by George Nagle
As James headed north back toward Aberdeen after the ill-fated customer meeting, he looked around at the rolling landscape. The hills to his left and glimpses of the shoreline of the North Sea to his right were very beautiful, even with the grey sky that seemed to be a shaded reflection of the ground below. In many ways, the landscape reminded James of being back home in Pennsylvania, minus the sea.
He found a pull-over area on the carriage way and decided to get ready for his meeting with Calum now instead of at the pub. Prior to the trip, he’d dyed his hair a very light brown, almost dirty blond color. He’d taken the time to make sure that all hair, regardless of location on his body, was reasonably matched. Now, he put in color contacts to turn his hazel eyes blue. He also added a small scar that started on the left side of his chin and crossed underneath to the right. Nothing too big, but certainly visible. He also added a small scar on his right cheek. He debated whether to add a mole to his left ear as well. It was the small details that stood out when trying to get to know someone, but he didn’t want to overdo it. He was coming in clean shaven, which was unusual, as it allowed for further feature identification.
In the end, James added the mole to his outer ear but used some putty to cover the two moles on his left cheekbone. He also covered the one on his jaw, also on the left side, and one more near his ear on the right. Finally, he made the bridge of his nose seem wider. He then took pictures of himself in case he needed to duplicate the look later.
Pulling back onto the motorway, he quickly found that traffic was backing up around a major roundabout fifteen kilometers or so from Aberdeen. Stop, creep forward ten to twenty feet. Stop. Go a few car lengths. Stop. And so it went. About two hundred feet from his turn into the intersection, he had to stop again.
Bang.
He’d been hit from behind. The impact wasn’t hard, just enough to jar him a bit.
Great, just what I need in a rental car in Scotland.
James hoped the guy who’d hit him would follow him until he could safely pull over.
Traffic began to move and James pulled forward, quickly memorizing the license plate behind him. However, he had no need to worry, as the other driver followed him through the roundabout and into the nearest parking lot.
James got out and quickly walked to the back of the car. Thankfully, he saw no damage.
The other driver emerged, and it wasn’t a bloke at all. In fact, it was a very nervous woman who appeared to be on the brink of tears.
“Are you all right?” James asked in a gentle voice that he hoped conveyed he wasn’t upset, but was instead concerned about her.
A few steps, and he was in front of her car. She dropped her bag, and James bent to pick it up.
“Oh, I’m sorry, thank you. I ... I ... have it, thanks, oh, I am sorry. I don’t know, I was just going and all of a sudden you were stopped. I barely touched the brake as I hit you. I ...” Tears gently flowed.
James stared into her face, holding her bag. Even with the tears, she was very pretty. Shiny black hair was pulled into a bun that was very elegant, but professional. She wasn’t wearing makeup and honestly didn’t need it. Her complexion was that of the Scots, but on the darker side. Her cheekbones were stunning. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, were a light brown.
“Are you hurt?” James asked again.
“I, I‘m fine, so sorry. Are you fit then as well? I am so sorry. I honestly don’t know what tae do, but I will find a way tae make this right,” she said very quickly before stopping and taking a massive breath.
James feared she was about to hyperventilate. “Aye, I’m fine, no worries.” For some reason, he immediately began speaking with a slight Scottish accent. Having an attuned ear was useful for things like this.
“Are you sure you are okay, then?” James added. “I don’t think the boot has much damage to it, if any.” He gestured toward his car and then stepped back to look at hers, too, before speaking again.
“All seems well here for you. No damage to us or the cars, so all is well.” He looked up with a reassuring smile, but he could see she was still upset.
“See here?” He pointed at her bumper. “Not even a scratch to the paint, so no real chance of damage. That and you maybe were going at a slow jog pace, so how much damage can that even make?”
“What about here and here?” She pointed at some chips in the car’s paint, as well as a scratch on the side of the bumper that would have never touched his rental.
