Whispers in the Rigging

by steve higgs

  They both made grumpy noises as they strained to peer around my arms for a final glance at their elusive prize.

  In the coffee shop, I promised them a gravy bone. I had some in a pot behind my desk. They looked at me, their expression hard to read but they did not seem to be placated by my offer.

  ‘Next please.’ Called the lady at the counter. It was a woman I had not seen before. Her badge read Kateryna and she had a thick Eastern European accent.

  ‘Tall Americano, extra shot of expresso, skim milk, no foam and a twist of hazelnut please. And a Waldorf salad, dressing on the side please. Both to go.’

  Through the gap behind her that led to the kitchen, I saw Hayley go by. She was preparing food instead of serving at the counter. Three feet below my eyes, someone twitched as he remembered Hayley’s impressive chest and supplied an image to my brain of her sitting astride me, her hands on my chest as she rocked back and forth.

  ‘Hello?’ Kateryna, said for the third time as the lady behind me gently touched my arm. I had been staring into space while I reminisced, the sound of her asking me to pay for my lunch completely missed.

  ‘Sorry. I was distracted.’ I smiled at my odd behaviour. ‘Can I ask if you are Ukrainian?’

  Kateryna looked up as she waited for me to tap my card on the reader. ‘Yes. How can you tell?’

  ‘I have a couple of Ukrainian friends. I am trying to learn the differences between accents.’ It was sort of true. Anyanka and Anna were not friends, but they were ladies that I knew, so I wasn’t exactly lying.

  ‘You have a good ear.’ Kateryna threw me a nice smile as she held up my cup. ‘This is where you have to give me your name.’

  ‘Tempest.’ She looked at me confused. I laughed lightly and spelled it for her.

  ‘I need your phone number too.’ She said, pen still poised over the cup. She was still smiling, although her cheeks had now coloured slightly in embarrassment over her forwardness. She risked a glance at me. ‘New company policy.’ She explained. ‘All hot guys have to give up their phone numbers.’

  ‘Can you two hurry up?’ Asked the woman behind me, getting impatient. She tutted and sighed.

  Caught out by the unexpected flirtation, I provided my digits, got a wink in response and moved to the end of the counter.

  Waiting for my coffee and food, I gave Kateryna a closer examination. She was tall and slender, her figure athletic with narrow hips and chest. She seemed perfectly pleasant, but I was not attracted to her. Mr. Wriggly questioned my sanity. She was pretty enough, her short, pixie cut hair suited her and she had lovely blue eyes that a chap could swim around in. As I looked without lingering long enough to be caught staring, Hayley came out of the kitchen bearing food. She walked behind Kateryna with a plate in each hand and a third balanced on her right forearm, saw me and winked.

  ‘Hi, Tempest.’ She murmured in a sultry tone on her way around me.

  It was enough to curtail any notion of agreeing to a date if Kateryna called me. I assumed she was going to record my number and maybe add hers to my cup so that I could call her. I seriously doubted I could sleep with a second woman from the small pool of them working in the coffee shop and not have it blow up in my face. Besides, I already felt guilty about giving her my number when I was supposed to be dating Natasha.

  My coffee was placed next to my salad on the counter. I grabbed them, ushered the dogs into motion and escaped to the sanctuary of my office.

  The Office. Tuesday 22nd November 1316hrs

  ‘Hey, boss.’ Called Jane as I came in through the office front door. She was sitting on the comfy chairs by the coffee machine reading a magazine and eating a sandwich that looked home-made. ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘With the curator? He was very helpful.’ I let the dogs off their leads and took a seat opposite Jane. The dogs, now free of their leads went nowhere. I had food, which to them meant there was a chance I might drop something, or perhaps, if they concentrated hard enough on their stares, I might receive their unvoiced message and just place my lunch on the carpet tile for them to eat.

  While Jane and I were sitting, I did my best to ignore the dogs’ eyes boring into me and told her about the tunnels under the Dockyard. Then I explained my need to find a way into them and about the map Cedric had provided rough directions for.

