Reflux

by Paul Watson

  The lease on the SUV had expired, and Andy handed back the tired monster with the upholstery containing ground-in-sweets. Something else expired though; the part of life where Max was still really a child.

  The interior of Andy’s car was now always clean, and the worst litter was from Andy, his driver’s side pocket filled with old receipts and car park tickets. Was it that the children were growing up and learning to respect property more? In part maybe, but Andy reflected that it was the family trips were less frequent. Max’s birthday parties and coke bombs from his friends had stopped. Video games had replaced woodland rambles and National Trust parks. The car was cleaner, but the golden years of childhood were fading to memory.

  He stuck the pay and display sticker inside the Insignia’s windshield. Two young men trundled past Andy. They wore Ireland Rugby shirts; one had his head shaved around the sides with a short quiff on top, like Max.

  ‘Morning lads, which way is the river please?’

  ‘Oh, you’re just through there,’ the lad with the quiff said. He pointed to a narrow passage between the buildings. Andy couldn’t see the end of the alley.

  ‘Congratulations on the Six Nations win, you’ve got a great team,’ Andy said. ‘Fantastic job down in Australia too.’

  ‘You’re right enough. But it’s England everyone will watch tonight.’

  ‘I take it you’ll be supporting us, like we supported Ireland back in 1990 when England didn’t qualify.’

  ‘We weren’t born then, but you can count on our support.’ They both stroked the badge on their shirts and laughed. ‘Good luck.’

  Andy smiled and crossed over to the passageway. The chat in the street with the two Irish lads lifted him and made him think about the match, which made him consider Max’s message.

  Was Max ok? Had someone stolen his phone and started a sick game? He rechecked his mobile phone; a picture message from Mike Baker had arrived: the artist’s impression of Max’s kidnapper. It was the man who had sat next to him on the plane: Action man. Was he following him? Was he the man sending the messages?

  Thud.

  Andy jumped a little.

  An eel had fallen from the sky and just missed him. A seagull swooped at the stricken fish and flew off again. Andy’s sympathies lay with the eel, because of bad experiences involving Seagulls, sandwiches and picnic benches. The worst of the incidents had resulted in minor first aid applied to Andy’s forehead, by Jess.

  Seagulls worked in teams, like velociraptors. Andy stared skywards, searching for the feathery hit squad. He spotted three birds: a boss and two soldiers. He also saw a drone flying high above the river; a little too close to pedestrians.

  Andy picked up the eel, threw it back into the river and watched it swim away. Action man sat at a table next to the river; Andy walked straight past the table and on towards the road bridge where the river disappeared to a weir.

  Another message from Max: ‘Wait there Dad for five minutes.’

  Andy replied: ‘How do I know you’re Max?’

  Beep: ‘Don’t be weird Popster.’

  Action man had left his table. Andy looked all the way down the parade, but couldn’t see the man. He’d wait five minutes and then get out of here.

  Four minutes later, a powerboat rib ride emerged from the river upstream and passed under the pedestrian bridge, near to the alleyway. It approached Andy’s side of the bank and stopped below him.

  ‘Are you Andy? Jump down,’ the driver of the rib said. ‘Max sent me.’

  It was a 10-foot drop.

  Beep: ‘Jump Dad, Right now, you’re in danger, trust me.’

  Andy jumped; he kept his knees bent and landed on the balls of his feet, on the deck of the rib, just like he’d taught Sam.

  Action man stared down from the railing; Andy met his gaze as the rib powered away.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Tichi had built their Sligo facility a few miles out of town, on a plateau that fell away to the Atlantic. The wind stirred the ocean, and Roberts sucked in the ozone as he strode from the SUV towards the gate. Roberts entered Jackson’s pin, and the barrier opened.

  Seamus Bradley was in his mid-sixties, stocky, with a broad grin. The delay caused by the fire the night before was not a significant event. It was out of his control, so why worry?

  Bradley thought the man with the scar, approaching him in the morning sunlight, was dangerous, but so was driving to work or fishing. Bradley already had more miles than his father had clocked; both had been slaves to alcohol and tobacco. Death held no fear for him; the extra money that Jackson offered was risk-free.

