by Mark Green
‘Who was the beneficiary of the trust fund?’
‘My … our daughter. She was born the day Stefan died.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
Maddie dabbed more tears with a Kleenex. She shook her head, then stared vacantly into the distance. ‘Rupert helped me through that awful time. He was so supportive, back then. We began to grow close. But I knew how he yearned for more, more material wealth. So I protected the insurance pay-out by buying a flat, which I rented out. It was a comfort blanket, I suppose. The extra income allowed me to overspend, far in excess of my job’s salary. Pretty clothes, designer labels … But the capital is all still there, the property is mortgage free.’
Fender folded his arms and sat back. He allowed his scrutiny to wander away from Maddie. His gaze settled on Rupert, slumped over the nearby table. ‘That’s an interesting proposition, Ms Bryce. I’ll need to relay your offer on. Your daughter … you had her adopted?’
Maddie nodded. More tears trickled down her cheeks.
‘I apologise for having to ask such an indelicate question, but do you have any access to the trust’s funds?’
‘No. A friend recommended a solicitor. He’s the trustee. The fund pays out in increments, when she’s old enough. It’s all for her, to help make something of her life.’
‘What was Rupert’s reaction to the trust fund?’
‘He didn’t understand, at first. It was a substantial sum … which is why I kept the life insurance pay-out from him.’
Fender nodded. When he spoke, his tone had softened. ‘May I ask where the property is, what it might be worth?’
‘It’s a two-bedroom first floor flat in Notting Hill. Six and a half years ago I paid four hundred and seventy-five thousand for it. Prices have been going up ever since. You do the maths.’
Fender’s eyes narrowed. ‘Rest assured, Ms Bryce, I will. The full address, please. Then you can finish your meal in peace. I need to make some phone calls.’
• • •
Maddie looked over at the entrance to the bar, where Fender had been slowly pacing back and forth for the last twenty minutes, embroiled in a series of intense telephone conversations. She slowly rotated in her seat, making eye contact with Bozzer. He raised his glass of beer and winked at her. Maddie attempted a weak smile, then faced forwards, aware of Fender finishing his latest call. She watched him settle into the seat opposite, her heart racing.
‘Congratulations Ms Bryce, you have a deal. Subject to certain conditions, naturally. The relevant documentation is being drawn up. It will be emailed to an attorney’s office here in Phnom Penh. You will sign over the deeds to your Notting Hill property. When the Samsonite case is located and successfully retrieved, ownership of the property will revert back to you.’
‘So Rupert is free of the debt, and me too?’
‘So long as he maintains radio silence about his adventures in Thailand, and avoids racking up any more debts with my client.’
Maddie took a deep breath, then lifted her eyes to meet Fender’s. ‘How soon can I move on?’
Fender glanced at his watch. ‘In around six hours.’ He slid a business card with a neatly printed email and phone number across the table, then flipped it over, revealing a handwritten address on the back. ‘You will meet me here, at midday. The transfer of ownership will be signed and witnessed, after which you’ll be free to go.’ Fender took a sip of water, then picked up the ankle bracelet. ‘Until then, your left leg, please.’
Maddie frowned. ‘What for? I thought—’
‘Insurance. I’ll release it when we meet later today. If you fail to show up, attempt to tamper with the device, or stray more than ten blocks from our current location, the Taser will—’
‘Zap me, like Rupert.’
‘Exactly.’ Fender patted the side of his seat.
Maddie lifted her left leg and watched him slip the bracelet around her ankle.
Fender tabbed commands into his smartphone, then waited for a series of electronic beeps. ‘That’s you activated. You’ve got approximately six hours of free time. Spend it wisely, be here at noon.’ Fender tapped his sinewy finger on the business card. ‘Or else, suffer the consequences.’ He slipped out of the booth and strolled over to Rupert’s table.
Maddie watched Fender head for the door, Rupert hobbling along behind.
‘You look like you could use some air.’
Maddie glanced up at Bozzer. She nodded. ‘And a change of scenery.’
‘Come on, you can bring your electronic friend with you.’
