Chapter 22
Jake sat in the car, watching the digital clock on the dashboard counting down to Marcus’s release. He hadn’t pre-booked accommodation for his trip. His intention was just to book in somewhere on arrival. He hadn’t envisaged spending his first night at an airport hotel.
A police car drifted slowly passed Jake’s hire car and parked in the police station car park; two police officers emerged and escorted an uncooperative youth into the building after he had livened things up by attempting an unsuccessful escape.
Every now and then, Jake glanced at the building, waiting for Marcus to emerge. He was doing this for Faye, he reminded himself, not for Marcus. Jake glanced out of the window yet again.
There was no sign of Marcus.
The clock was ticking. Where was he?
Jake got out of the car.
He went back over the conversation he’d had with Faye the previous day while he was waiting to pick up the hire car. Something she’d said … he couldn’t recall, but he had that feeling that something was wrong.
Jake stepped into the police station. He approached the front desk, aware that they could quite conceivably throw him in a cell for twenty-four hours for wasting police time if it turned out Marcus had nothing in his luggage. He knew that he deserved it for pulling such a stunt.
The desk sergeant looked up. ‘Can I help you?’
Jake hesitated. He was meant to be on holiday; he did not want to find himself banged up just because he had childishly decided to get his own back on Marcus. Jake was half-inclined to turn around and walk right out of the door. Once again, he had to remind himself he was doing this for Faye. She was right; he’d been a bit heavy-handed with Marcus. Nevertheless, Jake hoped he’d learnt his lesson. Now the least he could do was pick him up and drive him to the airport.
‘I’ve come to collect Marcus Ross. I understand he was due to be released at 9 am.’ Jake didn’t feel inclined to give his name.
‘You need to take the lift to the next floor.’ The desk sergeant waved at the lift.
‘Can I take the stairs?’
Jake stepped out of the lift on the first floor, wishing he could get over his fear of enclosed spaces. He approached another officer behind a desk in a similar reception room, except that this one had a row of grey plastic seats along one wall and posters carrying phone numbers to Childline and Citizens Advice, and others advising people to lock their valuables in their cars, out of sight. Jake thought of his bag plonked on the back seat in plain view.
‘Mr Marcus Ross,’ the officer said to himself as he leafed through some paperwork on the top of his desk. ‘Is that with a c or a k ?’
‘A c .’ Jake wondered how many Marcus Rosses they had locked up in there. Certainly no others who were stupid enough to take illegal drugs through airport security – if that’s what he’d done.
The officer got up from his seat to look for the paperwork. He returned with a release form. ‘Yes, here we are. Marcus Ross,’ he read from the arrest sheet. ‘Arrested for carrying illegal substances through airport security. None were found on his person, or in his luggage, once we received it from the airport.’
Jake frowned. Although he was actually relieved that Marcus wouldn’t be charged, it did make him wonder if he’d made a huge mistake. Maybe Marcus wasn’t taking drugs at all. Maybe he had not deserved a night in a prison cell.
The police office was still reading the paperwork. ‘Interesting. He made two phone calls.’
Jake looked at him. ‘I thought he just rang Faye. Um, I mean Ms Ames.’
‘Yes, but there was one other person. We hadn’t got hold of his luggage at that point, so thought this person might be his dealer, although he was adamant that the person was no such thing. But as a precaution, we ran the name through.’
‘What name?’ Jake asked, interested to find out who else Marcus had contacted for help.
‘Aubrey Jones.’
Of course he’d go to Aubrey, rather than William, if he was in trouble , Jake thought .
‘We wouldn’t let him make that call to a fictitious name.’
‘Fictitious?’
‘We ran the name through various channels, social security, DVLA as a matter of routine. Funny, because he swore blind the person was for real.’
Jake stared at the officer in disbelief. If Aubrey Jones didn’t exist, then who the hell was living on the top floor of the Ross apartment building?
‘Do you know who that guy is that he wanted to call?’
Whatever Aubrey – or whoever the hell he really was – had done that warranted him hiding behind a fictitious name, Jake didn’t want to get involved or be implicated.
Jake shook his head, feeling uncomfortable under the officer’s searching gaze. ‘Right, well, er … where is Marcus Ross?’
The officer consulted his paperwork again. ‘I think he’s just getting a once-over from the doctor.’
‘Is he ill?’
The officer put the paperwork down, and leaned forward in his chair. ‘If you’re any kind of friend, you’ll get him some help.’ he said, as though he was giving Jake a piece of fatherly advice. ‘One of those clinics, you know …’
Jake was on the verge of asking what he meant by that when the double doors swung open at the end of the hall. ‘Ah, I think this will be your man now.’
One of the officers who had escorted Marcus from the plane strode through the door and approached the desk, glancing at Jake.
Jake watched him sign the release papers. He couldn’t wait for this to be over. He was beginning to think Faye was right; he had caused a lot more trouble than it was worth.
Jake looked back at the double doors. Marcus was standing just the other side, his suit jacket in his right hand, draped on the floor, his white shirt crumpled, with one side hanging out of his trousers. His bloodshot eyes were staring fixedly at Jake.
Guess I’m going to find out just how much trouble , thought Jake as he walked over to the lift and pressed the Down button, giving the officer at the desk a weak smile.
