The Life We Lead: Ascending (11 page)

Calum was waiting in the pub when James
arrived. He was a short man with a potbelly, long sideburns, and a
rather withdrawn hairline. The hair that remained was speckled with
gray, as were his bushy eyebrows. His rather large legs looked odd
against the rest of his frame.

James laughed to himself when he realized the
pub had the same characteristics as Calum. Like Calum, it was very
wide but rather short in length. Like his hair, a straw overhang
was bald in places and rather decayed in others. Also like Calum,
the walls seemed to have a bowing bulge. The difference was the
walls looked this way because a variety of pictures hung on
them.

As James entered, an elderly couple was
leaving. The old lady bumped a picture near the door on the wall.
James caught it and hung it back up. It was part of a variety of
different scenic views with the same group of friends in each.

“Calum?” James asked, turning toward the
bar.

“Aye. You’d be Stephen then?” came a rather
thick Scottish accent. “Well, pull up a seat there, lad, and have a
pint. William, a pint here,” Calum said, addressing the
bartender.

“Thank you, but stomach troubles today, a
pint wouldn’t do so good for me,” James said quickly.

“Bring the pint still. I’ll have it then.”
Calum picked up his own glass and finished it in a few gulps.

“Can I fetch you anything?” William asked
with a slight whistle to his deep voice. He was missing a few
teeth. Tall and bald with bright blue eyes, he looked to be in his
sixties and appeared in many of the pictures on the walls.

“Just water, please. Oh, and maybe a basket
of chips, yeah?” and William nodded.

“So, you are in need of some sort of
information, then. Well, what is it exactly you are looking for,
lad?” Calum asked this very directly and clearly, and James was
taken back at his bluntness.

“Aye, but is it okay ...?” he began. He’d
already memorized the room and exits. He’d read the people in it
and scanned it visually for cameras.

“We talk here and now or not at all. I am not
one for doing all the foolery. This place is safe. Now what is it
that you need? I was told you were a man to listen to then, right?
So I am listening. What is it, then?” Calum let out a belch, picked
up his draught of beer, and drank, his gray eyes staring at
James.

“Right, I am looking for information on the
drug rings between Italy, Asia, Afghanistan, Russia, and the U.S. I
also want to know how they relate to Aberdeen and Lima,
Peru,” said James, recovering quickly.

Calum set down his beer and picked up his
knife and fork to work his shepherd’s pie. “A lot, that. Afraid I
don’t know most of that, then.” He took a bite of the pie.

As Calum chewed, James asked, “What bits do
you know?”

Calum calmly swallowed, cleared his throat,
and continued as if James had not spoken. “Seems to be a lot that
is none of my concern. I was told you helped my nephew out of a
spot. Told I should give you a listen. Maybe the best way I can
help you and pay my bloody nephew’s debt to you is to tell you a
story. Do you know the story called ‘The Stone Wishes’?”

James shook his head as William laid his
English style chips and water in front of him. He also registered
that Calum was lying about Petior being his nephew. His eyes had
dropped both times he’d said “nephew.” In fact, James would bet
Calum didn’t have any nephews at all.

Calum took a few bites of food, swallowed,
and began. “There was once this bit of a lake that people would
come to chuck a bit of stone into to make a wish. The lake was on
this farmer’s land and legend had that the farmer had found the
wishing lake and had chucked a stone into it with a wish he had
marked with wax. He had wished to be very successful and rich on
his farm. It goes that the stone he had thrown came back right at
the spot he had thrown it a moon later, but smooth and without the
wax. Within the season, his wish had come true, so he decided to
share this great wishing lake with others.”

Calum paused to take a long drink of his
beer. “Another pint then, William,” he called. “Well, the farmer
set up a platform to cast from and a spot for rocks. He charged a
quid to come up to the lake, one a throw, and another for coming
back to try to recover the rock. He told those who came it was just
a small charge to help with all the traffic and such, you know. He
had signs advising how best to write and identify the rock. People
came, and they did as they said. It became so popular, he had to
hire a few extra hands to help.”

