Page 46 of Savage Warrior

They are clearly not acquainted with Michelangelo, or they would have better forgeries.

“Thank you, Officer,” I reply. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, though. Not seen anyone for days. The weather, you see…”

He grunts. “You live in this location?”

His English is good but slightly accented. And again, his word choice is off. ‘This location’ rather than ‘here’. It’s bit like those scam emails from fake websites, good enough to pass a cursory inspection, but the clues are there when you look hard.

“I have a farm about three miles back there,” I lie. At least my choice of vehicle backs up my story. I cross my fingers that he doesn’t insist on searching the Land Rover. With the arsenal of weaponry I have stashed in the footwell, I can take out all four of these clowns before they know what’s hit them, and there would be no witnesses out here, but it would be awkward to have to dispose of a pile of bodies right now.

Another grunt. He strolls around the vehicle again, trying to peer through the windows. I’m glad they’re tinted in the rear.

He returns to the front of the car and mutters something to his colleague. The pair of them lift the barrier over to the side of the road, and he waves me on.

I smile politely and drive away.

When I’m far enough past to be fairly sure they aren’t following us, I call out to Arina to come back into the front. She clambers over the seats and plops back into her place.

“What was that about? Who were they looking for?” she demands.

“You.” I pass my phone back to her. “The one who did all the talking was Piatro Velkov. You’ll find him among that lot.”

“But they were police,” she protests. “Are the British authorities searching for me?”

“They weren’t police,” I answer. “They just stole the uniforms.”

“But—”

“The real owners are probably lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Oh God…”

“Quite. They’re obviously very keen to get a hold of you and prepared to risk stirring up a whole heap of shit to do it. My guess is they’ll be widening their search from where they last saw you, but luckily for us this is a big area, and the weather will have covered any tracks.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to do what we have to do in Inverness, then head on south.”

“We’re not going back to the cabin?”

“Best not. They’ll get there, sooner or later. We’d be cornered.”

For once she sees the sense in what I’m saying and simply nods.

CHAPTER 13

Rome

I detour to drop in on a firm of solicitors. Savage and Southern maintain a small branch office in Inverness, though their headquarters are in Edinburgh. The ‘Savage’ part of the enterprise is a cousin of Ethan’s which gives us access to their somewhat exclusive and exceptionally expensive services. They are good at making awkward criminal proceedings disappear, as well as handling our major commercial litigation affairs as required. More to the point on this occasion, the firm acts as agents for Friedman’s, the private bank that handles most of our financial affairs. As one of Ethan’s inner circle, I get to invest there, too, which is fortunate as where else would I be able to lay my hands on ten thousand pounds in cash at less than an hour’s notice?

That part of the business concluded, and a wad of notes safely stored in the glove compartment, we meet Michelangelo in a backstreet pub close to Inverness city centre. He’s a sullen old bugger at the best of times, but it’s clear he doesn’t appreciate being dragged out of wherever he normally hides in this weather.

“Ye picked a fine day for it,” he observes when Arina and I slide into the seats opposite him in the corner of the murky taproom. “Who’s this?” He glares at Arina under lowered brows.

“Your customer,” I reply. “Speaking of which, do you have the goods?” I know he keeps a stash of ‘blank’ passports ready to doctor to order. I just need to pay him and we’re in business.

His shifts his gaze to me. “Do you have the money?”

I slide the wad of cash across the grimy, sticky table. The crisp new notes are barely cool from the press. It seems a shame to sully their pristine perfection in this place, but needs must.

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