“What about the DNA samples?” His cousin asked him.
“So far? We’re looking for a French-Russian cross with a generous dollop of Tartar thrown in. Some of Anthony’s family most likely originated from the Sebastopol region on the Black Sea, and others from the Loire valley, according to the genetic markers. Doesn’t narrow things down much. They’re checking old marriage and birth records for potential ancestral relatives to see if they can extrapolate a genealogy to work from. Apparently, nobody else had bothered to try that yet.”
Finding out where Anthony had gone after leaving Caithness would be an almost impossible task. The sheer number of flights leaving the UK every day, from over sixty airports, made the job of checking through security footage for any remotely possible match a job that would require thousands of man-hours, by which time he would have been long lost in the labyrinth of international traffic. The cousins had known that from the moment they realised that Anthony had probably left the country. What Anthony may look like the next time he appeared was anybody’s guess. He could have several ‘instant’ disguises that he could apply within hours, as well as matching passports from various countries, to go with them.
Shay didn’t seem to think that the combined might of all the British intelligence services had much chance of finding the man any time soon unless they got really lucky with a voice match. Plus, he could have that surgically altered too. Laryngoplasty wasn’t a complicated procedure. The majority opinion so far seemed to be that it was unlikely that Anthony would seek to do so. Why leave audio recordings if he was worried about his voice being used to track him down?
They’d almost finished their drinks when a now-familiar chime sounded, and they both pulled out their phones to see what had triggered the security system this time. An ‘unrecognised’ car pulling into their driveway.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Shay said, both looking and sounding rather flustered as the driver emerged from the car.
“You didn’t invite him?” Conall asked.
“No! I told you I wanted to think about it.” He stared suspiciously at his cousin. “Did you?”
“Me? Of course not!” The doorbell buzzed. “Want me to get that, or are you going to?”
The question hung in the air long enough for a politely spaced second buzz to follow the first. Shay got up, not bouncing, and stalked out of the kitchen, figurative feathers well and truly ruffled. Conall gave it half a minute before following him.
Mads Nielsen was standing on the doorstep, skilfully ad-libbing appreciative comments about how nice the place looked as he gazed around, clearly trying to battle the chill silence emanating from Shay. The man looked just as presentably well-groomed as the day they’d first met him on his father’s yacht, only today he wasn’t attired in dazzling whites. Instead, a pale blue silk shirt hung loosely over black casual trousers. The shirt really set off his golden hair very nicely, but it was no match for those intensely coloured sapphire-blue eyes.
“Conall!” Their unexpected visitor’s face lit up when he saw him appear. “You’re looking very well!” He thrust the cardboard cake box he’d been holding at a speechless Shay and slid past him to stride into the hall; shaking Conall’s hand and slapping him companionably on the shoulder
“I must say, this place looks almost unrecognisable,” he said cheerfully, standing back to look at him with a disarming grin. “It was more of a building site last time I saw it. I’m so glad Daniel suggested I come and visit. I’ve been dying to see what you’d all done with it. Is your father here?”
“Not at the moment. He’s out shopping, but he should be back soon. Hello Mads.”
“You spoke to Uncle Danny?” Shay asked, the first words he’d apparently managed to utter since opening the door. Mads didn’t even bother to look back at him before answering.
“Yes, I called him on Tuesday to ask if you two were back yet. When he heard I was planning to be in the area this weekend, he insisted I come over for a proper tour of the place and stay for lunch. I wasn’t even sure you’d be here. Didn’t he mention it? Oh dear, I hope it hasn’t slipped his mind.”
“I’m sure it hasn’t,” Shay said pleasantly, eyes narrowing behind his friend’s back. “I expect he wanted it to be a surprise.” The kind that wouldn’t have given Shay the chance to make sure he was out when Mads did turn up. “What brings you to Inverness, Mads?”
“Oh, just some dreadful bore of a party last night. What lovely panelling!” He wandered over to the wall in question to run a hand over the wood. “I thought it would be better than attending the Easter family gathering at my parents’ place. All those shrieking, sugar-fuelled nephews and nieces running around with chocolatey fingers… and Elise being her usual bitchy self. Add my father in on top of all that, if your imagination will stretch that far, and I snatched at the first excuse that presented itself to be engaged elsewhere this year.”
“Can you close the door, Shay? You’re letting all the heat out,” Conall suggested, thoroughly enjoying the show. Mads was carefully looking everywhere but directly at Shay, and Shay couldn’t seem to take his outraged eyes off the man. The fact that he was treating the box that had been thrust upon him as if it contained priceless breakables just made it all even more entertaining. “Does that need to go in the fridge?”
“If there’s room?” Mads advised hopefully. “I didn’t like to come empty-handed, and that particular dessert is better kept chilled.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem. One of them is nearly always half empty. The kitchen’s this way.”
Daniel and Jen got back whilst the three of them were still in mid-tour. Mads had an uncanny knack for picking out the features and restored pieces that Shay was proudest of and enthusing over them with genuine admiration, which had certainly slowed things down considerably but had also helped to ease the tension a little. They’d only just got started upstairs at that point.
