Justine and the Psychic Connections

by Ruth Hay

  “What about ‘Bye for now’?”

  She thought about this for a moment and then told me her husband more often said or wrote a colloquial Scottish phrase, ‘Fare Thee Weel the Noo.’

  I asked to keep the e-mail copy, as I would need to decipher it later. It felt like a clue but to what I did not know.

  Miriam went off to check on her daughters and I put on the kettle for tea. I needed more information about Cedric Mackenzie and his wife should be able to supply something. I also needed to contact the county offices and tackle the matter of the missing rental payments.

  Miriam had enough to do feeding and watering her children without trying to figure out the reason for her husband’s disappearance.

  Mother Miriam returned to the kitchen with baby Susie on her hip and Debbie under her arm. Noreen was watching some children’s television program. The ensuing information came in dribs and drabs as the little ones were fed. Miriam never did get to the tea.

  In summary, I discovered very little. Cedric Mackenzie was a soldier when they first met. He was frequently away on deployments throughout their marriage leaving his wife pregnant after each furlough. What his role was she never really knew. He often returned sporting a new tan, several bruises, and needing a lot of sleep to catch up. They did not live in barracks with other military families. Cedric never told her anything about his work.

  “You must have felt isolated and lonely at times, Miriam.”

  “Yes, I did. We moved around and were often far from any help my family could provide.

  I coped pretty well, I think, until Susie came. She has food allergies and does not sleep much at night. Noreen is so good with her baby sisters. I don’t know how I could manage without her.”

  It sounded like more tears were imminent, so I jumped up to help cook dinner for Miriam, Noreen and the boys. The food turned out to be a one-pot meal that just required stirring, which was within my limited cooking expertise. This allowed Miriam to load the dishwasher and sort out some washing. I took Noreen out to the back garden and we emptied the washing line of dry baby clothes before the darkening sky unloaded a rain shower.

  “Tell me about your Daddy, Noreen?” I asked.

  “My Daddy is a big brave man. He goes off to war to fight the bad men. When he comes home again he reads me stories and takes me for ice cream all by myself like a grown-up.

  I miss him. When is my Daddy coming home again, Justine?”

  There was something so trusting about this little girl with the big responsibilities that tugged at my heartstrings. I bent down to her level and looked into her grey eyes, much like her mother’s eyes.

  “Noreen, I will try to find an answer to that question, as soon as I can.”

  She smiled, giving me her childlike trust.

  I could only pray I could return her father home alive.

  The rain was just beginning to fall when Kelvin returned with the twins in tow.

  To my amazement, neither twin had fallen into the stream behind the houses or returned with a bloody leg. Instead, they were well and truly tired out. I left the little family to their dinner and praised Kelvin profusely for his efforts as we walked out together.

  “Ach, they were no bother, Mrs. Jordan. We played goal shots and ‘keepie uppie’. The kids are quite good at that. Tomorrow we’re going to fish in the stream with nets.”

  I handed over a few notes from my pocket and sent him home. I would thank Sadie Turner personally, for her excellent choice of teenager as soon as I did my shopping for my own supper.

  Food and sleep were on my priority list. I needed a clear head for the thinking I must do.

  Nine

  I made a quick meal of toasted cheese with baked beans and tomatoes and went to bed with a mug of Ovaltine.

  Part way through the night I felt a weight along my legs, and discovered Ramses stretched out on the bed to share my body heat. I made a mental note to find out how he got into the house, but his presence was so comforting, especially along my weaker leg, that I slept well, in the knowledge he would wake and alert me if anything untoward should happen. I knew a Siamese cat can growl much like a dog when alarmed.

  The clouds had blown away in the night and I felt refreshed and ready to do some serious morning thinking. As I was in Scotland again, I treated myself to some porridge oats and liberally poured cream on the top. Ramses approved and enjoyed his smaller, cooler, portion in a bowl.

  Coffee came next and I settled down with notepad and pen, and my phone handy in case Simon called. Ramses soon left via the kitchen window that was only inches away from being completely closed. I guessed his slim body could wriggle under most obstacles but I would firmly shut that one before bed tonight.

  The e-mail copy came first. It was dated over a month ago. I stopped to consider where I was then, and what I was dealing with, but that was not about to help with the Mackenzie situation.

  This e-mail had a number of unusual aspects that made me suspect it contained a message, different from the obvious. I began to analyze each item.

  The word ‘tribe’ was one of the things identified as uncommon, by Miriam. I interpreted it as a location indicator.

  Tribes in Africa, India or Afghanistan or remote areas in the Arabian Peninsula came to mind.

  ‘Bye for now’ seemed innocuous but could also contain something significant.

  I played around with possibilities in that phrase and came up with the number 4, the direction North and after extrapolating ‘Bye’ into Goodbye, I chose GB.

  I sat back and let my mind focus on these ideas. Somewhere in the North of Britain in a place with the number four, or the sound of ‘fore’ in its name, lay a clue. How a foreign tribe related to that was something unknown, so far.

