Iceline

by Martyn Taylor

Langhers woke before six in the morning roused by the sounds of movement in the flat and a minute or two later the door to his room opened and Charlie pushed his head in. "Morning," he whispered, "sleep well?"

  Langhers nodded. "Not bad and you?"

  Charlie smiled. "Yeah, fine thanks, keep an eye on things, just got to pop down to the harbour, check the old girl over."

  Langhers threw back the duvet and swung his legs to the floor. "OK, I'll have some breakfast for when you get back, Josie still asleep?"

  Charlie noticed the silenced gun. "Haven't seen one of those for a while," he said, "anyway, yes she is, back before you know it." He said and disappeared. Langhers dragged on his jeans and stuffed the pistol down the back, the silencer was cold down the crack of his backside and he pulled on a tee shirt and let it hang loose outside the jeans. He made himself a coffee and carried it through to the sitting room, switched on the TV, turned down the volume and chilled out, lost in some cartoon liberally splattered with gratuitous violence. Josie woke him up some time later. The coffee, in the cup beside his chair was cold. It was going to be another day of waiting.

  "I'm going to the hospital this morning," Announced Josie over breakfast, "if I can, I'll find out when Steel is due to be released."

  "Discharged, you get released from prison, discharged from hospital; it's a more medical term." Langhers corrected her. “Like the stuff that comes out of an abscess.”

  "Thank you, very nice. Whatever, I'm going to try and find out, are you going to help Charlie with his shipboard duties?"

  "Yes, "Langhers answered, "Though he's been down already."

  Charlie nodded with a mouthful of food, finished chewing it and swallowed. "I called first thing, checked the boat over, everything seems OK, but a bit of help would be useful to shift the provisions."

  Langhers looked across the table at him. "We'll use the Range Rover, once I've dropped Josie off at the hospital," then to Josie, "take your mobile and give me a ring when you're done. Then we can meet up and see what the next move is."

  Charlie said. "That sounds OK; I suppose you won't need me after that?"

  Langhers shrugged, "I'm not sure, personally I'd like to bring you further on board, your boat could be a useful asset. We may need to move Steel, or ourselves and lay a false trail."

  "I'll go along with that, with a good wind you'd be surprised how far the Old Girl will go in twenty four hours," Charlie said, "there is one thing Kurt, why are you convinced that your friend is being watched and by association, we too may be watched?"

  "I'm not," Langhers remarked, "but after what you said last night, I think it is better to be prepared, assume we are being watched and then we have the factors in place to deal with the surveillance and either counter or confuse it."

  "Depends on what his attackers know about his condition," Charlie explained, "the press were told a climber had been found on the hills in a pretty bad way with injuries from a fall; nothing unusual in that; climbing accidents are part of life in the highlands, even if most of them happen in the wild weather of the winter. They wheeled out a couple of Mountain rescue types to preach about mountain safety, like I said routine stuff. I think he may be alright for the time being, but you may have a point, prepared is pre-armed."

  "It's all well and good provided you don't start shooting at shadows, then the paranoia gets to you," Langhers admitted ruefully, "and I think it's starting to get to me."

  Charlie laughed, chortling quietly. "You're not always like this then? Sleeping with a gun and stuffing it down the back of your trousers, you want to be careful, might end up blowing your coccyx off, but then there are worse things to blast to smithereens," He turned serious. "Relax Kurt, we don't know what the level of threat is yet, the perceived level is minimal, just be aware. Please put the gun away, but keep it handy."

  Langhers slipped the weapon from the back of his jeans and laid it on the table. There was an air of the old dog about Charlie at times, Kurt couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he wasn't set in his ways. In spite of his age and realised how patronising the thought was, he was still flexible, it must be to do with the sailing.

  *****

  Chapter Ten