The Shackleton Affair (A Raymond Armstrong Novel Book 2)

by Michael Gill

  “I have John arriving tomorrow afternoon and he will take over from you around tea time.”

  “Why?”

  “It could be a long stint and I will need fresh eyes. John and I have both done this many times.”

  “I will go frantic hanging around the hotel while you are out there. You’re older and not in shape. You must have put on two inches around that waist thanks to my home cooking.”

  “I am in perfect shape. I play golf twice a week with no cart. Silly me. How could I forget you’re an athlete?”

  “Seriously, something could go wrong.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.”

  “Raymond I know you don’t want me working with you, it’s just this case seems like a team effort.”

  “I know; you’ve been excellent with all your research and almost getting arrested at the Queen’s home.”

  She hit him on the shoulder.

  Chapter 30

  Raymond and Anne had gone into the airport the next morning. Raymond constantly sent Anne text messages with the status. She was parked in the one hour zone. Once she received a message the whisky had arrived and was heading through arrivals she brought the car around to the entrance. Raymond hopped in and instructed her to follow the large black limo two cars in front. They had watched him enter the lab building which was twenty minutes from the airport without any event.

  The car park was full inside a large business park with traffic constantly driving by the main road next to them. They had managed to find a spot with a good vantage point and Raymond was peering through a pair of small but powerful set of binoculars. The spot was to the rear under an oak tree. So far nobody had come anywhere close by. Raymond had a story set up that they were here to surprise their son. He worked in the lab and it was his birthday. A surprise lunch or whatever. Sounded plausible.

  While he tried to stay focused, Anne was becoming a distraction. She was recalling last night. They had the most amazing dinner, fine wine, finishing the night with a couple of single malts at the bar. The dessert she rustled up back in the room was erotic. She had secretly packed her black lingerie outfit, playing room service to perfection. She had served up chocolates, placing them all over his body. Well! Focus Raymond.

  “I’m actually famished. I should have brought sandwiches and a flask. That’s what happens when you have a full breakfast at seven in the morning. The stomach craves more.”

  “Suck it up. We aren’t here for a picnic,” he snapped, apologising a second later.

  He was trying hard to focus, but he knew if anyone could distract him it would be Anne. In that few minutes of conversation, an image of a double decker cheese and Branston sandwich and a hot mug of coffee in his mind, the dessert last night, something odd had occurred. He felt it.

  “Anne give me a second.” He placed his finger on her lips.

  He thought back to the last five minutes. The girl in the lab coat had returned from a cig break. He had checked the whole building when they arrived this morning. To the rear of the building was an area with a large concrete ashtray. A large sign stating ‘smoking area’. She had come out of the main door, turned right and disappeared behind the building. When she returned and while Anne was talking about food, what?

  Suddenly he leapt out of the car. Her hair was a different colour. “Come on,” he yelled without looking back.

  He sped through the car park, Anne not able to keep up with him and surprised at how fast he ran. He turned the corner at the rear of the building, paused at the scene and saw a foot protruding between two sheds. He found a girl checked her pulse, strong, slowly turning her. “Are you okay?” Raymond asked. “Bump on the head,” she said groggily. Anne came around the building out of breath.

  “Call 999 and stay with her. I’m going inside.”

  He sprinted into the front lobby, brushed past the security guard at reception who shouted wait and began to sprint after him down the corridor. Raymond slammed through the double doors almost tripping over the girl on the floor. He bent down and read her name tag. It read ‘Wendy’ and before he could check her over she opened her eyes.

  “A woman dressed in a lab coat came in. I read her name tag and knew she was an imposter. My friend Linda had gone for a break and she was wearing her coat. I got rather cross with her and she hit me hard over the head.”

  She started to cry. Anne came in while Raymond was consoling her. “Police will be here in five minutes.”

  Raymond looked at his phone which was now beeping a text message.

  “Ian should be on the Isle of Arran according to my data,” said John.

  The security guard had been on the phone and was now staring at Raymond.

  Raymond grabbed Anne’s arm. “Right we’re off - come on.”

  “What? We can’t leave the two ladies like this. What about police reports? We are witnesses.”

  “Stay here and answer their questions or come with me - your choice.”

  Chapter 31

  Trace had stolen a car earlier in the morning from a railway station close by. She had watched a typical commuter dressed in a suit, with a briefcase in hand, stroll from the car park, into the station where he purchase a ticket to Edinburgh. She had approached the machine, watched him do it and asked politely in her best Canadian accent instructions on how to use the machine for her ticket to Stirling. He showed her and before she dropped the coins in the machine, he’d said sorry have to catch my train.

  She was thinking smart. The car wouldn’t be found missing for hours, maybe this evening. She raced to the ferry terminal in Abrossen which would take one hour from Glasgow, left the car there and boarded the ferry with just a holdall. Ian would pick her up on the other side on Arran.

  It all went so well this morning. Not a hitch. They had no idea. Fancy having lunch. She had expected it. A bunch of excited whisky guys with the find of the century would take samples and go celebrate with a pub lunch. Yeah, went like clockwork.

