Betrayed: (A Financial and Conspiracies Thriller – Book 1 in the Legacy Thriller Series)

by William Wield

  As also instructed in the note, they had jumped overboard right next to the Louisa, and though there might have been a risk of them being crushed between the two boats, now perilously close to each other, one of Boreyev’s men was holding the apart with a long boat-hook. Now he quickly lowered the boathook for Angus to grab. This he reached up for, pulling himself near the Louisa as he did so. With the other hand he pulled on the rope between himself and Tatiana and helped her as she did two last strokes of the crawl to bring her to him. The second of Boreyev’s men, bent down, grabbed her by the wrist of her outstretched arm and with one powerful lift, pulled her from the water bodily and up into his arms. The first of Boreyev’s men then helped Angus aboard and as the seas brought the two boats almost crashing into each other, Angus and Tatiana were hurried along the narrow gangway and into the safety of the cabin.

  By now, with his survival more in his mind than the fate of his two former captives, Flaxman, half-kneeling, grabbed the grappling hook and its line. He waited for a moment until the line went slack as Calistra fell over the top of another wave towards the Louisa and, with all the strength he could muster, pulled the grappling iron out of the plastic coaming and threw it overboard.

  His instinct to get Calistra free of the Louisa had been sensible enough but he was unlucky in his timing. The grappling iron fell down into the sea the far side from Louisa and as her stern rose up, the line passed under the keel and the iron raked along it. The next moment, as the two boats drifted apart again, the line tightened and was pulled directly into her propellers. There was an unearthly grinding noise and then the sound of metal tearing against metal as the grappling iron, the propellers and the rudder became enmeshed with each other. MacKinnon knew that any further tightening of the rope could pull Calistra over, perhaps even onto her side and, grabbing a lifejacket from under his seat, pulled himself round the side of the cabin and, a second later, jumped overboard, vanishing into the spray.

  Almost immediately, as Calistra rose up the side of the next wave the grappling iron line went taught again, pulling it clear of the water. The rope went so taught, that it vibrated like a violin string. Sandy, intent on coming alongside Angus and Tatiana to pick them up, was too slow to shout his brother or to Boreyev’s men to cut the rope attached to the grappling iron and, with Calistra already precariously balanced, she was pulled further and further over by the line until, passing the tipping point, she rolled over, capsizing.

  This all happened fast – in a matter of a few seconds, but to the onlookers aboard the Louisa, it appeared to happen in slow motion. One second Calistra had been riding a wave, the next she was keel-up, her entangled propellers sticking up into the sky like a raised arm with pain wracked fingers.

  One of Boreyev’s men seeing the danger now to the Louisa, still tied to the other upturned boat, leapt forward and with a large hunting knife which he had drawn from a scabbard on his belt, and cut through the three quarter inch line. So taught had it been that, as soon as it was severed, it recoiled away from him like a strike of lightening. This released the Louisa’s pull on the upturned Calistra and she shook violently, rolling fast from one side to the other.

  Between Boreyev’s men and Sandy’s younger brother Jimmy, they pulled McKinnon from the water. As soon as he was aboard, he too was hurried into the forward cabin for hot drinks and a change of clothes.

  Sandy, now spun the wheel and put on full power to turn Louisa round almost in her own length once again. Next, with Boreyev’s men and young Jimmy either side of Louisa looking out for the other two; he cut the power again to allow gentle bouncing, wallowing and yawing progress, back towards the upturned hull of Calistra. As they approached the stricken vessel they spotted Bookie, clutching the lifebelt that he had not had time to put on properly.

  Whilst Boreyev’s men were busy with McKinnon’s rescue and before anyone could stop him, with a line firmly attached round his waist, young Jimmy Grieg dived overboard and under Calistra. Next they spotted him surfacing again holding onto Bookie. Sandy swiftly powered the Louisa over to them and two of Boreyev’s men found boathooks and ran along Louisa’s side to try and keep the upturned hull of the Calistra from crashing into them.

  The brave but foolhardy act of young Jimmy’s had been taken on the spur of the moment and as soon as his elder brother realised what had happened he shouted for the others to pull him back up and into the boat. Dropping their boathooks back into the well in the stern, they rushed for the rope tied to Jimmy and pulled together. Some moments later a coughing and spluttering Jimmy and Bookie were heaved back on board.

  Despite the Louisa slowly cruising in ever wider circles around the upturned hull for the next quarter of an hour, there was no sign of Flaxman.

  Chapter 25

  Easter Sunday mid-morning

  The Gulf of Corryvreckan

  With the outgoing tide now conflicting with the strong winds coming in from the west, and with the tide race running at maybe six or seven knots, the powerful undertows and churning of the waves could drown even the strongest of swimmers. Not even the fit young folk who came here for what they call their ‘extreme swimming challenge’ would tackle these waters unless at slack tide and Sandy Greig had no idea if Flaxman was a strong swimmer – nor indeed if he could swim at all.

