Iceline

Four days in bed and Steel had enough, now he wanted to be up and about. Not much to ask, just the chance to amble about before his legs forgot how to walk and he told the nurse, Janet MacGregor exactly that and she told him right back. "That, Mister Steel, is complete nonsense and you know it. You will not forget how to walk, nor will you get out of that bed until I've had a chance to talk to the doctor about you."

  "I bet it won't be the first time either," he grumbled sourly.

  "I am not sure that was called for," she retorted tartly, "we have your best interests at heart and we will do our best, but for that we need your co-operation. Now give me your arm, the left one will do fine and I can get these blood samples down to haematology before lunch and then, if we're lucky and I mean lucky, we may get results in by tea-time. Then the doctor can have a look at your notes and maybe decide when you will be able to go home."

  "Look," Steel was abjectly apologetic, "Nurse MacGregor, I know you are doing your best and I appreciate that, but I'm feeling so much better, I want to take the chance to move about a bit, even if it's only to sit up in the chair for half an hour anything simply to get out of bed."

  She relented slightly. "I don't suppose it could do any real harm, but if you feel that you need help, press the button."

  "Right," he said and smiled at her.

  "Go on and save your charm for the younger lasses."

  "There is one other slightly delicate matter, though not pressing at the moment, it may make things shall we say a touch awkward in the future."

  "And that is?" She inquired.

  "Clothes, I could do with some fresh ones, I’m told they cut my old ones off." Steel said. Janet MacGregor couldn't help smiling at the idea that the hospital gown was the only piece of clothing in his possession. "Speak to your friends when they return this evening and in the meantime I will find you something to go over the gown, so stay where you are for now."

  "I will; this thing's too bloody draughty at the back to be wandering about in and besides it doesn't do me any favours in the fashion stakes. I can't ask if my bum looks big in it, because it isn't, most of it is outside."

  She collected the samples and the used sharps, disposed of the needles in the plastic box and sealed the glass phials in a polythene bag, she filled in the label and stripped off the disposable gloves. "Leave it with me," she said, "I'll have you out of bed before you know it."

  Steel eased himself up the bed and dragged a magazine from the cabinet. He tried to read it, but after flicking through a couple of pages he gave up, shuffled around on the bed and punched the pillows into a pile and tried to sleep. The muscles of his chest were becoming stronger as the wound knitted. The scar tissue had lost the redness and faded to an off white. At this rate he hoped he would be ready to go home in a day or so, when the results of the tests were in. Janet MacGregor was as good as her word and less than half an hour later came back with a plain towelling robe and dropped it on the bed. He pulled aside the sheets and lowered his legs to the floor, slipped the dressing gown on and tied it tightly around his waist then carefully transferred his weight on to his legs and stood upright. He swayed slightly, balanced and relaxed. He did a circuit of the room and lowered himself into the chair beside the bed. "That'll do nicely," he thought. Steel was still in the armchair when Josie came back late in the afternoon carrying a holdall with clothes, shoes and a wash kit. She dropped a packet of disposable razors on the bed, "Might like to try these at some point, you would at least look human."

  Steel picked them up and read the label, "Reckon they'll do, but I want to leave it for a bit, see what it comes out like." He said as he stroked his chin. The stubble rasped less than before. Josie wasn't convinced, he didn't look completely horrible, though it might look better once the bruising had faded and the scabs had healed up, then maybe. At the moment it looked scratchy and a bit scruffy. Steel put them aside. "I'm not even thinking about shaving I don't want to start ripping my face up again, I'll give it a chance to heal first."

  "Suit yourself, but you look a scruff, so don't expect to be seen out with me.” Josie laughed, "So, what's the latest?"

  "On what?"

  "Whatever; you, how long you're going to be here, the latest from the police, Oh, I don't know." Josie was stumbling, scratching about for something to say. The easy familiarity had changed and what she had thought was a calm, settled friendship was stirred up. In a pathetic attempt to rationalise she had chalked it up as a sense of relief that, battered as he was, she was visiting him in hospital, not standing around watching him being lowered into the ground. She could get used to the beard it was easier on the eye than brass handles and polished mahogany. In short she was glad to have him back but the idea wasn't to let it show too much. Steel moved back to the bed, stretching out on top of the sheets while Josie took his place in the chair, couldn’t be comfortable and sat on the foot of the bed instead. He noticed she kept her fairly large shoulder bag close to her. He smiled. "The boss getting a bit jittery," and nodded at the bag.

