by Les Haswell
“Billy Templeton from the café sent me here in pursuit of one of your little stable cottages,” Rob explained with a disarming smile.
“Did he indeed? I suppose this is going to cost us a dram when he’s in next,” she chuckled. Taking out a large book from under the desk counter, she placed it before Rob. “You better sign in then. Can’t have you breaking the law, Mr …?”
“Chapman. Bob Chapman.” Rob offered another smile. “I wouldn’t dream of breaking the law.” He jotted the name and the Machrie Outward Bound Centre as his address.
Lizzie read the entry out loud.
“Yes, well I don’t officially start there till next month, but decided to come up a bit early and have a look around the area. I’ve never been before and everyone I spoke to said it was lovely up here. I was going to head back there tonight but someone told me about the old castle and the standing stones, so I thought I’d maybe stay a couple of days while, do a bit of exploring and all that so to speak.”
“You’ll enjoy the island … and I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. Breakfast is served seven till half nine and dinner is served six till ten. There’s a room service menu in your room if you prefer. You’re in Cottage #4, the one furthest from the main building. Nice and quiet, nearest the rear car park where you’ll see a barrier; it’s for residents only. The code is 1379 to get out.” She held up a door-entry card. “You need to put this into the wee slot at the door to switch on your electricity.”
“Sounds good.” Taking the card, he turned to leave and almost bumped into a man behind him.
“Sorry.” Hamish Allen smiled, putting a hand on Rob’s upper arm. “I really should watch where I’m going, but it’s not easy to teach an old dog new tricks.” He chuckled, then frowned as he looked directly at Rob. “You’ve been here before, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Dad, this is Mr Chapman’s first visit,” Lizzie advised. “He was saying he’s just starting at the Machrie Outward Bound Centre and is doing a bit of exploring.”
“I start at the beginning of the month,” said Rob with a nod. He dug a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Hamish.” If any of your guests fancy a bit of adventure, tell them to give us a call.”
Hamish’s gaze drifted to the scar on Rob’s cheek, then caught himself as he realised Rob had noticed. “Sorry son, I didn’t mean to stare. That was rude.” He blushed deep red and looked at the floor.
“No problem. I’ve gotten quite used to it and the reaction it gets from most people. I usually say I cut myself shaving, but I’m not sure many believe me,” he winked.
“If you’re in the bar tonight, first one’s on the house.”
“That’s a dangerous promise; you don’t know what I drink.” Rob laughed.
“You decide the drink, I’ll decide the quantity,” Hamish said turning away, then turning back. “Do me a favour? Use an electric razor while you’re here.” With that, he laughed and walked through to the bar.
The cottage was ideal for Rob’s needs, comfortable, with all the expected refinements. It was far enough away from the main hotel building to be secluded, close to the secure car park, and invisible from the main road. He could park the Land Rover at the side of the cottage and it would be out of view to the casual passer-by on Main Street.
Rob took the opportunity to call Joe and update him as he’d promised.
Joe wasn’t happy and said as much. “This sounds like trouble waiting to happen, so don’t get too involved. You told me this was just a recce. You’ve got no backup if it all goes pear-shaped.” He exhaled loudly. “I don’t like it; I’m coming up.”
“I don’t need backup. This is a family thing … that may have got out of hand. It’s nothing I can’t handle, so don’t worry.”
Rob called Justine next.
“Are you serious? These guys beat your friend to within an inch of his life and you’re telling me not to worry? You can’t be serious.”
“These guys are bunch of pussies. Remember my background. I can handle a couple of muscle-bound thugs … with one hand behind my back.” The lie came easily.
“With the other hand holding that gun of yours? That’s what worries me. I don’t need you up on a murder charge.”
Rob held the phone away from his ear as Justine ranted about his personal safety. “It’s not that bad, seriously. If things get out of hand, and they’re not going to, I’ll call Big Mac and he can be here within the hour,” he promised.
“I’m really not happy. We’re just getting to know each other and I don’t want you hurt … or worse, dead.”