  I listed all that Miriam and Noreen told me about Cedric and it amounted to a description of a secret, ‘black ops’ group of highly trained men working overseas in dangerous territory for a government agency.

  Real James Bond stuff.

  Interesting!

  I wondered if Simon had reached the same conclusions.

  Next, I turned to my phone and called up a map of Scotland. My coffee was stone cold by this point, so I returned to the kitchen to make more, and comforted myself with time on my hands for a change, since Kelvin would already have extracted the twins from under their mother’s feet for the day’s fishing activity.

  Resupplied, I scanned the map. If my supposition was correct, I would soon be taking a trip to some remote location, well-hidden or disguised, from which secret information was gathered or dispersed.

  The possible list of names with the required ‘four’ sound was comparatively short.

  Firth of Forth

  Forth Road Bridge

  Forres

  Fort William

  Fort Augustus

  I briefly considered the Bass Rock, close to the Firth and difficult to reach but discarded it as almost uninhabitable, other than by seabirds.

  The other locations were non-specific, requiring searching larger areas of land.

  I came down to the Forts. They had a military feel that fit with my thinking of a secret fighting unit.

  Fort William was a thriving west coast town that derived its name from the English king who defeated the Scots in the Jacobite revolts. Fort William and Fort Augustus were named for King George’s younger son William Augustus.

  I called up the Google map of the area and discarded Fort William, but I grew more interested in Fort Augustus, which was only a few miles from the famous Commando Monument set in a glen and overlooking the sea from a wide area of mountain and fields. Something about Fort Augustus just felt right to me.

  I zoomed in closer to the town.

  When I saw the cluster of major buildings with access to Loch Ness, I grew more excited. There was a boathouse on a spit of land. Trees lined the shore giving good cover for night manoeuvres and the building complex itself still showed aspects of its history as an ancient church, a Benedictine Abbey
incorporated into the Fort, and now as an extensive hotel with various outbuildings. Anything could be going on in this site without risking discovery.

  It was the perfect hiding place for a clandestine operation.

  Was this the place to which Cedric’s e-mail was attempting to direct attention?

  Was this where I would find out where he had been sent?

  Was this my next move?

  * * *

  I was still thinking about the possibilities when my phone rang.

  It was Simon’s secure line.

  “How’s the weather?” This was code for ‘Is it safe to talk freely’.

  “Weather’s fine. How is it at your end?”

  “Nothing special. The usual dull skies and occasional showers.”

  “What about our friend?”

  “She’s definitely on the job, as you thought, but she will not be coming home soon. Some delays in the travel arrangements. Not looking good for her. We need more info.”

  “I see. I believe I can help with that. Give me a couple of days. I will call you when I have the info you need.”

  “Good enough. Keep safe.”

  “Always.”

  I put down the phone and summarized the conversation. No one could guess what, or who, Simon and I were actually talking about but it was clear to me.

  Cedric Mackenzie, ‘our friend’, was in danger. He was trapped somewhere in unfriendly hands. Simon and his associates did not know exactly where Cedric was located.

  A month had gone by since Cedric’s last communication.

  This was urgent.

  Ten

  I quickly packed a bag and found a new credit card. I did not want anything to lead back to Lenzie. It was a common ploy to seize an operative’s family to persuade him to give up his secrets.

  I checked on the situation at Miriam’s and left an envelope with money for her immediate needs and another for Kelvin. I had already sent a payment by phone to the County Offices to pay the house rent.

  All was peaceful in the Mackenzie house for a change.

  “I need to go away for a couple of days, Miriam. I hope to return with news about your husband. Try not to worry.”

  I waited outside The Village Shop for my rental car to be delivered, and exchanged a few words of thanks with Sadie.

  “Ach, Kelvin’s a good laddie most of the time. He’s grateful to be earning a bit of cash. He has his eye on a guitar, or so I hear.

  Is that your car Mrs. Jordan? Off somewhere nice?”

  I nodded, without providing any more gossip fodder and took over the driving with the delivery man in the front seat with me. I would drop him off in Kirkintilloch on my way north. Fortunately, he was not the chatty type. He fell asleep leaving me time to figure out my strategy for The Highland Club Hotel.

  Fort William was close to my destination but nothing about the town caused me to change my mind about it. No vibes there.

  I drove farther away from the sea and followed the long line of the Great Glen that almost bisected Scotland. The weather was pleasant for driving and the car was shiny and new without looking too memorable.

  I did not require asking directions to the hotel. Its grey roof slates and high towers rose far above the small town of Fort Augustus. The hotel was huge. I did not doubt there would be a suite available for my occupation.

  * * *

  “Two nights should be sufficient. One of your rooms overlooking the water will be just fine. I am on my way to Inverness and then driving down the east coast with stops to see family.”

