the Russian. ‘Must be a week now.’
‘I’m curious to know what the diving was like. I hope I’m here when he returns.’
The priest was finally hauled back on to dry land and he stumbled away with the help of the customs officer.
‘Captain,’ the restaurant owner called out, drying his hands with a dishcloth. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ the captain said. ‘Excuse me, please,’ he said to Stratton before starting to walk away.
‘Captain . . . How do you know he was Russian?’
The officer paused and looked back at him. ‘His passport. He was Latvian, actually. From Riga. It was needed for the hiring of the fishing boat. I helped with the paperwork.’
‘I thought you were going to say you spoke Russian. I wouldn’t have been surprised,’ he said, turning away to look out over the harbour and cringing at his pathetic efforts to disguise his interest.
The captain’s eyes lingered on Stratton a moment before he headed into the restaurant.
Stratton felt the officer watching him before he moved away. One too many questions, but then he did not particularly care what the captain thought. He was unlikely to have anything to do with whatever the hell it was Stratton was chasing. He reflected again on how absurd this assignment was and imagined handing it over to a fellow operative and explaining, or attempting to, what exactly they were doing and what they had to go on. It was a joke.
Despite all the negatives though, he had to admit it held an element of intrigue. He wondered if the Russian, or Latvian, played any part in all of this. Was he Gabriel’s vision, the fearful demon on a mission? Was he the man in Thetford Forest? If so, where was he going in the fishing boat? And what about the log? Maybe the man was crazy. Maybe that’s all Gabriel had picked up on: a crazy Russian.
Stratton’s peripheral vision caught movement to his side and he looked over to see Gabriel standing on the edge of the quay staring down at the water. The first thought that flashed into his head was accommodation, and then, as if he had read his mind, the mayor called out to Stratton.
‘Where are you staying?’
‘Ah. Glad you asked. We don’t have anywhere booked. Could you suggest a place?’
‘My wife will take care of you. Your friend looks tired. Perhaps you would like to get him to an apartment. ’
‘Thank you,’ Stratton said.
The mayor called out to his wife, explaining what he wanted, and she came over to Stratton, beaming a smile, and invited him to follow her.
‘Gabriel,’ Stratton called out. ‘We have an apartment for the night.’
Gabriel nodded and walked back to where his seat was and picked up his bag. Stratton collected his and stopped in front of the mayor. ‘Can we contribute to the evening?’ Stratton said, reaching for his wallet.
‘No,’ the mayor said. ‘You are our guests. Besides, you’ll pay through the nose for the apartment since it’s the only one available tonight.’ He grinned.
Stratton got the picture. ‘Thanks anyway,’ he said, and walked off after the mayor’s wife and Gabriel who were waiting for him.
‘This is probably the only place open for breakfast tomorrow so we’ll see you then,’ the mayor called out.
They walked away and the mayor’s smile faded as he was joined by the lawyer, both watching the strangers go.
‘What do you think?’ the lawyer asked.
‘I don’t think the old man is a university professor, and neither is the Englishman his assistant.’
‘I agree,’ said the lawyer. ‘But I don’t think they’re here looking to claim a house either.’ He glanced at the mayor for his consensus.
‘So what are we worried about then?’ the mayor said, grinning. ‘Let’s finish off the wine.’
That was an attractive offer and they returned to the table.
Stratton and Gabriel followed the mayor’s wife around the bend of the quay then up a narrow, dark, cobbled side street, past a tethered goat and along another street that headed steeply uphill.
She paused at a corner, indicated a three-storey house opposite, handed Stratton a large old key and remained where she was, smiling, and waiting for acknowledgement. It was clear she did not intend to go any further, obviously uncomfortable about going into the house with two strange men.
Stratton nodded thanks and crossed the alley; it could not be called a road since no car could pass along it.
The two men faced the front door which would have been in complete darkness had it not been