“Tina, this is everyday stuff for me,” he affirmed. “It’s what I do for a living, and have done for years. You’ve seen my CV at SGS. Trust me on this.”
Eventually, Justine calmed down and Rob agreed to call her regularly to let her know he was safe.
Rob’s phone was a dual SIM phone, which allowed him to make calls using one SIM card whilst receiving calls from the other. When he dropped the phone on the firm bed, it played another ringtone to advise there was an incoming call on the other SIM—the number he’d given Fraser and Lorna.
“Speak to me,” he said brusquely.
“It’s Lorna.”
“Sorry Lorna, I wasn’t sure. Did you speak to Fraser?”
“I’ve just this minute left him. I told him you were here. He needs to see you to tell you about Hillcrest, your Dad, and about Bruce. But he warned to keep out of sight. If Bruce and his cronies see you, they’ll definitely kill you. His room window is left open at night and nobody bothers him after lights out.”
“I’ll go up tonight,” he affirmed.
“Can we meet? I’m dying to see you.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m going home to change and then meet a friend at the Red Lion for a bite and a drink at seven, but I can cancel that.”
“No, you go ahead,” he advised. “I’ll see you at some stage.”
“Will I recognise you, after all these years?” Lorna asked quietly.
“I’m still the big, skinny, blue-eyed blond lump I always was. You wouldn’t miss me,” he lied. “What are you wearing tonight?”
“A ruby-red silk blouse and black jeans.”
“Don’t change your mind … or I might end up chatting up the wrong girl,” Rob chuckled.
Lorna laughed. “I dare say, I could give up a woman’s prerogative for one night, but don’t make a habit of it, Robbie MacLaine.”
Rob looked at his watch upon ending the call: six o’clock. He’d have a shower and change, then head over to the bar for a drink and something to eat. If all went to plan, he’d follow Lorna out and meet her where no one would see them.
10
Rob walked into the bar at quarter to seven. He wanted a choice of tables rather than having to take what was still free or, worse, be stuck on a bar stool with his back to everyone.
Hamish was behind the bar, serving a young couple with pints of Harviestoun Schiehallion Cask conditioned lager at 4.8%. Some trendy Thames-side bars near Rob’s apartment served the fine-tasting brew in bottles. He watched Rob approach the bar. “Son, be with you in a minute. Just rehydrating this couple before they die of thirst.”
“No problem.” He perused the menu.
“So, what can I get you?” asked Hamish a full moment later.
“A glass of that Rioja over there and the seafood linguini, please.”
“Red wine with fish? And ye wonder why we Scots want independence from you uneducated lot from the Home Counties.” Hamish smiled and reached for a glass. “Of course, you can. Where are you sitting?”
Rob pointed at a round table in the far corner.
“A good choice, if I may say so. Sit with your back to the wall; that way, naebody can stab you in the back, and there’s a fair few backstabbers in these parts. Aren’t there, Ricky?” He laughed as he took a playful swipe at a young lad, probably borderline legal drinking age.
Ricky ducked. �
��Watch it. It’s no backstabbers that worry me in here, but that beer ye serve. Ma dad always said it was passed by the management and it certainly tastes like it.” He ducked again as another playful swipe came his way.
It looked like nothing had changed in the Red Lion bar. Hamish always enjoyed a bit of banter with his customers, dishing out friendly and well-intentioned abuse, and expecting to receive it in return from the regulars.
As Rob sat in the corner of the bar, he imagined he recognised a few patrons who drifted in and took seats at gradually disappearing empty tables or stood close by to serve as front-line targets for Hamish’s abuse. People’s appearances changed in sixteen years; while he was able to pick out a few familiar faces, no one showed signs of recognising him.Thin Lizzie’s appearance had certainly changed. She displayed a fair proportion of those sizeable breasts when she placed the linguini in front of him, along with cutlery wrapped in a blue napkin. “Don’t pay him any mind,” she whispered conspiratorially, jerking a thumb at Hamish. “He’s like that with everyone. Doesn’t mean any harm, but he’ll get a thick ear one day if he’s not careful.” She straightened. “Would you like anything else?”
