Finding out what that figure was up to would be an amusing distraction while he was convalescing. Naturally he wouldn’t share the information with anyone, that would be unfair and it really was none of his business but he needed something to occupy his time otherwise he’d go insane. He had brought some interesting books about the local area and its history along with him but they were in his backpack, which he’d lost during his last confrontation with Silas and he had no idea where it was. He would have to arrange some more clothes soon, the ones Alan had kindly furnished him with would only last another couple of days and he couldn’t expect the man to give him his entire wardrobe. Plus the only money he had was in his jeans pocket, amounting to about sixty pounds. He had to do something about that too.
One Eye mulled over that last fight with Silas. By God that had been a close run thing. If he hadn’t had one of his flash devices on him at the time he would undoubtedly be dead now. He’d thought his misdirection with Jim and David in the Kyle of Lochalsh had worked and led Silas south. But he hadn’t fallen for it and he’d caught up with him at Broadford. He’d wanted to stay towards the south side of the island in case he needed to make a quick getaway back across the bridge but Silas had scuppered that and he’d been forced to flee northwards. He’d hoped to lose him in Portree but the only town on the island certainly hadn’t been big enough to lose someone as determined as Silas and he’d chased him even higher, against his better judgement, to this village at the top of the north east part of the island, where he’d foolishly damaged his ankle and now he was stuck.
One Eye glanced at the window. It was almost completely dark outside and he wished someone would draw the curtains, the lights inside made him feel vulnerable but it appeared no one was going to make the effort and why should they? The B&B was situated on the very outskirts of the village, overlooked by no other buildings, pine forest on one side, sea on the other.
He was snapped out of his reverie by Cherie plonking his orange juice before him.
“Thank you,” he said, picking up the glass and taking a sip. He was delighted when Helen got to her feet to draw the curtains.
“I don’t know why you bother,” Cherie told her daughter. “Who’s going to look in?”
“It creeps me out not being able to see what’s outside,” she replied. “I’ve seen the horror films.”
“You think the creature from the swamp is lurking out there?”
“No. Werewolves.”
One Eye thought of Silas. She wasn’t far off.
Once she’d given One Eye dinner, Cherie vanished into the kitchen and Helen headed upstairs to her room, leaving him with his thoughts. He wondered who he should call, he needed help otherwise he was going to end up dead and he had no wish to give up his life here just yet, he enjoyed it. Also some of the very nice locals could end up getting hurt too.
When he was in trouble he usually called Damon and Raven but that was out of the question. Once again he regretted that SOS to Damon. All he could do was hope that he’d disregarded it or been distracted by one of his women. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d sent him a false alarm. His biggest fear was him mentioning it to Raven, who would undoubtedly want to search for him. He’d moved about a lot so it would be hard for them to track his movements but Raven was a very determined and able tracker. He should know, he’d trained her himself. No, he wanted his children far away from Silas. They were much safer staying in Yorkshire.
However he did have others he could contact and who should come to his aid. In order to take down Silas he needed the most highly skilled individuals he could gather. It was fortunate he knew people like that, people who owed him. Hopefully they’d honour that. One of them especially could be quite the trickster. He had their email addresses stored in his head. Now he just needed a computer, which he would hopefully gain access to tomorrow.
One Eye had just finished his very tasty pie when muffled shouting emanated from the kitchen. From what he could make out, Alan was yelling at Cherie for nagging him in the last bastion of his own private domain and Cherie was yelling at Alan for being a weak-willed worm. He took this as his cue to leave, managing to escape to his room just as Frederick appeared downstairs.
“Why are you tired?” said Raven. “You slept like a log. I should know, I heard plenty of your bloody snoring.”
“Dunno,” said Damon before cracking another massive yawn. “I suppose it’s all the worry about Dad. Stress makes me sleepy.”
“Yes, that’s probably it,” she said more gently.
They’d enjoyed a hearty breakfast at the B&B and after picking up some more clothes for themselves they were back on the road. After the mescaline-induced meditation Raven felt very well rested and alert, all effects of the hallucinogen completely gone. The man she’d seen haunted her though, she was sure she could feel him around her. What the hell was he? Something her worried brain had dreamed up, or something more? One Eye was the only person she could discuss it with, Damon would just think she was a lunatic, so she was forced to keep the strange experience to herself.
They left Armadale behind, heading north to Torrin, the next village on their list.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” exploded Damon. “Will you look at that?”
“You mean the cyclist?” said an amused Raven. A cyclist plodded on ahead of them, taking up most of the single track road.
“Look at the wobbly dick.” He banged his fist off the dash. “Get out of the way you wanker.”
The man glanced back over his shoulder and gave him the finger.