The greeting Mads aimed at Jen was the first hint of any sort of flirtatious behaviour to be displayed, and her eye-rolling response as she smirked laughingly back at their Nordic Apollo clearly delighted him. Conall left Shay to it at that point. Now that Jen was back, he had better things to occupy himself with than playing chaperone, or referee, to those two.
“I like your cousin’s charming friend,” Mads said approvingly after the others had all disappeared downstairs again. “She seemed like great fun.”
“Jen? She is. We’ve known her since we were all little kids. Hardly your type, though, surely?”
“Just as well, really. I don’t think your cousin would be too pleased by anything more than a little harmless flattery aimed in that direction. Besides, you know perfectly well that I came here to see you.” As if Conall’s departure had flicked a switch, Mads was back in full form again. He grinned unrepentantly as Shay broke free from the first, impossible to misinterpret eye-lock sprung on him. The man might be staying far enough away to give no cause for objection, but he could blister paint with that look. It was very disconcerting. “No glasses to hide behind today?”
“In my own house?”
“Ah, I suppose not. Lucky me! These guestrooms are all very nice.” Mads said approvingly as Shay moved on to open the next door for him. “Are you going to invite me to stay?”
“Don’t you have a hotel booked?” Mads at a much safer distance had been a lot easier to deal with than Mads here, in the flesh, was proving to be.
“Alas, no. I’d only arranged a house to spend last night in. I had no idea Inverness was so popular on holiday weekends. All the suitable places seem to be fully booked.” He wandered into the room to run his hands over the furniture, peer out of the window and inspect the bathroom before sitting on the bed and bouncing experimentally. “Good mattress. I don’t suppose you have a room with rear views over the loch available?
“Who said you were staying?”
“Nobody, yet. But I’m sure Daniel and Conall will both insist unless you object to the idea.”
“This is very nice too,” Mads declared unenthusiastically as he examined the space and went to look out of the window. “Good view as well. Did you take that big corner room you had your eye on, or did you change your mind?”
“I took it,” Shay told him, leaning against the far wall with folded arms. “I like the fact that it’s tucked away where I won’t be bothered by passing foot traffic when we have guests in. There’s fresh bedding in the closet there if you want help making the bed up. Or would you prefer one of the other rooms after all?”
“I would, actually. Care to guess which one?” Mads advanced towards him until he was standing uncomfortably close before folding his own arms and fixing Shay with a displeased look. “How long were you planning to wait before calling me again? Another year? Two? Never?”
“How should I know? I was thinking about it.”
“Hmm. I do like it when you flush like that. Are you still angry that I’m here?” A minimal shrug.
“I’m not angry, Mads. I just object to being ambushed like this.”
“Well, that’s something at least.”
“What did you expect? A warm welcome? I’m not the one who invited you here.”
“You called. You broke almost a year of radio silence. You made a point of telling me that my brother thought I wanted to see you. What did you think would happen?”
“Not this, obviously!” Shay lifted a hand up to push his hair back exasperatedly. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought we could meet up when I was on holiday sometime.”
“Good! Let’s do that.” Mads pounced on the narrow opening. “It’s always nice to have something pencilled in on the calendar to really look forward to. You usually take a long break in September with Conall and some friends, yes? The Greek islands? Tell me where and when, and I’ll drop in for as long as you’re happy to have me around. With enough advance notice, I could even bring my own boat, if you like the idea. We could all go diving, island hopping, whatever you wanted.”
“September?” Shay frowned doubtfully.
“It’s just a suggestion. We can do something sooner if you prefer. I wouldn’t advise overdoing it, though. Eleven months was a bit much, but it would be a terrible shame to spoil things by allowing ourselves to get sick of the sight of each other.” That got a hesitant smile.
“It would, wouldn’t it?” Shay’s guarded tension was gradually melting away. “And that would work for you? Meeting up a couple of times a year?”
“As opposed to never hearing from you at all? What do you think? I might be open to the idea of thinking about one or two more encounters if you absolutely insist.” That got him a genuinely amused smile. “Why don’t we just see how we get on? Call me whenever you’ve got something in mind, and we’ll talk about it.”
“I can do that,” Shay conceded, his colour still a little high. “That sounds good, actually.” He gestured for Mads to back off a little and pushed himself away from the wall. “Shall we go and get your stuff out of the car? Then I can show you what Con’s done with the garden. We were thinking of taking the kayaks out later if you fancy it?” Mads just shook his head at him and tutted disapprovingly as he effortlessly caught his eyes again, figuratively blistering yet more paint.
“You’re jumping the gun a little, aren’t you, Shay Keane? This is a nice room, but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep in it or spend the night alone anywhere, for that matter. After seeing you again? What do you think I’m made of?” That got him an audible snort.
“So you do have a backup plan then?”
“I’m sure I’d manage somehow, but I’d much prefer not to have to. May I see your room now?”
“Not yet.” Shay decided, mouth twitching. “Let’s just leave the bags until after lunch while I think about it, shall we? I hope you brought something nice enough to make up for calling Uncle Danny behind my back.”
He was safely out of the room and out of reach before he’d finished speaking.
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Castle Killings: A DCI Keane Scottish Crime Thriller (Deadly Highlands Book 4) Page 27