  She arrived at the ferry terminal driving a few hundred yards past where she found a side street. She drove a hundred yards to the end of the street. Looked round to make sure there were no nosy parkers looking out of their windows. All was quiet. She got out of the car and locked the door with the remote.

  When she rounded the corner and turned to the terminal, she tossed the keys in the ocean, proceeded to the office and bought a ticket.

  Once on board Trace went on deck to get some air. She always admired the seagulls that flew the journey with each ferry knowing they would get snacks at each end. Why don’t they just perch on the ferry and get a free ride she had often thought. She looked at the island in the distance. The miniature Scotland folks called the Isle of Arran. To the south was Holy Island and beyond that she noticed dark clouds while the rest of her view in all directions was a clear sky of blue with only a sprinkling of tiny clouds. May have bad weather tonight she thought, checking the wind direction. She realised after the adrenaline rush that she was starving.

  She went back down one deck and stood in line waiting to order a full breakfast and coffee. She tucked into a full plate of food realising she hadn’t eaten in quite some time. She finished her food and sipped on her mug of coffee, licking her lips from the aftertaste of the sausages, beans and brown sauce. She leant down, unzipped the bag and smiled at the contents. Two whiskies for Ian and she was rich. She looked up from the table for one second. In complete shock she bent her head back down out of view. She felt for the magazine on the table and brought it down to her. She put the magazine over her face and peered over the top. There in line for food was Raymond Armstrong and some lady. The tall good looking guy she had met at Glenora distillery. What the hell?

  They both had their backs to her and she could hear them debating on what to order. She slowly eased out of her seat, picked up her bag and moved out of the cafeteria and to the front of the boat. She found a spot where she could see the corridor leading to where she had just left and also the exits. Could this
be pure coincidence, could he be on his way to the Isle of Arran distillery? He was a whisky geek after all. This day, this crossing. I don’t like it.

  She pulled out her smart phone and called Ian, while keeping one eye on the corridor, the other on the passengers moving round.

  “Ian all went really well.”

  “I know, I have your text messages. I will be waiting for you at the terminal.”

  “Raymond Armstrong is on the same ferry. Did you receive any more info on him?”

  “I can’t believe it! On your ferry right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “My people checked further. It’s almost like he didn’t exist until three years ago.”

  “Do they think he was a cop or worse?”

  “Not necessarily. Don’t the Brits have a witness programme like the USA?”

  “I think he was Special Forces. He was probing us from the very start. How did he know?” Trace was becoming agitated.

  “We found he was a close friend to Gordon Reid the owner of Bute distillery. Mr. Reid died last year under mysterious circumstances. If he was in this area surely he would be on a ferry to Bute. They have stopped crossing between Bute and Arran. Or possibly he will be visiting both. What do you think? Are we being paranoid?”

  “Don’t pick me up, I will find my own way to the cottage. Go to plan B and enquire if we can get out tonight via helicopter. He isn’t here to visit a distillery!”

  Chapter 32

  Raymond and Anne exited the ferry, making an immediate right on to the main road.

  “Okay, John pinpointed the cottage, the GPS will have us there in under thirty minutes.” They passed through Broderick. “Lovely hotel the Douglas. Stayed there many times,” said Raymond focusing on the road. It starts to get tricky with a ton of sharp bends a bit further up. This is the road to the distillery up in Lochranza.”

  Anne commented on a mall they passed with a sign that read 'Lavender Aromatic’.

  “I know this little island is hard to beat for a holiday. Well, except this rain they have far too often. It’s better than Bute but it doesn’t have a place like Rothesay.”

  “Still one of your favourite spots?”

  “Yes and not just because of Gordon, the distillery and you being from there. It’s special. We will come and look at both islands once we catch these two and put them away for a long time.”

  “Speaking of which, we should call the police right now.”

  “Don’t worry. I have John ready to call them at my word.”

  Raymond and Anne found the large cottage set well away from the town in its own grounds. There was a large gate with a long driveway. He could see a Land Rover parked outside the front door. The lights were on around the building. “What do we do now?” Anne asked.

  “Wait for John to arrive.”

  “And?”

  “I have no idea. We could just walk up to the front door and announce we are visiting the local distillery and thought we would stop by for a wee dram.”

  The rain pounded down, bouncing off the bonnet of the car and the windscreen was a sheet of rain and mist. Raymond turned the ignition to the first position on the key slot to turn the wipers on.

  “I don’t think they will be on the move tonight in this storm.”

  “So what do we do, wait?”

  “Yes. Surveillance is most of the job in this line of work.”

  “Okay but keep flicking the wipers on. I’m getting claustrophobic in here.”

  “Aaaah,” screamed Anne, while Raymond grabbed a hold of Anne’s arm tightly. The wipers had cleared the screen for a second giving enough time for them to see a shape. A person with a hood stood glaring at them in the pouring rain. He did it again. This time the person had a rifle pointing directly at Anne’s head. Through the car they heard a female voice shout, get out of the car now. Raymond instinctively started up the car engine. At that second, the windscreen shattered and a hole appeared in the seat. A bullet had been fired that landed right next to Anne’s right shoulder.

