Alex Gray - The Riverman

Catherine glared at him, ‘You mean we , don’t you Graham? Don’t forget we’re all equity partners. That means we are Forbes Macgregor.’

‘And we all have plenty to lose,’ Malcolm added quietly.

Malcolm watched as the others left the boardroom, then rose to his feet. With shaky hands he put the untouched cup of coffee onto the tray then clutched the back of a chair as another spasm hit him. Stomach ulcer. They’d bought it without question. Just like everyone else. It was another lie to add to all the rest. But Catherine’s barb about his conscience had smitten him. If only she knew just what had been going on in his heart and mind these past few days. He hadn’t heard from Michael again and with every passing hour he wondered if the young man had indeed escaped from his kidnapper. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. There had been too much bloodshed already and for what? Yes, it was ironic but Catherine’s initial suspicions had been right. Malcolm was finding it hard to live with the knowledge of what had happened. Who was it that had said the truth could set you free? Now he knew what the truth really was. And it had made a prisoner of him.

Michael sank below the edge of the ditch. Sweat gathered on his hairline and trickled in fat droplets into his eyes. The skin on the back of his neck felt hot and dry where the late afternoon sun had burned it red.

JJ was back. Through the tall grasses bordering the ditch, Michael could see the front door swinging freely. Right now the man would be going from room to room, searching for him. He imagined the curses rending the fetid air within and felt his heart pounding in his chest as he lay there. Then another thought struck him: maybe this had all been part of JJ’s plan. Why had he never bothered to tie him up? Was it because this house was in such a lonesome place that nobody would find him? Or had he wanted his captive to make a run for it? Was he even now looking up towards this field, thinking to leave a corpse where only vultures would discover it?

The irrigation ditch was halfway between the two homesteads, an easy way to set the boundaries of the two properties, perhaps. Michael hoped to make it as far as the house on the horizon but the appearance of the van forestalled that idea. He ducked down lower as JJ’s stocky figure appeared on the dirt path. Had he left any traces to show his mad dash across the field? Or would the swaying grasses hide where he had fled?

Hardly daring to breathe, Michael waited. All his senses seemed to be heightened. His eyes flicked to a glittering green beetle wandering across the back of his hand. It tickled intolerably, its tiny feet tracing a path over his skin. If he could only brush it off. Above him a passing crow flew through the hot dense air, its wing-beats a swish of sound. And still he lay, never daring to move. Immobility would be his saving, he knew. If JJ should come upon him then one swift bullet would make an end of him. But while he remained motionless, the sun beating on his naked head, there was still a fragment of hope.

After what seemed an eternity Michael heard the sound of an engine starting up. Still he lay, terror gripping him. What if it was a ruse to make him show himself? He could imagine JJ standing by the vehicle, the engine running and his shotgun slung over his arm, waiting to train it on his prey. No. Better to wait until he was sure. The engine note changed and he could hear the tyres rumbling down the track then the distant whine as the van took to the open road once more.

The trembling in his body made him feel as if he were in the grip of some fever. Perhaps he was? In his weakened state there was no telling what he might have picked up.

Michael looked down at his hand. The beetle was gone. He blinked once then saw its shining carapace clinging to a single stalk of grass. It could only have been minutes since it had crawled over his skin but it seemed like hours. With a shuddering sob, he pulled himself up onto his elbows and looked over the ditch. There was no one there. Even the dust kicked up from the van’s wheels was drifting towards the edge of the field.

He looked ahead at the farmhouse. It seemed empty, maybe it was only a desolate shell of a place, but on further inspection he saw that the shingled roof was intact and a pile of sawn logs were stacked neatly to the side. With one fearful glance behind him, Michael raised himself up and began a clumsy run towards the farmhouse.

JJ glanced once at the petrol gauge. He’d enough to see him way beyond the county line. Things hadn’t gone according to plan. Something had happened and it could only have come from that bastard in Scotland. The bankteller had looked blank as he’d demanded the money from his new account. Then everything had started to unravel. There was no account set up after all. Somehow the big money that he’d expected from Forbes Macgregor had vanished into the ether. The six hundred thousand dollars he’d extorted from the Glasgow partner were all he had to show for his pains.

JJ had driven at breakneck speed, tyres screaming on the hot road. Then he’d arrived back to find Michael gone. The empty house had unnerved him. The Scotsman could be anywhere. Probably hitched a ride to the next town and it would only be a matter of time before the guy called the cops.

JJ didn’t look back at the old homestead as he drove on. So, he’d lost out on the biggest scam he’d ever tried. Well, there was still plenty of mileage in it if he played his cards right. Knowledge meant money and what this guy had told him could still be turned into big bucks. JJ’s eyes narrowed as he nodded at his reflection in the windshield. It wasn’t over yet. And his expertise as a hitman would keep him free for as long as he wanted.

‘Fancy a pint?’ Alec Barr stood in front of West just as he was packing his briefcase for the last time. He was about to shake his head, make an excuse, when the man’s eyes bored in to his. A hollow lie might alert Alec’s suspicions. It would be best to go along with him for now.

‘It’s a grand night. How about we take a wander over to the pub? Leave that babe magnet of yours in the garage for a change?’ Alec laughed out loud as if he’d said something really funny. West shrugged. That was fine with him. He was all ready to go in the morning. A quick pint with Alec might be just the very ploy to allay any trace of guilt. He’d talk about seeing the football at the weekend, about his team’s prospects for the League, something innocuous that could make it seem as though he’d be around for weeks to come.

It was a pleasant April evening and the signs of spring were already showing in the primary colours of daffodils, tulips and grape hyacinths stacked neatly into their window boxes outside the office building.

‘Let’s take this way round,’ Alec suggested, turning right towards the suspension bridge. West smiled his agreement. That was fine with him. He liked to look up and down the river from the swaying structure. It felt like being on the bridge of an ocean liner. Alec chatted companionably as they approached it. It was empty except for one man coming towards him carrying what looked like a case for snooker cues. West glanced away, not wishing to make eye contact with a stranger. This was a funny part of town; sometimes a drug addict would stop him blearily in the street, asking for a few pennies for a cup of tea. A few pennies to put stuff in his veins more like, West always scoffed to himself. That was one reason why he’d always preferred taking the Porsche across the road bridge into town whenever he was by himself.

A sudden nostalgia washed over him, taking him by surprise. He’d miss his car, his flat and yes, damn it, he’d miss this bloody city. For a moment he hesitated, staring ahead at Saint Andrew’s Cathedral and the glass-fronted building next to it reflecting the rush-hour traffic.