  ‘When will you go after that?’ She asked.

  I finished my mouthful, sucking bits of walnuts from my teeth before I spoke. ‘Tonight. Big Ben and I need to slip our guards and find it the first chance we get.’

  ‘They put guards on you?’ Jane was mystified by the concept.

  ‘Not exactly. We were paired with two ladies that have worked there for some time. One is in charge of us and quite bossy. I think Big Ben likes it.’

  ‘Oh.’ She said, now understanding what I meant. ‘How will you get to where the map is? Won’t it be locked away?’

  I fished the keys from my pocket and jingled them in the air.

  As I finished my salad and acknowledged that it was nutritious and balanced and sensible and therefore boring and unsatisfying, I said, ‘I found something on the beach in Upnor. I need you to see if you can identify what it is or what it is used for.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I won’t be a moment. Come along, dogs.’ They trundled after me as I went to the back of the office. Before I went back out to my car to retrieve the paper, I gave them each a gravy bone from my office supply.

  Returning sixty seconds later, with the soggy, pee covered box and the paper I had carefully placed back inside it held gingerly in my hands, I met Jane at her desk.

  Looking around I said, ‘We need something to put this on.’

  ‘Oh, ah. Is it very wet? The carpet tile is only short.’

  ‘And the dog peed on it.’

  ‘Eww.’ Said Jane in a very girly manner before fishing her abandoned magazine from the trash. Opened to the centre spread, it made a mat for the box to rest on. She peered at it, not wanting to get too close. ‘What is it?’

  ‘That is the question. I think the writing on the outside is Ukrainian. Something fishy is happening at the Dockyard involving Ukrainians. I have no idea what yet and this box might be nothing or might be something. There’s a maker’s mark on the outside. Do what you can to find out what the contents might be used for please.’

  Jane simply nodded, opened her handbag to retrieve a pair of eyebrow tweezers from a small manicure kit and used them to touch the box. I thought she was being overly delicate, but I kept my mouth shut.

  ‘It smells a bit.’ She complained.

  ‘Be quick then?’ I offered. I was going back to the Dockyard. ‘When you are done with it, please move it to the back room. Don’t throw it away as it might be evidence.’

  As I went to the back door with the dogs trotting behind me, Jane settled at her desk to see what she could find.

  Chatham Royal Dockyard. Tuesday, November 22nd 1412hrs

  There was a very light drizzle coming down on my drive back to the Dockyard. It was only just enough to demand I swish the wipers once a minute, yet I knew the dogs would not approve. I could leave them in the car, I liked them with me though, so they could have damp fur for once. My intention to leave them at home this afternoon had been overruled both by a desire to get on with the investigation and not lose most of an hour on the round trip, but also by the knowledge that I would be out half the night and not with them.

  I parked in almost the exact same spot as the previous day. Then, I had fortuitously spotted a gap near the entrance, today, the grey sky and threat of rain had reduced the number of visitors, so the car park had far more spaces available to pick from.

  The lady at the ticket stall recognised me from yesterday. She was cooing at the dogs more than paying attention to me though. An experience I was used to.

  ‘Aren’t they lovely?’ She commented to her colleague. The pair of them had abandoned their station to get a proper look.

  The dogs replied by fl
ipping onto their backs for tummy tickles.

  ‘We don’t get many here two days in a row.’ The first lady said looking up at me.

  She was questioning what could have brought me back so soon and had left her observation hanging in the air like a question for me to answer. ‘I am writing a research paper.’ I supplied. It was enough of an answer to quell any further interest.

  Once the two ladies had clambered back up with an accompaniment of groans and complaints, I handed over my payment card, bought another day pass and went into the Dockyard.

  The wind was picking up. This close to the water it was able to whip along the exposed area of the river, channelled as it was in the valley the river formed. In between the buildings, the air tumbled and spun, the last of the summer’s leaves creating patterns as they danced to show how the wind was moving.

