Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  “You want to stay here and chill while me and Aidan continue the search? I take that back,” he hastily added when she produced from her pocket the trigger for the shock bracelet he still wore.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  Aidan noticed Raven’s hand move to her injured arm. He knew it was causing her pain but she’d flatly refused to let either of them drive her car again, ignoring the twinge in her arm every time she changed gear. “There’s a good chance we’ll encounter Silas again,” he said. “We allowed to use your weapons?”

  Raven appreciated him asking. In the past he would have just taken them. Perhaps he was changing after all? “Yes but only when absolutely necessary. We don’t want to be caught carrying them.”

  “Caught by who?” said Damon. “We’ve not seen a copper since Glendale and that was only because of the explosion.”

  “I don’t care,” said Raven. “We need to be cautious. Remember One Eye’s teachings.”

  Damon winced at the mention of his dad before looking down at his hands.

  “Aidan, what is it?” she said when he went rigid in his seat. “Aidan?”

  Damon and Raven watched as he leapt out of his seat, rushed over to the bar and snatched up a sketch in a frame off the wall.

  “Look,” he said, hurrying back to them.

  “One Eye,” breathed Raven.

  “He looks a mess,” said Damon. “Leaves in his hair, mud on his face. What’s that about?”

  “You looking at my drawing of our local Wild Man?” said the landlord, emerging from behind the bar.

  “Wild Man?” said Raven.

  “He was found in Caillte lying in the middle of the road, covered in leaves and with a busted ankle. Word is he lost his memory too.”

  “Is he still in Caillte?” said Raven.

  “As far as I know. He’s become a bit of a celebrity in these parts…”

  “Thanks,” said Raven, hurling some cash at him for the food as they charged outside, leaving before he could tell them about the murder that had happened there.

  “He’s alive,” exclaimed Damon as they set off, Raven driving. “I fucking knew it.”

  Neither of them corrected him.

  “How did he turn into the Wild Man though?” he continued.

  “He was probably running from Silas,” said Raven.

  “Dad does not run from anyone,” he glowered.

  “The landlord said he had a busted ankle,” she replied. “He wouldn’t be able to stand up to him if he was injured.”

  “And that’s why Silas is hanging around,” said Aidan. “He’s hoping to get another shot at him. He’s still alive babe,” he said, patting her knee.

  She smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

  Raven glanced in the rear-view mirror when there was the roar of an engine. “What’s that idiot doing?” she said. “This is a narrow road.”

  The large white transit van was coming up fast behind them.

  Aidan looked in the wing mirror. “It’s a Ford van.”

  “Like the one Silas bought from that man in the post office,” said Raven grimly. “Can you see who’s driving?” she asked Damon, who was sitting in the back.

  He turned in his seat, peering through the rear window. “The good news is it’s not Silas.”

  Raven and Aidan breathed a sigh of relief.

  “The bad news is it’s his friend, Mathias. Henrik is in the passenger seat.”

  “Shit,” said Raven, pressing her foot to the accelerator. Her car was souped up, so it could go much faster than a standard Nissan X-Trail. In response the van sped up, easily keeping pace. “I daren’t go much faster,” she said. “Not on these narrow roads.”

  “At least they’re not shooting at us,” said Aidan.

  “Oh nice one,” said Damon. “Henrik’s just pulled out a gun.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Raven. “This car is bullet proof.”

  “But the tyres aren’t,” said Aidan.

  Damon relaxed when the bullet that hit the rear window harmlessly pinged off. “Hopefully they won’t think of that, they’re thick bastards.”

  “Where’s your smoke devices?” Aidan asked her.

  “I have one in my right coat pocket.”

  He flung off his seatbelt and reached over her. His hand closed around it and he sat back up.

  “I wish I could see what’s coming,” said Raven. “These roads are very twisty.”

  “Try and get ahead of them a bit,” said Aidan, winding down the window.

  Raven pressed down harder on the accelerator, her steely demeanour hiding her nerves about driving so fast around these hairpin bends. Thank God the roads were quiet. They hadn’t encountered another vehicle coming the opposite way since they’d left Flodigarry.

  “Floor it,” yelled Aidan before activating the device and hurling it out of the window.

  Raven stomped on the accelerator, ignoring the pain in her arm as she wrenched the wheel to the right, feeling the tyres on the left side of the car briefly leave the tarmac.

  “Jesus,” breathed Damon, who had gone rigid in the back.

  The car met the road again and they made it safely round the bend while the pursuing van vanished behind the curtain of smoke.

  Aidan and Damon kept watch behind them as Raven continued to drive, going as fast as she dare. There was a huge screech of metal before the van burst out from behind the smoke, one side of the vehicle dented and scratched after briefly meeting with the wall ringing the side of the road.

  “Fuck,” barked Aidan.

  “Take it easy babe,” Raven told him, detecting the rising mayhem in his voice.

  “Damon, can you reach the weapons from back there?” he asked him.

  “The middle seat folds down,” said Raven.

  “Alright,” replied Damon. “But I’ll have to take off my seatbelt, so try not to crash.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said flatly.

