by Steve Reeder
“If you have an idea Simon, I wish you would share it with us.”
“All right gang, this is the plan for today,” I said. “Julia, I want you to go through your father’s things, and find anything you can regarding this Sultan fellow. Anything at all, no matter how silly it may seem. Brett, you are going to prepare for this Saturday’s practice session along with the rest of the team. We’ve still got to race this year, OK?” Brett nodded. “Good. Michele, I want you to help me organise. You are hired onto the team staff by the way. I am going to give the situation some careful planning during the day, and we will all meet back here at seven tonight. OK?”
Everyone gave me either a nod or an ‘OK’ back.
“Before we start though,” I continued, “Julia, who of the team could we rely on if I needed a strong-arm man to do a little rough stuff? Dave, the lad who drove the van to meet us yesterday, looked to be a useful lad in a fight, but I may need two or three more.”
“I’ll ask some of the men and see who is up for it. I don’t want to put any pressure on anyone,” Julia said. “But I’m sure the lads will be willing. They may not have been together very long, but Dad treats them well, and he pays good wages.”
“Good,” I said, standing up. “Let’s get on with it then. By the way, who is this Australian bloke who is riding with Brett and where is he anyway?”
“Oh, he’ll be with us tomorrow afternoon. He’s coming on the midday flight from Glasgow,” Julia replied. “His name’s Russell Yates.”
“He’s good rider,” Brett added. “He was unlucky not to win the Australian superbike championship the year before last.”
“All right, I’ve heard his name mentioned a few times,” I nodded. “Dave can pick him up and get him back here. When he gets here, he can rest up at the house till the next morning. I don’t want him involved with the kidnapping business, OK?” They all nodded their consent. “Not even know about it. All right?”
Once again I received three confirmations.
“Right. Let’s get the team together and get started,” I said, and strode out of the kitchen door, trailing my new team members after me.
Chapter 7
In the end we only managed to get the whole team together that evening. Mainly because Hammil spent three hours questioning Rodber employees and then his detective constable turned up with a book of photographs to show around. He got no joy there though.
Now we sat at the kitchen table, where it seems most informal meetings took place. Dave and the engineers were with us, drinking Rodber’s stock of beers to an early extinction.
Julia had made the big announcement regarding my new status. No one had screamed with righteous indignation so with no objection from Bud I would be standin team manager till Bud found himself back on his feet again.
I had called a meeting with the team members and everyone seemed cautiously optimistic that we might just do some racing this year.
Pink Hair looked at me a little suspiciously, as if I’d arranged the whole affair just to get her lover’s job. I smiled at her disarmingly. At least it was my disarming smile; and it had been known to be, well, disarming in the past.
“Right,” I said. “I’ve worked out what Bud wanted from his schedules,” although how Bud managed to read them was a wonder, “and I’ve laid out a plan of action for the next three weeks. By then Bud should be out and able to get around again.” I studied their faces for a moment. They all stared back, waiting.
“This is the plan for the week,” I told them as I passed around photocopied sheets of paper. We discussed them in some detail and the engineers left taking Dave with them. Tracey left to see Bud to fill him in on our daily activities. Julia decided on bed, and I noticed that Brett left almost immediately too.
That left Michele and I sitting in an uneasy silence. So much had been happening over the past few days that neither of us had had time to speak or even think much. I still had the night at the bed and breakfast very much on my mind.
I looked at Michele but could not work out what she was thinking. Just as I opened my mouth to break the quiet, she headed me off.
“Can I pour you another cup of coffee?” she said collecting both her coffee mug and mine. The coffee machine stood on a counter with a large sealed plastic bucket of chocolate cookies standing next to it. I willed Michele to grab a few for us so that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty about asking. She didn’t give them as much as a glance. Perhaps it was just as well - I hadn’t gone for a run in weeks and my jeans were beginning to feel tight.
