The Travel Mate

by Mark Green

  ‘You don’t deserve me!’

  Rupert opened his hand. He stared down at the ring for a moment, then pocketed it.

  ‘What happened to you, Rupert? Where’s the decent guy gone – the one who looked out for me, after Stefan died?’

  ‘I wised up, you pretentious pricktease!’ Rupert pushed to his feet, stepping out of the booth to loom over her.

  ‘What?!’ Maddie stared at Rupert, her body shaking.

  Bozzer inserted himself between them. ‘Whoa, easy mate—’

  ‘Back off, you scavenging piece of shit!’

  ‘That’s enough, all of you,’ said Fender, pocketing his phone as he approached the group. ‘There’s no need for this to get nasty, yet.’ He placed his hand on Bozzer’s shoulder, squeezing a pressure point. ‘We can still be civil to each other.’

  ‘I looked after you when your own family couldn’t, or wouldn’t!’ Rupert spat the words out. He turned to Bozzer, the veins on his face bulging. ‘Have you enjoyed balling my fiancée?’

  Bozzer’s stance stiffened. He lifted his heels an inch off the floor, flexing on the balls of his feet as he stepped back, slipping his flip-flops off. His fingers clenched into fists.

  ‘I hope you had more luck getting into her knickers than—’

  ‘Rupert, that’s enough!’ said Fender, a stern edge to his voice. He hooked a thumb into the front of his belt.

  ‘Frigid little—’

  Bozzer yanked his arm back then launched forwards, swinging a clenched fist towards Rupert’s face.

  Fender pressed a finger against his belt buckle. A split-second later, Rupert emitted a muted yelp. His knees buckled almost immediately, collapsing him to the floor like a brick chimney moments after a demolition charge had detonated. Rupert’s scrunched-up face fell below the arc of the incoming fist, which grazed past his hairline. The inertia of the punch swung Bozzer’s torso around ninety degrees, causing him to stagger forwards.

  Fender snatched his free hand out, grabbing Bozzer’s elbow. ‘Easy, chap.’ He released Bozzer, then looked down at Rupert’s wide-eyed trance, regarding him with a hard, cold stare.

  ‘Sir, sir – everything is okay …?’ The young Thai manager bolted out from behind the bar and scampered over. Rupert whimpered, his muscles twitching.

  Fender turned and raised his palms, smiling. ‘All is okay. Our friend has had an epileptic seizure. He needs to rest. Thank you.’ Fender side-stepped around Rupert and tucked a five dollar bill into the manager’s hand, blocking his view of Rupert. ‘Please don’t be concerned. Everything is okay.’

  ‘Whoa! What happened, chief?’ asked Bozzer.

  ‘He was being discourteous.’

  ‘What did you do to him?’ Maddie stared at Rupert’s jiggling, twitching body.

  ‘I instilled some self-discipline.’

  ‘How …?’ Maddie tracked down to the plastic cuff around Rupert’s ankle, her eyes widening.

  ‘It’s a variation on a tracking device used on ex-offenders. This one’s got a Taser built in. My own design.’

  Fender turned away from Maddie and pinched the material of his hiking trousers above the knee to gain some slack, then squatted down beside Rupert’s head. ‘Take a moment to absorb what I’m saying: If you misbehave again, I will donate your most precious body parts to a Cambodian pig farm, one tiny testicle at a time. Do you understand how excruciatingly painful and inconvenient that will be?’

  Rupert stared up at him, making a strange high-pitched snorting and whistling sound, while snatching rasping breaths.

  ‘Excellent.’ Fender straightened up. He glanced at Bozzer, who eyed him warily as he approached Maddie. ‘Remind me of your travel plans,’ he asked, cordially.

  ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. I wondered if I should keep going for a while, work some stuff out.’

  He nodded. ‘Very wise. After this issue is resolved.’

  Maddie stole a look at Rupert, still twitching by her feet. ‘How much does he owe?’

  ‘A substantial amount.’

  ‘So what happens next?’

  ‘You and I need to have a discussion about locating the missing Samsonite suitcase.’

  ‘What if it stays missing?’

  Fender scrutinised Maddie, taking his time before replying. ‘That would be extremely unfortunate. I suggest we capitalise on my relatively good mood and arrive at a swift resolution.’

