“How good was the copy?”
“Perfect. I was surprised at how close it resembles the real one. The only way you could tell would be by lifting it up.”
“He seemed a nice enough bloke,” Lee said.
“Appearances can be deceptive.”
“So, what now?” he asked.
“Now we get the hell out of here and work out where we have to go next.”
Lee opened his rear box and passed her the spare helmet and her leathers. She pulled the leathers over her clothes in a matter of moments. Then, she placed the pilot’s case in the box. It just fitted. They strapped the oboe case to the back with bungee cords and set off for London.
Tamsyn experienced conflicting emotions, as she thought back through the stressful last hour or so. She had truly hated becoming Allun again but realised it was a perfect plan.
Even in the unlikely event of Matthew contacting the police and they find something to identify Allun to the scene, then where will they go next? Allun was officially dead, so they’d be looking for a dead American who was pretending to be a Russian.
More likely would be Matthew attempting to trace the ‘Russian’ by using his existing contacts. There was no trace of Allun to follow, so there was a slim chance he might make a connection to Cornwall, in which case he’d find Tamsyn not there.
She grinned as she tightened her grip around Lee’s waist. She never imagined real life being quite as exhilarating as this.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later, after a mad ride back to London and then, up to Liverpool, Tamsyn and Lee stood at the rail of the ferry looking back at the slowly diminishing mainland. Liverpool had been wet and grey and miserable. Now, they were at sea; it was no less miserable. The low cloud, lashing rain and generally foul conditions meant they were virtually alone on deck, as everyone with an ounce of common sense was inside.
“My mum doesn’t know what to think,” Lee said.
“She’s just happy you’re not stuck in your room playing computer games,” Tamsyn teased.
“That’s true. I don’t think she can understand what you see in me.”
Tamsyn laughed.
“Mind you, isn’t this more exciting than a silly computer game?”
“At least, I understand the computer game. I haven’t a clue what we’re doing.”
“Neither do I.”
“This is mad!” Lee said quietly and not for the first time.
“Of course it is, but then, I have to do it. You don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t let you go it alone. I’d never forgive myself, and neither would my mum.”
Tamsyn laughed.
“You’re sweet.”
“Tammy?”
“What?”
“I was wondering, um…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m not sure how to ask you this, but I’ve not had a proper girlfriend before, so I’m a bit …”
Tamsyn felt an enormous warm feeling towards this young man. He was selfless and fun, and had a heart of gold.
She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“I’ve not had a boyfriend before, so let’s find our way together for a while, yes?”
He grinned and kissed her clumsily on the lips. She held his head between her hands and planted a proper kiss on him.
“Now, shall we get out of the rain? I don’t plan on spending the two hours in the wet!”
Matthew was spitting mad. Never in his life did he feel quite so angry. The Russian had somehow duped him and replaced his beloved sword with a replica. It was a very good likeness, until one picked it up. Considerably lighter, the exchange had become apparent as soon as he had lifted it from the case.
What made him even angrier was that he couldn’t report the theft. The sword was not legally his, as it had come from the burial mound and should have formed part of the treasure trove that the coroner’s inquest decreed would belong to the nation.
Not that the police would be much help. They had enough to worry about, and an old and rather tatty sword that belonged to a man who could afford to buy a hundred more would be hardly at the top of their list of priorities. They would ask questions about insurance and then, why he didn’t have insurance… and where did he obtain it… and so on.
Instead, he attempted to use his extensive list of contacts to trace the Russian.
Weirdly, no one had ever heard of him. He had two collectors in Russia, and neither could help him at all. At first, he wondered whether they were in cahoots with the man but then came to dismiss that thought as quickly as it had come. The two men were never in cahoots with anyone and would even sell their own grandmother if the price was right. Matthew offered a large sum for information, and neither could help.
He had one contact that might be useful. He was a civilian who worked at the Police control room for Bedfordshire Police.
Grant was in his early forties and was a homosexual. He and Matthew met occasionally at a Pub that was popular amongst the less obviously gay men who wanted to socialise with others of a like mind. He was a big man who liked being dominated – he preferred being ‘the bottom’ in a liaison. It had been a while since Matthew had cruised for sex, but occasionally the pair got it together for a no strings attached relationship. Grant lived at home with his mother, and due to his job, kept his private life very private.
Matthew asked him for tea and a chat.
“I have a little problem that you may be able to assist me with. It’s rather delicate, so perhaps we ought to meet in person.”
Grant was on the early shift so arrived at Matthew’s home at four in the afternoon, just as Tamsyn and Lee were riding off the Ferry at Douglas on the Isle of Man.
Grant had never been to the older man’s home, as they had always used a small hotel for their liaisons in the past. He admired the house and the room they were now sitting in.
Matthew shared exactly what had happened, laying himself unusually open to the potential control of another for about the first time in his life.
He placed a single, grainy, black and white still photo of a big man on the coffee table. It was on A4 photographic paper. The photo came from his security CCTV.
“This is him. He says his name was Dimitri, but he also uses a cover name for business transactions which is Igor. I have no last name. He came to the house, as he claimed to have some swords for sale. The photographs were such that they appeared to be genuine, but I’ll never know from a photo.”
“He’s a Russian?”
“I assume so. He said he was, and he did have an accent.”
The man looked at the photograph.
“It’s not that clear. He looks a big man.”
“Over six foot three and fat.”
“I’ll run it through the computer. I don’t hold out much hope. There are a lot of photos on the database, so there might be one or two hits.”
“I just need to get my sword back.”
“Are you sure you can’t report it and get the police to do this officially?”
Matthew shook his head.
“It would form part of a treasure trove, and I could lose the sword.”
“You’ve lost it anyway. At least, they would have the resources to track it and the thief. Would he try to sell it?”
“I have no idea. I got the impression he was a collector, so probably not immediately. If he found something he wanted, he might exchange it. That would be untraceable.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a call if I find anything. I’ll have to be careful as they run audits and checks, so I’ll have to slip the enquiry in amongst other bulk searches.”
“I appreciate it.”
Grant smiled.
“You owe me, Matthew.”
Matthew hated it but nodded. It was a price he was prepared to pay.
It was still raining when the ferry docked at Douglas. They had had a late lunch in Liverpool before catching the ferry, so it was now early evening. The pair, dressed in their leathers, rode slowly off the ferry and along the dock. Peel was some way away, so they set off with the few other cars that came off the ferry with them. By the time they left the town, the traffic disappeared, but the rain hadn’t.