  ‘Disappointing that I had to make this journey,’ Roberts said.

  ‘How can you call that view disappointing,’ Bradley said. ‘You can see New York if you look hard enough.’

  ‘Spare me. I’m already here longer than I’d planned, I’ll do my sightseeing another time.’

  ‘You’re coming again? Your line of work is risky, you might be dead tomorrow, why not enjoy today?’

  ‘If you’d like to see retirement Grandpa, hand over the package.’

  Jackson glared at Bradley and nodded at him.

  ‘I’ve just arrived, I had a lie in this morning, I was on a streak at the poker last night, I’ll fetch it.’

  ‘You lead the way, we’ll follow. You stink of alcohol.’

  ‘I’ve noticed something about you son, that may cause you problems in your life. It may even be the reason you’re at this dive on a Sunday morning, talking to a drunk.’

  Bradley intrigued Roberts. ‘Tell me more Grandpa.’

  ‘I’ve got no grandchildren, or children. If I did, perhaps I’d not talk like this to you.’

  ‘You’ve got my full attention.’

  Jackson stared at his own feet.

  ‘You don’t say please. A common decency that shows you see the other person as an equal. If you were my son, I’d have kicked your arse if you talked the way you do.’

  ‘I’ve never found the need to ask.’ The old man irritated Roberts; how could a washed-up drunk get under his skin? ‘I’ll make this simple for you, lead the way to the package right now. Booze doesn’t taste as good with no tongue.’

  Roberts took out his penknife again, this time he selected the long blade, the rabbit skinner. Roberts had wiped the short blade clean back in Sligo, using the napkin from the chowder place.

  ‘You do what you must, what you think will be most effective,’ said Bradley and stared Roberts straight in the eyes.

  Jackson withdrew from them a little and stood behind Roberts. Roberts breathed and spoke. ‘Please Mr Bradley, take me to the package.’

  ‘No problem let’s get going.’

  Bradley led the way into the warehouse. It reminded Roberts of the PKL building back in England, but with boxes rather than computer kit packed to the rafters. As he followed Bradley. Roberts’s thoughts drifted to Julia.

  Julia had been in the van when he’d handed over the kid to her at the service station, a few miles from the hospital. She had stepped out of the passenger seat of the Ford Transit and kissed him. Roberts hadn’t recognised the driver who had helped them move the kid from the BMW.

  In the van had been a hospital bed, drips, pipes, bags, monitors. The driver had jumped down and out of the rear of the vehicle and shut the doors.

  Roberts had enjoyed being closed in with Julia; he had done well, and Julia had looked pleased.

  ‘I’ll do a few checks on him, and we’ll get moving,’ she had said. ‘You know what you’ve got to do next?’

  ‘I know, and I’ll be back tomorrow.’

  ‘Any delays let me know.’

  Julia had worked on the kid for a few minutes, and a heart trace had appeared on the screen.

  ‘We’re ready to go,’ she had said. Roberts had kissed her, got out of the van, and shut the back door.

  An hour later, Roberts had pulled the BMW into the airport long stay and rolled into a slot. There would be one hell of a parking bi
ll racked up by the car; Roberts wondered whether it would take weeks or months before the authorities found it.

  Bradley stepped from the warehouse into a process area; red service ducts passed through the roof trusses overhead.

  ‘We’re over in the cold-room,’ said Jackson and pointed to a white cube in the processing hall. ‘We need to freeze dry the ingredients after mixing; they’re stable for a few days at most. Goes off faster than eggs, and an egg mould is what we’ll use this time. You must put on this gear.’

  Jackson and Roberts put on thick jackets, over-trousers, gloves and a balaclava. Jackson pressed his thumb onto the sensor, and the door opened; they left Bradley outside the cold-room.

  ‘Minus 50 degrees Celsius,’ Jackson said. ‘We don’t want to hang around in here too long.’

  ‘That’s for sure.’

  ‘The premix is all in that pressurised hopper on the wall, it’s taken a month to synthesise. You need to hit that switch, and we’re good to go.’