Another pause for a drink and to finish off
his food, followed by more burping, before he continued. “One day,
an older woman from the village came. She was loved by all the town
but rather poor. She paid her fees, wrote her message, and gave her
stone a toss. She did this once a week for a month. She then
continued to come back and look for each rock. Each time, she was
disappointed to find it was still written upon. The farmer noticed
and felt bad for her on her second-to-last stone. After she left,
he walked down and read what she had written on it. She wanted to
win the lottery for £1,000.

“Each day,” Calum continued, “the farmer had
been going to the lake and collecting all the stones that had been
thrown. He stored them in a shed and marked which day he would have
to set them out for people to come find. He found the bucket for
the next week, took the stone with the winning lottery request, and
wiped it smooth of wax. The next day, he made arrangements to have
a fake notice sent to the woman in two weeks time with a winning
deposit for £1,000. He also arranged for the local press to find
out. He was relying on the old woman to say she had cast a stone
into the lake. This would increase business, and the £1,000 was
just an investment for the advertising.”

James wondered where this was going. The
story was dragging a bit.

“A week later, the old woman came back and
found her smooth stone and was very excited. She cried out to
everyone and showed them her smooth stone. The crowd cheered and
congratulated her, but in a half hearted manner. After all, she was
the only one to have a successful wish, besides the farmer,
then.

“Well, a week later, the beloved lady got the
notice as designed and died from a heart attack on the spot from
the excitement. However, the word spread like fire and suddenly
there were traffic jams and more people at the lake than the farmer
could manage. There were so many people that they abandoned the
normal path and began cutting through his crops to get to the lake.
The crowd was unmanageable and certainly had no concern about
paying for their turn. The police were not much help, as the local
authorities did not have the means to address such a crowd.

“After the second day of nonstop people, the
farmer’s crops had suffered a lot of damage, and he hadn’t been
able to collect any fees, not that it mattered, as he wasn’t able
to collect the cast stones. He eventually had to try to close
everything off, just to gain some sleep and turn people off his
land.”

James noticed William listening and frowning
at the story as Calum continued.

“On the third day, there was a knock on the
farmer’s door at dawn. The police were there with the local news.
This had become such a sensation that the lottery commission had
heard about it. Upon investigating, they discovered the old woman
had not played the lottery and they hadn’t sent her any money. The
police searched the farmer’s property and found the buckets of
rocks with wax on them.”

Calum paused and finished his beer with a
smack of his lips before continuing. “The media exposed the story,
and the crowds were gone. The police issued a hefty fine double all
the funds the farmer had gotten from the wishing lake for all the
trouble the fake story caused, as well as for running a fraud that
involved the lottery system. But they didn’t arrest him, as he
hadn’t cost the lottery system any money.

“The farmer lost all his money and had no
crops at all,” Calum concluded. “He was ruined and had to move away
because he couldn’t afford his mortgage any longer. Plus, the local
townspeople blamed him for the old lady’s death and were mad in
general for the lies, though they’d never really believed in the
wishing lake in the first place.”

“So the moral of the story is that greed will
be your undoing?” James didn’t think much of the story. Either
Calum was drunk or a bad storyteller, or he was making it up as he
went. All in all, it was a bad story that James barely
followed.

“Hell, lad, I didn’t say that. You can take a
fair few things from that about greed or lying or just being a bit
dumb in leaving discoverable things about, or maybe that wishing
and relying on that isn’t enough to make anything real. Or,
perhaps, doing something you wish for might not be the best thing
for you.” The last part was the message, and James knew it. It was
the same message Petior had given him.

“The farmer wasn’t successful because of the
wish,” James countered. “He made the wishing lake up after he’d
harvested a good crop. He wished to be rich, and he got in over his
head and lost everything.”

