by Ray Timms
At the far end of Old Fishmarket Close, Gavin was glad to step out into sunlight. After a hundred yards and making a couple of wrong turns, he found himself on Cowgate. Thirsty, now and feeling hungry, he found a café that wasn’t too crowded. He took his latte and a cheese croissant outside and sat at a vacant table. A couple of tables down from his own, a young man and woman, were tapping on their mobile phones. He was glad the wind was taking their cigarette smoke the other way.
Lost in his thoughts, the sound of the traffic and the hubbub of people talking became background noise. Thinking about what little clout the King of Scotland had was depressing. He wondered if there were MSP’s, perhaps those who were not in Mary Dewar’s political party, who might be prepared to support him in a move to challenge Dewar’s authority? He dismissed the idea as a non-starter. People tell him that Dewar has Parliament sewn up. People would not dare cause her any trouble. Gavin found her obsession with getting Scotland into the EU, seemingly at any price, frustrating. To his mind she should be doing something about the UK naval blockade of the Scottish fishing ports. She should be doing something about the English owned banks undoubtedly bowing to the wishes of Number 10, needlessly calling in loans, bankrupting small businesses and throwing people out on the street for missing a single mortgage repayment. It seemed nobody in the Scottish Government had the courage to stand up for the ordinary people being thrown out of work or being forced to accept zero hours contracts? And what was Mary Dewar doing while all this was going on? Traipsing around the Capitals of Europe wooing the EU commissioners who treated her like some irritating child.
Upset for the plight of the Scottish people and angered by the actions of the UK Government, Gavin could feel something stir deep inside him. It was as if the souls of his Scottish ancestors were rising up and demanding that he do something.
After paying the bill, he left a tip and made his way back to the Palace. Opening the door to his apartment Gavin wondered if Fiona had managed to wheedle anything out of Penny? He really needed some allies. He liked Henry and Penny. He could really do with their allegiance. They are familiar with the physical and the political landscape. They also know many people who might be useful to him.
The following morning, 8.45, in a determined mood and making good use of his new security pass Gavin made his way over to Mary Dewar’s office.
Gavin didn’t bother knocking. He walked straight in on her and Cruid.
Poring over the Bill, that Gavin should have signed and was wondering if there was any way the document could be doctored to make it work, Mary looked up when her door flew open. When she saw it was Brewson she quickly shut the folder and then dropped it on the floor down by her feet. She smiled at him.
‘Your Majesty…’ Mary began.
He cut her short. ‘Don’t bother with all that Your Majesty crap. I found you out didn’t I? You two had been planning on a scam to get rid of me. Don’t try denying it. I know that you planned to trick me into signing the bill that would end the need for Royal Assent. What I don’t understand is why you just didn’t come out and say this was what you wanted. You never know, I might have gone along with it?’
Mary shrugged. There was no point in denying it.
‘Ok, so you found us out. So what,’ Mary said, with a sly smile on her face. ‘It changes nothing. I still need that bill signed and I still need you gone. So, lets’ cut the crap. How much?’
‘Huh?’
‘Don’t be dim Brewson, how much is it going to cost me to buy you off? How about we strike a deal. You sign off the bill and then you publicly abdicate, do us all a favour. And in return I pay you, what? Say, ten grand… cash? Call it severance pay? What do you say? We got a deal?’
Gavin scoffed. ‘So it’s Brewson now is it? No more Your Majesty, Dewar? We got the gloves off eh?’
Mary shrugged. Her eyes look mean. ‘Lets just agree no more games eh? You came up here looking for a free lunch and a little power and glory didn’t you? Be honest with me?’
Gavin shook his head. He looked round at Cruid who was studying his shoes.
‘Dewar, you really are a piece of work,’ Gavin scoffed. ‘I am not having this conversation with you. You can’t buy me off!’
‘Ok, call it fifteen grand, plus first class rail tickets to take the lot of you back to the back-street dump you crawled out of.’
Gavin was shaking his head.’You just don’t get it Dewar. Unlike you, I am not corruptible. I am staying… you got that? You can’t buy me off. And let me tell you. I shall find the means to bring you both down.’
Mary laughed out loud. ‘You know what Brewson? You are a joke. So what are you going to do? Are you planning on staying here like some kind of fraudster, just so you can act like a king, when you can’t even scratch your arse without my say-so? Trust me Brewson; you wont like the way I play. Take the ten K and leave.’