  Roberts pressed a green button on a control panel. A yellow liquid squirted out of the hopper into a mould. ‘I saved the packaging box from a chocolate egg I bought for my daughter.’

  ‘I bet she’d be proud of you. You could go into school on the careers day to show what daddy does at work.’

  Jackson placed the egg mould on a conveyor and pressed another switch. The egg passed through the chiller, and he picked it up when it emerged on the other side; the yellow liquid had hardened. Jackson removed the casing using a pair of scissors and held the egg out in front of him; Roberts put his hands out to take it.

  ‘Not yet; that’s the freezing part done, but as soon as you walk out of the room, the frozen solution will melt. Now we’ve got to dry it.’

  ‘So how are you going to dry it without heating it?’

  ‘We’ll reduce the pressure; the ice will evaporate to steam without ever turning to water; have you ever drunk instant coffee?’

  ‘I only drink ground.’

  ‘Yeh, but I’m sure you’re aware of instant coffee. You add boiling water, and you’re back to the original. It enables the powder to travel around the world, keeping all the original flavour; it’s my favourite method of preservation.’

  Jackson was in full flow, the enthusiasm clear in his sparkling eyes. Roberts wondered what made Jackson get involved in all this; was the extra money worth it? Maybe it was; Jackson had a little girl. There would be ballet classes; perhaps holiday had blown the budget.

  Jackson signalled to Bradley, who watched through a thick glass portal in the wall. ‘The stuff we produce in here goes through on trays, straight from the chiller via conveyor into the decompression vessel. We’ll switch to manual and turn up the pressure to speed up the process.’

  Bradley pulled a lever outside the chiller, and the conveyor stopped. He walked over to a cylindrical tank, clambered up a ladder, turned a wheel on a circular hatch and opened it. Bradley gave Jackson a thumbs up signal from on top of the vessel.

  ‘We’ve got to be quick now.’ Jackson wrapped the egg in a thick fibrous material that lay on a table. ‘We’ve only got a minute to get over to the tank. Seamus has opened the maintenance hatch and we’ll put it in the airlock at the top.’

  ‘Whatever you’ve got to do.’

  Roberts watched through the glass portal as Jackson carried his bundle up the ladder, keeping one hand on the rail; Jackson placed the egg in a wire basket and lowered it through the hatch. Bradley returned from the drying tank and met Roberts in the cold-room, not bothering to put on the protective equipment.

  ‘Won’t be in here long, I’ve got used to it over the years, anyway.’ Bradley turned a dial on the control panel; there was a rumble from the tank, and Roberts thought he saw it shake. ‘That’ll take about 10 minutes, let’s wait outside where it’s warmer.’

  ‘Can you look at this please?’ Roberts said.

  Jackson monitored the pressure from the secondary control panel at the top of the tank. There was an emergency override if required, but the main controls were down in the chiller room. Jackson glanced down, expecting to see Roberts and Bradley emerging.

  Roberts emerged alone, took off the protective gear, and climbed up to Jackson.

  ‘Where’s Bradley?’

  ‘Bradley went to check an alarm out front and told me to come up here in case you needed any help.’

  There was a low-pitched beep, and the noise in the tank stopped along with the vibrations. Jackson opened the hatch and pulled up the wire, took the egg from the basket and offered it to Roberts.

  ‘Here you go, consider this a handover.’ Roberts accepted the egg from Jackson and put it in his rucksack.

  ‘Thanks. You pulled through Jackson, do you need a lift back?’

  ‘If you drop me in Sligo, I’ll see a friend; she’ll take me back to Dublin later. Let’s check Bradley’s OK out front.’

  Roberts and Jackson returned outside the building; no sign of Bradley.

  ‘I’ll look for Seamus in the security room,’ Jackson said.

  ‘Don’t bother.’ Roberts took something out of his pocket wrapped in a layer of the insulating material. ‘It’s warm in the sun now, do you want an ice lolly?’ The material fell away, and Roberts handed Jackson a pink frozen tongue. ‘I warned him, turns out I didn’t need the knife; I snapped it. Be more careful when you choose your next helper.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The wind blasted Andy’s hair as the powerboat picked up speed.