She frowned, then followed his gaze down to her ankle, where a green LED silently flashed on the black plastic bracelet. ‘Oh, yeah. Sure you want to mix with the criminal fraternity?’ she muttered.
‘Hey, most of my family are dodgy descendants. You’re with a kindred spirit.’
Forty-One
Bozzer and Maddie walked away from the bar’s neon intensity, distancing themselves from night crawlers and sleazy money. The sound of their feet scuffing the pavement quickly became absorbed by scooters zipping by, their tinny engines whirling. Headlights drifted over sleeping tuk-tuk drivers, slumped across their carriages in shadowy side streets, their bare feet poking out beneath rain curtains. A thin, patchy-furred dog sloped past, eyeing them hopefully, his tongue lolling. A sallow man in his thirties cycled by, his knees rotating sedately, dragging a glass-fronted street food trailer.
They walked on, past a shopkeeper sweeping dust and litter across uneven, broken paving slabs. Crossing the main road was easy without having to dash for an impossible gap in the traffic, as only few vehicles trundled past. Walking under the row of palm trees evenly spaced across the promenade, the wide glassy river beckoned, fifty feet below. The vaguest hint of a lighter shade of black teased the horizon at the far edge of the sky, drawing the first light of dawn ever closer.
Shh-clitch.
Memory Card 3. Pic 563
‘Sunrise over the Tonle Sap River, the fresh wooziness of a new day breaking with barely a shiver. Black sky blending into deep inky blue, promises of new adventures to carry us through. Onwards into the unknown, time soon to go it alone …’
‘Won’t be long now,’ Bozzer said, lowering the camera, quickly lifting it up again as he spotted an opportunity, down at the water’s edge.
Shh-clitch.
Memory Card 3. Pic 564
‘He casts the weighted line aloft over the river’s murky water, hoping for his breakfast perhaps, or to catch lunch for him and his daughter. Waiting, watching, praying … how much is at stake? Fishing for fun incomprehensible to people here, no choice for them of a nice juicy steak.’
Maddie turned away from the river, watching him review the photograph on the camera’s small screen. ‘You have an elegance with words.’
‘Cheers. Not bad for a ball-and-chain-by-birth bloke, eh?’
‘Not half bad.’ Maddie sat down on the esplanade wall and swung her legs over the top of the long concrete slope, which led down to the river’s edge. She pushed her hands behind her, fingers draped over the curved edge of the stone, leaning back against her arms.
‘Turn your head towards me, just a little …’ He raised the camera. ‘There, perfect—’
Shh-clitch.
Memory Card 3. Pic 566
‘Material girl no longer, this born-again traveller is mentally much stronger. Her silhouette framed against the backdrop of Phnom Penh, she looks like she’s comfortable here, has reached a state of Zen. Primed now to immerse herself in life’s joy, despite the illusion she maintains, of acting so coy. Rise up Princess, spread those wings and soar, the winds of Mother Nature’s optimism will carry you through the uncertainty of that self-imposed locked door.’
‘Wow, where did that come from?’ She craned her neck around to evaluate his expression.
‘From you,’ he said quietly, stepping over the wall to sit down beside her. He scanned the wide expanse of river, speckled with sporadic lights from small wooden b
oats, wallowing in the hazy hint of dawn. ‘We’d never have seen this, from the hotel room.’
‘No … thank you.’
‘For being a pain in the arse?’
‘Partly. But also for getting me out here.’
He lit a roll-up, offered it to her.
‘I shouldn’t, but … why not.’
They shared the smoking ritual, looking out over the vast ebbing river. She scanned the dock cranes gradually emerging from the shadows on the far bank, the first sign of light lifting the gloom, breathing life and purpose into the waterfront.
I think … I did the best I could, little one …
‘Last night, you asked me something …’ she began, her voice trailing off.
‘Something inappropriate, probably.’
She stole a look at him – saw him still scanning the horizon. She glanced away again, out over the river.
… under the circumstances.