He glanced back at Marcus, who was making slow progress to the lift. He didn’t seem well. He was still staring fixedly at Jake.
The lift door opened. Jake jumped in and pressed G for the ground floor. When he turned around, Marcus hadn’t joined him in the lift. Jake sighed and pressed the hold button. He’d forgotten that Marcus would have to collect his things.
He waited.
At the desk, the officer passed Marcus a plastic bag; Jake guessed it was the contents of his pockets. Then a suitcase appeared.
‘There’s only three days’ worth there, so you want to get yourself checked in somewhere pretty soon, OK?’
Marcus nodded. He turned around with the bag to hand. He was almost losing his balance. He made his way cautiously towards the lift.
‘Remember what I said!’ The officer directed that comment at Jake.
Jake recalled that piece of advice: If you’re any kind of friend you’ll get him some help, one of those clinics ... ’
The lift door closed with Marcus inside.
A sudden jerk as the lift started down threw Marcus off balance. Jake grabbed at him.
‘Get off me.’ Marcus weakly struggled out of Jake’s grip and held onto the metal handrail that ran the circumference of the lift.
‘What’s this?’ Jake picked up the plastic bag that had fallen to the floor and held it up. Marcus turned and glared at Jake without speaking.
Jake drew a sharp breath at the sight of him; thick black rings encircled his eyes. It was as if someone had punched him in the face, except they weren’t bruises. Were those tears in his eyes?
Marcus slowly held out a shaky hand, palm up.
Jake handed him the bag, wondering what was inside.
Marcus took it and turned to face the front of the lift in stony silence.
‘If you want an apology,’ Jake said finally, ‘I’ll give you one.’ He stole a glance at Marcus. He was still facing the front of the lift. He continued holding onto the rail.
‘I admit it was a stupid thing for me to do,’ Jake conceded. One look at Marcus had convinced him of that.
Marcus said nothing.
The lift door opened onto the ground floor; they stepped out together, Jake trundling Marcus’s suitcase along behind him. He was forced to stop halfway to the front door to let Marcus catch up. Together, they walked slowly past the reception desk, Jake throwing Marcus sideways glances and debating whether he should take him to a hospital. If he’d realised his actions were going to trigger some sort of breakdown …
Of course, in his naivety he’d forgotten that most people never had cause to enter a police station, let alone a police cell. He realised that it must have been a huge shock. And Marcus wasn’t like most people anyway; he was used to, well, an altogether different style of life.
Jake couldn’t believe he had been so stupid as to think Marcus would be in any fit state to just hop on the next plane home after that experience. Besides, the man could barely walk.
Jake opened the door for Marcus. They stepped out into the street. He looked at Marcus again. Why hadn’t he phoned his fiancée or William? Aubrey would have been on the first flight out, if he had managed to contact him, but Jake couldn’t figure out why he had called Faye, someone he barely knew.
Jake got to the car ahead of Marcus and put the suitcase into the boot before opening the passenger door. He waited with the car door open, expecting Marcus to get in beside him. He watched Marcus open the rear door and get in the back instead.
‘I see,’ Jake mumbled under his breath as he slammed the car door shut, circled the car and got in the driver’s side. Jake felt his temper rising. He’d said he was sorry; what more did the man want?
Jake started the engine, mulling over Plan A – going straight to the airport to deposit Marcus on the next available flight home. Since that obviously wasn’t going to happen, it was on to Plan B; except there was no Plan B.
Jake sat in the car, wondering what to do. He felt like a chauffeur, what with Marcus sitting in the back. ‘Where to, sir?’ Jake said, kidding around. He looked in his rear-view mirror. Marcus wasn’t visible.
‘Marcus?’ Jake twisted round in his seat.
Marcus was lying down on the back seat, his knees drawn up to his chest, his suit jacket on the floor. His eyes fluttered open. ‘What did you say?’
Jake leaned over and squeezed his shoulder. ‘Marcus,’ he said gently, ‘where do you want to go?’
‘Sleep,’ said Marcus wearily, closing his eyes.
Jake turned in his seat and looked at his watch; it was only nine-thirty in the morning. Plan B was already forming in his mind.
He manoeuvred the car into the mid-morning flow of traffic. Heading out of the city, Jake made his way north, following the signs for the A9 in the direction of Perth, which would take him all the way to his destination. It was a route he knew well. He would let Marcus catch up on his beauty sleep during the forty-minute journey to Aviemore.
It didn’t take long to join the main road. It was a popular tourist route for people visiting the shores of Loch Ness or to visit Urquhart Castle; the castle ruins were a must-see on the banks of the loch. Jake knew this area well. He had often taken detours off this road to see the lochs and visit the castle with Marcus and Eleanor when they were younger. But Jake had not returned to Scotland for sightseeing – he would not have returned there if it had not been for that strange phone call from Mr Wright.
The plan now was to drop Marcus off at a hotel where he could rest. Perhaps after a few hours of much-needed sleep, he’d feel better. Then he could order some room service and have a bite to eat. The plan would leave Jake free to visit Mr Wright.
Martha clearly knew an Aubrey Jones, but did she know the man behind the fictitious name? After what Jake had discovered about Aubrey at the police station, he wanted nothing more than to find out just who he really was.
Jake glanced over his shoulder. Marcus was still semi-comatose on the back seat. He started the car. ‘Plan B it is, then.’