‘I thought it was fifteen?’
‘It was till you pissed me off. You got one week, then it goes down to five grand.’
Mary waved a hand at the door.’ Close the door on your way out… Your Majesty.’ She sneered.
Gavin let the door swing shut behind him.
Mary turned to Cruid and said.
‘You heard that? He has to go.’
‘I agree Mary but, you heard him, he says he isn’t going to abdicate.’
‘Then we must apply a little pressure. Force him out.
‘Great, but how do we do that?’
‘I have a couple of ideas.’
Shaking his hands either side of his head Cruid pleaded. ‘Please, Mary, I don’t want to hear this.’
‘Then you had better leave old man because I need to make a phone call.’
After Cruid had gone, Mary took out her mobile phone and found the number she wanted in her contacts list.
After two rings, he picked up.
‘Hello, Marcus speaking – Funerals –Twenty– Four – Seven.’
‘Marcus, It’s Mary Dewar.’
‘Mary!’ Marcus said, a little surprised. He hadn’t heard from Dewar in over a year. Although he disliked the woman intensely she was good for his business. ‘It’s so nice to hear from you. How are you?’
Marcus Lansbury ran an agency that was fronted by a Funeral parlour. He provides a discrete service to rich and powerful people who wish to be rid of a problem, a people problem. His business uses the strap line: “We can take the load off your shoulders.”
The only load on Mary Dewar’s shoulders was the obstinate Gavin Brewson. She wanted him gone and she could rely on Marcus to do it, it was just a matter of them agreeing terms.
‘What can I do for you?’ Dewar said. Mary only ever called him when she needed someone taken care of. He’d done this a couple of times. You don’t get to be the leader of a government without having to step on a few people on the way up.
‘I am having a problem with our new king.’
‘Oh,’ Marcus said, his eyebrows arch. He could hear “kerching” the sound of money. ‘What kind of a problem?’
‘He’s breathing!’ Mary said, only half-joking.
‘I see,’ Marcus said, dragging out the word. ‘Regicide, you need to understand, requires the skills of a very expensive specialist. Are you sure you can you afford it?’
‘Well that depends on how much it’ll cost.’
‘Ball park figure, you are looking at a hundred and fifty K.’
‘A hundred and fifty k!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘That is extortionate Marcus.’
‘It is also a very risky occupation Mary. ‘
‘But you have someone on your books who can do it… like yesterday?’ Mary said, thinking that this sounds really expensive and maybe she should go for her plan B?
‘Yeah, I have three people on my books who available right now. You want me to set it up?’
‘Only if you can get your fees down to fifty thousand pounds?’
Marcus guffaws. ‘Mary get real. The minimum I could do it for would be, one-twenty
– plus expenses. Take it or leave it.’
‘Forget that,’ Mary said. ‘How much for a straightforward kidnapping?’
Disappointed, Marcus said. ‘That depends on the person you want us to lift? Who are we talking about? Another politician, a lover, a business rival?’
‘The mother of the King.’
‘Oh ho,’ Marcus said, cheered up. ‘The King’s mother eh? We are still talking about royalty Mary. And inevitably that has added risks, which will push up the costs. However, as a valued regular customer, I am prepared to give you a one-off special rate of seventy K, plus another ten for my expenses.’ Marcus waited. He pictures Mary thinking about it. ‘I’ll tell you what Mary, seeing as it’s you, I will do it for, say, sixty-five K.’
‘Fifty, and we got a deal?’
‘Ok, I’ll do it for fifty G, but the deal is we don’t hurt the old lady yeah, we let her go yeah?’
‘Ok we got a deal. I will text you over the details.’
‘Don’t forget I shall need a ten per cent deposit.’
Mary shrugged. She hadn’t forgotten. She could squeeze the money out of the Defence budget. No one would miss it. The accounts were already in a mess.
Chapter Seventeen
Edinburgh.
Now back in his apartment Gavin turned on the TV. On his mind was the frank exchange of views he just had with Mary Dewar. He was wondering how far she would go, what laws she was prepared to break to get her own way? Entirely on her own she was perfectly capable of exacerbating the volatile situation between Scotland and the UK. After five minutes watching the news on TV, now heartily fed up seeing Sir Roger Bottomley and Mary Dewar postulating and sabre-rattling, Gavin had heard enough. He turned off the TV and headed out to the kitchen and filled the kettle. He then put a heaped teaspoon of instant coffee in a mug. Before the water had time to boil the phone out in the hall rang.