“The little pecks are just from just driving. The scratch, I can’t say, but your front touched the back, not the side. Come, take a look at mine; you won’t see it damaged. A bit dirty, but no marks,” James said as they walked toward his car.
She peered down at his bumper a moment later, arms crossed, as if trying to hold herself together.
“What do we do then? Do we need tae phone the police and get a report and all of that?” she asked.
“No, I think we’re okay without any of that. My name is John Boyd.” James smiled and held out his hand in a friendly manner. He needed to be sure this wasn’t a set up, so he was going about it in a cautious manner. At the same time, he knew that if this were a real accident, it wouldn’t matter who he was.
“I am Carissa Tate.” She took his hand and shook it. “I really am very sorry about all this. Should we exchange information just in case there is some damage that comes up, then?”
“I would rather exchange information with the hope of maybe taking you to supper,” James replied. The words surprised him, and he felt dorky for throwing it out like that, but much to his surprise, she giggled. Her smile made her look like a beauty queen.
“Well, that certainly is the most unique way I have been asked out, and with me looking all tossed,” she said, rubbing her hands under her eyes.
“I don’t think you look tossed at all. I’d like to take you on a date tomorrow if that’s okay,” James said, writing down his number.
He passed her a small sheet of paper so she could write down her number as well. Good thing he’d gotten a UK SIM card. Later, he’d have to get a combined system to link numbers.
“Well, I feel bad. After all, I tapped you, and here you are asking me out. And tomorrow I have plans with a friend of mine.” She handed him her number.
“I see.” James felt a bit deflated.
“I would like tae though, perhaps another time? But I don’t want tae go if you just, I don’t know ... just because of the accident.” She frowned slightly.
“No worries, we can try for a different day. I’m free tomorrow; silly of me to think you might not have plans. I’ll be traveling soon, but perhaps when I get back I can give you a ring and we can sort it out then? And this accident was the best thing to happen to me today, to be honest.” Smiling sheepishly, James looked down at his feet before looking up to see that she was also smiling.
“That sounds alright, then. Listen, John, I am sorry, but who knows, maybe this will turn out to be a good thing all around. So you will call me, then? And you will let me know if there is any repairs tae your car too?”
“Yes and yes, but it’s a hired car, so no worries there,” James replied, still smiling. “I’ll be letting you get on, then. Hope you have a great day tomorrow, and we’ll talk soon. Nice to meet you. Wish it had been under happier circumstances, but glad all the same.”
“Thank you for being so sweet and, yes, please do ring me. Bye.”
Unexpectedly, she half hugged him and walked to her car. She gave a small wave that James returned as she disappeared into her car. She pulled away, still waving, as James finally moved to climb into his car.
He got in and made his way toward the pub to meet Calum, having forgotten that he was having a bad day. In fact, he felt rather good.
Chapter Six
Calum was waiting in the pub when James arrived. He was a short man with a potbelly, long sideburns, and a rather withdrawn hairline. The hair that remained was speckled with gray, as were his bushy eyebrows. His rat
her large legs looked odd against the rest of his frame.
James laughed to himself when he realized the pub had the same characteristics as Calum. Like Calum, it was very wide but rather short in length. Like his hair, a straw overhang was bald in places and rather decayed in others. Also like Calum, the walls seemed to have a bowing bulge. The difference was the walls looked this way because a variety of pictures hung on them.
As James entered, an elderly couple was leaving. The old lady bumped a picture near the door on the wall. James caught it and hung it back up. It was part of a variety of different scenic views with the same group of friends in each.
“Calum?” James asked, turning toward the bar.
“Aye. You’d be Stephen then?” came a rather thick Scottish accent. “Well, pull up a seat there, lad, and have a pint. William, a pint here,” Calum said, addressing the bartender.
“Thank you, but stomach troubles today, a pint wouldn’t do so good for me,” James said quickly.
“Bring the pint still. I’ll have it then.” Calum picked up his own glass and finished it in a few gulps.