  He turned to face Bozzer and offered his open palm. Bozzer hesitated before clasping his hand in Fender’s firm, dry grip. ‘A noble attempt at intervention, young sir. My apologies for robbing you of the satisfaction of striking your target. Perhaps you’d be good enough to plonk yourself down at the bar over there, and have a drink or two while Maddie helps to conclude a business matter.’

  Bozzer withdrew from Fender’s grasp and dropped his eyes to his hand, surprised to find himself clasping a ten dollar bill. He glanced at Maddie, then looked down at Rupert, still convulsing on the floor. He hesitated for a moment before he pocketed the note. ‘Take it easy, Madge.’ He opened his arms, inviting her into a friendly hug. ‘I’ll be waiting for you, to take those shots.’

  She held him tightly for a brief moment before he eased back, smiling. Her hand found his, squeezing it as they parted. Bozzer winked cheekily at her, then he turned and withdrew to the bar’s brightly lit serving area.

  ‘Nuuu … addie …’ Rupert inched his head off the floor, attempted to shake it, gurgling and grunting in frustration as he darted his eyes between Maddie and Fender.

  Fender cast his eyes down, watching Rupert groan as he tried to wriggle his hands and feet. ‘Madeline, do you wish to say anything to Rupert before we begin? Bearing in mind he’s unable to respond intelligently for the next few minutes.’

  ‘I can’t, not yet. I’m too angry.’

  ‘Very well.’ Fender gestured with an open palm. ‘Please, sit. There’s much to discuss.’ He guided Maddie back to the booth, then briefly returned his attention to Rupert. ‘Pop yourself down over there, old son, when you’re able.’ Fender pointed to a vacant table and chairs, directly opposite him. ‘Any more vulgarity and it’s another zap from the Taser.’ He waited until he saw the flicker of conformity in Rupert’s eyes, then he turned towards the booth where Maddie had sat down and poured herself a cold beer. She hunched over on her elbows, arms positioned each side of her froth-filled glass. Fender stepped over Rupert and sat down opposite her.

  ‘Ms Bryce, I have to leave shortly to attend to an urgent personal matter. Before I depart, I need your assistance to resolve this unfortunate situation.’ Fender studied Maddie’s pale complexion. ‘Pursuing you has been relentless.’ He picked up a menu from the table. ‘Would you care for a bite to eat, while we discuss a suitable resolution?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m—’ Maddie turned to glance over at Bozzer, who stood behind her at the bar. He raised his half-drunk glass of beer, his eyes lingering on her inquisitive gaze.

  ‘Don’t worry, your Australian friend can watch your back while we discuss some options.’

  She blinked her eyes away, turning back to Fender. He held out a menu, smiling at her. ‘Food first, for sustenance. Then the unsavoury second course. Okay?’

  Maddie nodded vacantly. She dropped her eyes to the list of house specialities, a hollow, empty feeling creeping into her stomach.

  Forty

  Maddie stared at the steaming plate of lok lak and rice noodles, placed in front of her by a petite smiling waitress, who looked about thirteen.

  ‘Not hungry?’ said Fender.

  ‘The opposite, actually. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten.’

  ‘Then please, tuck in.’

  She pinched a clump of stir-fried beef between the chopsticks and popped it into her mouth.

  ‘A whim. That’s all it was?’

  Maddie shrugged. ‘That and Rupert draping himself over a prostitute on the last night of our holiday.’

  Fender nodded, pausing to smile at the yo
ung waitress who placed a bowl of chicken lime soup in front of him. Maddie dropped her eyes, concentrating on her food. Fender watched her eat, then began on his own meal. ‘The suitcase, Ms Bryce,’ he said casually.

  She looked up, shifted her gaze away from his. ‘What about it?’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Poppycock.’ Fender studied her with unblinking eyes. ‘Who was the traveller you swapped the case with?’

  Maddie absently plunged her chopsticks back into the lok lak. ‘Someone I met …’ She scooped a morsel of food into her mouth, chewing for a moment before she continued. ‘At the hotel. They were heading home, didn’t need it anymore.’

  Fender drummed his fingers on the table. ‘That doesn’t sound plausible. Rucksacks are expensive and highly personal to traveller types.’ He softened his tone. ‘The truth please, Madeline. Or Rupert won’t be able to thank you enough.’

