5.
I drove along a scenic Scottish road, and by scenic I meant mostly covered in trees with the occasional overlook of a lake, or loch, I suppose they called it, because when you’re at the northern rump end of a country, why not just call things whatever the hell you want?
The sun was barely visible through a thin string of clouds, shining down on the loch like it was going to be a quasi-beautiful day for everyone but those of us being actively pursued by law enforcement. I stole glances at the sparkling loch while driving and trying to orient myself, because I had no idea where the hell I was and even less idea of where I was going, save for, “the hell outta here,” and as quickly as it could be arranged.
Fortunately, I had an idea about that, and was debating how best to execute said idea. I had stolen a cell phone from one of the cops I’d mugged (yeah, I mugged them, let’s be honest about what happened), several, actually, both personal and work ones, and luckily a couple of them were smartphones. I was under no illusions about how long I could actually hold onto them; I planned to get the info I needed and ditch them into the nearest loch as soon as I could find a scenic overlook that would allow me to pull off and do some web browsing.
I found it about a half mile ahead, a little paved area that was fenced to keep anyone from tumbling their ass down the hill and into the water, and nosed the car into a parking space and shifted the little go kart into park, phone already in hand. I dialed a number from memory, one that was international, to a burner phone that would have to be, well, burned, after this call.
“This is Fritz,” a male voice answered on the other end of the line. He spoke in a thick accent, Germanic in style, though I’d never heard him speak German.
“You’re not keeping banker’s hours today, Mr. Fritz,” I said. Truth was, he never kept bankers’ hours, even though he was, in fact, a banker. My banker, in fact, in cozy Liechtenstein.
“Ms—” he started.
“No need for names,” I said coolly. I wasn’t sure how sophisticated the Brit version of the NSA was, but they were probably monitoring cell phone calls for my voice, and I didn’t need a name tagged to go along with it. That would just speed up the ID process.
Fortunately, being a banker to the wealthy and somewhat criminal, Fritz caught on quickly. “I understand you’ve had a spot of trouble.”
“You could say that,” I said, tensely, looking at the lake—loch, whatever—and trying to use its placid surface to give myself a peaceful feeling that was not so strangely lacking in my life today. “I need cash and transport the hell out of this country.”
If he thought my request strange, he didn’t deign to mention it to me. “Anything can be arranged for the proper…incentive. What sort of transport were you thinking?”
“Private plane,” I said, thumbing on the other officer’s smartphone so I could browse while I chatted. Luckily, neither one of them had bothered to set a passcode. Silly of them, really. “I’m about an hour outside Edinburgh, apparently. How long will it take you to get a private plane—a trusted one—to, say, the airfield at…” I started to scroll my Google results for “airfield.”
“I have an airfield near Lochty, assuming you want to stay out of Edinburgh, given the circumstances,” he said casually, like he arranged illegal transport for fleeing felons all the time. For all I knew, he did. He didn’t technically work for the bank itself, after all. I’d have to call my actual banker, Nils, and arrange payment after he quoted me a fee. “It is just a field, though, a grass strip in the middle of nowhere. Does that work?”
“That works,” I said. “Also, for planning purposes, I might need some, uh…toys.” I really didn’t want to be specific here, because if I said, “I need grenade launchers, rocket launchers, machine guns, a nuclear bomb, etc.” I was pretty Brit NSA would be all over that shit, no matter how lousy they were at their job. A fricking third world knockoff NSA consisting of two guys and one of those old long-range microphones would pick up on that kind of conversation.
“I see,” he said, still cool about the whole thing. “Have you run into a difficulty that is beyond your usual abilities?”
“Yeah,” I said. “You could say that. I need some special shopping done. From the kind of markets that, uh…well, would be easier in the US, but most difficult in Europe.” I hoped that was subtle enough for the Brits, but clear enough for him.
“I believe we can accommodate such a request,” he said. “For a modest fee.”
“Tell me how much you need, and I’ll call Mr. Nils and have him wire the money.” I braced myself, because I knew this was going to hurt.
“I think five million should cover it,” came the answer a moment later. “Top to bottom.”
I wanted to say it was highway robbery, but I was sitting on the shoulder of a highway and I had zero ability to throw flame, light nets, fly, heal my wounds rapidly, or turn into a dragon if need be. If someone came along to highway rob me right now, my recourse was to beat their skull in. I didn’t like that, because I’d come to enjoy having other abilities at my fingertips for when trouble (inevitably) came a-callin’.
“Done and done,” I said. It wasn’t like I’d earned that money, and I could smell the danger I was in right now. A private plane out of the country and some serious hardware for five mil? I’d pay that price, get the hell out of here, and regroup, make my plans for revenge, and come back to bushwhack Rose when she least expected it. Or else find a way to lure her to me and into a trap, throw her off her game and finish this fight that way.
No matter how I played it, though, getting hounded by Police Scotland until they ran me to ground? Not an effective way of dealing with my Rose problem. Thorny little bitch.
“A pleasure as always,” Fritz said, and then he hung up, presumably to deal with the problems of arranging a private plane for an international fugitive and lots of guns to be smuggled into a country that didn’t really truck with that sort of thing.
My next call was also from memory, and was answered on the third ring by a curious voice. “Hello?”
“This is, uh,” I started, hoping he’d recognize my voice. “Well, I hope you know who.”
“I think I recognize your voice,” Nils said. “And I somehow thought I might hear from you today.”
“You’re a smart guy when it comes to knowing your customers and their needs, Mr. Nils,” I said. “I need a payment to Fritz. Five mil.”
If he was surprised at the sum—larger than I typically moved, but I had somewhere near half a billion still sitting in his bank—he evinced no surprise. “I see. I will arrange it immediately.”
“Thanks,” I said. I might have chitchatted more, but neither he nor I were chitchatty people, and I suspected he was as busy as I was. “By the way, this number—”
“I assume it won’t be in service much longer?” he asked, but he did so in the manner of a man who already knew the answer.
“Safe bet,” I said. “As always.”
“Til next time, then,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said, and as soon as the call was disconnected I broke the phone in half, looking around to make sure no one was watching, and rolled down the window and tossed it into the loch. I finished my browse, finding out that there was a nearby town just up the road, and then broke that phone in half too. I’d been careful not to plot any trips, instead figuring out where that Lochty airfield was by visual inspection only, then after busting that phone followed it with the two police cell phones, which were just plain flip ones. I thought about tossing the radios too, but those couldn’t be tracked (that I knew of) and I’d been listening to the low-level chatter of their manhunt, hoping not to hear anything like, “She’s stolen a police car and is on Route Blankety-Blank, on the shore of Loch Rainyland.” Because that would be bad.
The last of the things I needed disposed of now gone, I popped the car into gear. Still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, I eased back out into the light flow of traffic along the scenic lane and took a left. Hopefully the village ahead would continue to provide me a respite for trouble, and I’d be able to grab what I needed, swap cars, and get the hell out of Scotland before anything else bad happened.
But somehow…I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be nearly that easy, because with me? It never was.