  “Switch off the car, get out or the next one will be in the middle of her head.”

  Raymond switched off the engine and they both complied, getting out of the car to be soaked in seconds. They weren’t wearing clothes for a downpour.

  Ian appeared at the door. “Trace I said no guns.”

  “You have a better idea then?” she said pushing past him with Anne and Raymond in front. “Take off your clothes and sit. You on the couch,” she said pointing to Anne “and Raymond on the armchair.” They both looked vacantly at Trace. “Now,” she said pointing the gun back to Anne’s head. Anne went down to her bra and knickers and sat down. Raymond finally made it to his briefs and did likewise just when Ian appeared with two bath towels. “You are so soft Ian, we need to think about getting out of here, not looking after our uninvited guests.”

  Ian ignored Trace, going to the bar where he poured two whiskies.

  “Here,” he said handing a glass to Raymond and Anne.

  Raymond put the glass to his nose, breathed in the aromas. “Smells excellent.” He took a sip. “What is this?”

  “Lord Elcho from Wemyss Malts Company,” said Ian quietly.

  “I know the story. They introduced this malt in honour of the man. He was a big supporter of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Fled to France and could never return to Scotland.”

  “Very nice Raymond. You know how much I love listening to your whisky stories. Are you trying to buy some time?” sneered Trace.

  “Of course not, but how do you plan to escape?” Raymond asked.

  “No one is coming in this storm. Once it lifts we will be high in the sky, gone from here to a place we will never be found. They may have trouble finding you, after I tie you up and take you downstairs. The cellar is almost soundproofed,” Trace said smugly.

  She walked around the armchair, the gun in her right hand. She moved her left hand down Raymond’s chest digging her long fingernails into it. “Nice to see what you look like with no clothes on. You should have spent the night with me up in Cape Breton.”

  “He would never sleep with a nut job like you,” offered Anne. Trace moved towards the sofa slowly. She stopped in front of Anne, turned the rifle around with the butt facing out and swiped Anne across the face with it.

  Raymond jumped up planting both feet on the carpet, ready to pounce. “Sit back down or I shoot her in the head.” She now pointed the gun firmly at Anne’s temple. Anne was crying loudly. “Ian make yourself useful. I think we all need more whisky.”

  “They say women are chameleons, but you beat the lot Tracey. A lovely young lady interested in me going on about whisky. A round of golf together. I would never have imagined you could be violent. A thief with a gun. Who knew?”

  “I think you did immediately Raymond. Something about your past is missing. Ex-copper maybe?”

  “I was on to Ian almost straight away. Not you,” he lied.

  “What did you think about me then?”

  “A catch for any man.”

  “Really, and now?”

  “Where you’re going for the rest of your life doesn’t have men. All women waiting to see your yoga moves.”

  “Funny. I have an exit plan Raymond, don’t you worry.”

  “I don’t think so, friends are on the way.”

  “Not in this storm they aren’t.”

  “Could I have another?” Rymond asked stretching out the glass in his left hand. She took the glass from his hand and in that second he grabbed it tightly, jumped up and rammed his head into her face. She fell back on to the sofa. The gun was still in her hand. She aimed at Raymond, squeezed the trigger.

  Raymond felt a stinging sensation in his left shoulder. He looked at Tracey who had a similar wound in her shoulder. The gun lay on the ground.

  Raymond felt a draught coming from behind him. He turned to see the front door open. There stood Richard in a long raincoat, trilby hat and a gun in his hand.

  Chapter 33
r />   “Are you alone?” Raymond inquired.

  “For now,” Richard replied.

  “How did you get here through the storm?”

  “I have been here a while. Actually, on the same ferry. Once the Brazilians found the missing jewels, this whole mess had our attention.”

  Anne was half listening while attending to Tracey. She had a bullet wound right in the centre of her right shoulder. “Sir, would you please get me hot water and a towel from the kitchen.” Ian was trembling and looking pale. “Sir?” He went into the kitchen.

  “I have Glasgow CID on the way, once this storm lifts. You will need to stop the bleeding,” Richard said to Anne.

  “So what is the government going to do now? Re-open the case?”

  “Highly unlikely. Raymond you still have no idea why this theft took place and neither do I. We weren’t around in 1907 and all the history books you care to read on the matter have no definite conclusions. Just conjecture and assumptions.”

  Richard sat down on the sofa next to Anne.

  “You look dreadful. Could we get some ice for her face please?”

  “So you and Raymond have a theory about the King and Queen of England. I hope such nonsense is behind us?” Raymond said nothing.

  “I have told him many times, my only research on all of this was a love angle,” pleaded Anne.

  “I do believe the Queen and Sir Ernest had a special relationship. And perhaps they did, however what good it would do now to meddle with the past? If it makes you feel better, I agree with you. The King was never the best we’ve had but Queen Alexandra was a diamond. Much like our recently departed Queen Mother, both amazing ladies and rich in our heritage. If you continue raking up Shackleton events you will most certainly involve the Qqueen’s reputation. Why do that?”