  Maddie swallowed, forcing a mouthful of noodles down. ‘They needed the cash and I wanted an authentic travel experience.’

  She watched him dab the side of his mouth with a napkin then fold it neatly, laying it on the table. ‘I think you may have swapped the Samsonite earlier.’ He watched her reaction.

  ‘Why would I … how could I?’

  ‘Perhaps for some of the reasons you’ve described. But let’s set aside the why, or how, for a moment. I’m more interested in with whom did you swap?’

  Maddie shifted in her seat, the chopsticks trembling in her fingers. Faint pink blotches began to creep up her neck as Fender’s piercing stare bored into her. She clamped her hand around the glass and glugged back several mouthfuls of beer.

  ‘All I want is the suitcase, Maddie. I’m not interested in bringing anyone else into harm’s way. This person unwittingly has what Rupert’s creditors want, the very same thing I need, to resolve this matter. So, once again—’

  ‘I can’t remember their name. It was a stressful time for me and—’

  Fender laid his soup spoon beside his bowl and slipped his hand under the table. Maddie flinched at a muted gasp behind her, swiftly followed by a squeak of wood jolting on the floor and a heavy thud. She turned to see the bar’s manager scurrying towards Rupert, lying twitching on the floor, his eyes bulging.

  Fender casually looked up. ‘It’s okay, thank you. Our friend has had another seizure. He’ll be okay in a few moments.’

  Maddie turned and made eye contact with the bar manager, saw him straighten from stooping over Rupert, then retreat.

  ‘I don’t actually know how many hits of fifty thousand volts the human body can take in a short timeframe. Probably not that many. I’m not sure anyone’s ever carried out a definitive experiment. Do you think we should console ourselves that we’re advancing medical research, every time you evade my questions? Or shall we try again?’

  ‘Her name’s Liz. That’s all I know,’ Maddie blurted out.

  Fender leaned in slightly. ‘Better. But trust me, that’s not all you know. While you’re carefully considering your next answer, can I interest you in some more water?’

  ‘More … what?’

  ‘Water, as in to drink. Rather than poured down your throat whilst tied to a chair with a cloth napkin held over your mouth – that’s not really my cup of coconut juice.’ His tone sharpened. ‘Or would you prefer something stronger to loosen your tongue, before Rupert’s London associates rip it out of your pretty pouty-mouth?’

  ‘I’ll stick with the beer thanks,’ Maddie squeaked. She took a gulp of the cool frothy lager, then spoke quickly. ‘I met Liz on the last night, at a beach bar. She found me hiding out in the ladies toilet.’

  ‘After Rupert’s fraternising with the local girl?’

  ‘Yes. We went out for a girlie chat, had a few drinks. The next morning I saw Liz at the airport and something in me snapped. She looked so … free. And I thought, what the hell.’

  ‘So you swapped luggage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s Liz’s surname?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Nationality?’

  ‘British.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘Eighteen or nineteen.’

  ‘Did you exchange any contact details?’

  ‘Yes, she texted me. Before she got on the plane.’

  Fender allowed the corners of his lips to curl into a faint smile. ‘Excellent. One moment.’ He slid out of his seat, strolled over to Rupert’s table and returned with Maddie’s iPhone. ‘Please, show me.’

  Maddie accepted the phone from him. She frowned as she tabbed through her messages menu. ‘It’s not here. Nothing is. I don’t understand … oh crap. I swapped my SIM for a local one, then flushed it down the loo.’

  Fender strummed his fingers on the table. ‘I hope you’re not lying to me, Madeline.’

  ‘I swear! I was being bold – symbolically erasing my old life.’

  ‘What’s your number?’

  Maddie rattled it off, watching Fender tap the sequence into her phone’s electronic keypad. After a moment, he retrieved his own ringing phone from his pocket. He glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow. ‘Different number, Thai area code. What made you decide to be bold?’

  ‘Victoria. She gave me the new SIM. So I could reconnect, undetected by Rupert.’

  ‘I see. That explains a few things.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘It’s not important. You definitely disposed of your normal SIM?’ He scrutinised her reaction.

  ‘Erm … yes, yes.’

  ‘Did you back up your contacts anywhere – a cloud, for example?’