Her gaze lingered there, before she frowned and drew back, refocusing on the plastic clasp around her ankle, the green LED blinking. ‘Yes, and perhaps … not. It was about travelling with you, to South America.’
Meanwhile, onwards.
His gentle nod drew her gaze back, away from the constraints of the past. This time she lingered a little longer on his twinkling blue eyes.
‘Yeah, I remember.’
‘How would it work … hypothetically.’
He turned to face her, an amused expression twitching across his lips. ‘You’re asking how … despite running into your bloke and the spooky dude. Something has changed.’
‘Maybe.’
He nodded, accepted the roll-up from her, drawing thoughtfully on it. ‘It would work if you’re prepared to shed your shackles and have no expectations of anything at all. I’m talking about the country, the people and your new travel mate. You’d need only bring along an open mind and a sense of adventure. If you can do that, then I guarantee you’ll gain a new life experience … will have a different outlook. Who knows, we might even laugh a little along the way.’
Maddie nodded at his lopsided smile. She turned away to follow his stare as the first glimmers of daylight stretched out between the crane and the bridge structure of a container ship in dock, lying against the dark side of the river. ‘How would it work, on a day-to-day basis – travelling together?’
‘You want to hear about nuts and bolts?’
She nodded.
‘We’d split everything down the middle, just like you would with a pal. It’s cheaper travelling that way, and more fun. Someone to bounce ideas off, share the journey. There’s also the probability that we’d not stay strangers …’
‘Friends?’
‘Friends, foes, mates, rivals, lovers … it’s unpredictable, an unknown. Fun and scary, all rolled into one.’ He exhaled smoke, passing the rollie back to her. ‘Given recent events, perhaps not quite the jump for you it might have been …’
‘True. Or, we’ll merely remain acquaintances, if we go our separate ways in a few hours. After …’ She lifted up her left leg, twisted her foot left, then right.
He chuckled, then looked up, studying the glowing orange, yellow and red colours blending together, pushing the dark blue sky away, giving way to aqua and turquoise higher overhead. ‘That too, is a possibility. It’s all up for grabs. But before you consider anything, a little while ago you asked me a question.’
‘I did?’ She inhaled smoke, handed the ciggie back to him.
‘Yup. You asked me, why.’ He turned to face her.
‘Yeah … I was unsure, I guess. Still am. I suppose what I really meant, is why me?’
Bozzer took a last drag on the roll-up and stubbed it out. He took his time before replying.
‘You, because you’re not phony, like many of the people out here, supposedly travelling. You’re interesting, Madge, and quirky, in a spoilt-but-trying-to-break-free, unashamedly British middle class kind of way. Back at the bar, you proved that. Beyond that sheen, there’s a depth to you, a deep-rooted honesty, if you’d only trust someone enough to show them more. I genuinely think you’d grow to enjoy immersing yourself in this alternative life.’
Before she could reply, he added ‘When I disappeared to get my camera’s memory cards from Jody, I didn’t just come back to take photos of Angkor Wat, although that was important to me. I wanted to meet up with you again, try to get to know you better. Travelling together, you’d see more of my unpredictable, live wire personality, and what lies beneath it. And I’d understand more about who you are. Who you were. I like being around interesting people, and I think you’d grow into a fun travel buddy.’
They sat in silence, watching the sun peep over the horizon, a quarter of its glowing sphere visible now, shimmering light and colour across the river.
‘Oh,’ she said eventually. ‘I thought you might be on Charlie’s wavelength.’
‘Hustling you?’
‘Mmm …’
He grinned, a cheeky, mischievous glint in his eye. ‘What makes you so sure I’m not?’
‘True. Guess you never can tell with people, what their agenda might be. So Barry, am I a cash cow for your travel fund?’
‘An older woman for me to use and abuse?’ He held up his foot. ‘Okay, you got me. Slap on the ankle cuff.’
She searched his twinkling eyes for sincerity. ‘Nah, you’re too wrapped up in your creativity, gathering material for your book.’
‘It’s true. I do sleep with a zoom lens in my PJs.’