  After the Louisa had circled the upturned hull of the Calistra for some while and all of those not down in the cabin, took a long last look at the sad sight of the capsized boat. It was being tossed and battered in the swirling seas and Greig feared she would be smashed on the rocky shore of Scarba long before a salvage vessel could get here, get a line onto her, and tow her back to Crinan.

  At last, with a nod from the forlorn McKinnon back in the cabin, Sandy veered the Louisa off and away from the upturned boat and took the Louisa in one last slow arc round the stricken hull, taking bearings on her position. After making a guess at the speed of the boat’s drift on the incoming tide, a salvage attempt could be assessed and a judgement on how fast she was drifting towards the shallower waters of the rocky shore. These positions taken, he got onto the Oban RNLI station on the VHF and gave them the standard reporting details of the loss of both the boat and one life. He also relayed Calistra’s positional co-ordinates back to them, and requested that they also be passed on to the Crinan area salvage tug. This done he turned the Louisa and headed back towards Craithe.

  Jimmy Greig had been asked by his brother to act as host to all the victims of the Calistra’s demise and he stood near the main cabin door watching over all of them, and keeping them supplied with hot soup. He could see that of all of them that Neil McKinnon seemed to most forlorn. Like his brother Sandy he had known McKinnon almost all his life and, as a fellow seaman, knew how he must feel at the loss of his boat. He had also heard him pour out his worries to Angus, principally his fear that his insurance would not pay out on Calistra in an event of this kind – though he seemed to brighten when Angus promised to replace the boat with a similar. He sat near the others in the inner cabin drinking his soup, his arms resting on his knees, the cup cradled between his hands, his head hung low. He was staring at the cup and its contents, but these hardly registered with him.

  Jimmy looked next at Angus and Tatiana sitting side by side, his arm around her. She had been quietly crying and had been constantly talking about how close they had come to leaving their little boy orphaned. The gentle rolling, undulating progress of Louisa was like some great mechanised cradle, seemingly soothing away her stress and Jimmy watched as she put her head against Angus’s chest and, as she warmed, she began to doze off to sleep.

  Angus seemed only to concentrate on his still trembling wife beside him and Jimmy saw him squeezing her tightly from time to time, but saying nothing.

  With Flaxman gone, Bookie was clearly in a state of shock, frequently running both his hands through his hair and rubbing his face, whenever he caught Jimmie’s eye he nodded as though to say thank-you again for saving his life but soon returned to his fretful
signs of anguish. Jimmie wondered how such an apparently nice young man had come to be mixed up with people who had kidnaped the Macraes.

  These silent thoughts were interrupted by a change in the tone of the Louisa’s engines. With the change of tone, her bow came down and she slowed approaching the harbour’s outer walls. Above them, out in the bridge cabin, Sandy shouted down to Jimmie to get organised with Boreyev’s men to tie up Louisa as they came alongside the Stanleytoun quay.

  Jimmy, of an age when one feels invulnerable to danger, swiftly responded to his brother’s call, apparently already oblivious to his dramatic and dangerous saving of Bookie’s life or of the plight of the McKinnon or the Macraes. He left the cabin and as soon as they were alongside, he leapt down onto the quay and helped tie up the Louisa.

  ** * * *

  The news of the Calistra’s loss and of a life given over to the seas spread fast - as is often the case in small communities. The Laird had needed to speak to the authorities to report all that had happened and an air sea rescue helicopter was sent out to search the area for the missing Flaxman, more in hope than expectation. The old ocean going tug that had served these past twenty years both as a salvage vessel to the Crinan area was also despatched to see if the Calistra could be saved.

  Two Land Rovers, came down from the castle and the survivors were taken up to the Castle while Boreyev’s men retired to the Derby Arms.

  As soon as they reached the castle, Angus and Tatiana rushed up to find Jerry. He was having another exciting day in his new surroundings and, last night, Anastasia had quickly distracted him from wondering where his parents were by showing him the first part of Brumby, one of his favourite films.

  The Laird dealt with the authorities and greeted everyone back from their ordeal, while all the wet survivors were taken off to have hot baths. Clothes were found for McKinnon and Bookie, and all gathered again in the Great Hall some for tea and hot scones.

  As the Laird had already decided to keep the news of the kidnap from the police, he would now be able to keep Bookie here as his guest – at least until an inquest into Flaxman’s death. Right now Bookie seemed more relaxed than when he had just got off the boat and Angus suggested to his father that, as he would prove an invaluable source of information, he should be questioned about Rollo – albeit gently and with tact.

  Bookie, back from being cared for by Florence was still, understandably, shaken and, with his eyes somewhat tearful, appeared to be in a delicate emotional state, so when the elderly, softly spoken gentleman who seemed to be the ‘boss’ around the place, took him away into a comfortable book-lined study it was all just too much for him and he broke down in sobs of tears.

