The Whisky Affair (Raymond Armstrong Series) (16 page)

“No worries, Raymond. I still have over connections. This lapel pin will be your backup.” John leaned over and pinned a Canadian flag on Raymond’s lapel. “This is active as of now, and if the signal is interrupted, your backup will be on the way.”

“Thanks.” Raymond shook John’s hand.” James and Louisa are like my children. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to them, especially Louisa.”

“No problem – I have your back,” said John.

“Louisa,” Raymond said, “I am going back to the hotel to get our luggage and I will take care of the bill. You stay here with John until I come to get you.”

Louisa nodded. She looked a bit bewildered, but he could tell she knew she was safe – at least for now.

Mitch dumped the SUV in a city parking lot and looked around for another car he could jack. No time and too many people. He ran down the stairs to the street and hailed a cab.

“Airport, please.”

His phone beeped – a text from his client in Vegas: ‘Call me – NOW.’

“Shit,” Mitch muttered to himself. Nicholas must be pissed.

He asked the taxi driver to make it quick and there would be an extra twenty in his tip if he got him to the airport fast.

Mitch immediately responded to the text: ‘I am in taxi on my way to the airport. I will call as soon as I get there.’

He phoned Nicholas thirty minutes later.

“It’s about time you called. Not one of your best efforts this time. The deal is off. I am instructing our legal department to pass this debt over to the Nevada State Gaming Commission. See if we can’t get something back. Why the hell the Scottish Government accelerated the date on this is beyond me. It’s probably because of the latest bid from the Chinese…but they could have stalled them and kept with the original deadline of next month.

“As well, my security people tell me that today, of all days, our computer system is under attack from a virus. They are trying to track down the source and not having any luck. The signals are bouncing from China to India and so on. Coincidence? I think not.”

“Mr. Cantafio, I still have over twenty-four hours to the deadline.”

“Really? You can’t kill anybody else now. The coincidence would be too obvious. It’s not worth the risk for the Casino.”

“I don’t plan on killing anyone.”
Well, maybe Raymond Armstrong, for the hell of it
. “I still have time to get Louisa Reid to sign the papers.”

“Okay, entirely your call. I will still pay you if you manage to pull that off. Otherwise, no money and it goes to legal.”

He was desperate to get to Scotland before Louisa and Raymond.

As far as Mitch knew, the two were taking the midnight flight to London. He looked at the departures monitor and saw a flight leaving in about an hour to Paris. From Paris he could take a connection to Glasgow. That would get him there well ahead of them.

Louisa and Raymond left Toronto on time, had a seven-hour flight into Heathrow and then caught their connection to Glasgow. On board the connecting flight, Raymond played back his quick good-bye to Anne that afternoon.

He’d met her in the hotel room. She was packed and pacing the room. The tension filled the air and he decided to show his emotions. He took her in his arms, looked into her eyes. ‘Anne, I am so sorry that this is all happening now.’

‘Raymond, I understand, but I’m also confused and worried,’ she’d replied.

He’d taken her face in his hands, and kissed her. ‘I love you Anne, I always have. When this ordeal is finished, we will never be apart again – deal?’

Teary eyed, she’d nodded and hugged him.

Raymond and Louisa took a taxi to Stirling where both of them had left their cars. They were almost home, and they would make the evening ferry to Bute. Both of them were exhausted. Louisa had been silent most of the trip and Raymond could see the worry etched on her lovely face.

When they arrived back on the Isle of Bute it was obvious Louisa’s aunt had been in the house preparing for their homecoming. She’d left them fresh sandwiches and they devoured the lot with a hot pot of tea.

“Uncle Raymond, are we going to be safe here tonight? Don’t we have enough facts to call in the police? Perhaps I should consider signing. This is too dangerous…”

“Louisa, I promise neither you nor James will get hurt and you are not signing a damn thing. The Bute Distillery will be worth a fortune a year from now. It’s staying in the Reid family, case closed.”

Louisa hugged him. “You are the best, Uncle Raymond, and you have always been family to me.”

