Chapter Fourteen
London, England
It had taken roughly two hours for Nate to drive from Cambridge to London, the sun setting below the horizon as he traveled.
He rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh air as he drove, basking in his small measure of success.
The letter to T. E. Lawrence was enough proof to convince him that he was on the right track, and that pursuing the lost city of Ubar wasn’t some fool’s errand.
Tomorrow he’d go to the Royal Geographical Society, and with any luck he would be even more successful in finding answers.
But first he had a night to kill in London and he needed to unwind a bit, so he called his old friend Benjamin Walton before leaving Cambridge to inform him that he was in town.
The plan was for Nate to get a hotel and then meet up for dinner, but Wally had vehemently refused, insisting that Nate stay with him and save his money.
Nate didn’t exactly have a disposable income, and so he navigated his way to South Kensington where Wally was renting a flat.
“Well, well,” Wally said as Nate approached his front door. “Look at this poor sod.”
“It’s good to see you, Wally,” Nate said as the two men shook hands and briefly hugged.
“You too, mate. Is that Bergen all you’ve got, then? Let’s throw it inside, then go grab a pint or two.”
Nate brought his luggage inside and changed into something more casual, throwing on a pair of blue Levi’s, a black Arc’teryx pullover, and a pair of tobacco-colored Todd Snyder Nomad boots.
The two then headed out looking for a pub.
There were one or two within spitting distance of Wally’s flat; however, he preferred a spot up near Edwardes Square, a short fifteen-minute hike.
During the walk, Nate explained the thesis he was researching, providing background on the city of Ubar and the research he had conducted thus far.
He talked about Captain Ahmed and his mysterious coin, the camel trails, and Bertram Thomas’s letter to T.
E. Lawrence that he had discovered in Cambridge.
Lastly, he detailed what he was looking for in London.
By the time he finished his recap they had arrived at the Scarsdale Tavern.
It was a charming, picturesque brick building adorned with plenty of florals, and the interior had the warm and cozy feeling synonymous with English pubs, with a central bar brimming with beer taps and liquor bottles and traditional wood flooring and tables.
They slipped into a pair of chairs around a table in the main bar area.
The establishment was already at about half capacity, and it seemed as though it would be a full house tonight.
A waitress walked over to take their orders. “What can I get you?” she asked.
“Pint of Guinness please, love,” Wally said.
“I’ll have the same,” Nate agreed.
“And food tonight?” the server asked. The mention of food made Nate’s stomach grumble, and he realized for the first time how hungry he was. The entire day had been spent driving or poring over old documents, and he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning in Cambridge.
“Absolutely,” Nate said emphatically. He glanced briefly at the menu lying on the table and then shot a look at Wally. “Are fish and chips too touristy?”
“Nah, mate, you’re alright.” Wally winked at him. “Everyone in here can smell the colonies on you anyway.”
Nate laughed and returned his gaze to the server. “Fish and chips it is, please.”
“And I’ll take the burger,” Wally tacked on his order without looking at the menu. This was clearly not his first time in the establishment.
“Right you are.” The server collected the menus and left, returning momentarily with their pints.
Wally lifted his beer in a toast. “Cheers, mate. It’s good to see you.”
Nate clinked glasses with him. “You too, buddy.” They both took long pulls off the dark beer.
“You sound like you’ve been busy,” Wally commented.
“Yeah, in an academic, boring-research kind of way.” Nate waved a hand in the air, realizing that he had been so focused on his research that he had neglected to ask Wally what had been going on in his life. “But what about you? What have you been up to?”
“Well,” Wally started, “you’re tracking that I’ve been working K&R, yeah?”
Nate nodded. Kidnap and ransom insurance was a highly lucrative business, and London was the central hub for it.
Large carriers would sell insurance, either to individuals who traveled abroad or to corporations whose employees worked in high-risk countries.
If one of their employees happened to get kidnapped, the firm would pay a ransom up to an agreed-upon sum.
It was, of course, in the best interest of the firm to get the lowest possible deal for the safe release of their clients, and so they sent out negotiators to barter lives for cash.
Being a negotiator was extremely delicate work as well as extremely dangerous, and it took a particular type of person with the right background and skills to pull it off successfully.
Because of this, the larger firms tended to favor hiring former special operators and intelligence officers.