  "Hmm, insurance you might say. I was on the phone to him this morning and stumbling about in the dark his not his way and this is driving him nuts."

  Steel snorted, "I'll bet it is; this is about as little control as a bloke could have and I really don't think I can lighten his darkness, I'm in the dark just as much."

  "I know," Josie clenched her fist and pressed it against her forehead, groaning. "It's so bloody frustrating and the worst of it, being out here, I can't lose myself in doing something else."

  "That's a good question, why are you here It’s unusual for you to be off-Grange?"

  "I don't think you've ever seen me off-Grange, as you put it," She said and Steel was sure he detected an odd note in her voice, in his wilder imaginings he could have described it as possibly disappointment, but then he could be wrong and probably was. "I've got myself reassigned, well, sort of, Jardine offered me a post as personal assistant, I know, it sounds sort of posh, but it's just another word for the silly sod that dashes around everywhere while he lords it over the manor."

  Steel raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And you took it?"

  She smiled and nodded.

  "You silly sod but I suppose congrats are in order. Well done you."

  Josie sat with her legs swinging and a grin on her face. "Thank you, you're most kind and what about you?"

  "It's a mess under the bandages, the bruising is going down and there are moments when I move a bit suddenly in the wrong direction, then everything seems to pull and that smarts. But on the whole, yeah, I'm on the mend," He shifted his position on the bed, trying to make himself more comfortable. "Get a bit irritable at times, that can be annoying," Steel paused and listened, the pattern of sound coming in from the corridor then went on, tapping his head. "The big question I suppose is what happens up here, when the physical wounds have healed and there is only the mental crap left behind. How much will that affect me? No bloody idea, I could be a total nutter within six months, or boringly normal."

  Josie shuddered, grimacing. "Ugh, perish the thought. You - normal!"

  Steel gave her a frown. "Thanks a lot." The look he gave her made Josie giggle.

  The door opened and Janet MacGregor looked in from outside, "Have you seen the constable?"

  "He probably got called away." Josie remarked.

  "Aye, you're probably right," then she popped out of sight.

  Josie watched the door close and muttered. "Nice but not so much a darling as the other one."

  Steel swung his legs off the bed. "When you've finished playing jealous, pass me the holdall." Josie slipped off the foot of the bed and lifted the bag to where she had been sat. Steel dragged it up the bed and tugged open the zip, rummaged inside and found a pair of jeans, trainers and a polo neck sweater. No underwear. He unrolled the jeans, stripped and dressed, leaving only the trainers to put on and lobbed the holdall onto the floor. He fastened the jeans and tucked in the sweater before he sat on the edge of the bed with his trainer
s beside him. Josie watched him in silence, itching to ask what he was doing, but somehow trusting his judgement. They didn't have to wait very long. The door opened and the constable stepped inside. Steel cast an appraising eye over the sight and made a few mental notes. "Afternoon sir," he said and Steel logged another item. This wasn't a local lad, more a refugee from the bottom half of the island, there was more than a wisp of smoke in his voice. "Hello officer, you’re Ducker's relief are you?"

  "That's right sir, the name's Macduff just come on duty, be keeping an eye on you."

  "Good, that's what I like to hear, the constabulary going about their lawful duties, protecting the public."

  The atmosphere in the room had chilled, Steel was weighing up and Josie felt herself becoming acutely aware of her surroundings. It was an odd feeling, as if a radio had suddenly latched on to the frequency it had been searching for and found it and the signal was as clear as crystal. Her brain was processing information faster and her breathing changed. Surprisingly, she found herself becoming calmer. The constable positioned himself at the foot of the bed. His momentary look of surprise at finding Steel had company was gone, his mind was computing timing and distance and the girl was an element not involved in the planning. He heard Steel ask the girl, "Check the insurance policy, then we might get somewhere when we decide to act," then to Macduff, "Do you reckon there could be something available, you know compensation-wise through insurance, to cover the loss of earnings and that sort of thing." Macduff scratched his cheek and mumbled, "yeah, well probably, maybe medical insurance."

