Holy Island Trilogy 02 - Nowhere Man

by Sheila Quigley

  Holding onto her hand for a little longer than was really necessary, Mike said, ‘Pleased to meet you too.’

  Hmm, certainly a beauty this one all right, he thought, noticing the dimples when she smiled. Bet old Jase is enjoying his time guiding her around. Hope for his sake Samantha never meets her, or it’ll be the third degree every night for the poor sod.

  But a few fleeting seconds was all Mike would allow his attention to wander. Too much going on. He needed nothing to complicate things. He was back in police mode as soon as the man in front of him spoke.

  ‘Hi, Mike.’

  ‘Cox.’

  Mike nodded at him. Detective Jason Cox, originally from Manchester, but now living and working in Newcastle in the same office as Mike. Extremely tall, in his middle forties and rapidly losing his pale ginger hair, he'd been around as long as Mike could remember.

  He and Mike had always got along. It wasn’t hard to get along with Jason. Rather old fashioned in his thinking, and a bit of a fusspot, Jason Cox had surprised everyone - and himself - five years ago when, housebound with the flu, he had sat down with the computer he had always scorned, and found himself completely hooked. He practically became a computer whiz overnight. There was nothing he didn’t know about them. Word had spread to the Met, and now he was begging off moving down to London. One reason was because he was quite happy where he was, and the other reason - which he made no bones about - was that his wife Samantha simply wouldn’t allow it. In the Cox household, Samantha’s word was law.

  ‘Well done, Mike.’ He slapped Mike’s arm with a thick meaty hand, and grinned at him.

  Mike nodded. ‘Thanks, Jase. But It’s not over yet - not by a long shot. I’m gonna need your help with some computer stuff. I’ll let you know later. Ohh, and sorry, but where the hell did you dig that excruciating tie up from?’

  Before Detective Cox could defend his choice in ties, Sergeant Rafferty inserted herself between them and said, ‘Yes, Detective Yorke, there’s some forty parents come to claim their kids. Sadly, another fifteen or so have come to claim their bodies. I’m told you are responsible for cracking the case?’ she asked, one eyebrow slightly raised in a question.

  Oh God, Mike thought. Shades of The Bill. Where the hell is she from?

  ’Yes.’ He nodded, noticing the tension between her and Cox, guessing Cox, although a good man, must have somehow rubbed her up the wrong way. How? That was anyone's guess. Cox was usually a pussy cat with no claws. Although perhaps it’s her and she’s just a miserable git!

  ‘No false modesty there, then, is there?’ Rafferty smiled, flirting with her eyes.

  ‘There never is,’ Smiler muttered, scowling at Mike.

  ‘Didn’t you have somewhere to go, sunshine?’ Mike replied, still looking at Sergeant Rafferty.

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ Smiler scowled, ‘but I’m going up to see Aunt May now, OK? If that’s all right with you, like. Brother David might have finally stopped his fucking useless praying. I’ll be ready when you’ve sorted a fucking lift out---- What?’ Mike was frowning at him.

  Getting no answer, Smiler went on, ‘You expect me to walk from Newcastle to Holy Island? No fucking way, man, you do it! ’ He stormed off, leaving the question hanging.

  ‘Hey,’ Cox shouted. ’Who do you think you’re talking to? Get yourself back here, young man.’

  ‘You can fuck off an’all,’ Smiler shouted over his shoulder.

  ‘Come back here!’

  ‘Just leave it,’ Mike said, putting up a placating hand.

  ‘Some edge he’s got on him for a young kid, hasn’t he? How old is he, anyhow? The cheeky little thing only looks about twelve or thirteen, for God’s sake.’ Sergeant Rafferty's top lip twisted in a snarl. ‘If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a cheeky brat.’ She watched Smiler, who had completely ignored Cox, make his way through the parked cars.

  ‘Forget it,’ Mike said.

  Rafferty took no notice, and went on, ‘And what’s happened to his face? Those scars look like someone deliberately carved a smile on it.’

  ‘Actually, he’s nearly seventeen - and yes, he has an edge and the smile to go with it, as well as a reason for it. If you’ll excuse me.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  But Sergeant Rafferty knew she had. The warmth she’d felt at first had quickly evaporated. Wondering what the story was with them, she watched as Mike followed Smiler into the hospital. Then, her eyebrows raised, she turned to look at Cox.