She grinned and looked away towards the sun, now almost a full sphere above the river’s industrial far bank. Sunlight pushed the deep blue higher, brightening their panoramic view.
‘Of course, there’s the possibility that you’re the hustler.’
‘What, lil ol’ me?’
‘Hey, you’re wearing the jailbird tag.’
‘Yeah. Trouble, with a capital T. That’s me.’
They sat there for several minutes, both smiling, watching the sky change colour.
Onwards. Upwards. Outwards … it’s about time.
‘Okay,’ she said finally, tucking her hair behind her ears, grinning.
‘Okay, meaning …?’
‘Meaning okay, yeah. What the hell. Let’s give it a go.’
He shifted around and offered his hand. ‘Travel mates?’
She hesitated for a second, then rotated fully, facing him. She reached out, clasping his hand, holding his gaze.
‘Agreed. Travel mates.’
Barry squeezed her hand a tiny bit more. ‘Nice one. Now hand over the family silver!’ He kept a straight face, his eyes locked on hers.
She flinched, tried to pull her hand back, her convivial expression hardening. Instead of retreating further, she leant forwards and stared deeply into his eyes, squeezing his hand even tighter. ‘Up yours, Aussie asshole. Hand over all your valuables!’
Bozzer’s face relaxed. He beamed, releasing her grip. ‘We’re gonna get along just fine.’ He tightened his hand into a fist, held it up. She scrunched her fingers into a ball and knocked her knuckles against his.
‘Boom!’ they said in unison.
‘So, travel mate, tell me more about the plan – after you leave Cambodia.’
‘After we fly out,’ he corrected her.
‘Of course, still getting my head around it.’
‘After you shed your former life of grime, you can look forward to a shitty two days spent flying, waiting, flying and waiting, getting more knackered and irritable, before we get to Lima, Peru. From there – after a few days recovering – we hit the road. So much to see. The Nazca Lines, Sacred Valley, Arequipa … After a few weeks we get to Cusco. The altitude is gonna hit us hard, so we spend some time acclimatising, do a bit of sightseeing. Then we start the Inca Trail. Four days hiking with a group gets us to the lost city of Machu Picchu, where a glorious photographic Shangri-La awaits. From there, we catch the train back to Cusco and make our way overland into Bolivia, taking in Puno and Lake
Titicaca. Then it’s a short flight into the jungle town of Rurrenabaque, which is on the Beni River. After that, we fly back to Bolivia’s capital, La Paz, and catch a flight to the spectacular Iguazu Waterfalls – the Argentinean side, where my brother’s getting married. We party hard at the reception, relax over Christmas, then celebrate New Year in Buenos Aires. That done, the next beautiful, unwritten chapter awaits. In whatever direction it takes me, you, or possibly – in whatever arrangement that presents itself – maybe even us …’
‘There’s quite a few variables in that itinerary.’
‘Yeah. Life wouldn’t be surprising and fun if there wasn’t.’
‘What time does your flight leave tomorrow?’ She frowned and checked her watch. ‘I mean, today.’
‘Ten-thirty tonight.’
‘Okay. I’d best get a plane ticket sorted, if there’s a spare seat. No ticket means no travel buddy, so we’d best get going. We’ve got a busy day ahead.’ Maddie smiled at him and stood up. ‘I’m ready.’
Forty-Two
Maddie and Bozzer drew up outside a plush-looking smoked glass shopfront, embossed with its name in ornate gold lettering on a polished black marble plaque.
‘It’s the most upmarket joint we’ve seen so far,’ said Bozzer, peering at the shiny stainless steel watches in the window display.
‘Let’s give it a whirl.’
The smartly dressed jeweller peered through an eye magnifier, studying Maddie’s pearl earrings.
‘This is where he says they’re fakes,’ she whispered, raising her eyebrows at Bozzer. ‘Rupert told me they were Akoya pearls, the best in the world.’
‘The studs are indeed gold,’ said the elderly jeweller, in a soothing, barely accented voice. ‘But the pearls are freshwater, not very valuable. The diamonds too are of inferior quality.’