  ‘Not since I’ve been in Thailand, no.’

  Fender sat back, clicking his knuckles. ‘Problem.’

  ‘Why? Can’t you—’

  ‘Most likely Liz had a locally registered SIM. If I had the number, the network provider could match it with her passport, and I could trace her. Now however, your situation is somewhat protracted.’

  ‘What does that mean, for me?’

  Fender sighed. ‘A simple case – pardon the pun – of seek and find, is now a significant problem for Rupert. Also for his parents, for you, and your mother and father. I doubt the London lot will be as cordial with them as I’m being with you.’

  ‘My parents? What have they got to do with Rupert’s financial problems?’

  ‘Simply Rupert’s connection to you. There’s a debt to be repaid, and leverage must be applied – to anyone associated with him.’

  ‘Why me, why them?’

  ‘Because the suitcase – its contents, were in your care.’

  ‘But I didn’t know anything about that!’

  ‘That may be, Ms Bryce. But it doesn’t in any way absolve you of your responsibilities for the safe delivery of my client’s product—’

  ‘You mean heroin.’

  ‘If you want to be crass, yes. Heroin.’

  Maddie dropped her head into her hands. She scrunched handfuls of hair, then trailed the strands through her fingers. ‘So what happens now?’ she mumbled.

  ‘Tracking down your traveller friend, Liz, isn’t problematic in itself once we’ve identified the airline and obtained their passenger manifest. Her home will be watched. Access will need to be gained, which is risky because if the suitcase is seen being removed, awkward questions might be asked. Questions such as: what’s the significance of that particular suitcase. There’s the risk that the organisation’s trafficking system could be jeopardised. In addition, what if, when Liz emptied her new suitcase, she discovered it weighs a bit more empty than she thinks it should? Has she already made this unusual fact known to someone in authority? That could mean her home is already under police surveillance. London may consider writing off the missing consignment when balanced against the probability of risk. In which case you and Rupert, and your respective families, will be assigned the debt. Someone has to pay.’

  Maddie shook her head, scrunched her hair tightly in her h
ands. ‘But why me, my family? And what about Liz? She’s done nothing wrong. This is Rupert’s bloody mess!’

  ‘Ah, but the case was in your—’

  ‘I didn’t know what it contained!’

  ‘So you’ve already said.’ Fender reached into his compact day-pack and retrieved an identical ankle bracelet to the device he’d installed on Rupert. ‘This, Ms Bryce is a tracker, much like those used on convicted criminals. You will wear this whilst you and your fiancé accompany me back to the United Kingdom. London will most likely begin asset-stripping to reclaim the value of their lost product, starting with—’

  ‘How much does he owe?’

  Fender held Maddie’s glare for a moment before he glanced down at the contents of her purse, spread out on the table between them. ‘Considerably more than pocket change, Ms Bryce. Unless you have something more … concrete, it’s time to go home. Your left leg, please.’ Fender reached out for the ankle bracelet.

  ‘Wait. How much?’

  ‘How much do you have?’

  ‘Probably not enough, readily available. But … what if I act as guarantor?’

  ‘You, personally?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you have the means?’

  ‘I might.’

  Fender’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to go back. I want to carry on travelling, to be … free.’

  ‘You can’t be free if you’re vouching for Rupert’s debt. There are no risk-free transactions in this life, Ms Bryce. Nothing is certain, other than birth, death and sadness.’

  ‘I disagree. Money can’t buy happiness, I’ve learned that much. But out here, travelling, I have a reason to get excited, and scared, every day. About life. My life.’

  ‘I doubt London will be interested in—’

  ‘I own a property.’ Maddie half-turned, darted her eyes over at Rupert. She watched him hunch up off the floor, using the chair to steady himself. He slumped down at the nearby table, panting from the exertion. ‘When Stefan – my previous boyfriend – died, he was … is special to me. He lived his life literally on the edge, every time he got on his motorcycle to race. Most of his estate is left in a trust, for his daughter.’ Maddie faltered. She clenched her jaw, wiped tears from her eyes. ‘It was a difficult time, for me. There was also a pay-out, from a life insurance policy. Rupert didn’t know. He assumed most of Stefan’s estate went into the trust fund I set up, after he died.’