  He shrugged. ’Never met the kid before. He’s probably one of Mike’s many waifs and strays. He collects them like other people collect autographs.’

  Before Cox could say any more, a large thickset old man with a walking stick stopped in front of them. Leaning with both hands on his stick and staring at Cox, he said, with a Polish accent, ‘My Annya - she...she is not there. Not with the living group… She is not with the other poor ones, either.’

  ‘Sorry?’ Sergeant Rafferty said, with a frown.

  The old man swung his head towards her and said, 'My Annya - she is not there. Not with either of the groups.’

  Cox stepped between them. ‘I’ll deal with this, Sergeant. I’m so sorry, Mr Brodzinski. I was led to believe that your granddaughter was one of the first group.’

  The old man shook his head. ‘No.’

  Cox put a steadying hand on the old man's shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go home, Mr Brodzinski. Brod. I’ll pop round sometime tomorrow, when we’ve had time to question a few of the more healthy ones we have. Get a bigger picture of what exactly has been going on with the kids.’

  Mr Brodzinski sighed. Knowing there was nothing that he could do, he quietly said, ‘OK,’ as he hobbled off.

  ‘What’s the story with him, then?’ Sergeant Rafferty asked, watching the old man.

  ‘Well, for your information, Mr Brodzinski and his seventeen year old granddaughter Annya have been in the UK for more than two years now. He goes to my chess club. Damn good player he is, too, beat me more than once.’

  ‘Oh, please. Chess club?' Sarcasm dripped from her words. ‘More drains on our taxes.’

  Ignoring her dig at his game, which he loved, Cox said, ‘Actually Brod has his own money and, from what I hear, plenty of it. So, no- he’s far from a drain on anything.’

  Without waiting for her to answer, he turned and headed towards the hospital. Tutting, Sergeant Rafferty had no other option than to follow.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Mike reached Aunt May’s room, he paused a moment and looked through the open door. Smiler was sitting on the left side of the bed, holding Aunt May's hand, which, Mike thought, doing a neat double take, is a miracle in itself. I guess Smiler hasn’t held too many hands in his life, poor sod.

  And there was Dave. He could never bring himself to call him Brother David. Mike had kicked up a major fuss when Dave had said he was going to join the order on the mainland, and it had taken him quite a while to accept the fact of it. In truth, he never really had, and strongly doubted if he ever would. As far as Mike was concerned, Dave was wasting his life.

  Why lock yourself away in a monastery? The whole idea of why someone would want to do that had puzzled Mike ever since Dave had told them that he wanted to join the brotherhood.

  But most of the time he put on a good face, for Dave’s sake. Although not brothers by birth they were, through Aunt May, much more than that. They shared a bond - and Aunt May was the glue that held them together. He stared at Dave now, and sighed without even realising.

  Brother David’s head was down and he was holding Aunt May’s other hand. His lips were moving silently.

  Ah, for fuck's sake, Mike thought, Smiler’s right. He’s praying again! Hours he’s been at it now. When is he ever gonna learn? All them hours he prayed for help when he was a kid got him fuck all, and it ain’t gonna get him anywhere now.

  Silently Mike entered the room and stood at the bottom of the bed, h
is feet apart and his hands clasped behind his back, staring at Aunt May.

  Smiler looked up at him and attempted a brief smile, which, knowing him, Mike interpreted as 'I’m sorry'. Giving him a wink to assure him that everything was fine, Mike gave an exaggerated cough to get Brother David’s attention.

  A few seconds later, Brother David looked up. ‘You’re back from wherever, I see.’

  Well, if that isn’t stating the obvious, as usual, Mike thought, pulling a face at him before saying, ‘Yes, oh wise one, it's truly me standing before you. Although in truth, I haven’t really been anywhere yet… Any change?’

