by Michael Gill
Once in the flat it was a piece of cake. She found the whisky in a glass cabinet full of single malts dating back over one hundred years. There must have been a hundred and fifty to two hundred of them. She paused on her way out, looking at the beautiful vanity case in the master bedroom. She imagined an array of emerald and sapphire necklaces. Not this time girl.
She made a quick exit and was on the tube long before he would ever know his card and wallet were missing. She went into the public toilets which fortunately were empty. Took off her wig to reveal her short blonde hair in a bob style. Applied some makeup and added a pair of reading glasses. They would have a description of her, however it would be far too vague to put her in the spotlight.
Chapter 28
Raymond had John from Canada on Skype. “Have you found anything interesting on Ian Waterman?”
“He was born in 1948 in Dartmouth. Tough upbringing. Managed to get into college at McMaster in Ontario. Had a gift for the stock market and worked at a big firm in downtown Toronto, before forming his own company on King Street. His company, like lots of others in Canada, was involved in the gold mine scam.”
“Really, what was that all about?”
“One heck of a controversy in Canada. I remember it well living here in Toronto. It was in the late nineties.”
“Could you keep digging on that? See if you can find any link no matter how remote that connects his company to the scam?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think Ian was involved?”
“No idea. Good chance though. He left shortly after that. Sold the investment company for millions moving to Chester where he has lived ever since.”
“What has he been up to since that time?”
“A leading Philanthropist in the community. I mean squeaky clean. He helps more charities than Prince Charles.”
Raymond thought for a second. If you get involved in some scam by pure accident, make a shit load of money at the expense of others, what would many of us do. Give back?
“Any business dealings since?”
“Oh yes. He consults in the investment world. A major shareholder in a gold mine company real close to his residence.”
“Really, gold in Nova Scotia. You are kidding.”
“Look at the tourist attractions in the south shore area. They have panning for gold. The gold mines in question are in the Chester Basin and two on the north shore. They are all mines that did produce gold back in the thirties.”
“What happened to them?”
“A series of accidents, mines caving in. Ian has been quoted, with the equipment developed today, they will all produce a huge amount of gold. There have been scientists and mining specialists at the sites in the last five years all saying the same thing. There is gold in Nova Scotia.”
“Interesting anything else?”
“Not really. He plays golf, loves single malt whisky, and visits Scotland regularly. Does a lot of work for the Nova Scotia government particularly on promoting the province to the UK. He has property on the Isle of Arran and a flat in Edinburgh. Seems he is the CEO of a charity helping environmental causes on the west coast of Scotland. He helped make Arran a huge tourist attraction for wildlife, introducing many species that had almost become extinct. In the media a lot for the protection of seals which is a sensitive subject in Nova Scotia.”
“Yes, I’ve heard plenty on that subject.”
“Anything on Tracey?”
“Yes. Her name is Tracey Hager. A real bad apple in her younger days. Since meeting Ian and consequently moving in to his place, she is completely off the radar. There are a few pictures of her with him at charity events but nothing much in the news. A local paper did once write an article about him, adding Tracey was the daughter he never had. Seems he has asked that she be kept out of the limelight. Are you ready for my best piece of work?”
“All right hit me with it. Show me how good CSIS training really is and why you think you are better in Canada than the CIA,” he chuckled.
“Tracey went across the border and returned the same day of the whisky theft in New Jersey. Of the three thefts this year in the states, she has been across the border doing some shopping. All three has to be more than a coincidence.”
“We have them. I see you saved the best until last. You could have opened with that vital piece of information.”
“What and spoil all the fun?”
“Okay, great work. Would you get over there today? Watch the house while I decide who to contact. All of this must be airtight before I call in the authorities.”
He found Anne in the living room reading. He brought her up to speed with the case.
“So where does that leave us? He sounds like a wonderful man to me.” Raymond nodded. What triggers a man like that to have his adopted daughter steal whisky for him to hide somewhere in the house?”
“When I was with him the only thing I picked up was the neat freak, having everything in order. Perhaps he has always had a mild form of OCD that manifested over the years with collecting whisky. He became an obsessive, compulsive collector of rare whisky. That would be mine for sure. I collected all sorts when I was younger.”
“Like what?”
“Football programmes. I have all the Leeds United programmes from back in their heyday.”
“Really? I haven’t seen them.”
“Stuffed away in some box. I started collecting the ticket stubs on Ebay to go with the programmes. Anyway I’m totally over it but whisky I can see it.”
“What gets me is I never see any of you actually drinking one of these whiskies.”
“We never would.”
“Then why collect them?” Raymond looked blankly at her.
“Let’s move into the kitchen. I have a fresh pot of coffee and French toast.”
“I like this French Roast Fairtrade you’re buying,” said Raymond, now sitting on a kitchen stool.
“I know, me too. So carry on with your update on where you are with the whisky thefts.”