  I pulled my coat tight as I set off for the rigging room once more. The dogs would most likely get cold after a while so I revised my plan for looking around to make my visit brief instead. The map I bought yesterday had gone on the wall in my office, held in place by some handy drawing pins. Looking at the photograph of it on my phone now, I had to zoom in to find the key and then out again to locate the building I wanted. Once I had inspected the cobbled streets around the rigging room in the daylight, I was going to locate the museum so I would not have to waste precious time searching for the entrance I had a key for in the dark tonight.

  Looking up to orientate myself after squinting at the small screen on my phone, I discovered I was standing beneath a sign post. One of the arrows pointed to the museum.

  Tutting at myself, I changed direction. The museum was close by, allowing a circuitous route to the rigging room to include a visit there first.

  The original use of the building that now housed the museum might have been anything. It looked like accommodation to me, where perhaps the Petty Officers were barracked when ashore. Long and thin like most of the buildings in the Dockyard, it was two stories high and symmetrical about a central entrance door. Sash windows dominated the front fascia.

  A sign mounted above the front door told visitors that this was the museum. Cedric’s key was for a side entrance he had said. No other door was visible on the side of the building I was looking at, but I found one around the next corner.

  The bunch of keys he had given me had only two types of key on it. This was a modern Yale lock which gave me two options. As I put the first key in the lock, I said a silent prayer that there would be no one on the other side of the door. With the dogs around my feet, hugging into them to avoid the cool breeze, I slid the key in. It was a fit. I gave a quick experimental turn and satisfied I could get in tonight when no one was here, I left it at that.

  I would find out what was on the other side of the door later.

  My search around the rigging room was as fruitless in daylight as it had been at night. Wherever the space below the rigging room was accessed from, it was not where I was looking. The wind had not abated, so in acknowledging that I was beginning to feel the coolness in my hands and feet and face, I also acknowledged that it was time to get the dogs back into the warm.

  ‘Let’s get home, shall we, chaps?’ I asked them needlessly as I started back toward the carpark. They pulled ahead of me, whether sensing they had turned toward home or understood my words, I could not tell.

  I pulled them to a stop though as we passed the Admiral’s building. In a parking space designated for the CEO, was a Humvee bearing Ukrainian plates. It had not been there on my previous trips. Alex Jordan drove an Audi A7 or at least that had been the car in this spot on my last visit.

  Telling myself that it might just be the car of a visitor to the CEO or perhaps that of another senior employee who, perhaps knowing the CEO was away, had elected to park there. I took a picture anyway.

  The dogs were trying to move on, making me worry they were, in fact, cold. I hurried my pace back to the car. Once inside, with the engine running and the heated seat on to warm their paws, I sent a message to Jane with the picture attached to it.

  Can you find the owner for this car? It might be important.

  Seconds later a reply pinged back.

  Give me thirty seconds.

  A rap on the window startled me. The car was just beginning to warm, so it was with reluctance that I powered the window down to speak with Alan. Boy George, Fred and Stuart were behind him.

  ‘Mr. Michaels.’ He acknowledged. ‘I’m glad I caught you. How is the detective work going?’

  ‘It is going. That’s about all I can claim after twenty-four hours. It would be better if I keep the details of my activities secret though.’

  ‘Oh, I think you can trust us with secrets, Mr. Michaels. Besides, the two Daves already told us you had infiltrated the night crew of cleaners. Rumour has it you got chased by a ghost last night.’

  I stared at them, waiting for the follow up remark.

  It was Fred that volunteered, ‘We was a bit surprised, truth be told. We thought you Army boys would be less easy to scare.’

  I rolled my eyes. I wanted to reply that we had chased it, not the other way around, but defending myself would be ridiculous.

  Boy George stuck his head between his colleagues. ‘Here, are you alright, Mr. Michaels? You look awful cold.’

  ‘I’m fine thank you.’ I replied with a forced smile.

  ‘Leave him be, Georgie.’ Chastised Alan. ‘Army boys don’t get hardened to the cold like we do.’

