Authors: Gavin Smith
Drinks were thrust into my hand, more backslapping. I even saw some of the well-turned-out salon-pretty girls, who moments before had been screaming for my blood like everyone else, look my way.
I pushed through the congratulatory crowd to where Calum had just sat down. He smiled as he looked up at my blood-covered body.
‘Do you want a drink or a medic?’
‘I’ve had worse,’ I said, slumping into a seat as he passed me another drink and both of us exchanged words about the fight with some of his hangers-on. The music started again and people started to drift away as if at some hidden signal from Calum. I was catching my breath and drinking more bloody whisky.
‘Cigar?’ Calum asked. I was about to refuse. ‘It’s from Barney’s four, pre-war.’
What the hell! Let’s see what all the fuss was about. I took the cigar and he lit it for me.
‘So, is the extent of your ambition to squat on my land and poach? Because if so, we can sort something out.’
‘I don’t think ambition is something that people like me have. Life’s pretty good at the moment.’ If we ignored the impending war, which I was getting quite good at, and didn’t think about Morag – less good at that. ‘I just don’t want to …’ I searched for a way to explain myself.
‘Suffer any more?’
I gave this some thought.
‘Yeah, actually.’
‘So do I have this right – you’re recently independently wealthy?’
‘I guess.’
‘Do you want more money?’
‘For what?’
‘I followed your exploits, read Howard Mudgie’s stories and watched the footage that he shot. I’m not sure I agree with what you did, and certainly it’s causing me a lot of trouble with industrial espionage and bidding for work, but what you accomplished was astonishing. I can always use someone with your skill set. I’m not sure what for. Maybe security, something like that.’
‘No, I mean what would I need more money for?’ As far as I could tell, I had all the money I was ever going to need. I could go out in a hail of jazz, single malt whisky and sense booth immersion if I wanted. Calum stared at me and then burst out laughing. I was getting a bit pissed off at this.
‘What?’ I demanded. ‘I’m not kidding. I’ve got everything I need.’ This just made him laugh harder.
‘You live in a tent,’ he managed red-faced.
‘We don’t all need a fucking castle.’
This just made him laugh harder. Eventually he managed to control himself. I think he would have been wiping tears away if his eyes hadn’t been expensive designer implants.
‘You like it out here?’ he finally asked.
‘Yeah, ’course. What’s not to like?’
‘What about a house out here? If you chose to settle down you’d have security for your family. That sort of thing.’
This sounded completely foreign to my ears – I suspect because it was starting to sound a bit like a future. I didn’t have to worry so much about where the next dram, cigarette or booth session was coming from. Maybe I could even make plans. This didn’t seem like such a bad life. Admittedly the ones like Alasdair were arseholes, but a lot of them were okay and they seemed to like me.
‘I’m not some corporate assassin. I’m not a leg-breaker or –’ I nodded at the bloody sand ‘– a gladiator, despite what you may think.’
‘This?’ He looked around. The majority of his guests were younger than Calum. ‘You’ve got to do certain things in my position. A bit of wealth and it’s easy to pick up parasites.’ I grinned at this. ‘I’ve seen real combat. This doesn’t interest me. Involve yourself in it as much or as little as you want.’
It had occurred to me earlier in the evening when I was less drunk that Kenny wasn’t here. Kenny was an actual proper gillie. He’d not said much on the way to the castle but I’d found out later from Calum that he’d known Kenny during the war and now employed him as a groundsman and gamekeeper. That appealed to me. I wondered if I could work with Kenny. It would be the same sort of thing that my dad had done, except if some rich bastard tried to have me killed they’d be in for a bit of a surprise.
‘I’m not looking for muscle. Maybe security or even bodyguarding work. You could think of yourself as a soldier with better pay, conditions and fewer hazards. The remuneration would also be well worth your while.’
I raised an eyebrow. This was sounding better and better.
‘Daddy!’ A remarkably pretty, tall slender blonde in a little black dress suddenly landed in my lap. She wrapped her arms around me. She had blue eyes and I reckoned she was in her early twenties. ‘Who’s your new friend?’ she demanded.