“There have been four in the past twelve months. Three in America and one in Ontario. Each one involved the theft of one rare and expensive single malt and some jewellery. Never diamonds. Each location had no forced entry or any clues whatsoever. No fingerprints, nothing!”
“Did the victims have anything in common?”
“Yes, golfers and all of them recently reduced their handicap.”
“How?”
“Yoga. Tracey is the thief. Ian the whisky collector. No doubt in my mind.”
“Have you called the authorities to have them arrested?”
“Would they search his house on a hunch provided by a guy that writes up family trees? I had John take a drive out there. He stayed the night outside. Nobody is home. I am waiting on a call from him after he hacks into a computer and checks the manifest for all flights out of Halifax airport.”
“If anybody can hack a system it would be John,” Anne said. She recalled the whole Bute distillery incident - Raymond’s best friend murdered. Now they were after Louisa and Raymond. They had turned to him for help in Toronto. John was ex-CSIS working with Raymond on many covert missions involving Canada and the UK. They had stayed friends when they both retired a few years back.
The phone rang in Raymond’s office. The both jumped up immediately. It was a special ring on a line rarely used except for his best clients and close friends. “God that alarm clock sound effect is so loud it sounds like Pink Floyd.”
“The one indeed, dark side of the moon,” he said while striding into the office. He slid his finger across the screen. Ben Shannon’s face appeared on the large monitor. “Ben how are you? Haven’t talked you in months.”
“Fine and how is that new wife of yours?”
“Great,” Anne shouted from the kitchen.
“One of my best business colleagues just called me in a panic. He was robbed this morning.”
“What did they take?”
“A rare whisky.”
&
nbsp; Raymond nodded “And at least two pieces of expensive jewellery I imagine.”
“No, nothing else.”
“What?”
“Nothing and they even left his wallet full of cash and cards on the kitchen table.”
“No jewellery. Does your friend have a wife?”
“Oh yes, quite beautiful and wears expensive clothes and jewellery. She’s in in Belgium on business.”
“Back up a minute, where was he?”
“At the gym. Someone stole his wallet and access key card while he was working out.”
“Any suspects?”
“Yes, a young lady from the states was asking for a six month membership and could she have a look around.”
“Let me guess quite tall, slim with short blonde hair.”
“Almost. Had long red hair in a ponytail.”
“She wore a wig.”
“How the heck would you know that? It isn’t on the news already, is it?”
“No I’m well acquainted with this thief and just waiting for her to make a mistake. Rest assured she just did and let your colleague know I will have his whisky back before the end of this week.”
“I’ll pay your usual fee.”
“No, this is for free Ben. I’m already well into this case.”
“I owe you one.”
“No sweat. Bye for now.”
“What are you thinking after that bit of news?” Anne asked.
“I know she will attempt to steal the two Shackleton whiskies tomorrow. She hasn’t gone back to Nova Scotia and will probably rendezvous with her eccentric adopted dad.”
“How do you know?”
“She didn’t take any jewellery. How would she get the whisky back through customs? Just take a chance with her normal luggage. No there is something I’m missing in all this but she’s here or rather in Scotland. This Ian chap is an obsessive collector, completely crackers, when it comes to his whisky collection. They are going to try, I feel it.”
“Then let’s call the authorities.”
“They would never believe me. In fact, my old firm would have told them I’m poking around in national interests and probably have me arrested. My advantage is the two of them won’t have a clue I know their game.”
“Our advantage.”
“Sorry Anne, I’m packing an overnight case and heading to Scotland on my own.”
“Not without me,” Anne said firmly.
“No, this time it will be too dangerous.”
“I’ll pack my case and help with yours. This is not open for debate!”
Chapter 29
Where are we going exactly in Scotland?”
“Glasgow, and I booked us in a nice hotel while you were packing. Might as well enjoy ourselves tonight. Tomorrow will be a big day!”
“Which hotel?”
He pointed to his Samsung tablet on the car console. “Take a look - it’s bookmarked.”
She opened up the lid, hit the Google button to see the most gorgeous hotel. “Not the Blythwood Square. We can’t afford it, nor can you put this against your business expenses. I would have been happy in a B&B.”
“Calm down will you? The General Manger there has been a good friend for the last twenty years. We have this booking at the staff discount rate.”
“God the rooms look amazing.”
“Yes, and the restaurant. The bar also carries about two hundred single malts.”
“Glad I decided to bring a nice dress at the last minute. Have you stayed there often?”
“No, only once or twice on business.”
“Government of course?” He nodded.
Anne sat quietly for a moment, a smile on her face.
He had booked this hotel to keep her relaxed, trying to forget about tomorrow. He didn’t like working with a partner and particularly his wife. This could turn out to be dangerous and if he could find a way to keep Anne back at the hotel he would. The whisky wasn’t arriving at the lab until ten tomorrow morning by all accounts and so better to switch off tonight and relax. He thought about the last time he stayed there some ten years ago when that night was the exact opposite to relaxing.
