Authors: Summer Jordan
Serge held the tumbler of scotch close to his chest. The crackling of flames from the open fire licked their way up the brick chimney. “I can’t stress how much I love it here.”
“Aye it is, lad. if truth be told, I’ll be sad to leave.”
“Are you really sure you’re making the right decision? With our help you might want to say in game a bit longer.”
“Farming is a hard life, it’s not for a man of my age.” Bruce sighed and ran his hand through his wavy grey hair. “My knees are worn out and my back is weak.”
“Time stops for no one. You must have had a few farmhands over the years?”
“Aye, I’ve had a few indeed. I was training up a lad, treated him like he was my own.”
“So what happened to him?”
“Danny has a fiancée, she’s a bright wee girl, went to university and everything. Last year she was offered a job in New Zealand. There was only ever going to be one winner there.” Bruce grimaced and sighed. “Still, I did everything to keep him, promised him the farm if he stayed, but he told me it was the farm or the girl. I was bitter for a wee while, but hold no grudges against the lad now.”
“Women, hey.”
“Aye, bloody women.” Bruce took a swig from his tumbler. “She was real beauty though, had huge disk like eyes as blue as the spring sky. Believe me. If I was Danny, I would have gone too.”
“What does Beatrice think about selling the farm next year?”
“She can’t wait to move into a wee bungalow in town.”
“Really?”
“Bea struggles to look after such a big house these days.” Bruce leaned across arm of the chair and rubbed his finger across the lamp table. He chuckled and nodded with satisfaction “Argh, give her due, she must have cleaned here today.”
“Get many passersby? Ramblers, maybe?"
“Aye, ramblers, but only in the summer. Usually bastard Englishmen, but they’re everywhere these days.”
“I heard of the rivalry.”
“It goes back to the beginning of time. But these days it due to them buying up farms for their expensive horses. Play farming I call it.”
“I’m really keen to learn from you.”
“I hope you are. I must warn you, I have no patience in my old age.”
“Don’t worry, I worked with right bastards in the past and managed to still be friends.”
“Aye, we all know a bastard or two in our time.”
“Out of interest. How much will you ask for this place?”
“How much would you pay for a place like mine? Go, on. Let’s see if we are batting on the same pitch.”
“I haven’t much of a clue about property in the area.”
“Keeping your cards close to your chest I see. Clever bastard.”
“No, honest, we only came north yesterday.”
Bruce rubbed his chin, his eyes seeming more suspicious with every word. “Only yesterday? What’s your background then?”
“We worked in import/exporting to Europe.”
“Aye, trading what?”
“All sorts, but mainly used cars. They love them in Eastern Europe. Anyway, we had enough of city life and wanted some fresh air.”
“So, you chose to farm in wet and windy Scotland, just like that.”
Serge smiled and leaned forward to place his tumbler on the coffee table. “Where I’m from is just like what you see around you here. The green rugged hills, the purple mountains in the distance. That certain chill you get when you step out from the house, that only the fresh virgin air can give you.”
“Aye, can see what you mean. But why don’t you just go back to Poland?”
“The girl, Tanya.”
“She’s just a friend though?”
“Yes.”
“Aye, But you love her, right?”
“I
….” Serge blushed as the door to the living room opened and Tanya stepped inside.”We’ll have to chat after dinner by to look of it.”
“Aye we will. Dinner overrides everything, even talk from the heart.”
Tanya smiled with her arms folded across her chest. “Talk from the heart? Can I ask what you were talking about?”
Bruce struggled from his chesterfield armchair. He smiled and placed a hand on Tanya’s shoulder “Serge, loves his farming more than a pig loves rolling in shit. I think he’ll be happy here.”
“I know.”
“But what would make him happier is if you would call it home too.”
Tanya covered her mouth and laughed. Her rose tinted cheeks illuminated her smile. “What’s he like?”
