FIVE
THINGS JUST GOT COZY
Oliver
Alex raised her eyebrows when she realised we were boarding the private plane, but she didn’t comment. A little over ninety minutes later, we touched down at Easterton Airfield. The weather was decidedly worse up in Scotland.
‘I’ve arranged for transport to be waiting for us,’ said Paddy. ‘Going by Jeep. Too risky for a helo.’
Alex nodded, although I suspected she’d taken a few scary helicopter rides in her time and probably wouldn’t have seen this as too hair-raising.
‘Good call. I’m not taking any chances,’ I said, my hand automatically going to Noah’s head, where I stroked his hair down.
‘I’d make the same call,’ Alex replied.
I sat up front with Paddy in the Jeep Commander to give Alex and Noah more space. Nice as it was sitting next to her in the MPV earlier, it was way too distracting. The image of her legs and ankles popped into my mind.
The drive out to Risk took longer than usual because of the road conditions.
The snow was falling heavily now, and as we left the main roads behind, the rural twisty lanes became more treacherous to navigate.
I kept trying to get hold of Grainger, but once we were in the depths of North-Eastern Scotland the signal was patchy at best and non-existent in this weather.
I made a mental note to bring forward the installation of the military-grade comms system.
‘Are there any other means of communication?’ asked Alex, as if reading my thoughts.
‘We’re in the process of sorting all that out,’ I said, feeling embarrassed that it hadn’t been a priority.
‘If something’s happened to Grainger, it doesn’t really matter what means of communication there is,’ said Alex.
I felt slightly reprieved from total condemnation by her comment, which was, of course, spot on. It bothered me that Grainger hadn’t tried to contact anyone.
‘What’s Grainger’s background?’ asked Alex. ‘Did I hear your brother say he was involved in the Falklands conflict?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. Ex-army. Marines to be exact.’
‘Not a spring chicken, then.’
‘No. In his mid-60s but very capable of keeping an eye on the place for us. He’s done some tough tours in his time, Falklands, the Gulf twice, and a few that are classified,’ I replied.
‘And you don’t want to call emergency services?’
‘Not yet. Besides, if the storm is as bad as it sounds, then I don’t want to send anyone out there unless I know for certain it’s an emergency. It could just lead to another situation and put a strain on resources.’
I knew Alex would appreciate the logistics and the thought process behind it all with her background.
‘How long until we’re there?’ she asked.
‘About another twenty minutes,’ replied Paddy.
It turned out to be another thirty minutes because of the driving conditions.
We really had entered the storm. Large flakes of snow were tumbling from the sky and landing on the windscreen of the vehicle, almost too quickly for the wipers to clear them.
The sky was a mix of grey and black, dotted with the odd slash of murky white.
Once or twice, the Jeep lost traction as it worked its way along the undriven lanes.
Finally, we reached the gates to Risk Estate.
‘That’s odd,’ said Paddy. ‘One of the gates is open.’
‘Been open a while, judging by the snow drift against it,’ I noted. ‘You can see where a vehicle’s been through, again, it’s not recently, as the snow has nearly covered it all.’
Both Paddy and I hopped out, Paddy grabbing the snow shovel from the rear of the vehicle.
He shovelled the snow, and I pushed the other gate open enough for us to get the Jeep through.
In just the few minutes we were out in the storm, the snow had laid a heavy layer over our heads and shoulders.
I brushed it away before getting back into the warmth of the 4-wheel drive.
Paddy steered the car through the gates and along the track, which was bordered by pine trees. The lake and the cabins were about half a mile further into the estate. The terrain sloped downwards as we entered the valley in which the buildings were situated.
There was a single light shining out through a downstairs window of Grainger’s cabin.
‘No smoke from the chimney,’ said Alex, leaning forward between the two front seats. ‘I’m going to assume there’s no central heating here.’
‘You assume right,’ I replied, checking the chimney.
It didn’t sit right with me.
My instinct was completely proved right when Paddy and I entered the cabin.
I’d asked Alex to stay back and wait with Noah until we had assessed the situation.
I didn’t know if she was that happy about being on babysitting detail, but she accepted the instruction.
If she was going to work here, then she’d have to get used to taking orders from time to time.
The ground floor of the cabin was open plan with a work counter separating the kitchen area.
I could see a booted foot sticking out from behind the cupboard and sprinted over.
Grainger was sprawled out on the floor, his left ankle was visible from under his trousers and looked swollen. He was out cold, and there was a gash to his forehead. Blood had pooled on the wooden floor from the wound.