He gave her a big hug back. “Right. I am taking a shower and we are going to the distillery to look in more files. Will James be back from his trip?”

“Yes, he should have arrived back yesterday.”

“Call him and tell him it’s urgent that he be at the distillery in two hours. Tell him that no is not an option.”

“He will be asleep, probably drunk.”

“Wake him and tell him from me that he’d better get his sorry ass down there. He has some explaining to do.”

The distillery was the best place to lure Mitch Farrell. Raymond’s intuition told him that Mitch was already on the Island. You never lose the craft or the instinct – this awareness he’d developed and trusted was like riding a bike. It was all coming back, and he most certainly felt Mitch’s presence tonight.

“What is so important that you need me and James?”

“Louisa, just trust me. I am having a quick shower and then we’ll walk down to the distillery.”

“Only takes two minutes in the car.”

“No, I need some fresh air; this could be a long night,” he replied.

Raymond took a long shower and dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt.
Tonight could get messy
.

“Louisa, are you ready?” he shouted, heading down the stairs.

No reply, the house was dead silent. He opened the front door and her car was gone.
Crap
. She must have known something was up and had gone to warn James.

Raymond went straight to Gordon’s bedroom, retrieved the hunting rifle Gordon kept in his closet and then reached up to the shelf and grabbed a box of shells. Raymond set off at a quick pace down the lane toward the distillery. There was a light drizzle lingering in the night air and a stiff wind was kicking up. A storm was rolling in. He pulled up his jacket collar.

He let himself into the distillery through a side door of the cask room that led into the main distillery. He heard the front door slam shut and James screaming at Louisa.
What the fuck?

Then there was silence.

Suddenly, he heard raised voices coming from the area of the main office. He eased into the hallway, keeping to the wall, silently walking toward the office door. He took the safety off the rifle, took a deep breath, and kicked it open.

“Ah, Raymond… How nice of you to join us. Right on cue. I know all about you and anticipated your arrival… Please put down your gun.”

Raymond was shocked to see Willy there, bound and gagged, tied to a chair. James was huddled in a corner and Louisa stood defiantly glaring at Mitch. She was just about to start screaming when Mitch whirled around and pushed her violently down on the sofa.

“Shut up and stay put, bitch. Your turn is coming.”

“Mitch, you bastard. I could easily put a bullet between your eyes before you could blink. The gun stays.”

Oh, I don’t think so. You, mister ex-MI6, have five seconds.” Nonchalantly, Mitch raised his Glock to Willy’s head and sneered, “Old man, you will be the first to go. The girl is next.”

All Raymond saw was Willy’s pleading eyes.

Reluctantly, Raymond lowered his gun and placed it on the floor. He raised his hands up.

Mitch smiled and turned back to Raymond. “I know you are working alone, in the dark, and now you are backed into a corner. The police have no evidence, and aren’t even considering foul play.”

“True, and you are also working alone this time, Mitch Farrell. Your clients are looking the other way. I suspect you went outside their boundaries when you tried to run over Louisa. They are worried your actions will put them in the limelight. They do not want any links to your activities. If you don’t pull this off –which you won’t – you will be a dead man. I can imagine failure is not an option.”

“Done your homework too, I see.” Mitch laughed. “You can’t prove that I had anything to do with Reid’s untimely heart attack. And you’re not so smart…I have been watching you ever since you arrived on this island to visit your old mate. Had your photo checked through our computer system. What a fascinating career you’ve had.”

“That means you waited until I left the Island and
then
staged the murder?” Raymond was now shaking with anger.

“That’s right, old man.”

Louisa stood up and shouted, “I am so sorry, Uncle Raymond. This sick bastard had Willy. He called the house while you were in the shower. He said not to say a word to you and told me to come here immediately. He was waiting here, in my father’s office and he had Willy all tied up. He said he’d blow Willy’s head off if I wasn’t here in five minutes and he told me to bring my brother.”

Mitch headed toward Louisa, rage in his eyes.

Raymond knew he had to keep talking to him. Work on his large ego.

“How are you going to hide the death of Louisa and me?” And what about James? Once you have the distillery, I don’t think you can allow him to live.”

