“I don’t like this,” Chalmers said, “Friedman and his goons are dangerous. You should know that better than anybody.”
“I thought we were supposed to have some weapons training coming up,” Bridge said.
“I doubt that’ll ever happen,” Chalmers said, “the chief constable is dead against it. A real namby pamby that one. He’s worse than old Smyth.”
“So we just sit here and wait for the phone to ring and let us know that Smith is dead?” Whitton stood up and walked to the sink.
She poured herself a glass of water. She had to hold the glass with both hands, she was shaking so much.
“How far is it to this Holy Island?” Chalmers said.
“A few hours by car I think,” Bridge said, “it’s not too far if I can remember.”
“I’m going to regret this,” Chalmers said.
He looked at his watch.
“It’s too late to set off now,” he said, “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. We’ll go in my car. I’ll pick you both up at six.”
“Thank you sir,” Whitton said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Chalmers said, “I still don’t have a clue what the hell we’re going to be able to do. Smith isn’t even on the job anymore and he’s still making our lives hell.”
He stood up to leave.
“See you both tomorrow,” he said, “I’ll see myself out.”
Bridge and Whitton sat in silence for a while.
“Do you want me to stay the night?” Bridge said eventually, “I can sleep on the couch if you don’t want to be in the house by yourself.”
“Thanks Bridge,” Whitton said, “But I’ll be fine. I’ve got this little bloke to look after me.”
She patted Theakston on the head. He was snoring under the kitchen table.
“You’d better go home and get some sleep,” she said, “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
Bridge stood up.
“Do you think he’ll be alright?” he said.
“Smith?” Whitton said, “Smith will always be alright.”
SIXTY
Smith sat outside the stone cottage on a small wooden bench. He took out his cigarettes and lit one. He took a sip of beer. Sarah Proud was inside the cottage making the Beef Stroganoff. The smell of garlic wafting out of the cottage windows was making Smith hungry.
“The sauce is done,” Proud walked outside and sat next to Smith on the bench, “I’m just waiting for the rice. It should be about twenty minutes.”
“It smells great,” Smith said, “do you want a beer?”
“I’d love one,” she said.
“Then get me one while you’re in there will you,” Smith said.
“You Aussies are such gentlemen,” Proud slapped him on the shoulder and walked back inside.
She returned with two beers and handed one to Smith.
“So,” Smith opened his beer and took a long sip, “where do we start with the life of Sarah Proud? I’m all ears.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Proud said, “I’ve already told you most of it. I was born in Talinn and I came to England about ten years after my parents died.”
“Who did you live with after they died?” Smith said.
“I’ve lost count of all the places I stayed,” Proud said.
“Did you stay with your brother?”
“At first, yes,” she said, “but Viktor started to get out of control. He was very disruptive so when he was thirteen or fourteen he was sent to an institution for other children like him. You must understand that this was The Soviet Union in the eighties. These places were basically child prisons. It worked for some of the youngsters but Viktor was deemed a lost cause. He came out of there a worse criminal than he was when he went in. That was when we were separated. I was lucky enough to be selected to join a programme that allowed foreign children to be fostered by British parents. There were children from all over the eastern bloc on the programme. I was one of the lucky ones; I ended up with a really nice couple, Rodney and Paula Proud. They were good people.”
“Were?” Smith said.
“I mean they are good people,” Proud said, “I still keep in touch with them. Anyway, I came to them when I was ten years old. I changed my name and Nadia Boronov ceased to exist.”
“What happened to your brother?”
The alarm on the oven told them that the rice was ready. Smith and Proud stood up and went inside. Smith sat down at the table while Proud dished up the food.
“This looks great,” Smith said as Sarah proud put the Beef Stroganoff in front of him.
“I told you you were in for a treat,” she said.
“Where were we?” Smith said, “You didn’t tell me what happened to your brother.”
“Viktor?” Proud looked sad, “Viktor became somebody else; somebody I didn’t know anymore. I didn’t want to know him anymore. We stayed in touch for a while but I don’t think he ever really forgave me for moving to England. I think he saw me as a kind of traitor.”
“How did you end up working for the government?” Smith said.
“Slow down,” Proud smiled, “eat your food. We have all night.”
“Sorry,” Smith took a bite of the Stroganoff, “I just like to know everything I can about somebody I’ve just swam naked with.”
Sarah Proud laughed. Smith liked her laugh. He could get used to that laugh.
When they had finished eating, Smith and Proud sat back outside on the bench. Smith opened a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured them both a healthy measure. The evening was very warm. The wind had shifted to the South West and the cottage was now sheltered.
“Where were we?” Smith smiled and took a long sip of the whisky.
“I’ve forgotten,” Proud put her hand on Smith’s knee, “I think it must be your turn by now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Quid pro quo,” Proud said.
“What the hell does that mean?” Smith said.
“Well,” Proud rubbed Smith’s knee, “it’s something similar to I’ve shown you mine so now you have to show me yours.”