I sat and watched her pour coffee times two and return to the kitchen table. I dumped sugar in my mug and stirred it in silence. Michele finally broke the silence. “Simon?”
“Yes my love.” This brought a fleeting smile to her face. She was not to be distracted though.
“Doesn’t it seem a bit ominous?” she asked.
“What does, babe?”
“Well, we were talking to Dave earlier - Julia and me that is. And he said that in most kidnap cases there is a demand for ransom within the first twenty-four hours. It’s been much longer than that already and Julia has heard nothing.”
I heaped mental curses on Dave and his big mouth. Mind you, Julia was very obviously in a state over her Dad anyway and I’m sure Hammil and his detectives had brought up the question of ransoms by now anyhow. The same thought had crossed my mind too, but I let it go without stopping it for further examination.
Thinking about it now, the only conclusion I came to was that if the lads who had taken Rodber had been Arabs and if Rodber was having troubles with a bunch of Arabs, as we had been led to believe, then it was possible that he had been taken so as to get access to this patent that was in dispute. Probable, in fact.
This made sense if Rodber kept access to the designs to himself. If there was no-one he would trust with them, then they had no other choice. I said as much to Michele.
“Yes I guess that’s true,” she said thoughtfully. “But surely that design patent belongs to Rodber Enterprises and not to Julia’s Dad since he sold the business?”
I nodded my agreement. “It seems to be something nobody is talking about. I would expect the thought to have occurred to the good inspector. He seems to be a bright lad. And a tough man too,” I added. “Perhaps we’re just not being kept in the picture. After all, it’s not really our business, is it?”
As I drove back to the B & B that night, I had a growing sense of foreboding. And not just a little curiosity too. I wondered if Hammil had interviewed the Arabs yet, and if so, what had the outcome been. There was an idea forming in the back of my mind but I ignored it for the moment. It still wasn’t my concern. Was it? Then again, Hammil had gone out of his way to tell me where the suspect Arabs were staying hadn’t he? And he didn’t appear to me to be a man who was overly generous with information.
I fell asleep that night with a tingling of excitement that was not entirely due to Michelle’s good night kiss.
Next morning we held a team briefing in the workshops. Even after a night to think about it, none of the crew had any objections to me taking over as manager. It’s not like any of them fancied the job anyhow. Now that I had got a team to manage, I wasn’t that sure that I wanted the job either. But the job was mine, so I was going to do my best to make the team successful.
I was suddenly struck by the burning desire to win again, even if this time it was from the pit wall.
I reminded Dave to pick up my new Australian rider, Russell Yates, from Heathrow, and at the same time I had a word with him about our other possible activities. He immediately declared himself part of the Rodber retrieval team. Both Rodber and Bud Roache were old friends of his, and he took exception to them being kidnapped and beaten up.
I left the recruiting of another two willing and able-bodied men to Dave, knowing that he was closer to them than I would be, and would know their strengths and weaknesses.
By noon we were looking like a racing team again. Dave had left
for the airport to collect Yates, and all four bikes were almost complete. They were totally stripped and rebuilt before every race or practice session. The two new Ducatis would be race-ready by Saturday I was informed. When you are competing at this level, nothing is ever left to chance, and every smallest detail is checked. Many a time a £500 000 machine has stopped merely because a £1 part had broken or come loose.
The six of us got together back at the farmhouse just before seven that evening when Tracy and Dave had joined us.
I had thought long and hard about Julia’s suggestion that we rescue her father ourselves. An awful lot was down to chance, but the idea of hitting back at any form of tyranny was beginning to appeal to me. I had, after all, done this before, years ago.
I waited till after we had finished dinner before addressing the problem. This was mainly because I wanted the cook, a lady who had worked at the farm for years, to leave after clearing the table.
“Right,” I said. “If anyone has any misgivings about tackling this Arab chap, or taking part in any unlawful activities while doing so, now is the time to say so. You can withdraw and I will say nothing further about it.”