“I am a master at my craft and will have no problem with the disposal of all of you, including the old man here. Louisa and Willy will die in a boating accident in about an hour from now. You will go missing, permanently. James is safe for now,” he said, turning to glare at Raymond.

“What’s the motive, Mitch? Money? After all, the gaming commission does help your bosses and while they settle for much less, you do win in the end. If someone owes a bad debt how much have the casino ever actually lost? Nothing. It’s a win-win for your lot.”

“The commission is too weak. Someone owes ten million and they tell my bosses to settle for eight hundred Gs.”

“How much do you get, Mitch?”

“If I personally settle the debt, ten percent.”

“James owes over ten. A million and a bit would go a long way toward your retirement.”

“Precisely. Now let’s cut the chit chat.”

James had stayed quietly in the corner until then.

“Hey, it’s bad enough I have to live with the guilt of Dad’s death. I won’t let you hurt my sister or Willy.”

He stood and lunged toward Mitch who just smiled and shot him in the arm. James rolled back on to the chair screaming, crying out.

“Kill me and you will never get the distillery.”

“Shut up, it’s just a flesh wound. Next time it will be your kneecap.”

“So where are we doing all this, right here in the distillery?” asked Raymond.

“No, I think we will all take a boat ride. The four of you decide to take out your dad’s boat, the speedboat that is. Who knows why? You have an accident and only James survives.” He looked at James. “I will come up with a plausible reason. Go with it or I will kill you and the distillery will go on the open market.”

“How the hell did you get in this mess?” Raymond asked James.

“I am so sorry, Uncle Raymond. Gambling is a terrible addiction – worse than cocaine. And once you are hooked they have ways to keep you playing. It’s like brainwashing.”

“You two are going to make me cry. Shut up,” said Mitch before he punched Raymond hard in the stomach.

Raymond staggered slightly. Mitch grabbed his lapels to prevent him from going down, ready to hit him again even harder. Then he put the gun to Raymond’s temple.

“Why would an Englishman have a Canadian maple leaf pin on his lapel? Looks like a listening device to me. Although who could hear you on this miserable island only fit for sheep and whisky?” Raymond didn’t answer.

“Take it off and hand it to me.” Raymond did, but slowly. Mitch studied it then threw it to the ground and stamped on it, hard. “No more talking, let’s move.”

Oh shit, thought Raymond. I need to delay him, to stay here. The signal from the label pin was dead; his backup was on their way… If a ferry takes thirty-five minutes, then speedboats or better still a helicopter could be here in no time.

He had to delay...

“Mitch, I have a question,” said Raymond.

“No questions and stop your delay tactics; do you think I am stupid? You liked my last punch so I guess breaking your jaw now will be okay. It will look like it happened when you fell off the boat, if they ever find your body.”

Raymond leaped off the ground and charged straight at Mitch. Mitch staggered backwards but kept hold of the gun.

“Run, now!” Raymond shouted, while kicking the gun free from Mitch’s hand. While Mitch had been distracted with Raymond, Louisa had cut the ropes that bound Willy to the chair. She, Willy and James ran out of the office and scattered. While Mitch rolled toward the gun, Raymond jumped him. However, this guy was strong and Raymond was older, and rusty. His hand to hand combat training, long gone.

As forcefully as he could, Raymond elbowed Mitch in his face, breaking his nose. Mitch sank to the floor.

Nice one old man, now it’s time to play rough
. Raymond picked up the rifle and Glock and knew if there was another assault, Mitch would out muscle him. His body ached. He ran in the same direction as Louisa and James – into the cask warehouse – knowing that Mitch would be after him. He was now in a panic to find everyone and get them to safety.

The room was dark, with hundreds of casks neatly laid in tight rows. Whisky maturing required peace and quiet with no sudden movement.

Raymond found Louisa hiding behind a pallet of casks with ‘2006 Vintage’ stamped on the head of each cask. He whispered, “Come now, where is James? Before Louisa could answer, Raymond put his finger to her lips and gestured her to silence.