  Brother David slowly shook his head. ‘The doctor came in a few minutes ago. He said some of the tests still aren’t back yet. It might be a few days. He also said…’ Brother David hesitated, before swallowing hard and looking Mike in the eye. ‘He also said there might be some... some form of brain damage. But they’re not sure, they only think she might,’ he hurried on, seeing Mike's face. ‘But you don’t know, Mike, she could snap out of it tomorrow. Just wake up as if nothing's happened.’

  ‘Bastards!’ Mike gripped the metal frame at the end of the bed, his knuckles gleaming white. Turning quickly, he started pacing back and forth. Silently, Smiler and Brother David kept pace with their eyes. Suddenly stopping mid stride, Mike turned to Brother David. His eyes hard and staring, he snarled, ‘Surely they must have some idea when she’s gonna wake up, for fuck's sake? What are they in this place, friggin’ amateurs?’

  Brother David dropped his eyes and shrugged. He had been expecting this outburst. Mike had always been the most emotional of the three of them, and he’d never mastered the art of not to showing his emotions. ‘A day, a week, a month, longer.’ He shrugged again. ‘Sorry, Mike, they don’t really know.’

  ‘Do they know any fucking thing?' Angrily, Mike started punching his hand as he went back to his pacing.

  Smiler quickly swung his head from one to the other. Unable to help himself, he started to sob.

  At once, Mike was at his side, his own feelings pushed away. Thinking only of Smiler, he said, ’The doctor only said might be, Smiler, and the docs always give you worst case. Isn’t that right, Dave?’ He rested his hand on Smiler’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, expecting it to be repelled at any moment - Smiler allowed minimum physical contact - and willing Dave to agree with him about the doctors, for the kid's sake.

  Smiler looked up at Brother David who, after a brief moment, silently nodded at him.

  ‘Tell you what, would you rather stay here in the hospital? Maybe go home tonight, Smiler, at least for a proper night's sleep? Dave will call you if there’s any change.’ He looked at Brother David, who nodded again.

  ‘Of course I will, Smiler.’

  ‘Right. Sorted. I’ll go and see Jill about Tiny, I’m sure she’ll be all right about it until you get back tonight,’ Mike said.

  Sighing, Smiler replied softly, ‘No. I want to stay here tonight as well, I want…I’m gonna stay here until she wakes up.’

  Mike removed his hand from Smiler's shoulder, amazed that he hadn’t shrugged it off after a few moments. Perhaps he’s starting to trust me more, Mike thought, with a pleased sigh. Now that would be real progress.

  ‘OK, we’ll see how it goes. I’ve got some things to sort, before I leave. I’ll go back to the island, see if Jill really will look after Tiny. If not, I guess he’ll be all right in the dog pound for a day or two.’ He pulled his mobile out and flashed it at Brother David, as if the brother had no connection to the present and didn’t know what a mobile phone was. ‘Do you remember the number, Dave?’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ Smiler put in, before Brother David, refusing to take the bait, smiled and nodded.

  ‘There’s one more thing I have to do before I go.’ Mike pulled a small white envelope out of his pocket and moved closer to Aunt May, tipping the contents into his hand. Brother David’s face lit up as he saw Aunt May’s gold cross slide out of the envelope.

  ‘Help me slip this under her neck, Dave.’

  ‘I wondered where that was. She's never taken it off for... how many years?’ Brother David smiled as he gently put his fingers under her neck, and caught the chain that Mike was pushing through from the other side. Catching it, he stretched across and put the chain into Mike’s hand.

  ‘Kristina found it when we went to examine the place she was attacked by them cowardly bastards. They must have ripped it off her neck just for the fun of it, or just because they could. I popped out first thing this morning and bought a new chain. Hopefully she won't notice when she wakes up.’

  ‘Wouldn’t bank on that one,’ Brother David replied with a smile. ‘We’ve never yet been able to get one over on her in all this time, have we?’

  Mike slowly shook his head in answer, he took one more lingering look at Aunt May, and fastened the catch. He set the cross gently on her chest, kissed his middle and forefingers and placed the kiss on her cheek.

  ‘You hurry up and get better, Aunt May. I’ll always be thinking of you wherever I am, but there’s something I’ve gotta do. I promise I’ll be right back to see you as soon as you wake up. Nothing or no one will keep me away.’ Then, without a backward glance at either Smiler or Brother David, he turned and walked out the door.