‘Shit,’ I said, dropping to my knees. ‘Grainger? Hey, Grainger.’
I felt for a pulse and thank God there was one, albeit faint. His hands were cold to the touch, and I suspected hypothermia might have set in.
‘We need to get him off the floor,’ I said.
‘I don’t like the look of his ankle,’ said Paddy. ‘Maybe we should get the doc to take a look at it.’
By the doc, I took it as he meant Alex.
‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘Sit out there with Noah for a while. I don’t want him to see Grainger like this.’
‘I’m not fucking dead,’ came the raspy voice of Grainger.
I laughed in relief. ‘I suppose that means we’ve got to look after you now,’ I said. ‘What the fuck happened?’
‘Don’t ask,’ muttered Grainger. ‘Please tell me you’ve got some fucking whisky with you.’
‘No, but we’ve got a tidy-looking blonde in the car who’s going to come and administer first aid,’ said Paddy.
‘She’s got a name,’ I said, aware I sounded prickly. ‘It’s Alex. Go and get her,’ I told Paddy.
As Paddy went out the door, Grainger let out a chuckle. ‘Alex, eh? You’re sounding very politically correct. You’re not a fan of someone calling her the tasty blonde.’
‘Do you want that whisky or not?’ I said, getting to my feet and looking around the cabin.
There was a bottle of whisky and an empty glass on the coffee table.
I went over and topped it up. I was just kneeling next to Grainger with it when Alex came in through the door.
She appeared around the side of the counter with the medic bag in her hand.
‘I hope you’re not going to give him that,’ she said, placing the bag on the floor.
‘Of course he is,’ said Grainger.
She reached over and swiped the glass out of my hand. ‘Not until I’ve assessed him properly and given him any pain killers, which I suspect he’s going to need.’
She took a sweeping look over him. I could see her mind was already in professional mode, and I liked what I saw.
I gave Grainger an apologetic look and stepped back to make way for Alex. I watched as she made an initial examination of his injuries.
‘How did this happen?’ she asked, snapping on some latex gloves before inspecting the bloodied wound on his head.
Grainger looked at me before answering. ‘I need to speak to Mr Laker first,’ he said.
‘I don’t need to know the details of anything,’ said Alex. ‘I just need to know what caused the injury to your head and how you busted up your ankle.’
‘Tell her what she needs to know,’ I said.
‘Hit my head on the worktop as I came down,’ said Grainger. ‘I’ve done something to my right shoulder. Dislocated it, but I can’t move to put it back in place.’
‘And you came down how?’
Grainger wheezed a little and took a moment to get his breath.
‘You all right?’ I asked.
‘Are your ribs hurting at all?’ asked Alex.
‘Just a bit. Nothing serious, though. I’ve had a punctured lung before, if that’s what you’re thinking, and it hurt a damn sight more than this.’
Alex nodded. ‘So, are you going to tell me how you came down?’
Grainger frowned, as if annoyed he was having to explain himself. ‘Fighting off ten armed, masked intruders,’ he said. ‘Took them all out but ended up on the floor.’
I withheld the laugh that threatened to burst out at Grainger’s story.
‘Is that right?’ said Alex. She turned around and reached for a broom that was strewn across the floor next to Grainger. ‘You didn’t trip over the broom by any chance?’
‘Fucking broom,’ muttered Grainger.
‘Right, let’s see if we can pop that shoulder back in.’ Alex rummaged in the medical bag. ‘Just looking to see what sort of pain killers we have.’
‘Never mind painkillers,’ said Grainger. ‘Give me the fucking whisky.’
Alex hesitated but then relented. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Yes.’
I took the glass and passed it to Grainger, supporting his head while he gulped it down.
‘Same again,’ he said.
I obliged, and then, on the count of three, we moved Grainger into a sitting position. He cursed and groaned with the pain, but he was a tough old soldier and did what was asked of him.
I watched as Alex placed his hand on her shoulder and then gradually rubbed and moved the arm in small circular motions, manoeuvred the shoulder into position, before applying a small amount of pressure and working the limb back in place.
It took several minutes, but it was all carried out in a calm and confident manner.
‘There, all done,’ she said.
‘What?’ Grainger looked down at his arm. ‘I barely felt a thing.’
‘It didn’t need anything aggressive done to it,’ said Alex. ‘And I had time to do it this way.’
‘I could do with another drink,’ he said.
‘Can I look at your ankle first?’ asked Alex. ‘Then once we’ve got you comfortable on the sofa or your bed, you can drink as much as you bloody like.’
I wasn’t sure she meant it, but it pacified Grainger, and he consented to more treatment.