In London, a large portion of the small cadre of negotiators were either former SAS or MI6, Britain’s legendary intelligence agency.
“I’ve been freelancing for several firms here in London,” Wally continued. “Some fella gets snatched up, I work the case and go talk to the geezers that grabbed him. Sometimes it takes a few weeks, sometimes a few months.”
“Well, it must pay pretty well. A flat in South Kensington doesn’t come cheap these days.” London’s property market had exploded over the decades. It was nearly impossible to find a reasonable price on a house or flat, and extremely expensive to rent.
“Mate, you ain’t lying,” he said. “That two-bedroom flat costs me four thousand pounds a month.”
“Well, they say location is everything.”
“Yeah, true enough,” he replied.
“Are you working anything now?” Nate asked.
“Nah, mate, just wrapped one up in the Caucasus. Some poor sod got himself snatched up by an amateur group. I got him released eventually, but they didn’t treat him too well while they had him.”
As Nate drained his beer to catch up to Wally and the server brought another round, he wondered how his friend’s personal life had been.
He knew Wally had been married to a London cop and that things had been tough.
In the army, Wally was constantly on deployment or training and she often worked the night shift, meaning they rarely saw each other.
Like many marriages in the special operations world, it was only a matter of time.
“How’s Hannah?” he asked finally.
Wally said nothing for a long time, just stared down at his beer. Finally, he spoke. “She’s good, I imagine. We don’t talk much anymore. She has some new fella now. Cunt works as a dispatcher or some nonsense.”
“I’m sorry, Wally.”
Wally shrugged. “It’s alright. Funny, isn’t it?
It wasn’t even the trips that got to her, it was when I was home.
The Lines are too far from London, so we moved to Oxford to make the trip a little more manageable.
Didn’t matter. With all the late nights, I wound up sleeping in the barracks half the time anyway.
Not sure she believed me that I wasn’t screwing around. ”
The Lines he was referring to was the Stirling Lines army garrison in Credenhill, Herefordshire, home of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment, Britain’s premier special operations unit.
It must have been a three-hour drive to London, Nate thought, a distance that was not sustainable.
With Hannah unwilling to leave her career behind and Wally fully committed to the army, it was no wonder the marriage had failed.
“Are you guys still married?”
“Nah, divorce was finalized over a year ago. We talked at first. Then less. Now? It’s been months. And like I said, she’s moved on.”
“And you?”
Wally smiled. “Let’s just say I’m working on it. What about you? Any special lady friends yet?”
“There’s been a few,” Nate said. “Nothing serious, though.” He thought about it for a minute, then decided to tell him what had happened with Paige.
“She ran out on you, then?” Wally laughed after Nate had relayed the story.
“Well, you don’t have to make it sound like there’s something wrong with me,” Nate countered.
“Maybe she found out you’re a trained killer and ran for the hills,” Wally joked.
“Yeah, maybe.” Nate stared into his beer.
“To the single life, then,” Wally said, raising his glass, and they toasted.
“You talk much to the other guys?” Nate asked, referring to the men, both American and British, who had been with them in Yemen.
“Not really. I still keep in touch with a couple of blokes from the regiment, but I don’t exactly get up that way anymore. Haven’t talked to Tim or any of the other guys in years. How about you?”
“A little bit,” Nate responded. “I talk to Shane every now and then. Some other guys. Haven’t seen them, though. It’s just been…”
“A bit different, yeah?” Wally finished his thought.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding in agreement. “Different. Since Yemen.”
“Aye, I know what you mean. That was a tough one to swallow. We lost a lot of good men that day.”
“Yeah, we did.” The two sat stewing in their memories for several moments before Nate offered a toast of his own. “To fallen comrades.”
“To fallen comrades,” Wally agreed, and they drank. There was another long pause. “Have you talked to Tim?”
“No,” Nate said, shaking his head, “I haven’t.”
Wally knew, just like the rest of them, that the two had fallen out after he left.
The worst part of it was that there didn’t really seem to be a reason.
Nate left the army, and Tim stayed. Things were fine at first, but then Tim had gotten angry at him for leaving.
They had one colorful argument over the phone and that was it. They hadn’t spoken since.
“Well, you know how these things are. I’m sure he’ll come around.”
Nate didn’t respond, just nodded.