  Though Rollo had taken him in from a deprived background in formerly troubled Derry, his experiences today had shattered his former unquestioning loyalty. As the reality of act of kidnapping really sank in on his mind, he recoiled in horror. The unnecessary violence, the cruelty Flaxman was intent on forcing onto Tatiana – a weeping mother pleading not to be separated from her little boy … suddenly he saw the difference between the dispassionate discussions on the kidnap operation back at Norbally House, and this, he aftermath of an actual operation. His illusions broken merely no more than stark reality, had drained him of any thoughts of overpowering this kind old gentleman and trying to make his escape. The Laird had read the signs well, he planned simply to care for the young man.

  ‘Around these parts I’m known as the Laird’, said the old man seating himself down the other side of the fire. ‘For a while you’re to be my personal guest here at Craithe Castle. During that time, you’ll be in no danger from anyone – and I mean in particular your former boss, Mr Rollo, do you understand that?’

  ‘Thank you Sir,’ he managed to mutter quietly. But his embarrassment was added to as Angus now entered the study and re-introduced himself to Bookie; he was overcome with guilt at being confronted by one of the two he had been implicit in kidnapping. He made no eye contact with Angus and looked down as they shook hands‘You’re our guest here, Bookie,’ said Angus, ‘though we’re not sure how long we can hold off the police wanting to take you away to ask you what part you played in both the attempted theft of our computer programmes here …’

  ‘Attempted,’ repeated Bookie, looking up and straight back at Angus, ‘what do you mean attempted?’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you that the two who came with you from the Galley of Lorne, were caught soon after they tried to steal the software – they’re now in custody,’

  ‘God, I’m the only one left,’ he said, ‘Rollo will kill me – literally,’

  ‘Rollo’s going to get anywhere near you,’ said Angus, ‘you’re safe so long as you’re here with us.’

  ‘But you just said that the police will want to …’

  Angus put out his hand and rested it on Bookie’s shoulder, as his father had done earlier.

  ‘We’ll keep the police at bay for now,’ said Angus, ‘my father here has been a magistrate in the past and I’m sure we can persuade them you’re better off here than being exposed to a dangerous trip to Oban jail with a vengeful Rollo after you. In the meantime, if we can establish just how small a part you played in all of this we could try to get them to allow it to be reflected in any sentence you may be given.’

  ‘But you don’t understand,’ said Bookie, looking across at Angus, his eyes pleading, ‘it’s not the police I’m worried about, it’s Mick Rollo, he’s as vindictive as hell and …’ His voice tailed off as though he was thinking through what Rollo might do to him.

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me all you can about Mr Rollo and your relationship with him,’ said Angus, ‘and then perhaps we can work out what to do about all of this.’

  Over the next half hour Angus managed to get most of the story out of Bookie who had come to realise that if he co-operated fully with these considerate captors, he would certainly fare better than any of the alternatives.

  Angus listened intently, intrigued, as Bookie’s tale unfolded and he explained why Rollo was so dangerous – not only to Bookie but also to others. ‘Trouble is,’ said Bookie, ‘he thinks he’s invincible, immune from reprisals from the authorities’.

  ‘Immune?’ repeated Angus, ‘where does he think his immunity springs from?’

  ‘Rollo believes that he’s immune from pursuit because of what he keeps on the laptop onto which I log every single job we do,’ said Bookie, ‘he has records going way back to the time of ‘the Troubles’. These include the details of jobs done by the coverts for various Governments, dates, incidents, payments, you name it.’

  ‘And all these details are there on the one laptop that you keep for him?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ said Bookie, ‘and apparently he has a longstanding arrangement with whomever is the Secretary to the Cabinet, that if ever he’s threatened, he just picks up the ‘phone and…’

  ‘You mean he would expose Government’s secret dealings during the Troubles?’ asked Angus.

  ‘Good God,’ said the Laird who had been silent all this time, ‘and Rollo knows that you might tell someone other than the Secretary to the Cabinet what you’ve just told us?’

  ‘Yes, though this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone’ said Bookie. ‘And right now, though I’m sure you’ll both think me stupid, I feel like one of those mafia accountants in the films who’s on the run and is being pursued by the mafia who need to kill him to keep their secrets safe.’

  A flicker of a smile ran across Angus’s face.

  ‘Let’s see if we can’t neutralise that fear, eh?’ he said.

  ‘How could you do that?’ asked Bookie.

  ‘Suppose we said we had tortured you to get out of you what you’ve just told us,’ said Angus, ‘and that that’s how we got hold of these files that Rollo uses for his protection?’

  Bookie’s mouth fell open. ‘Torture me?’

  ‘Of course we not going to torture you,’ said Angus, ‘but suppose for a moment that
we did, do you think that you could remotely access that laptop where all these files are stored?’

  ‘Yes, I could,’ said Bookie, ‘it’s always left that way on standby so that the files are accessible for use in an emergency,’

  ‘What sort of an emergency?’ asked Angus,

  ‘If Rollo was arrested, for example, and needed an excerpt from the files,’ replied Bookie, ‘so that he or I could print something out in that emergency to prove what it was Rollo holds against the Government.’