Return to The Deep (From The Deep Book 2) (15 page)

"Ah, right on time," Victor said, grinning at Greg's discomfort. "These are the Russev brothers. The tall one here is Alexi. His English isn’t so good but he knows enough to get by. This is his brother Pavel. You speak to him mostly, he knows English well."

"I don’t understand," Greg replied, both confused and a little afraid of the most recent events.

"They are my insurance policy, chaperones if you will," Victor said, unleashing another sleazy grin.

"For what?"

"They will stay with you, assist you."

"This wasn’t part of the deal, Victor. We had an agreement, I already have my assistants."

"You sound ungrateful," Victor said, the shift in his voice reminding Greg to be cautious.

"I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful, I just don’t understand."

Greg glanced at the Russev brothers, who stared back with icy indifference.

"You don’t think I would just turn my boat over to you and leave you to your own devices?" Victor chuckled.

"I, uh, I thought those were the terms of our agreement."

"It seems you misunderstood," the sleazy Italian said. "The Russev’s will accompany you, to keep an eye on things, to make sure you don’t put my beautiful boat at risk whilst you search for your monster. Besides, they can assist you with the cargo you requested and make sure it's handled safely."

"No disrespect, but I can handle it myself."

Victor stared at Greg’s singular hand and grinned. "I don't agree. Besides which, this is non-negotiable."

Greg squirmed, which only seemed to increase Victor's enjoyment.

"Okay, maybe they can be of some use," Greg said, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach.

"Very good, I knew you would see things my way," Victor replied, clapping his hands together. "There is just one more thing."

"Go on."

"These men, the Russevs," Victor said as he patted the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, "they are good men. Some of the best. Very efficient, very much in demand. I'm afraid their services are going to cost an extra five thousand."

"But I didn’t-" Greg stopped, sensing the dangerous shift in atmosphere. Both Victor and the Russev’s were staring at him, and he thought that if he pushed much harder, he might find himself tied to the anchor and dropped overboard.

"Mr Mallone," Greg said, forcing himself to remain calm, "please try to understand, this offer, as generous as it was, is completely unexpected. I don’t have the money to pay for this. I'm cleaned out."

Victor paused for a second, flicking his tongue against his top lip like some fat desert lizard. "Okay, I see the dilemma. Here's what I’m going to do. I'll give you the Russev’s now on the understanding that you pay me when you bring my boat back. Because I consider you a friend, I'll only charge you interest at a thousand a day. I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if you don’t pay up."

"No, I understand," Greg said, his stomach tightening as he was pushed further into a deal he had no means of honouring. "I appreciate it, thank you."

"What are friends for?" Victor beamed. "You go out now and you find your fish. Your boat will be at Washington dock. When you return my boat and bring me my money, you will get it back, understood?"

Greg nodded.

II

Ten minutes later, Greg stood on the deck of the Lady of the Mist with Tom, Fernando, Jim Joanne and Marie watching his boat as it headed back to land, taking Victor and his men with it. He hoped he would feel better once the slobbering Italian was on his way, yet the noose around his neck, if anything, felt tighter. The Russev's had already headed below deck, and Greg was left with the problem of not only locating the creature, but also doing it as quickly as possible to avoid falling too far into debt with Victor.

"Okay," he said with a sigh, "let's get moving, shall we?"

"How will we know where to look?" Tom asked.

Greg grinned. "It will be easier than you think."

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Scottish highlands were being barraged by blustery winds and icy rain, which stung the skin. The rolling green grasses off the dirt path danced under its power as Rainwater trudged towards his destination. Squinting against the elements, he could see the house down the hill sitting on the edge of the water that was white tipped and violent as it slammed against the dock. He had arrived unannounced, and only hoped he had come to the right place.

The wind howled in his ears and rocked him on his heels, slapping his sodden jacket against him.

The house stood alone, a singular wooden property. Outside, there was a rusty red truck without wheels, propped up on bricks with its innards missing. There were also buckets of fishing line and mounds of what Rainwater could only call junk, piles of things that seemed to have little in the way of practical use. A set of old car tyres, dozens of rusty steel containers piled haphazardly, and stacks of wood pallets stacked by the house, which for all intents and purposes looked uninhabited. Rainwater walked towards the door, every bit as cold, wet, and miserable, as the weather, and half wondering what he would do if the person he was looking for wasn’t home, didn’t live there any more, or was even still alive.