“Oh don’t be so formal and military about it, Simon,” Michele said, with a nervous giggle. “Just tell us what you’ve come up with.”
“OK. It’s nothing dramatic, you understand. First we need some information. So, Julia, did you find anything of interest amongst Josh’s things?”
“Nothing regarding this Arab business, Simon.” Julia shook her head while biting her fingernails nervously. “Dad is very security minded, so I didn’t think I would find much, but we know who kidnapped him, because they have threatened him before, about this new design Dad had for some oil drilling thingy. I’m not too clued up on it at all, but it has something to do with making it easier, or cheaper to get oil out of the ground. And if it was somebody else looking for a ransom, then they would surely have asked for it by now.” She hesitated. “I’ve found his laptop but there is nothing of any interest on it.”
“Perhaps you’re right about the ransom, Julia,” I replied. “All right, guys, first thing we do is make sure we know where Josh is being held. Dave, I want you to find this Sultan Ali Hussein’s embassy, and find out what kind of building it is. Go to wherever they keep building plans, you know what I mean, the permits and drawing and so on.” I gave him the address that I’d got from Hammil. “We need to know the layout of the place, and the guys in the movies always seem to find what they need in some government office. Maybe we’ll be lucky too.” I had no idea if this was possible, but there was no way I was going to break into some foreign embassy if it turned out to have fifty rooms, secret passages and ten basements or something silly like that. There was no way we could possibly search the place without getting caught. And that meant using weapons to hold the occupants at gunpoint while searching the building. This just wasn’t on.
“I’m going up to the Trenchcoat Inn tomorrow to find out more about the three fellows that Hammil said are staying there at the moment,” I stated. I had decided that if two or three of the enemy were staying this close, then they were obviously there to keep an eye on us, or possible worse. There could be no other reason for these two to be hanging around this part of England, doing nothing. If that were the case, then I just might get some information about them. I considered taking one of Dave’s recruited strong-arm men with me, one of the drivers who had served fifteen years with Her Majesty’s Forces. But then I rejected the idea as unnecessary. I was going on a reconnaissance mission, and had no plan to start any trouble with them just yet.
I stopped and studied the faces around the table. Dave was all eagerness and ready to start an invasion if need be but Julia looked unconvinced at my efforts so far. She’d probably expected a full-scale attack on the embassy today. Michele was obviously worried, and Brett seemed to be unconcerned about anything at all.
“Right then,” I announced, “if everyone is clear on what they need to do tomorrow, Michele and I are going out for a drink down at the nearest pub.”
Michele looked up and raised her eyebrows at me. “We are?” she asked, with laughter in her voice.
“Yes, dear girl we are. Alone.”
“If you say so, master,” she replied lightly, “then it must be so. I’ll just get my bag.”
Julia sat and watched Michele go with a frown on her face. Nice girl, and intelligent too, but not much of a sense of humour. She didn’t really have much to smile at just now I guess. Brett said nothing, which was pretty much what he always said, but when he did say something, it was always worth hearing. Having a conversation with my future brother-in-law was never a quick process. I had decided I was going to marry Michele, even though I hadn’t told her that. Yet.
Now he got up from the table and announced that he was going to bed to prepare for tomorrow’s practice session at Brands. He kissed Julia briefly on the lips and headed for the stairs, leaving Dave, Julia, Tracy and myself wondering what to say to each other. Tracy nudged Dave in the ribs and suggested that it was time to go. Dave nodded but hesitated.
I was just about to be saved from any embarrassing silence by Michele’s return, when Julia straightened in her seat and directed her attention my way.
“Simon, why haven’t we heard from the kidnappers? Surely they want something, and we know what it is they want. So why haven’t they contacted us to demand something?”
“Julia, I really don’t know,” I said earnestly. “I don’t know enough about your father’s business to even guess at who would have those design plans, or whatever it is that they want. If it is some associate of Josh’s, then perhaps there are deals being done that we don’t know about.”
