by Alan Cook
Chapter 23
"The worst part isn't even the manhandling. It's
the feeling of helplessness when you can't do
anything. When you realize you're completely
in the power of another person."
Arrow was speaking in a low voice as we ate the
hotel breakfast so as not to be heard by the few
other guests who had straggled into the dining
room on Sunday morning. The full Scottish
breakfast included eggs, bacon (American ham),
sausage, toast, black pudding, juice and tea. We
both ate as if we had been fasting for a month.
"I don't intend to ever get myself into that situation
again." She said this with some of her usual grit.
"But before we put this episode behind us I just
want to say that you acted above and beyond
the call of duty. He could have torn you limb
from limb."
"Instinct." I didn't want Arrow's thanks. I felt
guilty for getting her into trouble.
"You had a 'Get-out-of-jail-free' pass. You could
have gone for help. Of course...by the time you
had gotten help I would have been the victim
of a double rape."
She said the word I couldn't. "I think we both
learned something."
"Okay," Arrow said with finality, as if shutting a
door. "What do we do now?"
I gathered that we weren't going to talk about
the fact that we had slept together--not
euphemistically, really slept, and nothing else.
I had wakened early and, not wanting to disturb
Arrow, had quietly gone back to my room and
thought about what we should do next. I said,
"I propose the following: Let's pack our bags.
We have one name of a man who lives in London.
We may be able to get his address from the
Internet."
"How are we going to access the Internet?"
"Our old friend, Michael. We'll call him at a decent
hour. If he goes to church we'll catch him after
church. He has no reason to be suspicious of us,
like we do of him. I'm sure he'll let us use his
computer for a few minutes."
"So we won't tell him we think he's a liar."
"Not a good idea. If he's really seen James he's
in contact with him and we don't want James
to know we're nosing around."
"You don't think Jock is going to call him and tell
him we're from the CIA?"
"Whether or not Jock believes that, he's keeping
a low profile right now, hoping we'll leave town
without causing him any trouble."
# # # #
We arrived at Michael's house about noon after
assuring him that we weren't coming for Sunday
dinner. Heather greeted Arrow effusively and
whisked her into the kitchen. Michael led me to
his small office where the computer was already
revved up.
I found the name of Seamus Zeebarth in the
white pages of one of the Internet search
engines, with an address in London, and the
name was sufficiently unusual that Michael
and I agreed it was undoubtedly the right man.
I asked Michael if I could send an email and he
typed in the password to access his email system.
He left the room for a couple of minutes while I
sent an innocuous message to my father's
address, knowing that John would read it. I left
the copy on Michael's computer, in case he got
curious. When I had finished I told Michael we
would get out of his hair.
"I have something to tell you first," he said. "I
remembered what happened with Dickie Stewart."
"I think Arrow would like to hear this too."
Michael retrieved her from the kitchen. When
she heard about Michael's recovered memory
she mouthed the words "tape recorder" at me.
It was in the car. I shook my head. We didn't
want to inhibit him.
The three of us sat around the fire, which always
seemed to be going. Maybe Michael and Heather
owned their own peat bog.
Michael said, "I must have repressed it because it's
a bit gruesome, but one of the boys did tell me
what happened with Dickie. It came to me last
night. Dickie was a sweet kid, perhaps too sweet
for the likes of us. He adored Ned because Ned
had gone to his rescue when he was being beaten
up by some boys from the other side of town. Ned
was handy with his fists."
I could believe that. My memory of Ned was the
feeling that he must be very muscular under his
white shirt.
"Dickie followed Ned everywhere and tried to do
the same things he did. That brought him into
contact with Elma. One time when Ned and James
were off somewhere, Dickie and Elma got
together, so I was told. I'm not exactly sure
what they did, but it must have been pretty
steamy..."
Michael paused and I stole a glance at Arrow. She
was looking at him with wide eyes.
"Anyway, Ned and James found out about it. James
was inclined to laugh it off, but not Ned. He
challenged Dickie. The result was that Dickie had
to play The Game. If he won he would be clear.
If he lost he had to climb the cliff.
"He lost. The day was set for his punishment.
It rained all day, one of those rains that never
stop. And the fog. You couldn't see more than
a few feet. Dickie begged to have it postponed.
Ned said he had to do it or he, Ned, would throw
him off the cliff. You know the rest."
"I don't believe Ned would do that," Arrow said,
heatedly.
"He had a temper, that Ned," Michael said. "You
didn't want to cross him."
# # # #
"Do you believe Michael's story?" Arrow asked as
we headed south on A99.
"Before you make a judgment," I replied, "let me tell
you something else I found out. After Michael let
me into his email system he left me alone for
several minutes. I just happened to check his
email address book. One of the addresses is for
a James B.
"James Buchanan! Or it could be someone
else--like James Baker."
"The actual address is JB@tartan.com. Is that
enough to convince you?"
"If Michael is trying to hide the fact that he
knows James from us, it was careless of him
to let you into his email system."
"Especially since I can access my own email from
any computer," I said, smugly. "I didn't need to
use his email. In fact, I checked my email
messages yesterday and even sent some replies."
"Okay, Mr. Super-techie, tell me why Michael
doesn't want us to know that he knows
James."
I shook my head. "Damned if I know. But it does
make his story about Ned suspicious."
"You mean because he might be bad-mouthing
Ned to cover up for something James did?"
"Precisely. And if it is true, what would we tell Elma?"
"I wonder if Michael and James traded emails
yesterday."