“I’m fine with this,” Rob smiled and she walked away.
He’d just lifted a second mouthful when he heard Lizzie’s cheerful voice above the buzz of the bar. “Hi Stella, Lorna. I’ve got a table over here for you girls!”
Rob almost choked. Lizzie was showing two women to a reserved table. Lorna grown to into a beautiful, naturally stunning young woman.Confidence radiated from her. Her face held classic beauty and she was still trim and athletic. Her dark hair was shorter, cut into an appealing bob. She was wearing exactly what she’d said she would: a ruby-red silk blouse and black jeans. Stella was tall and angular, and attractive, wearing an above-the-knee fern-green shift dress with coordinating flat shoes.
Stella looked relaxed, but Lorna was showing signs of agitation as she settled into a chair. While Lizzie fussed with napkins and menus, Lorna started a slow sweep of the room with her eyes drifting from face to face. Her gaze hovered on two tall men at the bar, moved to a couple at a bar-side table, then stopped at three men eating at another table. Then, she sighted Rob and stared.
Rob’s eyes met hers and she smiled embarrassedly as she glanced at his scar. Rob smiled cordially, but Lorna looked away quickly, self-conscious at having been caught looking. She turned back to her friend and they started a conversation over the menus.
Rob returned to enjoying the linguini, trying very hard not to look at Lorna, although he did manage a few surreptitious glances before her friend, Stella, caught him. She whispered to Lorna, who glanced casually across the room at Rob. He smiled and Lorna turned back to Stella; they spoke quickly and giggled like schoolgirls.
Two beefy, well-muscled men strolled in. Both stood over six foot, their physiques developed from what had to be a mix of steroids and pumping iron. They were casually dressed, with short buzz-cut hair. They possessed aggressive, arrogant swaggers, something Rob had seen in numerous muscle-bound heavies. They weren’t locals and Rob fancied they could be his brother’s cronies, as Lorna had called them.
As they passed Lizzie, who’d just delivered meals to Stella and Lorna, the one nearest her rubbed a hand over her buttock and gave it a quick squeeze. Indignant, Lizzie stood upright with a start, but the hulk of a man had moved to the bar.
Rob finished his meal and Lizzie quickly came over to clear his table. “Everything okay, Mr Chapman?” she chirped.
“Really enjoyed it.”
She smiled with gratitude. “Anything else I can get you?”
He shook his head. “Could you put that on my room, please?” He motioned the two men standing in a corner, sipping IRN BRU.” Who are your overly brawny friends?”
Lizzie leaned over, once again displaying a fair proportion of her breasts. “They’re no friends of mine. They work at Achravie Estate and are trouble with a capital T,” she said darkly. “Come in here as if they own the place. One just helped himself to a feel of my backside. He’s lucky I didn’t slap him.”
“You might have come off worse from that. Best you ignore them. You reckon they work at the estate? They don’t look much like your archetypal estate worker.”
“Security. Bruce MacLaine has six or seven of them as security guards,” Lizzie said flatly.
“What does he need security for on an island like Achravie?”
“God knows. They’re up to no good, if you ask me … big gates at the road end and that bunch of thugs. You don’t need either unless you’re up to no good,” said Lizzie with a shake of the head as she wiped the table. “I’d better get on.”
She picked up Rob’s plate and as she passed Lorna and Stella, Stella requested the bill. The taller of Bruce’s security muscle, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, said something to the women, who ignored him. He grinned, turned to his friend and gestured. They exchanged words, looked at the women, and laughed loudly.
Rob sipped wine and continued to watch closely. The ladies paid and started to leave, but ponytail stood in front of them and said something Rob was sure wasn’t gentlemanly. The two women stared for a second, then pushed past. He started laughing again and patted Lorna’s bottom as she passed.
She spun and delivered a slap to ponytail’s face and literally wiped off the smug smile. He glanced around with an embarrassed grin, then tried to look cool by chuckling, but no one bought it. It was obvious he was angry, having been humiliated by a woman.