  “Hang on, I’ll just check, I've got it here somewhere" She said and rummaged through the bag.

  Steel had picked up one of his trainers and made to put it on as Macduff's hand clenched and began swinging towards Josie, Steel moved fast, swinging hard, slammed the heel of the trainer across Macduff's nose. The sensitivity of the organ didn't let him down. The soft tissue squashed under the impact and blood spurted, Steel dropped the shoe and Josie had reached her stable position, when Macduff opened his eyes after their involuntary reflex he found himself staring at the muzzle of her Browning. The look in his eyes told Steel that he knew what the handgun was capable of and offered little resistance as Josie eased the safety catch with a click which was deafening in the silent room. Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled over the ridge of his brow, more sweat glistened at his temples. The blood was streaming freely from his nose, which appeared to be broken and staining his clothing, but he stood silently, dazed by the suddenness of Steel's reaction. Steel found the handcuff pouch empty, which explained Fowler’s disappearance. Josie kept her cool and the muzzle of the Browning never wavered. Steel scanned the room looking for anything that could be modified to tie him up and not very successfully. He decided that Macduff needed bringing down a peg or two. So as he pondered the predicament he reacted with his reflexes and kicked him in the groin. "Ah fuck," Macduff groaned and dropped to his knees.

  "That's better," muttered Steel, "brings most men down to size." and kicked him again, Macduff crumpled with his hands cupped over the injured area. He took the gun from Josie, gripped it by the barrel and clubbed him with it. Macduff went down cold.

  Steel stripped the belt from Macduff's trousers and used it to tie his hands securely behind his back, strapping him to the bed, then unlaced his shoes and tied the laces together. Josie had recovered the gun and sat down backwards in the chair, resting her arms on the back and levelling the gun on Macduff. "I take it you don't want me to shoot him, at least not yet?"

  "I don't particularly want to shoot him at all, that's much too good. I was thinking more like chuck him out of a helicopter, at a hundred and fifty foot on a two hundred foot bungee rope, which is more of a chance than some people get." Steel muttered.

  "At the moment I'm not following you, no doubt you'll explain when you're ready."

  "I will and there'll be plenty of time later, meantime we need to immobilise this bastard and find out what he's done with young Fowler, hopefully he'll be reasonably OK."

  Josie said. "You don't seem too convinced?"

  "I'm not and the fact that this shit is here makes me worried, if he knows where I am, then it’s a fair guess someone else knows too." He nodded towards the Browning, "I don't suppose you have another one of those tucked away in your knickers, or secreted about your person?"

  "No," she replied tartly, "I don't."

  "Pity," Steel replied, "we need to be out of here and pretty sharpish." He added as Janet MacGregor came into the room. "Mister Steel, what the devil is going on?" She snapped, "and why is he, well, lying there on the floor." Her finger stabbed the air above the recumbent figure of Macduff. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Josie with the pistol levelled at Macduff's head. Her mouth was opening in a soundless scream that was about to go hysterical when Steel turned towards her and slapped her sharply across the cheek. The blow stunned her into silence. Steel's voice crackled with authority. "Now shut up and listen, what you do here in the next few minutes could mean the difference between life and death for somebody. Fowler is somewhere on this floor and may be hurt, so find him and when you have found him, tell me." Steel dragged Macduff on to the bed and laid him face down.

  MacGregor gathered her wits and went out. Steel turned to Josie Burke, "finish trussing him up and then we go." Steel moved quickly, sweeping the room for his meagre possessions and stuffing them inside the holdall. He finished off by fastening the laces of his trainers and zipped up the bag. Josie had found a zinc-oxide plaster and taped Macduff's mouth shut. The job done, she stood up. "He's not going to find it easy to breathe with his mouth taped up and a busted nose."