‘Hello.’ Gavin said absent-mindedly still thinking about Mary Dewar’s blatant admission that she had set out to trick him.
‘Am I speaking to King Robert?’
Gavin frowned. He’d forgotten he was King Robert.
‘Yes, this is King Robert. Who is that?’
‘Your Majesty I am Kelvin Boyd, from Channel One, Scotland News.’
‘Oh,’ said Gavin. ‘I was just watching your news report on the TV.’
‘And did you like it?’ Kelvin said referring to his performance.
‘I thought is was disgusting.’
You thought I was disgusting?’
‘I wasn’t talking about you,’ Gavin said. ‘No, I thought you were great. I was referring to those two idiots, Bottomley and Dewar, both acting like twentieth century despots.’
‘Yeah, I get where you are coming from,’ Kelvin said. ‘But I am calling to see if Your Majesty would be kind enough to grant me an audience?’
An audience! Bit old fashioned. Gavin hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to talk to the media without Penny Braithwaite sanctioning whom he met with and agreed what he would say. Thinking that having already made enough waves he’d best play this by the rules he said.
‘That may be possible Kelvin, but I’m afraid you will have to run your request through my press office. They handle this sort of thing.’
‘Oh, of course your Majesty,’ Kelvin said playing along. He knew full well the King didn’t have a press office. ‘I do understand and I apologise for making this direct approach. If my business with you wasn’t of great national importance and a matter of great urgency I would have done so, but in this case…’
‘Let me stop you there, Kelvin,’ Gavin said now thinking that this guy was the top Scottish newscaster. If there was anyone who knew what was going on with Mary Dewar this was the man he needed to talk to.
‘You mentioned national importance?’ Gavin said. ‘I am now thinking that given the tensions that exist between the Scottish and the UK governments, I could forego the usual protocols.’ Sensing the hint of nervousness in Kelvin’s voice Gavin asked.
‘Where and when were you thinking of?’
What Boyd said next set Gavin back on his heels.
‘Are you being followed?’
Gavin was shocked at the suggestion. Am I being followed? He wouldn’t put it past Cruid and Dewar to spy on him. Jeez! Is this apartment bugged?
‘I don’t know, leastways I don’t think I am. Until you just mentioned it I never gave it a thought.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Kelvin said. ‘I don’t think we should be having this discussion on the phone. Let’s meet up someplace where there are lots of people. Then should we need to escape we can melt into the crowds.’
‘Ok,’ Gavin agreed, feeling a little apprehensive. He’d been in Edinburgh less than two months and he wasn’t at all sure whom he could trust. Kelvin Boyd just asking him if he was being followed wasn’t helping.
‘Where do you have in mind?’
‘Do you know Deacon Brodies Tavern, on Lawnmarket, just off the Royal Mile?’ Kelvin said.
‘No, but I don’t imagine it would be difficult to find.’
‘Good. Meet me there in one hour. Go upstairs and wait at a table by the window. Let me have your mobile number in case I get delayed?’
Gavin gave him his number and they said goodbye.
Before leaving the apartment Gavin left Fiona a note: “Fi, I have had to go out. I have my Mobile with me. Love you. Gav X”
Gavin pulled on a Redsox baseball cap and then locked the front door behind him.
Striding up Royal Mile, Gavin was now beginning to take notice of the people around him. Was he being followed? He guessed not. When he reached Lawnmarket, the thoroughfare was packed with people, mostly tourists. If someone were tailing him, he wouldn’t have spotted him… or her! He suddenly thought.
Looking as quaint as any of Dickens Inns, Deacon Brodie’s Tavern on the corner of Lawnmarket and Bank Street, with its twin red phone boxes, stood out from the line of souvenir shops. At the top of the stairs he looked across the crowded room. He couldn’t see any vacant tables let alone one by the window. That was when he saw an arm waving him over. Twisting his way through the packed bar, it wasn’t till he got closer that he recognised the semi-disguised Boyd, wearing a beanie hat and a pair of glasses with thick black frames.
