Savage Redemption (The Caraksay Brotherhood #10)

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

E than

The only sound is the drone of the rotor as we skim over the choppy surface of the North Atlantic. There’s a storm heading our way, and Magda is flying low to avoid most of the turbulence. Hopefully we’ll be back on Caraksay before it hits.

As if she hears my thoughts… “ETA twenty minutes.”

“Good.” On a clearer day the island would be visible by now, but not today. Today, Caraksay is shrouded in grey mist. It’s already starting to rain and will only get worse, but I know better than to ask her to hurry. The best pilot I know, Magda makes all the calls when it comes to flying.

We touch down right on schedule, the chopper buffeted by winds which must be close to eighty miles an hour. The rain is horizontal and bitterly cold. I leap down onto the tarmac, pull my collar up around my ears, and sprint for the castle entrance. Jack, Nico, and Rome are hard on my heels, and we all burst into the hall together.

“Christ, what shit weather,” Rome mutters unnecessarily, making a beeline for the fireplace where a roaring blaze has been lit.

The rest of us dump our soaked outer garments and join him to warm our hands. I offer up silent thanks for Mrs McRae whose work this surely is, but the flames remind me of the odious Mr Burnside who I gather has been badgering Tony to arrange a meeting. I suppose I’ll have to phone him, but tomorrow will do. Right now, all I want is to find my wife and?—

“Savage. I need a word with you.” The angry tone rings across my great hall.

I turn. Slowly. “Mr Darke. How nice.”

He marches across the hall to plant himself right in front of me. “She’s gone,” he announces. “And I blame you.”

“Do you want me to…?” Jack raises his eyebrows and nods in the direction of the irate Nathan Darke.

“Yes, probably. Just a moment, though.” I regard the man briefly and decide to hear what he has to say. “What seems to be the problem, Nathan?”

“Rosie, that’s the problem.”

“Ah.”

“She’s gone.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What part of ‘she’s gone’ don’t you get?”

Jack moves to grab him, but I raise my hand to stop him. “Explain, but keep a civil tongue in your head unless you want to pay a visit to my cells until you cool down.”

I don’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that flashes across his features. He’s just realising I mean it.

“Rosie’s gone,” he repeats.

“I gathered that much. Do you need me to arrange a search?” I think of the stinking weather outside. This is all we need.

“She’s not on the island. I already checked. She left yesterday, said she was going shopping.”

“Alone?” What was Tony thinking?

“Yes, I suppose so. Mr Haigh said there were no guards to spare, not that she should need a bodyguard to do a bit of shopping. She went to Glasgow and should have been back by yesterday evening.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “She’s gone looking for San Antonio. I know it.”

“Oh. Is Rosie not back yet?” Magda has just followed us indoors, having stayed behind to secure the helicopter.

“You know about this?” I move over to let her get close to the fire.

“Yes. I dropped her off at the heliport in Glasgow and watched her hop in a taxi. She was going to John Lewis’s, I think. She rang me a while later to say she was held up and would get a taxi to Oban and take the ferry back. I told you all this, Mr Darke.”

“You left her. On her own, in Glasgow.” His tone is accusing, and I’m not having it.

“Magda has other responsibilities apart from babysitting your daughter, Nathan. She probably missed the ferry, or it got cancelled because of the weather.” I’m trying to keep him quiet while I think. The ferry is our own private service and runs when we need it, not to any timetable. Rosie couldn’t have missed it.

“She’s not answering her phone,” he snarls. “Not to me, or Eva. And she left Erin with Eva, so surely…”

I take his point. He’s probably right to worry, and I suspect he’s also right about where she’s gone. “Let me have a word with Tony. In the meantime, I suggest you go back to your apartment. I’ll let you know if I have any news.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You need to?—”

Now I do give Jack the nod. “Escort Mr Darke back to his apartment, if you would, please. And I strongly suggest, Nathan, that you stay there until you hear from me, or you will see the inside of my cells.” I sincerely hope he heeds my advice. Really, I need him back overseeing the construction work not languishing downstairs.

Jack, aided by Rome, bundles a protesting Nathan Darke out of the hall, and I turn to Magda again. “Is that all she said? That she was going to John Lewis?”

“Yes. Just a quick trip to buy some earrings, I think. For Eva’s birthday. I’d have waited, or tried to pick her up somewhere in the city centre, but I had all the kids on board, and?—”

“You did the right thing. It was all you could do. Look, you get warmed up, I’ll see what I can find out.” I leave her to dry out by the fire while I take the stairs two at a time. I find Tony in my office.

“Boss.” He gets to his feet. “I didn’t realise you were back.”

“Well, I am. And there was a welcoming committee waiting.”

“Nathan Darke?”

“The very same. Cornered me in the hall. He’s very upset.”

“Don’t I know it? He’s been camped out here for most of the day, demanding that I send a small army to Tenerife to extract his precious daughter.”

“He seems convinced that’s where she’s gone. What did she tell you?”

He relates much the same tale I’ve already heard, adding a sincere apology for falling soft and allowing Rosie to leave the island.

“Hindsight is wonderful,” I reply. “And as you say, she’s not a prisoner.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Tony wonders.

“For now, nothing. Even if she has gone to Tenerife, I don’t see why Kaminski would harm her. More likely he’d put her straight on a plane and send her back here.”

“San Antonio seemed to think Kaminski already threatened her,” he reminds me.

“I know, but I’m pretty certain that was just posturing to put pressure on Adan.”

“But, what if…?”

I consider for a few moments. “You’re right. I’ll phone Kaminski and ask if he’s seen her.”

“No. The girl isn’t here, to the best of my knowledge.” Kaminski flatly denies having clapped eyes on Rosie.