* * * *
The long oak table was covered with a spread of food that would satisfy even the greediest of diners. A large roast chicken sat beside a gammon joint, sundries of roasted vegetables filled small china bowls that surrounded the two meats. Serge beamed at Beatrice. ”I think that is the finest meal I have ever seen. Thank you so very much.”
“At the beginning Tanya claimed she could
n’t cook. But I think she must be a lying little minx because she cooks as well as me.”
Serge glanced at Tanya. “You never fail to surprise.”
“She’s the one who’s lying, all I did was peel the carrots and boil the potatoes.”
* * * *
After dinner Serge lay on the small single bed. The whisky had made him feel sleepy but his eyes remained open. His mind was restless and his head was filled of thoughts about how his future might pan out. He heard the creak of the door and footsteps in the corridor Then followed the noise of something being pushed under his door. “Hello?” The footsteps moved down the corridor before the close of a door. Serge, stood from the bed and found the switch for the bedside lamp. A small envelope sat folded in half at the foot of the door. Picking it up he opened it read the scrawled message written in pen.
Dear Serge
Was going to send a text, but remembered you threw my mobile away. Anyway, just wanted to say a big thank you for everything you have done for me. I was very wrong the other day when I said you were as bad as Vlad. You’re anything but. Good night Serge.
I wish you the sweetest of dreams
X
Serge couldn’t help but smile as he sat on the bed. He stared at the envelope before putting it on the bedside cabinet and put out the lamp.
Bentham carefully rolled the car forward into the bay and applied the handbrake. “I hate parking in multi-storeys. The bays are so small.”
“Should drive something smaller and ostentatious than Jaguar, then.”
“I treated myself to a little divorce present.”
Norman undid his seatbelt. “A divorce present is usually a crate of ale and prostitute. Most men lose money in a divorce, how did you afford a Jag?”
“I might look stupid, but I choose my friends wisely.”
“Huh?”
“You met my mate Dean at my fortieth.”
“Oh yeah, him.” Norman scoffed, “What a boring twat.”
“Yeah, he is about as interesting as a physics teacher.”
“Why the fuck did you invite him?”
“He’s an accountant.” Bentham smiled. “My money is safer than the Pope
’s virginity.”
* * * *
Bentham and Norman stood on the forecourt of Edinburgh Waverly train station. The station was crammed with commuters and tourists. They gazed across the sea of faces. Bentham glanced up at the glass ceiling and noticed the dome camera. “Right that clocked them on the exit of the train and tracked them out of the station forecourt. Where did they go next?”
Norman pointed to a uniformed police man. “I suppose that’s what he’s going to talk about.”
“Detectives, glad you arrived. I’m Sergeant McCollum of Lothian and Borders Police.” McCollum pointed to small nondescript door. “The office the belongs to BTP, but it’s quickest way to show you the video from CCTV.”
Bentham shook his head.
“Quick and British Transport Police don’t usually go in the same sentence.”
“Well, I bet you’re glad it’s me rather them slow coaches running through the tape with you.”
* * * *
Sitting in the cramp
ed room that smelt of coffee, the three men huddled around a desk and stared at the monitor. McCollum tilted the joystick. “Cameras caught them on Princes Street at 0904. They visited a whole host of shops and didn’t leave the shopping district until 1645 that evening.”
Bentham sniggered. “That’s a shit load of shopping.”
“Aye it is. See this is the main mast we have just outside the M&S. See we can zoom in right on her face.”
Norman leaned forward. “She really is angel faced.”
“Aye, and more. But look, she’s happy with this guy. Your Tanya is laughing and joking. She’s not a woman in need or full of desperation”
Norman smirked as he noticed her shopping bags. “Some retail therapy that.”
Bentham sighed. “That’s clear. But she is a vital witness who’s absconded. We need her to sign a witness statement or we haven’t got anything to bang up Vladimir.”
“What about the CD?”
“Nothing, it’s tougher to break into that a Jewish piggy bank.”