He knocked on the door and waited, praying someone would answer. He hadn’t had a drink since he left America, and his addiction was screaming at him for attention. He knocked again, and cupped his hands to look through the grimy windows, only able to see shadowy husks of furniture within.

"Can ae help ye?"

Caught by surprise, Rainwater spun around to face the man who was walking towards him from the water’s edge. He was wearing a tattered green parka and red baseball cap. In one hand, he was carrying a fishing rod, in the other, two magnificent trout with their skin glistening in the rain.

"I'm looking for someone," Rainwater said as the man stopped in front of him.

"Who ye after?" the man said, his Scottish accent thick and difficult for Rainwater to understand.

"Ross Mackay. I was told he lived here."

The man nodded, his eyes shining behind the shadow of his hat. "You a yank?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yank. Are ye one?"

"Uh yeah. I’m American," Rainwater said.

"You from the Government?"

"No."

"Then whataya after?"

"My name is Henry Rainwater, I was looking for-"

"Rainwater ye say?" The man said, showing a little interest.

"Yes."

The man nodded. "Aye, well, it looks like you found who you were tryin' to find."

"You're Ross Mackay?"

"Aye, that I am."

"You don’t know me but I was-"

"You were pals with me brother."

Rainwater nodded, running a hand through his rain sodden hair. "That’s right. He saved my life."

"Still dead though."

"Yes, I’m afraid so."

"So whaddya want with me?"

Rainwater looked around the isolated landscape. "I just wanted to get away from my old life and start fresh. Just before he died, your brother told me I should come here if I felt like I needed to leave my past behind."

"Were ye with him, on the boat when it wen' down?"

"Your brother didn’t die at sea," Rainwater said. "I know that’s what the government told you, but it’s not how it went down."

Ross didn’t look in the least bit surprised, then strode past Rainwater handing him the fish as he approached the door. "Ye better come in then and fill me in. We'll see what happens after that dependin' on what ye have tae tell me."

II

Rainwater followed Ross into the cabin, glad to be out of the rain. His host shrugged off his jacket and hung it on one of the pegs by the door, did the same with his hat half turned to Rainwater. "Ye can put the fish in the kitchen, and then hang yer coat up. Ah don’t want ye drippin' water all over mah floors."

Rainwater nodded and looked around the open plan space. It was filled with the clutter of a single man. The entire back wall of the room was an enormous bookcase filled with dusty leather bound books alongside the more modern, glossy literature. Through an open door, Rainwater could see the foot of an iron bedstead, through another the white edge of a bath. To his right the living area was small but inviting, and dominated by a stone fireplace and what looked like a regularly used log fire. To his left was the only other door, which Rainwater presumed must be the kitchen. Ross was on his knees in front of the fireplace loading logs into the hearth, for the time being, completely ignoring his houseguest. Rainwater pushed open the door, relieved to see that he was right, and the kitchen lay beyond. Like the rest of the house, it was simple in its decor. Tired wood table, old-fashioned cupboards around the outer edge, and on the far wall, a white cooker that looked like it was from the seventies, a white double fridge freezer and washing machine.

Rainwater put the fish in the sink and took another look around the dingy room, his eyes locking onto the bottle of Famous Grouse whisky on the countertop. His guts ached to taste it, but Rainwater knew that it wouldn’t help his cause if he were to help himself to his hosts booze before they had even settled down to talk. Forcing his addiction aside for the time being, he returned to the sitting room.

Ross had managed to light the fire, and it hissed and crackled as it devoured the wood. Rainwater slipped off his sodden jacket and hung it up as instructed.

"Sit yersel' doown," Ross said, motioning to the dog-eared chair by the fire as he took his own seat. Rainwater instead headed to the fireplace, warming his hands on the flames and trying to rid some of the chill from his bones. Ross waited for Rainwater to warm his hands and take his seat. In the glow of the fire, Rainwater couldn’t help but be awed, without the heavy coat pulled up over his neck and the baseball cap covering his face, by how much Ross resembled his brother. They were almost identical.

"So," Ross said with a sigh as he grabbed a beaten tin of tobacco from the arm of the chair and began to roll a cigarette. "Tell me what happened with mae brother."

"Well, I take it the government gave you the sinking boat story."