“Can I fetch you anything?” William asked with a slight whistle to his deep voice. He was missing a few teeth. Tall and bald with bright blue eyes, he looked to be in his sixties and appeared in many of the pictures on the walls.
“Just water, please. Oh, and maybe a basket of chips, yeah?” and William nodded.
“So, you are in need of some sort of information, then. Well, what is it exactly you are looking for, lad?” Calum asked this very directly and clearly, and James was taken back at his bluntness.
“Aye, but is it okay ...?” he began. He’d already memorized the room and exits. He’d read the people in it and scanned it visually for cameras.
“We talk here and now or not at all. I am not one for doing all the foolery. This place is safe. Now what is it that you need? I was told you were a man to listen to then, right? So I am listening. What is it, then?” Calum let out a belch, picked up his draught of beer, and drank, his gray eyes staring at James.
“Right, I am looking for information on the drug rings between Italy, Asia, Afghanistan, Russia, and the U.S. I also want to know how they relate to Aberdeen and Lima, Peru,” said James, recovering quickly.
Calum set down his beer and picked up his knife and fork to work his shepherd’s pie. “A lot, that. Afraid I don’t know most of that, then.” He took a bite of the pie.
As Calum chewed, James asked, “What bits do you know?”
Calum calmly swallowed, cleared his throat, and continued as if James had not spoken. “Seems to be a lot that is none of my concern. I was told you helped my nephew out of a spot. Told I should give you a listen. Maybe the best way I can help you and pay my bloody nephew’s debt to you is to tell you a story. Do you know the story called ‘The Stone Wishes’?”
James shook his head as William laid his English style chips and water in front of him. He also registered that Calum was lying about Petior being his nephew. His eyes had dropped both times he’d said “nephew.” In fact, James would bet Calum didn’t have any nephews at all.
Calum took a few bites of food, swallowed, and began. “There was once this bit of a lake that people would come to chuck a bit of stone into to make a wish. The lake was on this farmer’s land and legend had that the farmer had found the wishing lake and had chucked a stone into it with a wish he had marked with wax. He had wished to be very successful and rich on his farm. It goes that the stone he had thrown came back right at the spot he had thrown it a moon later, but smooth and without the wax. Within the season, his wish had come true, so he decided to share this great wishing lake with others.”
Calum paused to take a long drink of his beer. “Another pint then, William,” he called. “Well, the farmer set up a platform to cast from and a spot for rocks. He charged a quid to come up to the lake, one a throw, and another for coming back to try to recover the rock. He told those who came it was just a small charge to help with all the traffic and such, you know. He had signs advising how best to write and identify the rock. People came, and they did as they said. It became so popular, he had to hire a few extra hands to help.”
Another pause for a drink and to finish off his food, followed by more burping, before he continued. “One day, an older woman from the village came. She was loved by all the town but rather poor. She paid her fees, wrote her message, and gave her stone a toss. She did this once a week for a month. She then continued to come back and look for each rock. Each time, she was disappointed to find it was still written upon. The farmer noticed and felt bad for her on her second-to-last stone. After she left, he walked down and read what she had written on it. She wanted to win the lottery for £1,000.
“Each day,” Calum continued, “the farmer had been going to the lake and collecting all the stones that had been thrown. He stored them in a shed and marked which day he would have to set them out for people to come find. He found the bucket for the next week, took the stone with the winning lottery request, and wiped it smooth of wax. The next day, he made arrangements to have a fake notice sent to the woman in two weeks time with a winning deposit for £1,000. He also arranged for the local press to find out. He was relying on the old woman to say she had cast a stone into the lake. This would increase business, and the £1,000 was just an investment for the advertising.”
James wondered where this was going. The story was dragging a bit.
“A week later, the old woman came back and found her smooth stone and was very excited. She cried out to everyone and showed them her smooth stone. The crowd cheered and congratulated her, but in a half hearted manner. After all, she was the only one to have a successful wish, besides the farmer, then.