“Where is it now then?”
Bentham glared at Norman. “Why are you so interested, that’s the second time you asked about it?
“I’m on the case arn’t it? I need to know these things.”
“It’s in an evidence bag in the tech lab. Where else would it be?”
“Right.” Norman faced the McCollum. “Do you know where Tanya and Serge stayed.
Anything from the local hotels?”
“They left the city centre via Castle Street 1709. We lose track of them then.”
Bentham snapped. “Any other leads.”
“I guess they’re on foot, so must have stayed locally. We sent pictures out to all the local hotels, but had no positive feedback.”
Bentham stared at Norman. “Let’s go and do some old school door knocking.”
McCollum laughed as he crossed his arms. “Half a million people live here.”
“We’ll start off in the hotels, emails and phone calls are easy to ignore, personal presence isn’t.”
* * * *
Bentham and Norman paced out of the station and walked the city streets. The sun was out but a chill tingled the skin. Staring down the bustling Prince’s Street, Bentham asked Norman. “What does Serge like again? What are his interests?”
“Farming and fertility treatment from what I remember from his laptop.”
“So where do you think he’ll end up?”
“A sperm farm?”
“Not the time for jokes. Norman.”
“I thought that was quite funny.”
“One of your better ones.”
Norman
’s mobile rang. “Detective Norman, Metropolitan Police—Clubs and Vice.”
“Sergeant McCollum.”
“Got something?”
“Got a call from a woman called Peggy Laurence, she is the Landlord of The Red Lion Hotel in Leith, just North of the city. I’ll text you the address. She is positive your couple stayed the night.”
Norman glanced at Bentham. “Got that?”
“Yeah.” Bentham turned on his heels. “Let’s get back to the car.”
* * * *
Bentham stood at the reception desk of the Red Lion Hotel. He glared at Clive. “Detectives Bentham and Norman. London Met.”
“H…Hello. Are you here about the Polish guy?”
“I’m here to talk to Peggy Laurence, your boss.”
“Right. I’ll buzz her.”
Bentham leaned forward. “This Polish guy, did you have anything to do with him?”
“Yeah, he was travelling with a pretty blonde girl. I saw the email the police sent with the picture, I’m almost certain it’s them”
Bentham took out his notepad. ”So tell us more.”
“I wasn’t here when they arrived but on the morning they left.”
“What day was that?”
“Friday.”
“Right.”
“He came down from his room, he was panic stricken. I asked what was wrong and he told asked me if I had seen the girl leave at all.”
Bentham relentlessly jotted down.
“Had she?”
“I hadn’t seen her leave.”
“So he demanded, quite forcefully, that I give him access to her room.”
“Did you?”
“I’m not allowed to give him the key. But I escorted him to her room.”
“They were staying in separate rooms?”
A old woman’s voice came from behind Bentham’s shoulder. “Aye, they were.”
He turn
ed and faced Peggy, “Peggy Laurence?”
“Correct.”
“I’m just taking a statement from Clive Rodgers.”
“OK. But I was on duty the night when the Patrick
’s arrived. Or whatever their real names are. The man was quite a gentleman.”
Norman
shrugged. “He might have been, but believe me he is a dangerous man.”
Clive butted in. “He is, he threw me on the bed when I let him in the room.” He blushed. “Not in a gay way or anything. He was looking for his bird. He thought she had been snatched and turned the room upside down looking for her. Turns out she had been out for a jog and she got back when just he was about to batter me.”
“Batter you?”
“Well, he seemed quite annoyed when I compared him to Jason Bourne.”
Bentham retorted, “He’s a trafficker not a super hero. Any idea where is off to next?”
“No, he threw me out of the room.”
“Take us up to the room.”
Peggy took the master key from the draw in the reception desk. “I’ll take you, put it has been cleaned and there is another guest in there now.”
“Is there?”
“Yes, well,
we’re very popular. We didn’t know he was a criminal.”