out photographing and I saw a sea eagle,” he grinned. “The largest bird of prey in the country. Wing span of eight foot, it’s quite the spectacle I can tell you. Damn, I left my camera upstairs, I’ll show you later.”

  One Eye just nodded his assent, too tired to put up much resistance.

  “I heard you got outside today,” continued Frederick with a mischievous grin. “They’re all talking about the Wild Man who, it seems, has charmed some of the village ladies.”

  “It’s all exaggeration.”

  “Hmm, I’m not so sure. They’re all very excited about you going into the pub tonight.”

  “I do hope they won’t be disappointed,” he yawned, sitting up straighter in his seat.

  Cherie popped her head around the door. “Oh, there you are Nik. I’ve been knocking on your bedroom door for the last two minutes. PC Connell’s here to see you.”

  It took Nik’s sleep-hazed brain a moment to realise who she was talking about. “Oh yes, I met him at the hospital. What does he want?”

  “To talk about this,” said Connell, striding into the room carrying a muddy backpack, barging past an indignant Cherie.

  “What’s that?” yawned One Eye.

  “It looks like your bag,” replied Connell. “I found it in the woods near where you were found.”

  “What were you doing in there?”

  “Bird watching. What do you think? I was seeing if I could recover any of your personal belongings.”

  “You were? How kind.”

  “I thought it might help you remember who you are,” he replied in a tone that indicated he didn’t for one moment believe he had amnesia. He looked to Cherie and Frederick. “I’d like to talk to Nik alone please.”

  They both appeared disappointed but obediently left.

  “Now,” began Connell before delving into the bag. “Your ID is in here. Your instinct was spot on with the name Nik.” He retrieved a wallet from the backpack and removed a driver’s licence. “Nik Karlsen. Sounds distinctly Scandinavian to me.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he replied cheerfully.

  “Your address is eighty three Glenshaw Grove, Leeds, west Yorkshire. Any of this ringing a bell?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he said regretfully.

  “You don’t have a Yorkshire accent.” Connell peered at him. “How is the amnesia by the way? Has anything else come back?”

  “No,” he sighed, doing his best to look down about the fact.

  “I managed to find the phone number for this address in Leeds but it’s just ringing out. I’ll keep trying. Hopefully we can get a family member up here. There’s nothing in your bag indicating family though and you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”

  One Eye noted Connell’s expression became more sympathetic, assuming he was alone in the world. “I wish I could remember. If I do have a family and I’ve forgotten them that’s terribly rude of me.”

  “There’s money and bank cards in here too, quite a substantial amount of cash actually.”

  “Thank goodness it’s still there. I feared it would have been stolen.”

  “The people around here are good people,” he scowled. He smoothed out his frown. “I found some interesting objects in your bag,” continued Connell, producing a couple of the flash devices. “At first I thought they were compact torches but there isn’t an on-off switch.”

  One Eye stared at them in puzzlement. “No there isn’t.”

  “Can you tell me what they are and how they work?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know.”

  “There’s a bracelet in here too,” he said, retrieving one of the electric shock bangles. “And a remote control for something,” he added, showing him the button that controlled the bracelet. “They are rather odd and look homemade, not something made in a factory.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” said One Eye, peering at them. “Perhaps I picked them up on my travels?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Something wrong?” he said when Connell stared at him.

  “Have you seen a doctor since you left the hospital?”

  “No. There’s nothing more they can do for my ankle.”

  “I’m more concerned about the amnesia. Surely something should have started to come back by now?”

  “Each case is individual. All I can do is wait,” he said with a martyred sigh.

  “Then it should comfort you to know that I’ve asked Dr Simpson, the local GP from Staffin to drop in on you. He’ll be here in half an hour.”

  One Eye knew he was being ambushed but he accepted it with good grace. “That’s very kind, thank you.”

  “Alan and Cherie are good friends of mine and they’ve done a very nice thing taking you in. I’d hate to see their generosity abused.”

  “Well now you’ve found my money I can pay them properly.”

  “Good but I wasn’t referring to monetary payment. I’m going to be frank with you Nik. I think something funny’s going on and I will get to the bottom of it. If an
ything bad happens to Cherie, Alan or Helen because of you then I’ll see you pay for it.”

  “I wouldn’t hurt them for the world.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Connell got to his feet. “I’ll let you know if I get hold of someone at your home address.”

  “Thank you. Oh Officer?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did you find a mobile phone?”

  “You remember having one?”

  “Well, no but everyone does, don’t they?”

  “I didn’t find a mobile phone.”

  One Eye just nodded, only allowing worry to crease his forehead when Connell had gone. He’d dropped his phone somewhere near his backpack, he remembered it distinctly. Perhaps it had been covered with leaves or slid down the embankment? Or perhaps his pursuer had picked it up? Raven and Damon’s numbers were stored on that phone and they’d helped him set fire to the Hagen homestead with the brothers inside.

  He closed his eyes and leaned back in the armchair, willing down the rising panic. All he could do was hope his SOS was answered.

  CHAPTER 11

  The town of Portree was proving to be a tougher assignment for Raven and Damon than the villages had been. Although it was late in the season the town was still busy. Plus there were more hotels and B&B’s to search and Damon was rapidly losing patience.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” he said when they got caught behind a pack of slow-moving Americans on the pavement. “Get out of the bloody way,” he barked, making them jump. “Fucking tourists,” he added as he stomped by, four outraged faces watching him go.

  “You know,” said Raven, hurrying to catch up. “We’re tourists too.”

  “We sodding aren’t,” he retorted. “We’re working. It’s totally different.”

  Raven decided not to argue, he wasn’t in the mood and they needed to keep moving.

  After fruitlessly checking yet another hotel Damon’s fragile temper snapped and he kicked over a large plant pot sat outside the front door. Fortunately the plants in it had already died. “I’m fucking sick of this,” he yelled.