  I adopted an Upper Class English accent and smiled more than was necessary. I allowed the receptionist to reserve a table in the dining room for me, as it would occupy the time before darkness fell. I expected to have surveyed most of the hotel’s area by then and entered any building that was unlocked. The Boathouse was my main point of interest and any likely outbuilding near there would get most of my attention. I also had in my possession a small device that could detect longwave transmissions. If any person was sending or receiving messages by that means, I could track the signal down very quickly.

  I tipped the bellboy who carried my bag, then changed my clothes and set up my centre of observations on a window seat from where I could see the wide lawn leading through trees to the loch side. A small pair of binoculars helped me to scan the territory. I noticed a couple of young, well-muscled men, not in hotel livery, walking briskly near the tree line toward the Boathouse. I waited to see if either of the men appeared next in a watercraft of some kind, but the waters of Loch Ness remained undisturbed.

  In my casual clothes, wearing a hat and my darkened glasses, I roamed around the hotel outbuildings and if I opened a door and found someone inside, I quickly apologized and withdrew. One glance usually sufficed to tell me if normal people were conducting normal lives in these dwellings. I would sense immediately if there was something else going on.

  One side of the complex consisted of small houses where staff lived and slept. Do Not Disturb notices on some doors, warned that sleeping staff were to be on duty in the evening and throughout the night.

  I memorized the layout of the hotel’s area before my dinner reservation and had just enough time to change into an old-fashioned, maroon, crushed velvet dress before descending in the elevator and taking my seat in an elegant room with huge windows, round tables, and linen and silverware on display, together with crystal glasses for every kind of refreshment.

  I believe the meal was rather good but most of my attention was not on the plates that came and went with alacrity. I was observing the other diners and wondering which of them might be more than they appeared to be.

  So far nothing had triggered my super senses until a new waiter, a sommelier, arrived at my table proffering an ice wine from Germany and trying to persuade me to try it.

  “But Madame,” he began, in a fake French accent, “you have been so neglectful of our remarkably good cellar. We at the The Highland Club Hotel pride ourselves on our cellar. Perhaps I can tempt you to a small whisky instead? The Morangie is particularly good and will give you a grand night’s sleep.”

  I could just imagine that it would likely knock me out for hours.

  Someone had seen through my disguise. This man was here to put me out of commission or to gather information, one way or another.

  I did not attempt to get in his way.

  Calmly placing my napkin on the table, I suggested he show me the wine cellar in person.

  He was so surprised that he temporarily dropped the fake accent then quickly took my arm and escorted me through the dining room with every sign of a pleasant exchange of opinions on wines. As soon as we were in a back hallway his grasp on my elbow tightened.

  I said nothing. This was a useful shortcut as far as I was concerned.

  In a few seconds we were outside and heading for the Boathouse in the dusky evening light.

  I did not say anything when he slipped a blindfold over my head. He was not to know that whenever my eyesight was obscured, my senses immediately ramped up considerably.

  We climbed a set of wooden stairs to an upper level. I could smell the water and hear it lapping against the sides of a boat below us. I was right about the Boathouse being the centre of operations.

  I sensed two more men in the room. Both were tense but they were curious rather than angry.

  I was soon seated on a chair but no restraints were applied to my arms or legs. I chuckled inside at the thought they were unafraid of what appeared to be a little old lady here on her own.

  The questions began.

  “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “You can call me Justine. I am here to find out what happened to Captain Mackenzie.”

  The atmosphere in the room changed utterly. I felt the tense looks zipping back and forth and the eyebrows being raised at this most unexpected development.

  I gave them no time to recover. It was my turn now to ask for answers.

  “I c
ould ask you exactly the same questions of course, but I surmise you were on a secret mission of some kind and Captain Mackenzie is collateral damage. I feel he is in a hiding place in enemy hands but I do not know his location. I can tell you he is worried but he maintains silence.”

  Abruptly the blindfold was removed.

  “How in hell could you know all this?”

  I removed my glasses and polished them on the hem of my dress. This way they could see my true personality.

  Three pairs of eyes bored into mine seeking answers.

  I pushed back stray hairs from my face and calmly stated, “Gentlemen, you have your secrets and I have mine. Let’s not quibble about how. I am here on behalf of the captain’s family.”

  There was silence.

  “Really, gentlemen, you could not possibly consider me a threat? I want to help. You can trust my discretion.”

  The former ‘sommelier’ took over.

  “This is highly irregular but we are about to depart and we cannot waste any time. Anything you can tell us will be helpful. We are a small group of operatives sent into Kashmir to find a thief who stole finances on a big scale.”

  “Oh, I read about this! The man in question died suddenly and his passwords apparently died with him, leaving investors with no recourse to recover their money.”

  Again, the atmosphere in the room adjusted to this surprising turn of events. I did not leave them time to wonder.

  “May I presume you have already determined the buried body to be that of some unfortunate native? I imagine there are powerful people who are willing to pay you well to recover the real thief and his passwords. So, gentlemen, to summarize;

  a hot land, in territory far from big cities.

  Tribal territory perhaps?”

  “Look Justine, or whoever you are, you know too much. You would clearly be an asset for us but we travel far and fast. Who do you work for?”