Calum sighed good-naturedly. ‘Fiona, this is Jake.’ I let the contraction of my name go. ‘Jake, this is my daughter Fiona.’ She wrinkled her nose at the sound of her name.
‘I know. Horrible name, isn’t it? Daddy had me before he got money and taste. Everybody calls me Fi.’
‘Lass, you’re going to get covered in muck,’ I warned her. Sweat and blood were still drying all over my body.
‘That’s okay,’ she said in a way that made me uncomfortable because her dad was sitting opposite. The wriggling in my lap didn’t help either. ‘I loved watching you fight,’ she said, running a fingernail across my chest. ‘Very sexy.’ She leaned in close to me and bit my ear. This was deeply awkward. Calum just looked on indulgently. The thought occurred to me that this girl was in need of a good spanking. Then I wished the thought hadn’t occurred because I was sure she’d just enjoy it. I also couldn’t get her off my lap now because there was evidence of her presence.
I was as pleased to see Alasdair as I was ever going to be. At least focusing on him would help me get rid of the evidence. She seemed happy to remain draped around me. The kid I’d fought was with Alasdair. He seemed the worse for wear but was up and smiling.
‘Good fight, Robert,’ Calum said with grace.
‘Excuse me, love,’ I said to Fiona as I managed to shift her from my lap and stand up, hopefully without her father noticing my partial erection. ‘Aye, good fight,’ I said, shaking Robert’s hand. ‘Sadly, old age and treachery tend to win out over youth, vigour and skill.’
‘I’m no sure about that,’ Robert said. ‘You kick like a bloody mule and I reckon you’re every bit as fast as me.’ He sounded impressed. He seemed a likeable enough kid. Alasdair looked less impressed.
To what degree had They augmented me? I felt fitter than when I’d been eighteen.
‘Aye, well I’ve been doing this for a while and, you know, experience helps.’
Robert opened his mouth to reply.
‘Robert, be a good chap. You’ve disgraced me enough for one night, do piss off,’ Alasdair said. I didn’t like this guy. I bit back a reply because I was a guest. Robert glanced at Alasdair and rolled his eyes before nodding to me and heading off. I sat back down and tried to ignore him. I was less than pleased that Fiona climbed back onto my lap.
‘The kid did well – he’s a good fighter. You shouldn’t be so hard on him,’ Calum told Alasdair.
‘I’ve invested so much in him and he’s such a disappointment. I’ve a mind to drop him back in the shithole I found him in.’
‘That kid’s victories aren’t yours because you’ve spent some fucking money,’ I said, trying to get a dangerous tone in my voice.
‘You misunderstand, Sergeant Douglas. His victories are mine because he belongs to me.’
I’d learned something with Mudge in London. When you’re mixing with people like this you couldn’t just elbow them in the face when they annoyed you. I wasn’t sure why; apparently it just wasn’t the done thing. Shame really. This guy had obviously grown up not being elbowed in the face enough when he was talking shit. This meant that he thought it was okay to talk shit. I wasn’t sure it was entirely his fault – after all his parents had called him Alasdair.
‘What can I do for you, Alasdair?’ Calum asked, sounding more than a little pissed off.
‘Yes, Alasdair, you’re being a bore,’ Fiona added.
‘You’re ex-SAS, aren’t you?’ Alasdair asked me. I ignored him. He’d looked it up but I still wasn’t giving the little shit the satisfaction.
‘He won’t talk about it,’ Calum told Alasdair.
‘Why? He made sure we could read about it on the web. Desperate for attention, were you?’ I continued ignoring him. This was good for me, I decided. It would help me build up tolerance. ‘Hardly a fair fight then, was it?’ he demanded. ‘I have a proposition. Three of my men would be happy to fight him. Mr Douglas’s dubious exploits are well known; it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge for him.’ I was trying not to look at the smug impression on his podgy face because I knew it would drive me towards violence.
Calum sighed. ‘Look, Alasdair, you lost a fight. Why don’t you leave it?’
‘What? Is he frightened?’
‘Look, will you just fuck off, you little prick?’ I suggested.