  "I weep for him," Steel said coldly, "I'm sure he would if the roles were reversed, thankfully they're not." Josie glanced at him, his earlier words about the mental effect of his experiences ringing in her thoughts. He was colder, but then she supposed that was only natural, most of his emotions must still be under tight control considering how recent his experiences were, maybe a week, possibly two, he might be more his usual self. Then her own words came back, about him never seeing her off-Grange that meant she'd never seen him off-Grange either, was this the way he was when the job was on the table and the plan was running. Was the iciness his defence mechanism, a chill to keep out the heat of the terror and adrenaline? Josie Burke realised she had just stepped on to a fast learning curve and it wasn't only herself she was going to learn about. There were one or two people who would never be the same again. "Where too and what do we do with him?"

  “Leave him; the police can talk to him." Steel said. "You don't happen to know where we could get a helicopter do you."

  "No, not at short notice," Josie said, "you're not serious about the bungee rope are you?" the look in his eyes told her he wasn't laughing, so there was no joke involved. Her voice was very calm and very quiet. "Seriously, what are we going to do with him?"

  “Like I said, leave him, he’ll slow us down and it's pretty likely that if his people have found us once, they’ll do it again.” Janet MacGregor returned in a state, face flushed and hair all over the place. Steel challenged her. "Well, where is he, what's his condition?"

  She stopped and got her breath back. "He's fine, sore head for a couple of days, but nothing more than that, he's under observation."

  Steel nodded, “Right, Josie give me the gun, I want you two outside, wait for me in the corridor. Josie picked up the holdall and led MacGregor from the room. Steel shut the door and waited for a moment, walking across the room towards Macduff. He said nothing, just eased the trigger back until it released the hammer. The silencer muffled the shot, but not the scream that rang out as the bullet tore his earlobe and buried itself in the mattress. Steel tucked the handgun down the front of his jeans covered it with the sweater and pulled it out to hang loose. Macduff slumped into a dead faint as the blood stained his shirt collar and the mattress and Steel joined Josie in the hall. Both women looked at him and he held up hel
d up his hand. “Janet, please, we need the time. Don’t hand him over yet, he may think he’s more badly injured than he is.”

  Janet MacGregor pushed past. Steel grabbed Josie by the arm and steered her through the building and outside. She picked the key fob from her pocket and thumbed the two buttons in a pre-set order, the first bleep switched off the alarm and the second unlocked the doors. The third bleep turned on the ignition and the engine rumbled into life. They scrambled into the car and Josie yelled at him as she slammed the engine into gear. "What the hell, Steel, you might have killed him," she stared incredulously at her companion. "Why?"

  "No time to explain, but I will, trust me,” Steel said and demanded, "Now give me the mobile." She handed over the phone and Steel flashed up the address book and keyed in Langhers number. "Kurt," He said when, "where are you?"

  "Down at the harbour with Charlie, we've just finished provisioning the boat."

  "How soon can you put to sea?"

  Kurt put his hand over the mouthpiece and Steel heard only muffled sounds for a few moments, then clearly again. "We could be at sea within the hour, why?"

  "Do it. We're moving; Josie and I are going back to the flat to clear the site. Then we'll be in touch." Steel switched off the phone and handed it back. Josie drove forward into the next bay, mounting the dividing kerb and headed for the exit. "They'll probably want to talk to you as well."

  Steel slumped forward in his seat and the seatbelt tightened, clutching his chest. “That smarts.” He muttered.

  Josie snorted unsympathetically and concentrated on her driving and she had them back at the flat within five minutes, twenty-five minutes later they had packed and loaded the Range Rover. Steel made a final check of the rooms and slung his own rucksack on his back and picked up the box of food from the kitchen table. Josie came back from her third trip to the car. "The boat has been provisioned and Kurt and what's-his-name, Charlie, should be at sea within... half an hour," he said, checking the wall clock. Josie took the box from him and led the way downstairs. Steel dropped the latch and pocketed the keys. "Where are we going?" Josie asked. Once they were in the car Steel reached for a road atlas.

  "Take the ferry across Corran Narrows, then drive towards Ardnamurchan, Loch Sunart should do for now, that's where I want to meet the boat." Steel answered and opened the atlas on his lap and began tracing his finger along the route, reading off a litany of roads, junctions and place names. The phone rang. He thumbed the green button and listened. "Kurt here, we're on the move too, where to?"

  "I'll give you the meet by text." Steel replied and switched off. He keyed in the meeting place and sent it on its way.