“That’s it,” snarled Damon. “Pull up alongside him and I’ll open my door. Let’s see if he’s so fucking lairy when he’s got a faceful of metal.”
“We don’t want to do anything to draw attention to ourselves,” said Raven
“We’re making an exception for this cock.”
Raven took in his blazing eyes and puce face. Cyclists drove Damon demented. He could tolerate the ones who acted decently, used the cycle paths and stopped to allow traffic to pass but the arrogant, cocky ones who blatantly flouted the rules of the road sent him into a murderous rage.
“On second thoughts,” he said, lips curling into a vicious smile. “We’re going up a steep hill and he can’t keep up.”
The bike ahead got wobblier, the movement of the cyclist’s legs becoming slower and more strained. Damon released a joyful cry, clapping his hands together when the berk toppled into the verge.
Damon wound down his window. “That’s what you get for being a dick,” he yelled as they drove by, leaving the man trapped under his bike. “I hope you’ve broken your fucking legs.”
Raven was relieved. If they hadn’t been trying to find One Eye and wanting to keep a low profile he would have leapt out of the car, dragged that tosser off his bike and wrapped it around his neck. He’d put several cyclists in hospital who’d got lairy with the wrong person. That prat lying in the grass had no idea how lucky he was. Fortunately none of them had dared report Damon, denying they knew the identity of their assailant but she feared that one day he’d get into serious trouble for his favourite hobby.
They passed a marble quarry then soon the village homed into view. Skye’s villages seemed to be composed of clusters of pretty white-washed buildings and Torrin was no different. There was no sign of One Eye at Torrin or Elgol, to the west of the island.
“Maybe we’ve been going about this search the wrong way?” said Raven.
“How do you mean?” said Damon.
“We’ve been asking around for One Eye, who is very good at travelling under the radar. Silas on the other hand sticks out a mile wherever he goes and isn’t known for subtlety. If he passed through somewhere he would have left his mark, without a doubt.”
“Hey, you’ve got a point there. Let’s give it a go.”
No one had seen anyone resembling One Eye or Silas in Torrin but they had at a hotel in Sligachan, the next village on their northward journey.
“Wow, stun
ning,” said Raven, getting out of the car outside the hotel and gazing up at the jagged Cullins mountain range rising above them. In the foreground was a beautiful stone bridge straddling a river.
“Dad would love to go up there,” said Damon, indicating the mountains.
“What if he did?” said Raven. “What if he decided to go off-grid to lose Silas? One Eye’s an experienced outdoorsman. Silas isn’t.”
“But we don’t know who Silas is now,” countered Damon. “We thought he was dead, which goes to show what we know about him. We don’t know how he’s changed in the meantime.”
“True but One Eye might have decided to avoid hotels and B&B’s to try and lose him. It might explain why he’s not got back in touch. If he is off-grid he won’t be able to get a signal.”
“If he is up those mountains we don’t stand a chance. I’m a city boy and I know you like walking the Yorkshire Moors but you’re not exactly Charlie Dimmock.”
“She’s a gardener.”
“Is she?” he frowned. “Who’s that woman who likes climbing mountains?”
“No idea but it’s a possibility.”
“If he is we could be looking forever.”
“You’re right,” she replied, knowing neither of them were equipped for mountaineering. “We need to stick to the plan.”
“Thank God for that.”
They walked into the cosy hotel reception, the walls of which were cluttered with various photographs and paintings of the Cullins. When Raven described Silas to the receptionist the pinched, middle-aged woman gasped and leapt backwards, pressing herself back against the wall.
“What’s up with you?” said Damon.
“Why do you want to know about him? Are you friends with him?” said the woman, eyes wide with fear.
“He’s missing,” replied Raven. “We’ve been assigned to track him down.”
“And lock the animal up I hope?”
Raven just nodded.
“Thank God for that. Who are you anyway?”
Raven took her licence out of her pocket, the one she needed for her legitimate police work and held it out for her to see. “We’re private investigators.” Not technically true but as bounty hunters were illegal in the UK this was the story she tended to feed people.
“I see,” said the woman. “Let me get Roy, he’ll explain everything. You’re lucky he’s recovered the power of speech.”
“Jesus, I wonder what Silas did to him,” said Damon when the woman vanished deeper into the hotel. “Probably rogered him with a salami or something.”
“Let’s find out. This looks like Roy.”
A mousy-haired individual hobbled into reception, right arm in a sling, limping on his left foot.
“This is Roy,” announced the receptionist. She looked to her colleague. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked him.
Roy nodded. “Aye. That animal needs to be caught before he does to someone else what he did to me.”
“What did he do?” said Damon, overcome with curiosity.
“He…he…”
“It’s okay,” said the receptionist, patting Roy on the shoulder when he buried his face in his good hand and started to cry. “Just take your time.”