‘I think you’re frightened,’ he said in what I think might have been the most patronising tone I’d ever heard. He’d also raised his voice and I realised that he was playing to the audience. There were boos. I was determined not to bow to peer-group pressure, particularly as they weren’t my peer group.
‘Oh do it!’ Fiona was suddenly shrill in my ear. Then she leaned in close to me. ‘Do it for me,’ she whispered, pouting. ‘Put the little tosser in his place. I’ll make it worth your while.’ She ground herself into my lap. Calum was looking everywhere but at her.
‘Everyone!’ Alasdair announced, turning to the crowd. ‘Sergeant Douglas, scourge of our privacy, is too frightened to fight!’
There was a lot of booing.
‘I’m really sorry about this,’ Calum said. ‘You may want to consider doing it for a quiet life.’
‘Please?’ Fiona pouted.
I swore under my breath and stood up, almost dumping Fiona on the floor in doing so. There was cheering. Alasdair turned around and managed an insincere smile.
‘I don’t suppose you want to get into the ring, do you?’ I asked him.
‘I’m afraid my fighting days are over,’ he said. I’ll bet, I thought.
I made my way back onto the sand. The crowd parted for me. Three on one were not good odds. I wondered what I was doing. Was I trying to impress these people? The girl? Her dad? Why?
The crowd parted, forming three channels from three different directions. The two guys and the girl who came out were solidly built. They moved like they knew how to handle themselves and one of the guys and the girl had matt-black lenses for eyes. The third guy had more expensive lenses but the Royal Marine Commando tattoo on his chest gave him away as a veteran as well.
The woman carried a basket-hilted broadsword of the kind I’d seen decorating the walls of Calum’s castle. Except this one looked sharp and well balanced. She held the sword – I think it was called a claymore – in one hand and a round wooden shield reinforced with iron studs in the other. The guy who wasn’t an ex-marine had a shaved head and his face was a patchwork of scars. He carried a ball and chain in one hand and was already spinning the heavy-looking studded head of the weapon. In his off hand he also carried a shield. The ex-marine was carrying a fucking polearm. It looked like a meat cleaver on the end of a six-foot shaft. Above the cleaver blade was a hook. I wondered if he was expecting cavalry.
If I wasn’t going to risk dying for something worthwhile like murdering Rolleston then I certainly wasn’t going to risk dying in this cellar. I didn’t care what they thought of me. I had nothing to prove. I shook my head and turned to walk away. The problem was, with them all coming from different directions I had to pass one of them.
The woman with the claymore swung at me. I just managed to dance out of the way.
‘What the fuck! Are you insane?! I’m not fucking interested!’ She just smiled at me and remained poised to attack. I tried to walk into the crowd but was faced by a solid wall of screaming rich people, their features twisted in expectation. They wanted to see blood.
They did. The hook on the polearm ripped into my shoulder. It had enough boosted muscle behind it to penetrate the subcutaneous armour. The ex-marine ripped the hook down, tearing open part of my back. I almost fell to my knees. He tore the weapon out of me and then short-swung the cleaver blade at my head. I only just managed to duck out of the way.
I turned to the side as the claymore whistled through the air. The blade hit my metal arm and only succeeded in scoring it. It was a heavy blade and I was faster than her. As she readied another blow I tried to kick her in the head with as much force as I could muster. She got the shield up just in time but I heard it crack and she staggered away from me.
My IVD jumped as the studded head of the ball and chain cracked me solidly in the skull and sent me staggering forward into the crowd. My blood spattered some of them but they were baying for more and I got pushed back into the ring. I found myself missing Balor and New York. The blow to the head made me feel sick.
This was the problem with fighting three people. The minute you tried to deal with one the other got you. As quickly as I could manage, I ducked under another swing of the ball and chain and hooked a kick around the scarred guy’s leg, bringing him down on one knee. I flung myself out of the way of a downward strike from the polearm and threw myself towards the swordswoman. She hadn’t been expecting me to close so quickly and aimed a hurried blow at me, but I grabbed her shield and yanked it towards her sword arm, messing up her strike.