“Well, a week later, the beloved lady got the notice as designed and died from a heart attack on the spot from the excitement. However, the word spread like fire and suddenly there were traffic jams and more people at the lake than the farmer could manage. There were so many people that they abandoned the normal path and began cutting through his crops to get to the lake. The crowd was unmanageable and certainly had no concern about paying for their turn. The police were not much help, as the local authorities did not have the means to address such a crowd.
“After the second day of nonstop people, the farmer’s crops had suffered a lot of damage, and he hadn’t been able to collect any fees, not that it mattered, as he wasn’t able to collect the cast stones. He eventually had to try to close everything off, just to gain some sleep and turn people off his land.”
James noticed William listening and frowning at the story as Calum continued.
“On the third day, there was a knock on the farmer’s door at dawn. The police were there with the local news. This had become such a sensation that the lottery commission had heard about it. Upon investigating, they discovered the old woman had not played the lottery and they hadn’t sent her any money. The police searched the farmer’s property and found the buckets of rocks with wax on them.”
Calum paused and finished his beer with a smack of his lips before continuing. “The media exposed the story, and the crowds were gone. The police issued a hefty fine double all the funds the farmer had gotten from the wishing lake for all the trouble the fake story caused, as well as for running a fraud that involved the lottery system. But they didn’t arrest him, as he hadn’t cost the lottery system any money.
“The farmer lost all his money and had no crops at all,” Calum concluded. “He was ruined and had to move away because he couldn’t afford his mortgage any longer. Plus, the local townspeople blamed him for the old lady’s death and were mad in general for the lies, though they’d never really believed in the wishing lake in the first place.”
“So the moral of the story is that greed will be your undoing?” James didn’t think much of the story. Either Calum was drunk or a bad storyteller, or he was making it up as he went. All in all, it was a bad story that James barely followed.
“Hell, la
d, I didn’t say that. You can take a fair few things from that about greed or lying or just being a bit dumb in leaving discoverable things about, or maybe that wishing and relying on that isn’t enough to make anything real. Or, perhaps, doing something you wish for might not be the best thing for you.” The last part was the message, and James knew it. It was the same message Petior had given him.
“The farmer wasn’t successful because of the wish,” James countered. “He made the wishing lake up after he’d harvested a good crop. He wished to be rich, and he got in over his head and lost everything.”
“As you like, lad, as you like,” Calum said. He handed James an envelope. “This man was an associate of Anthony Spara. I don’t know what else you’ve been on about, but they had a falling out. I assume all is even. Good luck, and don’t lose your farm.” He threw some money on the bar, clasped James’s shoulder, waved to William, and exited.
A real lead. James hadn’t mentioned anyone’s name, but there it was, plain as day. Anthony Spara.
James quickly left. Twenty minutes later, he was parking at the hotel and climbing out of his car when his phone rang.
Chapter Seven
“Hello?” James answered.
“Hello, John, this is Carissa. We uhh, bumped into each other earlier.”
With a slight chuckle, James said, “Hi Carissa, how is your evening going, then? All well and no car troubles, I hope?”
“Oh no, it’s fine. I wanted tae call and say sorry again. I feel really bad and you were so sweet and all. Didn’t care for the cars until you were sure I was fine and all. Then asked so nicely about a supper. Listen, you are free tomorrow, right?” She said all this fast, as if she had practiced.
“No problems, and yeah, I’m free.” James smiled widely, completely unaware that he was doing so.
“Would you fancy going tae a football match? My friend isn’t able tae go and I thought maybe this would be a good way tae apologize and say thank you, as well as have that date. If you don’t want tae, that is understandable. I know this is last second. I told Jessica she was putting me in a spot with the extra ticket, but she said her mum needed help with her dog. The dog had surgery today for something on its leg and is in a sort. Nice dog, but as I say, I have an extra ticket.”