“As you like, lad, as you like,” Calum said.
He handed James an envelope. “This man was an associate of Anthony
Spara. I don’t know what else you’ve been on about, but they had a
falling out. I assume all is even. Good luck, and don’t lose your
farm.” He threw some money on the bar, clasped James’s
shoulder, waved to William, and exited.

A real lead. James hadn’t mentioned anyone’s
name, but there it was, plain as day. Anthony Spara.

James quickly left. Twenty minutes later, he
was parking at the hotel and climbing out of his car when his phone
rang.

“Hello?” James
answered.

“Hello, John, this is Carissa. We uhh, bumped
into each other earlier.”

With a slight chuckle, James said, “Hi
Carissa, how is your evening going, then? All well and no car
troubles, I hope?”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I wanted tae call and say
sorry again. I feel really bad and you were so sweet and all.
Didn’t care for the cars until you were sure I was fine and all.
Then asked so nicely about a supper. Listen, you are free tomorrow,
right?” She said all this fast, as if she had practiced.

“No problems, and yeah, I’m free.” James
smiled widely, completely unaware that he was doing so.

“Would you fancy going tae a football match?
My friend isn’t able tae go and I thought maybe this would be a
good way tae apologize and say thank you, as well as have that
date. If you don’t want tae, that is understandable. I know this is
last second. I told Jessica she was putting me in a spot with the
extra ticket, but she said her mum needed help with her dog. The
dog had surgery today for something on its leg and is in a sort.
Nice dog, but as I say, I have an extra ticket.”

If James thought he talked fast, he had
nothing on Carissa.

“Thing is,” she continued, “it’s at Paradise
with the Celtic.”

“Yes,” James said. “I’d like to go with you.”
This was a new sensation, being asked out by a woman.

“Seriously?” Carissa sounded relieved.

“Aye, but I think I should drive. Don’t want
you bumping another guy whilst out with me.”

Laughing, Carissa said, “Cheeky! At least you
have a sense of humor. I have tae be in Glasgow a wee bit longer
than the match, I am afraid for a few days, you know. Well
actually, I live here as I finish university, but may move soon.
Can I meet you there, then?”

“Sure, sure. What time should we meet outside
the stadium?” he asked.

“The match is set for 1 p.m., so quarter past
noon would be good, you think?”

“Sounds lovely. See you tomorrow, then. And
thanks for inviting me.”

“I think I owe you at least that much. Glad
you are coming. Bye.”

James hung up the phone and walked to the
hotel. He felt good, and he didn’t want to spoil it. He decided he
was taking the rest of the night and tomorrow off just to be happy.
The letter from Calum could wait until tomorrow night, and work
wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to the pool and supper before
staying in to watch a movie.

***

The next morning passed slowly until it was
time to start the three hour drive across Scotland. At noon, James
parked. Ten minutes later, he found Carissa at the gates.

She had her hair in a ponytail that suited
her. The smile on her face and absence of tears made James note
just how very good looking she was. The smile seemed to truly span
her face. That, along with her twinkling eyes, made for an
exceptional effect. James had a positive feeling, a tingle he
couldn’t explain.

Reaching Carissa, he held out his hand and
said, “Good afternoon; you look great.”

She blushed and shook his hand. “Shall we go
in, then? I am very happy you came and all.”

James started to walk toward the entrance,
and Carissa stopped him.

“Oh, we are in the club, this way,” she said,
still blushing. “How’s the saying, ‘I ain’t no cheap bitch tae
date’?”

This was priceless in her Scottish accent,
and they both started laughing.

“Now, who is cheeky? Lead the way, then,”
James grinned from ear to ear as they made their way to the proper
entrance. “Thank you again for inviting me. This should be a great
match.”

“It really should, yea, but you know the
Celtic should win,” Carissa stated as they reached the door.

The hall was very well done with a great
combination of tile and brick. The walls were covered in the
history of the football club and displays showed the
accomplishments made throughout the league.

“May I help you?” asked the man at the
desk.