“Well, she’s only been missing since yesterday so could still be on her way. Will you let me know if she shows up?”

“Of course. Is that all?”

“Not quite. What about San Antonio?”

“What about him?”

“Don’t mess me about, Kaminski. Is he still with you?”

There’s a silence, then, “Just explain to me again what the fuck this has to do with you, Savage.”

“So, he is still there.”

“We have unfinished business, and it doesn’t concern you.”

“Is he safe?”

“For now.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, this conversation is over. Goodbye, Savage.” The phone goes dead.

There’s silence for a few seconds, then, “He means to kill him,” I breathe. “Fuck.”

“Sounds like it.” I meet Tony’s gaze. “Which means, if he does have the girl, or gets his hands on her, the chances are she won’t be seen again either.”

“Darke will raise merry hell. He’ll certainly go to the police. Or the papers.”

“Who could blame him?” I redial. It’s something of a long shot, but maybe if I explain in words of one syllable that I want Adan and Rosie released alive, he’ll actually listen. We are supposed to be allies, after all.

The dial tone rings and rings, and eventually goes to voice mail. I end the call and dial Jack’s number instead.

“Boss?”

“Is Darke safely tucked up?”

“Yes. He’s not quiet, though.”

“Leave someone to guard him. I don’t want him loose about the island until I say so. Assemble the rest of the men and come up here. Conference, in my office, in ten minutes.”

I survey the room. Ten men are seated around the conference table, another five lounge around the perimeter of the room. Apart from the men, Cristina, Megan, and Magda are also present. I outline the situation, as far as I know it.

“So,” I conclude. “The question is, do we intervene or stay out of it?” My organisation is not a democracy, the final decision will be mine. But I find it pays to listen to advice.

“San Antonio knew the risks when he went there,” Rome observes.

“True,” I concur. “Anyone else?”

“We owe him. After the fire.” This from Cristina. “Yes, he knew what he was potentially letting himself in for, but still…”

“Rosie didn’t know,” is Jack’s contribution.

Tony chips in. “Are we sure of that? After what happened to her before, she can’t be under any illusions about how dangerous men like Kaminski can be.”

I tend to agree with Tony, but I don’t think na?veté is exactly a capital offence. “Men like Kaminski? You mean, men like us, surely.”

“Oh, no.” Tony isn’t having that. “We’re nothing like him. We wouldn’t murder an innocent girl, a young mother, just because she got in our way. Just because she made a silly mistake.”

A chorus of muttered agreement and nods ripples round the room. Everyone sees the distinction, and no one is content to let events take their course.

“I guess we’re going to Tenerife, then,” Rome announces. “Should be nice, this time of year.”

“Magda? How quickly could we?—?”

“It’ll be faster by jet,” she replies. “And safer, too, in this weather. Between me and Jamie and the two choppers we could get a dozen men to Oban airport within, say, two hours.”

“I’ll check with our ground staff at Oban and make sure the jet is ready to leave as soon as we get there.” Cristina is already scrolling on her phone for the number of the ground staff coordinator. The private jet is permanently on standby at Oban, our link to the rest of the world. “I assume Magda will fly it. Will a dozen men be enough?”

Magda got her fixed wing licence a couple of years ago. There isn’t that much call for it, we mostly rely on the choppers, but just occasionally it’s very useful indeed. And Cristina has a point about the number of men we might require. I have no idea how many men Kaminski can muster at short notice, but it’s sure to be more than twelve. “Jack? How many at Caernbro Ghyll?”

Caernbro Ghyll is the mansion on the outskirts of Glasgow which used to be our family home before I relocated all of us to Caraksay. It now serves as our mainland headquarters and provides accommodation for as many of our men as require it.

“Twenty or so. I can get them mobilised, but it would probably be quicker if we fly from Glasgow. They could be there in an hour. Oban’s a lot further by road.”

“Agreed. Glasgow it is. Magda? Cristina? Any problems with that?”

They both shake their heads.

“I can easily touch down briefly at Glasgow to collect our reinforcements. I’ll go and organise the transport at our end. Depart in thirty minutes?” Magda darts from the room.

Jack is already on the phone to Nico, currently in charge at Caernbro Ghyll. He ends the call. “That’s sorted.”

The room empties within moments. The men need no further instructions. This is a well-practiced routine. They’ll all the on the forecourt, equipment loaded, when it’s time to depart. Megan and Cristina are the last to leave. I call the pair of them back.

“Megan, we could do with having you on board. There’s no telling what condition Rosie and Adan will be in when we get to them.”

“Fair enough, boss. I’ll go put a field kit together.”

I wait until the door swings shut behind her. “Sweetheart? You said ‘we’. ‘When we get there.’”

“Yes.” She glares at me. “I want to come.”

“You know that’s impossible. I need you here. You run this place while I’m away.”

“You could leave one of the men behind. I want to be there. San Antonio saved my boy. Our boy.”

“I know that. That’s one of the main reasons we’re going in after him, and you need to trust me to get the job done.”

“I do trust you. Of course I do, but?—”

“I can’t spare any of the men. I’m relying on you to make the flight arrangements, make sure our jet is fired up, fuelled, and ready to take off as soon as we get to Oban, then take charge here, coordinating everything.”

I’m not trying to humour her. It’s true, I don’t want my wife in the middle of a war zone, but it’s also the truth that no one handles logistics better than Cristina. “Please,” I add. “I need to know I can rely on you.”

She glares at me some more, then finally softens. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Immediately, she’s all business. “Our jet’s a fifty-seater. Will that be big enough?”

“Perfect.” I drop a kiss on her mouth. “I love you.”