Smith laughed so hard he nearly choked on the whisky.
“You’ve definitely shown me yours,’ he said, “Ok, what do you want to know?”
“I know all about your investigations,” she said, “the deranged Chinese man, the Fulton twins, the Ladybird killer; that’s all on file but I don’t know anything apart from Jason Smith the detective. Tell me something else.”
“There isn’t much to tell,” Smith finished the whisky in his glass and poured himself some more, “I lived in Fremantle until I was sixteen and then I came to York. Your brother played a huge part in that. If he hadn’t taken Laura from that beach I never would have been sent away and I wouldn’t be here now drinking Jack Daniels with the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
Sarah Proud laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.
“I need to pee,” she said and stood up.
“You’re not shy are you?” Smith said.
“Life’s too short,” she went back inside the cottage.
Smith sipped his whisky and stared up at the sky. There seemed to be more stars in the sky in this part of the world. He smiled. Things could be a lot worse, he thought. He did not hear Sarah proud talking on the telephone in the bathroom; he did not hear the conversation she was having in a foreign language. Things were about to get much worse.
SIXTY ONE
The Crag Inn was the oldest pub on Holy Island. It was usually only frequented by islanders but in the summer time, tourists staying on the island often went there to sample the local ales. Harold McDougal had been a regular at the Crag inn for more than forty years. He had seen it change from a predominantly male only hostelry in the late seventies into what it was today; a tourist hot spot where good food was served all day to men, women and children. Smoking, once enjoyed in the bar even after the smoking laws that had hit the rest of the United Kingdom came in, was now banned. Harold stood ou
tside in the doorway smoking his third cigarette of the evening. His wife Mary did not tolerate smoking at home on account of Harold’s supposed heart problems but Harold always seemed to find an excuse to escape to the Crag Inn to indulge in a few cigarettes and a pint or two of his favourite Cuillin Ale.
Harold flicked his cigarette butt into the car park and was about to go back inside when he noticed a car pulling up in the car park. Harold did not know much about cars but from the look of this one he knew it was very expensive. It was one of those 4 x 4’s a lot of the tourists came to the island in.
Bloody tourists, Harold thought as he went inside the pub, they think they own the place.
Harold returned to his usual table in the corner of the room. His old friends Stan and Derek were mixing domino tiles up on the table.
“Count me in,” Harold said, “I’m just off to get another pint.”
“Get us one while you’re at it will you?” Stan said but Harold seemed to develop hearing problems at that very moment.
“Tight git,” Stan called after him.
The tourists in the 4 x 4 were standing at the bar waiting to be served when Harold got there.
“Two double vodkas,” one of the two men said to the bar man, “on the rocks.”
Southerners, Harold thought straight away, no self respecting man from the North would ever dream of drinking vodka on the rocks.
The man who had ordered the drinks looked Harold directly in the eyes. His expression was neither aggressive nor friendly but Harold did not like the look of him anyway. He was dressed in blue jeans and a golf shirt which emphasised his stocky build. Harold decided he was not a man he would want to cross. The other man was wearing a flat cap and a pair of sunglasses even though it was dark outside. Harold could not really see his face.
“Pint of Cuillin,” Harold said when the two men had paid for their vodka and chosen a table next to where Stan and Derek were waiting to play dominoes.
“I don’t like the look of those two Carl,” Harold said to the aging bar man, “they look like gangsters to me,”
“Don’t be daft Harold,” Carl poured the beer and placed it on the bar in front of him, “they’re just Southerners. They’ve got nowt better to do down there than spend hours at the gym. Did you see that one’s muscles? Anyway, their money’s as good as anybody else’s”
“If you say so,” Harold picked up his beer and returned to his table.
“You’ll never guess what happened to me today,” Harold said as he selected his dominoes.
“What happened?” Stan sighed, “Did you get seduced by a mermaid?”
“Funny you should say that,” Harold took a sip of his beer, “I was parked on the top of the cliff there by Castlehead and there was a young couple down on the beach in the cove.”
Stan’s ears seemed to prick up.
“The young lass was in the water,” Harold continued, “I got the binoculars out for a better look and that’s when I saw she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.”
“You’re kidding?” Stan said rather too loudly, “she was naked?”
The two men on the table next to them looked over at him.
“Naked,” Harold whispered.
“Are we going to play?” Derek said, “Or do we have to listen to this bullshit all night?”
Harold picked out a double four and placed it on the table.
“I’m telling you what I saw,” he said, “these two were frolicking about in the sea and when they got out of the water the young woman just lay there without a care in the world. She was just as nature intended if you know what I mean.”
“You lucky bastard,” Stan knocked on the table.
He did not have any fours.
“I watched them for almost an hour,” Harold said, “until Mary got wind of what I was up to. She gave me a mouthful and then she went down to the cove and from what I saw, she gave them an even bigger ear bashing, poor buggers.”
One of the men on the next table leaned over and looked at Harold. It was the one who had ordered the drinks.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I couldn’t help overhearing. In fact I think the whole pub heard but did you say you saw a young couple down on the beach?”