  Damon pulled down the seat and reached inside the boot but he was unable to access the hidden hatch. “Shit, I’m too big to reach it,” he called to them.

  “Let me try,” said Aidan, preparing to clamber into the back.

  “You’re too big too,” said Damon. “Raven might fit though.”

  “I’m a little busy,” she said, guiding the car around another tight bend.

  The van bumped the back of the car, jolting them all, Damon rolling about in the back.

  “Get out of there and put your seatbelt on,” Raven told him.

  “Trying,” he grimaced, hauling himself upright and yanking on his belt.

  “They’re dropping back,” said Aidan, frowning at the image of the van retreating in the wing mirror. “Raven, turn up there. Now,” he yelled pointing to a track that led up through some fields.

  Raven didn’t question him, she did as he said just as a second van shot out across the middle of the road before them, which they would have hit had she not listened to him.

  “The fucking sly bastards,” yelled Damon as they bounced up the rough track. “They set a trap.”

  “Thank God you realised what they were doing,” said Raven, taking her hand off the wheel long enough to pat her husband’s hand.

  “I’ve pulled the same stunt myself before,” said Aidan. “We need to find out where this road goes,” he said, tapping at the sat nav built into the dashboard. “Okay, it links onto another track and if we follow that it’ll take us back down to the main road.”

  “We need to lose them before hitting the main road,” said Raven. “They can’t realise that we know where One Eye is. It might panic them into attacking him.”

  “Both vans are following us now,” said Damon, turning to look over his shoulder.

  “Good,” said Raven.

  “You going to use those fucking great driving skills of yours babe?” said Aidan.

  She recognised the wildness in his eyes, which aroused those same feelings inside her, the ones she spent a lot of her time r
epressing, the ones One Eye had schooled her to control. “You bet I am.” The adrenaline pounded through her body when Aidan’s eyes twinkled.

  “They’re gaining,” called Damon, grimacing as the car bounced over the track, which was getting rougher by the second.

  Raven yanked the wheel to the right, driving through an open gate into a field. The lead van attempted to do the same but the rear right wheel hit a pothole, flipping it. Damon burst out laughing at the startled faces of Henrik and Mathias inside as they rolled over twice before the van came to a halt upside-down, blocking the path of the second van, which slammed on the brakes. It still struck the back of the first van, shunting it forward several feet.

  Raven put the car into reverse and backed out onto the track before driving away, a laughing Damon giving their pursuers v-signs through the back windows, paying no attention when a third man leapt out of the second van and began firing at them.

  “They’ve still not realised this motor’s bullet-proof,” grinned Damon. “Fuck me Raven, that was some good driving.”

  “You should thank your Dad. He taught me,” she replied, making him beam. “Oh shit,” she added when there was a loud rumble. “I think we’ve got a puncture.”

  Aidan tapped at the sat nav again. “Kilmaluag is three hundred metres from here. Can you get us there?”

  “Course I can,” she said, changing down gears as they began the descent back to the main road.

  The car limped onto the car park of a large craft shop and cafe. As it was closed for the season no one was about. The three of them leapt out to assess the damage.

  “Thank Christ the wheel’s undamaged,” said Damon.

  “Let’s get the tyre changed and back on the road,” said Aidan, taking the jack out of the boot. “Bollocks, the jack’s damaged. It must have taken a hit when the van rammed us.”

  “Can it do the job?” said Raven.

  He studied it before nodding. “Yeah but one of us will have to keep a grip on it while the tyre’s being changed.”

  The men for once worked together harmoniously as they quickly and efficiently jacked up the car. Raven kept a look-out for their pursuers but there was no sign of them, she guessed because it was going to take them some time to get that van righted again.

  “Crap,” she said when there was the loud rumble of an engine.

  “What is it?” said Aidan, holding the jack as Damon lined up the fresh tyre on the wheel.

  “They’re coming,” she said when the black van homed into view.

  While the men hurried with the tyre changing, Raven delved into the boot, which had been left open when Aidan took out the spare tyre. She opened up the secret hatch and dipped into the black bag full of weapons.

  “I’ll stall them,” she said, shoving a pistol into her pocket before dragging out another item, having to use both hands to lift it. “You two hurry up and get that tyre changed.”

  “Raven,” called Aidan, getting to his feet.

  “Jesus, don’t let go of the jack,” Damon called to him when the car started to creak and groan.

  “Sorry,” he said, crouching back down and pulling on it.

  “Relax, she can handle it,” said Damon as he worked.

  “Yeah I know,” said Aidan, his gaze drifting back to his wife, who strode fearlessly into the road. “But I still worry.”

  Raven stood calmly in the middle of the road as the van bore down on her. As it got closer she could make out the grinning faces of Mathias and Henrik in the front, along with a third man. It was gratifying to see Mathias and Henrik sported cuts and bruises, although their injuries didn’t seem to be slowing them down.

  “Raven,” she heard Aidan yell.