I looked at her for a moment. She wasn’t reassured by my line of thought, which didn’t surprise me. I didn’t much believe it myself; Josh Rodber didn’t seem like the type of man to let anyone else get their hands on his ideas or inventions. I just had no other answer for her. What the Arabs were doing with Rodber, if not holding him for ransom, was not something I wanted to think about.
“But I’ll tell you this, Julia,” I continued, “If he is being held at that house in London, then I’ll get him out. With Dave’s help, of course.” Dave nodded threateningly. He looked eager to hit someone. I was just glad it wasn’t me. He was a powerfully built man. Michele laid her hand on my arm and urged me towards the door.
“Try and get some sleep, Julia - we’ll see you in the morning. I’m sure everything will be all right.” She squeezed Julia’s hand as we left.
Dave rose and followed us out, heading for his car and an early night taking Tracy with him. She lived close by and he would drop her at home.
I took the drinks back to our table, depositing the gin and tonic in front of Michele. Putting the beer down opposite, I squeezed myself onto the bench that served as a chair mounted on the wall of the pub.
The local drinking hole I’d chosen was situated down a small back road under tall oak trees. There wasn’t space for more than twenty people in the place, but I thought it was quaint and inviting. Even though the bar could serve a maximum of ten at the most, it was that short, the pub brewed its own bitter. Coming from a county like South Africa, where the beer industry is totally dominated by South African Breweries, and there are only five or six beers available, I am always amazed by the vast variety of beers on sale in pubs across the UK. Consequently, I like to try each new brand that I discover.
The problem with racing a motor bike for a living is that you cannot afford to drink much. In fact, more than one pint a night could affect your general state of fitness to a degree that means the difference between winning a race, and not scoring any points at all. Most motor racing competitors tend to be fanatically fit. Now that I’d made the transition from competitor to team manager, albeit temporarily, it was time for me to catch up on the beer I had missed. I decided I’d up my consumption to two pints a day. Michele didn’t seem to think this would have the brewerie
s dancing with joy, but a man’s got to start somewhere.
We spent an enjoyable evening talking and not worrying about anything but ourselves. This may seem a bit selfish, but my main priority at that time was still to seduce the lovely Michele. Michele for her part, flirted, but would not commit to anything more than enjoying my company and a lingering kiss good night. I went to bed frustrated, but basically happy.
Chapter 8
The Trenchcoat Inn was nestled in Modern English suburbia. The terraced houses were quietly unpretentious but very much upper-middle class. Street upon street of them faded into my rear-view mirror as I found my way back to the Trenchcoat without too much difficulty. Children in designer jeans and expensive trainers played in the road, stopping only to let me pass and watching me without interest. The houses were fronted by a common strip of lawn less than ten feet wide but carefully manicured. The occupants had individualized their homes with various colours and door types making them somehow appealing in a boring middle-aged, upper income domestic way.
I imagined living in one myself. Michele, two kids and a regular job seemed a bit far-fetched when applied to me, but then again why not? Most of the riders I had raced against were regular stay-at-home men who loved their wives and/or girlfriends and lived in houses similar to these across the not considerable width of Great Britain.
I banished these thoughts from my mind as the Inn came into sight. Set back from the road with a car-park out front, it was old world Europe set in modern convenient England and there were at least ten cars parked outside that had purchase prices mere mortals only dreamed of. I slotted the Granada into a bay as far away from the entrance as I could.
As I crossed the parking area I surveyed the Inn itself. Ground floor with bar and restaurant with a swimming pool out back, heated, naturally. Above, there were two levels of luxury rooms, of which most had double beds. Ask me how I knew. There had been two occasions that I’d booked into the Inn. The second time had been with a voluptuous redheaded motor racing groupie who just couldn’t wait to get home to my Sussex cottage and despite the distractions of the occasion I could recall the most important details of the room layout. The one thing I had no recollection of was the type of locks or keys for the rooms.