Page 30 of Savage Redemption

Ah, probably not fucking Maria after all, then. I do know Ethan Savage, at least by reputation. And his sister, a computer hackerpar excellence. He’s based in Scotland, but his business interests extend across the globe. He’s involved in the usual clubs, casinos, hotels, but also money laundering, counterfeit currency, and arms trading. He has a reputation for being hard as nails, ruthless, very security-conscious, but also an astute businessman. He has several more or less legit interests as well and occasionally invests in heritage projects.

“How does Savage fit into all of this?”

“He has a private island, something of a fortress. If I wanted to keep something, or someone safe, well, I can think of worse places.”

This rings a vague bell. I recall mention of an island in the Hebrides, an unlikely choice of headquarters for a global crime empire, but it seems to work for him.

De Podesta rattles on. “Most of his family live there. It’s very secluded, and heavily guarded. A perfect safe house…”

“Why would Savage be involved?”

“I’ve been doing some background checks. Savage and O’Neill are close allies, and O’Neill has done business with Nathan Darke.”

“Rosie’s father,” I breathe. De Podesta might actually be onto something. I’ve done my homework, too, and I know that Nathan Darke is an architect, with a track record of involvement in many high-profile deals and projects. It stands to reason he might do business with the likes of O’Neill and Savage. “I need to know more about this island. Exact location, number of guards, that sort of thing. And is there any direct link between Darke and Savage?”

“On it, boss. Meanwhile, I have an invoice…”

Grasping little weasel. Still, he’s done his job so far. “Send it over. I want daily updates, okay? So far, all this is conjecture. Ineed definitive proof that she’s on this island, and if not, where the fuck is she?”

I end the call before he can say anything more and reach for my laptop. There’s no point Googling Ethan Savage, or Jed O’Neill, their tracks will be deeply covered. But it’s amazing what you can discover on the dark web.

CHAPTER 9

Rosie

Life on Caraksayhas not turned out to be the ordeal I feared. Yes, it’s remote, with few visitors apart from migrating birds and breeding seals, but there are a lot more people here than I originally imagined, including a lot of women and children. Apart from the pilot, Magda, there’s the resident medic, Megan, Ethan’s wife, Cristina, the cook and housekeeper, Mrs McRae, and an older woman, Faith, who is apparently some sort of relative by marriage and lives in a cottage close to the cliff path. Two Belarusian teenagers live with her, and I’ve yet to work out their connection, but everyone seems to rub along well enough. It’s a real community, and Eva and I have been sort of absorbed into it.

On that first day, Jed and Casey showed us to our apartment in the converted castle. I gather it was once the home of Ethan’s brother, Aaran, and his wife and son, but they decided to relocate to the mainland. Better for her plumbing business, apparently. The apartment has two bedrooms, so we have plenty of space, including for when my dad hops over to visit.

We’d only been in the apartment for a few minutes when the housekeeper popped in to welcome us and explain the domestic arrangements. Despite the obvious wealth of the Savages, they keep a very informal home. There is little in the way of staff. Mrs McRae brings a team of cleaners over from the mainland once or twice a week to keep the place in good order, and occasionally caterers are hired for special events. There are no official mealtimes, apart from if Cristina decides to invite us to eat in the main hall which tends to be occasional and usually to celebrate a birthday or similar event.

Mrs McRae cooks for an army, and we all make or way down to the kitchen at around lunchtime and dinner time each day and help ourselves. We can eat there, in the huge kitchen, or take our meals back to wherever. Most of the men live in the cottages, and several of their families, too. If we feel like cooking for ourselves, we can just raid the massive larders, and if there’s anything in particular that we want, Mrs McRae orders it in.

There’s a sort of ferry service a couple of times a week, mainly for bringing in supplies. Most traffic between Caraksay and the mainland is by helicopter. Two days after Eva and I arrived, so did most of our belongings from Black Combe. Two crates of stuff, including both our violins.

My instrument is new. Well, new to me. It was handcrafted in 1709. I lost my original one when I was abducted in London. It had been a gift from Eva, when I was just ten. It’s loss is still a source of sorrow, I loved that violin, but I’m getting used to the replacement.

The instrument was a gift from my father in the early weeks after my return. He knew how much my original violin meant to me and how gutted I was to lose it. That one was nothing special, not really, but the sentimental value to me was immense, and I thought it was irreplaceable. That was, until they presented me with my gorgeous Scala Vilagio R.O. Stradivari Viotti. It washandcrafted by Ryszard Osowski, one of the finest violinmakers or ‘luthiers’ as they prefer to be known. It’s based on a model by an even more famous luthier, Antonio Stradivari himself. The lacquer was applied by hand, and it is crafted from well-seasoned tone woods. The body is made of deeply flamed maple.

It’s a thing of beauty, and I know my dad will have had no change from ten thousand pounds. I’m relieved to see it again.

Breakfast tends to be a communal affair and very hectic. Everyone descends on the kitchen to partake of an endless supply of bacon butties, coffee, and toast. The room is full of children of varying ages, all squabbling and jostling for the best seat, which for most of them is the seat closest to Ethan. He’s very good with them all and rarely seems to eat his breakfast without at least one toddler on his lap. The older ones are chivvied by their parents to get ready for school, and somehow, miraculously, all get bundled out on time.

The school run is by helicopter, and this is where Magda comes into her own. Her role is somewhere between a nanny and a pilot, and the family rely heavily on her. There’s always a massive exodus at about eight o’clock, followed by a blessed silence when the bedlam ends.

There’s no shortage of babysitters. Faith, Cristina, Magda, all are willing and offer frequently. Even some of the men are happy to get their hands dirty. Family is everything to the Savages, and the children here are treasured.

The main hall in the castle doubles as a playground. Basketball hoops and goalposts occupy one end, and when the weather permits, the men will take the children out into the courtyard for a mass kick about. It’s loud, boisterous, and everyone has a whale of a time.

“Do you need a hand?”

I’m in the kitchen grabbing a snack. I missed breakfast because Erin was fractious. Teething, probably, and I know it’ll pass, but I’ve had hardly any sleep for three days. I thought I could take advantage of her nap to help myself to a sandwich, but no such luck. She woke up and started screaming again. She’s inconsolable, and I guess I’ll have to take her back up to the apartment. At least then she won’t disturb the entire household.

The last person I’d expected to offer to help is the mighty Ethan Savage himself, but there he is, strolling across the kitchen to deposit his dirty coffee cup in the sink.

“No, I can manage. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. We’ll go back upstairs…” I pluck Erin from her baby carrier and head for the door.

“Wait.”

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