  But neither of them had missed the tightening of Mike’s jaw, nor the narrowing of his eyes.

  ‘Mike’s a doer, Smiler,’ Brother David said solemnly.

  ‘I know,’ Smiler mumbled.

  ‘Would you like to hold my hand in prayer?’ Brother David reached his hand across the bed.

  Smiler visibly shrank in on himself. Quickly, he put his head down and stared at his feet - but not quickly enough for Brother David to miss the look of horror on his face, leaving the monk wondering just what had happened to this child in his short life. Withdrawing his hand, he began to pray as tears ran down Smiler’s face.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kirill Tarasov paced the length of his oak panelled study, a glass of English vodka in his hand, a cigar in the other. Not his first choice in vodka, but that stupid brain-dead housekeeper had forgotten to restock, and not for the first time.

  ‘Should have broken more than her jaw,’ he muttered, staring out of the window at the Siberian winter. ‘She’s only alive because she’s the best cook I’ve ever had, never thought I’d ever say it but ugly shrimp of a peasant is practically irreplaceable.’ He turned to the other occupant of the room and shrugged. ‘So what’s wrong with you? They’re only fucking peasants, for fuck's sake. It's not that when you’re using them to chase away the nightmares after your morphine fix, is it?’

  Before his son Vadim could answer, his oldest daughter, Lovilla, entered the room holding the phone. Lovilla was tall, blonde and slim, with a natural dark brown beauty spot at the corner of her mouth, of the type once so beloved of '50s American stars. ‘Father,’ she said before going on sarcastically with a sneer, ‘ the esteemed Earl Simmons is on the video link. He says it’s urgent.’

  Vadim sniggered.

  ‘Damn the man.’ Tarasov put his drink on the table and, frowning at his son, wished as for God knows how many times before that a certain one of his outbreed sons was the one standing in front of him, and not this pathetic legal. He moved over to the phone and took it out of Lovilla’s outstretched hand.

  ‘OK, Simmons, it's only a couple of days since I saw you last. What the hell’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until next month?’

  Quickly Simmons gave him a brief run-down. When he was finished, he said, ‘And so I’m calling a meeting for three days' time. Never have we been in such danger before. Even that, that bunch of flaming witches has never come this close.’

  ‘Well, I do beg to differ there. Once or twice the bunch of flaming witches haven’t been short of the mark. And, might I add, if your family had succeeded in wiping out the right ones in 1645, instead of burning and drowning ordinary peasants just to make a show, then we wouldn’t have this trouble
today. All that witch hunting only succeeded in driving the real culprits underground.’

  ‘Why do you always insist on blaming my family for everything that ever goes wrong?’ Simmonds snapped.

  ‘Perhaps because they are.’ Before Simmonds, who was practically foaming at the mouth, could let off more steam, Tarasov went on. ‘But all of this ridiculous hoo-ha through one fucking man…Over-reacting a bit, as usual, aren’t you? And what’s going to happen in the next few days? Just allowing him to run free, are we, take the piss out of us?’

  ‘No!' Simmonds was practically shouting now. ‘As we speak, he is being dealt with.’

  ‘Well, let's hope so. Also, when have we ever personally dealt with something as mundane as this ourselves? For God's sake, we are supposed to have people trained for this very thing who should be getting on with it. When did we ever dirty our hands? Really, it's all becoming very boring, to say the least.’

  ‘For your information Tarasov, not one, but three top assassins have been assigned to him. I can't see him surviving much past the next twenty-four hours. In fact, there’s a whole mop up going on, as well as extra people drafted in to look for that damn book.’

  For a moment Tarasov was quiet. Lovilla frowned as she watched an emotion she rarely saw play across her father’s face, before he said, ‘So, if it's all in hand, why another trek so soon to your dismal part of the globe?’

  Simmons bristled, giving the exact reaction Kirill aimed for. ‘We all know the world can not go on as it is. Billions and billions of people increasing at such an alarming rate. And the world is warming far more rapidly than was predicted.’

  Tarasov held up his hand. ‘Oh please, spare me the details. It’s all rubbish. As usual, you’re panicking over nothing.’

  ‘The meeting is in the usual place. Goodbye.’