Boyd didn’t get up when Gavin sat down. They shook hands across the table. There were two pints of beer on beer mats.
‘I got you a beer. Is that ok?’ Kelvin Boyd said.
Wanting to keep a clear head Gavin would have preferred something non-alcoholic. He said thanks and took a swig from his glass and then wiped froth off his top lip with the back of his hand. Placing his glass down on a beer mat Gavin looked about him and in a voice just above a whisper he said.
‘Why all the cloak and dagger stuff Kelvin?’
‘Gavin… can I call you Gavin? I hate all that “Your Majesty” crap?’
‘Gavin will be fine.’
Kelvin leaned across the table and in a hushed voice said, ‘I wanted us to meet up because I am worried.’
‘About the threat of invasion?’ Gavin said. ‘Yeah me too.’
Kelvin shook his head. ‘I am not so worried about that. I don’t think an invasion is likely however, I am worried for you.’
‘Me! Why are you worried about me?’
Kelvin looked about him before speaking just above a whisper. ‘I recently came into possession of a document that should it became known about would undoubtedly put both our lives at risk.’
It was Gavin’s turn to look about him. When he looked back at Kelvin, the newsman flicked opens his coat. Gavin saw what looked like a very old cardboard cylinder.
Boyd’s hand slid inside his coat and then quickly disappeared under the table. Gavin felt something jab into his leg.
The surface of the cylinder felt rough, like leather. Without saying a word Gavin slid it inside his coat and tucked it under his arm.
‘Only three people know of it’s existence. Kelvin said. ‘Th
at is myself, you, and a solicitor by the name of Nathaniel Gough who works in the Solicitor General’s office. Gough after he deciphered it, scared of what it represented took it straight to his boss who then ordered Gough to burn it. However, Gough couldn’t bring himself to destroy such an important historical document so knowing the SG couldn’t read Celtic script he was able to destroy one that looked just like it.’
Gavin shook his head. ‘Ok, I get it. You make it sound like it’s one of the Dead Sea scrolls? The scroll is important, historically, but I don’t see what its existence has to do with me?
‘Gavin, I suspect the scroll in your hands is more powerful than any ancient Hebrew script.’
Gavin could feel the tube pressed against his ribcage.
‘Should its existence and its potency became known,’ Kelvin said anxious to impress on the King the risks he faced, ‘anyone in possession of the scroll will be in grave danger. I hate to do this Gavin, I really do, but the minute I walk out of here I will deny all knowledge of it.’
Leaning across the table Gavin hissed. ‘Thanks’ Kelvin, you tell me that my life is in danger and then you clear off.’
‘Gavin,’ Kelvin said. ‘As the King of Scotland, surely you have security people guarding you? If not, that’s something that you need to sort out, pretty quickly. And if you ever get around to implementing some of those dangerous plans in your head, you for sure will need to beef it up.’
‘Ok, say I believe what you say. Say it is as dangerous as you say it is. Why is that?’
‘Because, the scroll is the proof that as the King of Scotland, you possess some awesome and frightening powers.’
‘Pfft! What powers,’ Gavin mocked. ‘I don’t have any powers. I am little more than a scribe. I am a puppet king. Haven’t you noticed that I don’t get out much.’ Gavin said. ‘I don’t think you understand my position here Kelvin. I may be the King but I have no influence. All I ever do is sign a bunch of meaningless documents and then, whoop de whoop, if I’m lucky I get to pop a few trees in the ground and then smile at the cameras.’
Gavin reached across the table and grabbed hold of Boyd’s arm. ‘Tell me about the scroll.’
‘Shush! Keep your voice down for Chrissake,’ Kelvin hissed looking about him. ‘I’ll explain: Scotland hasn’t had a King in over three hundred years. The scroll Gough found is almost a thousand years old. It is a thirteenth century charter drawn up after an agreement was reached between King Alexander the second of Scotland and the major Scottish nobles. The charter is called: “The Rights OF Kings”. In return for unfettered powers to rule over the whole of Scotland, the Scottish Barons were given huge tracts of land. Nathaniel Gough found the scroll, written in Celtic dialect, in the vaults beneath Holyrood Palace. Able to decipher it, he discovered that in the hands of a legitimate monarch, you for instance, it would give you the power to overrule the Scottish Parliament and impose your own laws.