Roy lifted his head, swallowing hard, attempting to regain control of himself. Raven and Damon patiently waited for him to continue.
“He…he stayed as a guest,” began Roy. “Not here in the hotel but on the campsite a five minute walk from here. He was staying in a motor home.”
“Do you have the licence plate number?” said Raven.
“I did but…he made me delete it from the records.”
“Can you remember it?”
“No, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said gently when he appeared stricken. “When did he arrive?”
“Two days ago. He stayed one night before moving on.” He shivered. “He was nasty right from turning up, demanding we move a nice couple staying on the prime spot next to the river. The couple protested at first, until they saw him. That was enough to make them change their minds. I mean, he was huge but combined with those burn scars….he was terrifying.”
“He came in here to use the bar,” said the receptionist. “Kicked up a fuss in there too, complaining the beer was warm and flat. Of course it wasn’t, our ales are the best.”
“He played loud music from his motor home,” continued Roy. “That God awful gangsta rap full of bad language. Of course we got complaints, we have a lot of families staying on the site. When I knocked on the door of his motor home and told him he had to switch off the music or leave he just laughed and shut the door in my face. Believe me, I didn’t want to press the issue, I had the feeling he’d get violent but I had no choice, guests were demanding I do something and I was in charge of the smooth-running of the site that day. So I knocked again and…” He broke off once more, lower lip wobbling.
“I’ll tell it,” said the receptionist kindly, patting his good arm.
“No, I’ve got to do this or I’ll never get over it.” He took another deep breath. “He flung open the door and said you again. Before I could speak he’d picked me up and thrown me halfway across the campsite. I landed on someone’s tent. The poor sods were in it at the time. All three of us had to go to hospital. They were just bruised but I landed badly. I hurt my ankle and broke my wrist. I’d no idea anyone could be that strong. I mean, yes he’s huge but I’m six foot, I’m not exactly small but he tossed me about like I was a rag doll. What sort of animal is capable of that?”
Raven and Damon glanced at each other. Compared to the other things Silas had done, this was nothing. They both thought Roy had got off pretty lightly.
“We called the police straightaway,” said the receptionist. “But by the time they arrived he’d gone and I hope we never see that nasty piece of work again.”
“You won’t,” said Raven. “After what happened he’ll give this place a wide berth.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Roy. “I have visions of him turning up for more revenge.”
“That won’t happen. I’m very sorry for what he put you through.”
“I appreciate that,” he said in a tired, flat voice.
“What name did he give you?”
“Mr Cole Black. I’ll never forget that name as long as I live.”
“Have you any idea where he went after here?” said Raven.
“No but wherever it is I hope it’s on the other side of the world. He must have left the island though, the police were circulating his description, as well as the van’s.”
“Hang on,” said Damon. “You said he left right after he threw you into a tent but you also said he made you delete his licence plate from your records.”
“Oh, yes,” he sighed, looking even more miserable. “That was before he threw me like I was a child’s toy. It was shortly after he arrived. He turned up at the office on the campsite and demanded I delete it off the computer.”
“Did he give a reason why?” said Raven.
“No but I assumed he was in trouble with the police. He was so bloody scary I did it without question, I got the feeling he’d hurt me if I didn’t.”
“You were right to do it,” she said. “He would have hurt you if you hadn’t complied.”
He nodded. “Are you sure you want to go after this guy? He might hurt you.”
“It’s my job,” she replied. She held out her card to him. “If you remember anything else or hear anything that might lead to his whereabouts I’d appreciate it if you would call me.”
“Course I will,” he said, taking the card from her. “That animal needs to be caged.”
“One more thing,” said Raven, holding out her phone. “Have you seen this man?”
They both stared at One Eye’s image before shaking their heads.
“Is he Black’s accomplice?” said the receptionist. “He looks dodgy.”
“No, he’s not,” replied Raven with a glower that made the woman
look down at the floor.
They left the receptionist to comfort the unfortunate Roy and returned to the car.
“Well that was pretty successful,” said Raven. “Now we know how Silas is moving about the island and that he’s definitely alive.”
“But we don’t have a licence plate,” said Damon. “And there’s hundreds of those sodding motor homes on the island.”
“But we know what we’re looking for, which is a damn sight more than we had when we woke up this morning. We stick to the plan, carry on searching all the villages. The trail is leading us north. They’re both still on the island, I’m sure of it.”
“Okay.” He held up his arm to reveal the bracelet. “Can you take this sod off me now?”
“No,” she smiled, starting the engine. “It’s still my insurance policy.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” he sighed. “I’m not going to break rule number four, okay?”
“I know you’re not. Not while you’re wearing the bracelet anyway.”
Journeyman Page 7