As the door closed behind the women, ponytail said something to his companion in a language Rob recognised from his time in Bosnia. So, these guys were Bosnians, were they? The colleague, sporting one bushy eyebrow, nodded and drained his pint. They exited.
Rob sensed a dangerous situation was about to arise and hastily rose to follow. Before he could take a step, however, Lizzie appeared, followed by her father. “I think those two might cause trouble for my friends.” Lizzie confided.
Rob strode after them quickly, followed by Lizzie, with Hamish immediately behind..
He placed a hand on Hamish’s arm. “Better stay here. Too many cooks and all that.”
As he and Lizzie walked out into the car park, she shouted to the two men, “Let’s not have any trouble out here fellas. Please, just go home quietly.”
The man with the solitary eyebrow was standing in front of Stella, blocking her from helping Lorna, who was pressed against the rear door of a white van by the man she’d slapped. He had her arm twisted behind her back at a painful angle and was cupping her breast with his free hand. One leg was jammed into her crotch as he tried to kiss her.
Lorna swung her head to one side. “Stop it!”
One-Brow, watched Lizzie approach and pushed her away; she sprawled into thorny bushes. He turned to Rob with a gloating smile and beckoned him forward.
Rob obliged and before One-Brow could react, Rob’s left foot crashed into a kneecap, shattering the patella and sending the joint into a place it was never designed to go.
He screamed in agony and fell to the ground. His colleague had been too intent on Lorna to have noticed what happened, but when he heard loud curses, turned.
Standing near the ogre clutching Lorna’s arm, Rob spoke quietly, a hint of menace in his tone and gaze. “I get the feeling she doesn’t want you, so best let her go.”
“You want the tart, do you? Have her!” He shoved Lorna at Rob.
Rob sidestepped and Lorna stumbled into Stella, who’d stepped alongside Lizzie. As Lorna flew past, the Bosnian rushed Rob in an attempt to embrace him in a bear hug, but before his huge arms closed around, Rob slipped forward like a cobra. He hit ponytail with a head-butt.
The man’s nose disintegrated and his front teeth buried themselves into his lower lip. He staggered backward into the white van; one of the doors flew open and the man half fell into the rear of the vehicle. As he began to rise unsteadily onto his feet, Rob hit him like a sledgehammer in the lower ribcage
, breaking ribs, and probably doing internal damage.
The man was all but out on his feet, but Rob grabbed his wrist and slammed the van door against it, breaking bones and severing tendons. Anguished, pained, he yelled and slumped to the ground.
Rob clutched his throat. “If you or any of yer pals as much as look the wrong way at these people again, I’ll kill you and I mean that literally,” he growled and straightened.
Hamish hastened to his side. “Last man who stood up to this bunch was in Intensive Care in Cottage Hospital till a couple of days ago. Bit older and a lot smaller that you, but I’d still watch my back … Robbie.” He winked, smiled, and joined the women standing by the shrubs.
Drawing a deep breath, Rob gazed into the distance. Shit, he knows who I am. How? Shaking his head, he strolled over. Stella and Lorna were checking Lizzie’s bruises; Hamish looked on worriedly.
“I’m fine. Just a wee bit winded,” Lizzie assured her father with a quick squeeze to his arm. “These two need seeing to.” She nodded at the men lying semi-conscious on the ground.
“Aye, I’ll phone Bruce MacLaine to get them. If I phone for an ambulance, they’ll involve the police. Probably best if they don’t get involved, don’t you think?” he asked Rob wryly.
“It’d just complicate things,” Rob nodded and watched the older man return to the bar with his daughter. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to Lorna.
“Are you all right?” She looked at him questioningly. “Thank you for doing what you did. You don’t even know me … and you might have got hurt yourself.” She sighed softly. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that, but I was just so angry. Urgh, it makes my skin crawl to think about him touching me.” She stared into Rob’s eyes and a flicker of recognition crossed her face. “It is you, Robbie, isn’t it? I knew it was, but they said it wasn’t.”
He bowed his head and with his thumb and forefinger removed one of the brown-tinted contact lenses. “The wonders of modern technology.” He smiled, looking at her with a brown eye and a vivid blue eye.