  It was another jibe. Their banter was good-natured, but unwelcome. I was sure they were trying to get a rise from me, poking me to see if I would get annoyed. Showing my irritation would only encourage them to poke more fun and it would embarrass my father if I didn’t give as good as I got.

  ‘Chaps, it saddens me that you couldn’t make the grade to get into the Army, but please retain some dignity and keep your envy in check.’

  Four pairs of eyes widened at my insult. ‘Couldn’t make the grade.’ Echoed Alan.

  Fred said, ‘We’re the senior service, lad.’

  I eyed the four of them. ‘You most certainly are the seniors service. I would add your ages up, but I don’t have the time to count that high. How many of you have your letter from the Queen already?’

  ‘Cor. That was a low blow.’ Laughed Alan. ‘Don’t forget we are here to help when the time comes.’ He said, suddenly serious again. Then he pulled his coat, jumper and shirt to one side to reveal a tattoo on his right deltoid. The tattoo looked to be a hundred years old. The piece of wrinkly leather it was inked on no longer retained the tension it once had, and the ink had lost the sharp edges it might once have had.

  As I watched, the other three men reached up to tap their shoulder in the same place. I nodded my understanding, and as they stood up and began to move away, I closed my window. It was time to go home. I wanted to get ready for tonight, I needed to eat and settle the dogs and I had some research to do.

  Just as I began to pull away, my phone pinged. It was Jane.

  The car is registered to a firm called Global Import Services. They operate out of the Ukraine, but I cannot find any trace of a trading history in the UK.

  I texted back my thanks. What did that mean? I had Ukrainians involved in whatever was going on here. My gut said it was something criminal though I had no clue what it might be, and the Import Services firm sounded like a front for something else.

  Was there a Ukrainian gang operating in the area? The question had swum into my consciousness and deserved an answer.

  I knew just the man to ask.

  Chief Inspector Quinn. Tuesday, November 22nd 1530hrs

  Chief Inspector Quinn and I had a tenuous relationship. I wasn’t sure what had started it, but he didn’t like me and his decision to voice that made me not like him either. That and he had me arrested several times.

  I recognised that he was a well-connected, resourceful and knowledgeable police officer though and believed that because we didn’t like each oth
er, he was more likely to listen to me. I might be wrong about that.

  I paid for parking in the secure car park next to the police station in Maidstone. I had dropped the dogs off at home as I had to drive by the village to get to Maidstone. They wouldn’t be welcome in the police station and were far happier at home asleep on the sofa.

  The desk officer today was a young woman I had seen before. She recognised me and waved a hello. She undoubtedly knew Amanda and thus saw me as a person she knew. Her wave drew the attention of the sergeant sitting behind her. I knew him too. His name was Butterworth and he was a bit of an arse. At least when it came to me, he was.

  ‘Good afternoon. I wish to speak with Chief Inspector Quinn.’

  The young lady in front of me opened her mouth but was silenced by her sergeant speaking over the top of her. ‘Solved another crime have you, Mulder?’

  ‘Can you let him know, please?’ I asked her, never swaying my eyes from her to acknowledge he had spoken.

  Sergeant Butterworth wasn’t done though. ‘You’ll do no such thing, Andrews.’ His gruff manner was beginning to bother me.

  Any further attempt to have the young lady fetch Quinn would just cause her grief. I turned my attention to her superior. ‘I have a question for Chief Inspector Quinn. Is there a good reason why you are preventing me from asking it?’

  ‘A good reason? A good reason like I already know your question will be some ridiculous nonsense about a ghoul or a wizard? Then, yes, I have a good reason.’ He folded his arms across his chest. He was trying to look immovable. ‘Is your enquiry not about a ghoul or a wizard?’ He asked, his tone mocking.

  The sergeant hadn’t noticed that while he was staring at me and filling the space at the front of the counter, his subordinate had slipped out the door at the back of the reception while miming that she was off to fetch the person I wanted.

  She stepped back through the door behind him, gave me a cheeky wink and set her face to innocent when sergeant Butterworth turned to see what I was looking at.