  Langhers read the text to Charlie, easing the ketch through the channel out of Oban harbour towards Mull, He nodded and tweaked the throttle. He twitched the wheel, making a fine line for the light halfway across the loch. "You any good with sails?" He asked Kurt, who shook his head. "Then leave the boating to me, put the kettle on if you want to be useful, coffee, black, lots of sugar."

  "Fine, I'll deal with the catering." Kurt agreed and ducked below into the galley. Charlie took his cap off and felt the wind against the back of his head and across his shoulders. He lashed the wheel and moved forward to set the sails, hauling the mainsail from its cover and watching it fill with a crack as the wind pushed into it, the ketch heeled and Charlie went back to switch off the engine. The beat died away to leave only the rush of water along the hull as Westering Home took the bone between her teeth and danced to her helm. Langhers felt the sail go up and braced himself against the cupboards, keeping a wary eye on the kettle wedged above the gas ring by a steel framework. Charlie was settled in the stern when Kurt came up with the coffee. The old man took the cup and cradled it in his lap as Langhers sat down with his back to the cabin, gazing out over the stern. "You know where we are going?"

  "Salen, at the top of Loch Sunart, yes, I know the anchorage well. It's pleasant enough and well sheltered, chances are we'll have to motor the last few miles."

  "Normally that would be excellent, but why am I not sure about this." Langhers looked worried.

  "Picking up the vibes, that's your trouble, psyched up and tuned in. Paranoia gets to us all in the end."

  "You've been there too?"

  "Long time ago, but, yes, been, done, got the hair shirt."

  "Not heard that one before, hair shirt instead of a tee-shirt, like it though."

  "Tee shirt's is too comfortable, the way paranoia gets to you it's the scratchiest hair shirt you can imagine, from the most evil minded cantankerous beast in the universe, with bells on."

  "And then you start to get close." Langhers agreed. Charlie fell silent, startled by his own words. He'd not given it much thought in the intervening years. All good things come to an end, but even bad things must draw to a close too and the hope of that faint glimmer of a new day, without the stain of darkness and now a new generation were still there. Fighting the same battles, as much with themselves as any real opponent. When the mind tumbled through dreams and nightmares and the doubts seeded and took root in the pathways of the mind. In the struggle with self even the hardest had broken, defences rent apart by the one attacker who knew where the weaknesses lay and devious paths to circumvent the barricades was your own self. Charlie handed his mug back to Kurt. "You'll be OK, just remember that it's still paranoia even if they really are after you.

  "Problem is Charlie it's the reality twist, what's real?"

  "That, my friend is down to your own perspective on life. The things we hold most dear are what are real, those without which life would be worthless, that is why men can still give their lives away for the most bizarre reasons. It's the significance that an individual attaches to a cause, the innermost feelings I suppose and some we will deny even to ourselves," Charlie said. His voice quiet but clear above the sound of the hull pushing through the water as the sails quivered adding a counterpoint to the water noise. "That's where the problems start."

  There was an air of confession about Charlie this morning maybe it was the sea air, the crispness of the light or his admission that paranoia had plagued him through the dark times of his own work, when morality and necessity squared up to do battle for supremacy and morality lost. "The tiredness is the worst, you're physically low, the mind gets a bit woolly, sleep patterns fall apart and no matter how hard you try, you never wake rested and refreshed. That's when it all goes out of proportion and you end up bolloxed. That's when paranoia turns the screws and you know its happening, because you can recognise the signs, there's fuck all you can do about it. Why is that? Even when you know it's happening, you can't stop it? We used to call that a triple-six, the nature of the beast. It's the way paranoia is, irrational, you can't fight it with the rational unless you change the circumstance, that alters the perspective and you can ask yourself the question you posed a bit since. What is real?" Charlie reassured him but it was a dark reassurance, they were still in the tunnel with a slim chance the light at the end wasn't bolted to the front of an express train. "And to answer your question, what is real, reality is that it is almost lunch-time and I could do with a sandwich and as I am skipper of this fine vessel and you are on galley duty, then it's up to you." Kurt laughed and disappeared below again and Charlie was left alone with his boat and bright blue day. Nothing else was real.

  *****

  Chapter Twelve