"Aye, arse faced prick called up to the hoose tae tell me."

"Well, that's not what happened. You know about the accident on the Red Gold? The sinking?"

"Aye, I know it." Ross's expression changed. "You're him, you're that Harris kid."

"You know about me?"

"Oh aye, our Jimmy, told me all aboot you."

"Jimmy," Rainwater said wistfully, "I never knew him as that. He was always just Mackay to me."

"Sounds aboot right. He never did like his name. Didn’t think it fit."

Rainwater nodded and stared into the fire, which was slowly starting to warm the room.

"So," Ross said, putting the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, "about mah brother. What happened?"

Rainwater wasn’t sure which laws he was actually breaking by disclosing what had actually happened to Mackay, and he cared even less. He relayed it all as best he could remember. When he was done, the fire was roaring in the hearth and the room was warm. Like his brother before him, Ross wasn’t one to jump in or interrupt. Instead, he listened without comment. Rainwater finished, feeling infinitely better for getting this particular monkey off his back. He waited for a reaction from Ross, who was watching him, flames reflecting in his eyes from the fire.

"Alright," he said, tossing the end of his cigarette into the flames.

"That’s all you have to say? Don’t you have questions or anything?"

"Nope. Ye answered all mah questions."

Rainwater stammered, and shifted in his seat.

"Wassamater wi ye?"

"Nothing, I just... I thought you might have more to say, that’s all."

"Nothin else te say."

"So you believe me?"

"Aye. It sounds more like oor Jimmy the way ye describe it. Better than the fookin' shite story I was given first time roond anyway. As fer yer sea monster, well,
I’ll keep mae opinions tae masel'."

"Okay, I respect that."

"So, wi that outa tha way, what is it ye really want?"

Rainwater cleared his throat, unsure if he even really knew the answer to the question. "Well, I was hoping to stay here for a while, clear my head. I'm willing to work of course, whatever it takes to earn my keep."

"I’m not so sure aboot that. As ye might ae noticed, this place ain’t exactly welcomin'.There's a reason it’s oot ere in tha middle o’ nowhere. I like mah privacy. Ah don’t like to be bothered."

"I won’t get in your way. I just need a quiet place away from the world to get my head together. Somewhere off the grid, somewhere I can stay hidden if I want to. Somewhere like this."

Ross didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his tobacco tin and started to roll another cigarette. "Our Jimmy sais you were a fisherman once, before all this monster talk. Are ye willing to go oot on the water?"

Rainwater looked out of the window at the churning, white tipped waters of the lock. "Yeah, I fish."

"Ah know ye fish. Ahm askin' if yer willin to go oot there?"

"What do you catch?"

"Trout or salmon. None o' those king crabs mah brother used to fish in the Bering sea. Mug's game that. Dangerous stuff."

"The lock," Rainwater said, trying to choose his words carefully, “is it...landlocked?"

"Aye, it is. Don’t worry, lad, yer monster won’t find ye here. Oor Nessie might though, eh?" Ross said with a smile.

"So I can stay then?"

"As long as ye earn yer keep, and only because yer a pal of oor Jimmy, else ye'd be doown the road."

"Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Aye well, let’s just see hoow it all works oot. Ahm not used to havin people aroond."

"As I said, I’ll keep out of your way."

"Ye'll ave tae kip on the sofa. Only got one bed."

"That's fine. I don’t mind."

"Alright then. Ye start earning ye keep in the morn. Up at half past five. I wanna be oot on the water by six."

"Understood. I’ll be ready."

"There’s just one thing ah doont understan'," Ross said as he lit his cigarette. "Why oot here? Don ye have a lassie? Someone tae help ye get through whatever this is yer hidin’ from?"

"No, not anymore. I did once. She was part of it too, the expedition to find the creature. She was with me when Mackay sacrificed himself to save us. Anyway, for a while after, we were together, we were helping each other to get through, and then, things changed."

"She cheat on ye?" Ross asked.

"No. She outgrew me. It was my fault. I was just too stupid to see it until it was too late."

"Aye, women'l do that te ye. Makes a man really see his limitations, eh lad?"

"Yeah, well, she made me see mine. I just didn’t know how to deal with them."

"So where is she noow, this lassie o’ yours?"

"I don’t know," Rainwater said with a sigh, "I really have no idea."