  Ignoring him, she kept her attention on the van as it bore down on her. Suddenly she side-stepped, throwing down the stinger she held, which stretched right out across the road. The three faces in the van dropped when they saw the surprise she’d left for them. The driver slammed on the brakes, the back of the van fishtailing but his efforts were in vain as the van hit the stinger, the spikes embedding themselves in the tyres, puncturing them. The car started to slide, the wheels making a crunching noise as it ran on rims. It slowed to a halt in the middle of the road. Taking a smoke device out of her pocket, she activated it and rolled it under the van, only this one was different to the usual smoke bombs, the smoke thick and noxious. The doors opened and the men fell out, coughing and spluttering, tears streaming from their eyes, snot pouring from their noses, debilitating them.

  Raven gripped the pistol, wondering if she should shoot them and have done with it but One Eye’s teachings echoed in her head. Instead she gathered up the stinger, jogged back to the car and returned it to the boot.

  “Sorted?” she asked the men, who were gazing at her in doe-eyed admiration.

  They both nodded.

  “Get in,” she told them, climbing into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.

  “It’s my turn,” snarled Damon, elbowing Aidan out of the way when he tried to get into the front passenger seat.

  Knowing Raven wouldn’t appreciate a delay with another childish row about who sat where, Aidan decided to be the bigger man and got into the backseat. As soon as he was in Raven set off, steering the car past the knackered van and the stricken men.

  “Surely we should finish them off?” exclaimed Aidan as he watched them recede into the distance through the wing-mirror.

  “And leave three bodies for the police to find?” said Raven. “No. What if someone saw their van chasing this car? We’d easily be linked to their deaths. Instead we lure them somewhere quiet with no witnesses.”

  “She’s right,” Damon told Aidan when it appeared he was going to protest again. “We’d be bloody stupid to get caught up in a murder investigation.”

  “Where were you this morning?” demanded Campbell the moment he strode through the door of the B&B. “I want a full itinerary of all your movements.”

  “Me?” said One Eye, pointing at himself.

  “Yes you,” barked Campbell. “We have a second murder on our hands and you are our prime suspect.”

  “Why would I kill Frederick?”

  “Ah ha. How do you know he’s dead?”

  “Because I told him,” said Helen.

  Campbell’s gaze softened as he turned to her. “How are you feeling? That must have been such a shock.”

  “It was,” she nodded, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I still can’t believe it.” She buried her face in Simon’s chest, who had returned to the B&B with the detective.

  “Where’s Connell?” said Alan.

  “Guarding the body until the team from the mainland arrive.” Campbell looked back at One Eye and pointed to the lounge. “In there.”

  One Eye loathed how rude and arrogant Campbell was but he determined to remain polite and not give him any excuse to arrest him, which he was clearly itching to do.

  “Well then?” demanded Campbell once they were alone together in the lounge. “Where were you all morning?”

  “Well, I rose at eight o’clock…,” began One Eye.

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No, I was alone. But Cherie was right outside my room when I opened the door.”

  “What was she doing there?”

  “Having a discussion with her husband.”

  “Did he see you too?”

  “No, he’d already left to take a walk. Then I went into the dining room and cooked breakfast with Luke and Saskia, the other two guests.”

  “Do you usually cook your own breakfast?”

  “No but Alan was out and Cherie was busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “You’ll have to ask her. It’s pretty informal around here so we didn’t mind. Helen and her boyfriend Simon came along and helped. After eating they went for a walk. Helen returned alone to the B&B to tell us about the murder. There’s plenty of food left if you’re hungry…”

  “Never mind that,” he snapped. “Did
you see Frederick Dawson at all this morning?”

  “No. He’d gone before I got up, I assume to search for more local wildlife.”

  “That was a hobby of his?”

  “Obsession I’d say. You wouldn’t believe the number of photo albums he had.”

  “How do you know where he went if you didn’t see him?”

  “Saskia and Luke, the other two guests, told me. They saw him in the dining room this morning. Apparently he got a little upset because he had a little disagreement about consuming animal flesh with Saskia.”

  “He had a disagreement with someone right before he was killed?”

  “Yes, with Saskia.”

  “Who?”

  “You’ll know her when you see her.”

  “Wait here. I want to speak to her.”

  “That should be entertaining,” he smiled as Campbell left.

  “Saskia,” demanded Campbell as he exited the lounge, One Eye opening the door so he could watch the show. “Where is Saskia?”

  The door to the dining room was thrown open and the woman herself strode out, standing eye level with Campbell, who came to a bemused halt.

  “What is it?” she said.

  A dumbfounded Campbell didn’t reply, her icy glare freezing his anger in his veins.

  “Well?” she said. “I not have all day. What do you want you noisy man?”

  “I am Detective Inspector Campbell,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ve been informed you had a disagreement with the dead man right before he died?”

  “Yes I did,” she said, tilting her head back proudly.

  “About what?”

  “He say it bad that I hunt, unfair on the animals. I say he eat meat, which is even crueller. Then he have bowl of muesli,” she said, lips curling into a smile.

  “Was there any violence involved?”

  She scowled. “You think I hit him because he eat muesli?”

  “No, not because of that. I meant during your discussion about animal welfare.”

  “No. We just talk because we grown-ups, not little children.” She chuckled. “You think I kill him because we have disagreement about this?”

  Her laughter made him feel foolish, an emotion he was not accustomed to experiencing. “People have fought over less.”