“I might have,” Harold turned his attention back to the domino game, “you shouldn’t be listening in to other people’s conversations.”
“Sorry,” the man said, “what did these two people look like?”
“Bloke in his twenties or thirties,” Harold said, “very pale. I didn’t pay much attention to him though.”
Stan started to laugh.
“And the woman?” the man asked.
“Bit of a looker,” Harold said, “dark hair.”
He played a double six. He only had two more dominoes left to play.
“Can I buy you gentlemen a drink?” the man asked.
Harold had almost a full pint of beer in front of him. He raised the glass to his lips and finished it in one go.
“I am about ready for another one,” he smiled and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “three pints of Cuillin.”
The man nodded to his friend and the other man stood up and walked up to the bar counter.
“We’re supposed to be meeting some friends of ours on the island,” the man said, “but the silly fools neglected to tell us where they were staying.”
The other man put three pints of beer on Harold’s table.
“Where did you say you saw these people again?” the man asked Harold.
“Castlehead,” Harold took a long swig of his free beer, “it’s at the far north east of the island. There’s a little stone cottage there. They’re probably staying there. It’s very remote.”
The man smiled.
“Thank you,” he put a twenty pound note on the table, “the next few rounds are on me. You’ve been a big help.”
He stood up and walked towards the exit. The other man followed closely behind.
SIXTY TWO
“Tell me about Brad Friedman,” Smith said, “what’s his story?”
“Friedman?” Proud sighed, “Boronov’s right hand man. He’s been with Boronov for ten years now. Boronov saw the opportunity and lured him in with the proverbial carrot. An ally in the government is a valuable thing.”
She stopped talking for a while and seemed lost in thought.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said, “it’s getting late.”
“It’s not late,” Smith kissed her on the forehead, “there’s still half a bottle left.”
He poured them both a full glass of whisky.
“Look at us,” Smith smiled, “too lost causes. No kids, no family and on the run from god knows what. Here’s to eternal loneliness.”
He raised his glass in the air. Sarah Proud smiled.
“I’ll drink to that,” she took a sip of the Jack Daniels, “do you want to go for a walk?”
“I thought you said it was late,” Smith said.
“Come on,” Proud said, “the moon is full; we’ll take a walk up to the top of the cliff. Bring the bottle with you.”
Smith did not know why but he was suddenly engulfed by a sense of impending doom. He did not know if it was due to the alcohol in his system heightening his consciousness to the reality of what had happened in the past week or if it was something else.
“Let’s go then,” he pushed the feeling to the back of his mind.
They walked hand in hand along the overgrown path towards the cliff top. The full moon gave them ample light to see by. Smith was out of breath by the time they reached the top. They say on a patch of grass and looked out to sea. The gentle lapping of waves on the beach was the only sound. Smith handed Proud the bottle of Jack Daniels. She took a long drink out of the bottle and handed it back to him.
“This is nice,” Smith lay down on the grass, “I wouldn’t mind staying on this island for a while.”
“Nice?” Proud said, “I can see you’re a man of very few words.�
��
“I’m an Australian police detective living in the North East of England,” Smith said, “I don’t get much time to express my emotions.”
He took a swig from the bottle. The bottle was almost empty.
“Let’s go for a swim,” Proud said.
“Are you nuts?” Smith said, “The water was freezing in the heat of the day, God knows what it’ll be like at night.”
“The temperature of the North Sea stays the same all the year round,” Proud said, “give or take a few degrees. Come on, it’ll sober you up a bit.”
“What about Mary McDougal?” Smith said, “What if Harold has night scopes on his binoculars?”
Sarah Proud laughed and stood up.
“Come on,” she said, “the moon will show us the way down.”
She headed down the path towards the beach.
I must be mad, Smith thought as he stood up and scrambled down the path after her.
When he reached the beach, Smith realised he was sweating. He made a mental note to do a bit more exercise when he had the time. He took off his T shirt and jeans and ran into the sea. The water felt warmer than it had during the day. Smith did not know if it was just his imagination or the effects of the alcohol.
“Sarah,” he shouted.
Sarah Proud was nowhere to be seen. Smith swam out a few metres but there was still no sign of her. He stopped swimming and treaded water for a while. He lay back in the water and gazed up at the cliff top. The moon cast an eerie glow on the craggy rocks.
This is the setting for a horror film, he thought, or a murder. He half expected to see a werewolf pounce up on the rocks and bare its teeth at the moon.
Smith shivered. He was starting to feel the chill of the water. He was about to swim back to shore when he felt something move under his feet. Before he had the chance to see what it was he felt a strong tug on his legs and he was dragged under the water. He swallowed a mouthful of water and his head started to tense up as the cold North Sea water froze his face. He started to panic and a thousand thoughts rushed through his head at the same time. He saw pictures his mind. Laura, Wolfie, The Ghoul, Sarah Proud. The pictures were very clear.
Occum's Razor Page 22