She picked up the tablet again and once more browsed through the amenities. “Did you see anyone famous on your last visit? This looks like a place for a film star.”
“I did actually. It was an actress in a big TV series. Took me ages to recall her name and I think it was Patricia Hodge.”
“The Rumpole of the Bailey series?”
“Yes, a beautiful woman I recall.”
“I agree, always looked elegant. Perhaps I need to go shopping for a new dress since it’s that posh.”
Raymond rolled his eyes.
“So, tell me lots about the two whiskies they found on Elephant Island.”
“You can’t get much further north in the Scottish mainland than Wick. Both these brilliant distilleries are from the Wick area. Shackleton actually picked two distilleries I know a lot about even if Gerston closed over a hundred years ago.”
“Why did he pick those two and have them hidden away from the many cases of whisky he always took on one of his expeditions?”
“Funnily enough it’s linked to your romance theory.”
“The Queen?”
Yes, more gifts for him to take away with him. The bible, letters, motivational messages and whisky. And apparently, crown jewels.” He nodded. “These two were absolute gems back in Queen Alexandra’s day and they did offer special bottling to her husband. King Edward and Prime Minister Asquith always had the best whisky to offer guests. I mean, world leaders, emissaries, diplomats. It was the drink of choice back then and still is today. We will find out about some at the club tasting in two months.”
“Continue please. This journey has to be one of the most boring. Three hundred miles of almost all motorways.”
“I never drive this length anymore. You know me, I love the trains. But something tells me we need a car on this trip. We have to be flexible and how can we hide in a car park in the middle of the day without one?”
“It’s better than the M6 in the south and Midlands.”
“Far better than the M25. That’s where Chris Rea got his inspiration for Road to Hell.”
“True?”
“Think so.”
“Hey I’m not complaining. Just talk to me and if it’s technical stuff on whisky, so be it.”
“Right, well I’ll start with some geography and history. The technical stuff can wait for the club. Bound to have Old Pulteney come up in the future. Lost Distillers have an expression of Gerston. Raymond paused and zoned out back to his last time with his best friend Gordon Reid. They had been invited to go to see the original site of Auchenagie hosted by lost distillers.
“Hey, where have you gone? Do we need to stop for a coffee?”
“No, sorry lost in thought.”
“What was it?”
“My last hours spent with Gordon.”
“Sorry. Do you still think about him a lot?”
“Yes. Never lost a good friend before.” Well at least outside of his old job, he thought.
“Wick or to be precise, Caithness. Once a busy port with over a thousand boats stationed there. Do you know they had their own prohibition that lasted longer than the one in the USA?”
“Go on.”
“Yes, after the Temperance Act of Scotland. Well that is what they called it but it wasn’t Scotland. Just Wick and it lasted from 1922 until 1947. The distillery of course closed down. However, since it re-opened in 1951 the town have been very happy. The distillery does very well.”
“Gerston on the other hand just had too many problems and owners. They closed around the time King Edward died and until Lost Distillers came on the scene was rarely spoken about. Back in Victorian times it was the favourite whisky in London and had some peat character to it. John Swanson founded Gerston over two hundred years ago. Donald Swanson, his son, was Chief Inspector on the Ripper case.
“Back
to detective work - I knew it. I can’t ever imagine you being happy with whisky and golf without some case to investigate.”
“I go months without something exciting that gets me out of the house. Most of it is on the computers.”
“You love this don’t you?”
“Especially now with my unofficial new partner in crime.”
“I think we should make it official tonight over dinner and fine wine.”
“I’ll only confirm when I see what you rustle up for dessert.”
“Cheeky,” Anne laughed.
“What do you plan to do exactly to prevent the theft?”
“We catch her at the laboratory. The news is the master blender for Old Pulteney flew to New Zealand. They have the exact same set up as the Shackleton discovery.”
“What happened then?”
“The owner of the whisky company that originally made the whisky used a private jet to go and fetch them for analysing. He also arranged for their safe return.”
“Are you serious?”
“You can’t mess with the Kiwis on anything to do with Antarctica. They seem more relaxed on this one. Well there is all this squabbling going on with the owners of Gerston. They actual own the archives, the intellectual rights I think they call it.”
“Got to be more than that. How about this for a theory.”
“You are good at theories.”
“Funny. The British government are taking an interest and told the Kiwis to back off.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, you’re saying our government cares about two bottles of whisky. Don’t answer, I get it. Please don’t say that name today.”
She whispered “Shackleton” just enough for him to hear.
“So we have our plans for this evening, what about tomorrow?” She is so up for this I will have to take her with me, he thought.
“We need full surveillance from nine in the morning. The flight gets into Glasgow airport and we will follow the whisky to the lab. After that it’s simply watching for her to show up. I expect she’ll do it after the building closes for the day. Usually when I did this line of work in the past we had all sort of tracking devices and such like. With this, we actually have no idea where she is nor can we be a hundred percent certain she will show up.