  The boat driver could have been an extra in a pirate movie; his bandana flapped around his ears. The river widened, and the pirate pushed the throttle. The sun rose to Andy’s left; they were heading South.

  ‘This is the Garavogue,’ the pirate said. ‘I’m James Higgins. I’ll keep her steady until we get out into Lough Gill and then I’ll open her up and show you what she can do.’

  Andy’s mind raced with questions, but they could wait. Time to enjoy the ride and take in the view. The channel widened again; the rib turned left past rocks, and the lake opened out in front.

  ‘Lough Gill.’ Higgins cut the throttle.

  The deep blue lake glinted in the sunlight and shimmered in a breeze; woodland surrounded it. Andy recognised the trees: oaks, willows and rowans; he had learned their shapes by helping Sam with a school project. Andy would like to bring the family here when he’d found Max; it would be perfect.

  ‘It’s about five kilometres; won’t take long. As you’re the only passenger, I’ll give you something special. It might be difficult to talk so look out for Church Island on the left and Innisfree on the right when we get across the lake.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what’s happening?’

  ‘Let’s get somewhere safe first. We don’t want to waste this by talking, anyway. Are you ready?’

  Andy nodded and gripped the handle on the seat. Andy sat at the back, in front of Higgins. The bow surged into the air and then slapped back down onto the lake. Andy forgot the real world for the three-minute journey across the water; woodland blurred to a green haze, and the spray soaked him to the skin. Andy glimpsed Church Island and Innisfree but today was not the time to stop and stare; Andy would need to come back for that.

  ‘Hold tight.’ The bow of the rib plunged into the lake and they came to a standstill quicker than Andy thought possible. A jetty rose from the lake; Higgins threw a rope up and climbed out. ‘Mind your step.’

  They stood on the jetty together and looked back across the lake; the sun warmed the rear of their necks.

  ‘We went up to 62 knots there, I’ve bought a boat down in Cork that we’re starting up soon; my cousin and me put racing props on it, and we got up to 70 knots; it drinks the diesel though. My cousin’s just come out of the army, and he’ll be running things down there. We’ve got a room booked; we can talk inside.’ Higgins pointed over to his right.

  ‘A castle?’

  Andy and Higgins entered through the main gate, high walls rising either side. The courtyard
had a few stone buildings and a well; a manor house stood in the centre, and a few tourists milled around the grounds.

  A lady in a beige blouse welcomed them and took them through a door in the outer wall facing the lake. Andy, Higgins and the lady followed a narrow passageway and entered a room through a sliding door; it was air-conditioned.

  The furniture was modern, with a six-person meeting table at the centre and a large screen on one wall; video conference kit littered the table. A large picture of Lough Gill hung on one wall as if it was a window, but there were no windows. The lady put down a tray with coffee and biscuits. ‘There you go. I’ll be just down the corridor if you need me.’ She left the room.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘I’ve never been inside before, but it’s a castle built at the time of the plantations. I’ll tell you what happened. When I was cleaning the rib over in the boathouse, I took a phone call. The mystery caller asked me to go downriver and pick up a man called Andy Teague from town and tell him his life’s in danger. I told the caller I didn’t go into town and stuck to the lake; he said if I did the job, then he’d pay me 100 000 euro. He told me to check my bank account, and he’d pay the rest when I brought you here. When I checked my account, it was 50 000 euro healthier, and I got a message with your photo; the message said: “Give him a fun ride back to the castle, it’s his birthday tomorrow”. I didn’t think about it anymore. The rest you know.’

  ‘Did he pay you the extra 50,000?’

  Higgins checked his phone and clicked an app, ‘He’s paid,’ the balance showed: 99,012 euro.

  ‘Strange that it cleared on a Sunday?’

  ‘Not the strangest thing about it all. Who was that man staring at you on the bridge, anyway?’

  ‘I sat next to him on my flight over here, and he’s mixed up in kidnapping my son and killing my friend.’

  ‘I thought the 100 000 euro would get me into trouble.’

  ‘Let’s hope not, thanks for your help back there. I’d be staring at the river bed now if you’d not arrived.’