"I didn't have time to check his inbox."
"Maybe we can extract the truth from this guy in
London--what's his name? Seamus Zebra?"
"Something like that."
# # # #
"We'll stop at Spean Bridge," I said, looking at
the map while Arrow drove. "Or we could go on
to Fort William."
"I remember Fort William from the drive up," Arrow
said. "It's rather large. I prefer the smaller places."
"Large being a relative term. It's not Glasgow
large--to say nothing of Los Angeles large. All
the people in northern Scotland wouldn't fill a
Los Angeles suburb."
"You know what I mean. The smaller towns are
more picturesque."
Speaking of picturesque, we were driving along
the southern shore of Loch Lochy. The smooth
surface of the water displayed a mirror image of
the cliff rising from the north shore of the loch.
The sun had decided to put in an appearance,
making the picture clean and sparkling.
"About getting rooms...," Arrow started, then stopped.
"The guidebook talks about several B & B's in Spean
Bridge," I said. I was becoming an expert at this
travel business.
"What I'm trying to say is, maybe we should get
only one room."
That was a surprise. I didn't have a suitable
answer prepared. "You mean with twin beds?"
Since we were on an expense account we
weren't exactly pressed for money. "What will
my father and John say if we put in an expense
report for only one room?"
"They won't say anything because they both
think you're gay. But no, not twin beds. After
all, we slept in the same bed last night."
"There were extenuating circumstances. If we did
it again I would expect to be more than just a
comfort to you. My male animal lust..."
"Karl, don't you like me?"
This was getting very confusing. Was she implying
what it sounded like she was implying? If so, was
it because she felt obligated to me? "Of course
I like you." Too glib, too pat. "You are smart,
and beautiful, and sexy. Of course I like you,"
I ended, lamely.
"But you don't want to sleep with me. I mean,
you don't want to have sex with me."
I was stuck for an answer. Along with her other
traits, Arrow was dangerous. Meaning that she
would be easy to fall for. How did I explain that?
"Am I damaged goods? Is that the problem?"
"Of course not."
"I mean from last night. I know that getting pawed
isn't in the same class as getting raped. But still..."
"It had no effect on my feelings about you." That
was only a little lie. How could something like
that not have some effect? "Arrow, I like you
very much. But I have a girlfriend."
We were entering the village of Spean Bridge.
Almost immediately, I spotted several B & B's
off to the left, and Arrow turned at my suggestion.
"There's Larry," Arrow said, as we approached
the first one.
"Larry?"
"The walker."
There he was, sitting in front of a B & B. Arrow
stopped the car and said, "He must be staying
there. So it has to be a good one."
I couldn't argue with that logic. We crossed
the narrow street and greeted Larry, who was
sitting in the sun in shorts and a T-shirt. I
noticed he was barefoot.
He was surprised to see us. "I took the day off
today," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "It wasn't
on my schedule. You would think, after all the
walking I've done, I'd know how to prevent
blisters."
"At least you've got a scenic place to rest,"
Arrow said.
"Yes." Larry pointed to some peaks in the distance,
with snow on them. "The tallest one is Ben Nevis,
the highest peak in the UK. The legend says that
when the snow on Ben Nevis melts, Scotland will
become independent from England."
After chatting with him for a minute I went inside
and booked two rooms.
# # # #
Larry lifted his beer mug and proposed a toast.
"May you be in heaven an hour before the devil
knows you're dead. Or is that Irish? I can never
remember."
Whatever it was, we drank to it. And to other
toasts. It was a relief to be with someone who
wasn't after something or trying to hide something.
As we ate dinner, Larry told us about himself.
"I'm going to hit the road again tomorrow," he said.
"It gets lonely being in one place, especially since
I don't have a car. I don't notice the loneliness
so much when I'm moving. I ended up walking
around town today, even though I was trying to
rest my feet."
"Are you married?" Arrow asked.
Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared to
be having fun. She hadn't mentioned our earlier
discussion again. She had changed into a very
flattering short skirt and blouse. Larry had
complimented her appearance, something I
should have done.
A shadow crossed Larry's face. "My wife died a
year and a half ago. She used to provide support
for me when I walked, even though it was boring
for her. She told people I was hard to explain. I
still am. But now I don't have anybody trying to
explain me. And her complaint was that after
walking 25 or 30 miles I couldn't have sex."
"But now you've had a day to rest," Arrow said.
"Yes, a day of rest works wonders for my old body."
"You're not old. Anybody who can walk 900 miles
is young."
We told him why we were there--it wasn't classified
information--and he said he owned some Dionysus
stock and was in favor of any action that would
make the price go up.
"I own other stocks too. As long as the stock market
holds up I can do this instead of working."
We weren't feeling any pain by the time we left the
restaurant. We walked through the streets of Spean
Bridge singing "My Bonnie Lassie," as well as we could
remember the words, and then "The Heather on the
Hill," from Brigadoon.
We climbed the stairs to the second floor of the
B & B. The doors to our rooms were on the same
hallway. Arrow stopped at her door and said to
Larry, "Would you like to come in for a minute?
You can show me on the map what route you're
taking."
Larry hesitated, and looked at me.
"Go ahead," I said, faking a yawn. "I'm beat. I'm
going to bed." I went into my room and shut
the door.
Beer sometimes gives me insomnia and the noises
I thought I heard through the wall didn't help, either.
Aces and Knaves copyright ©2002 Alan L. Cook
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