Chapter 5

Scotland was everything I hoped for in the first week of fall. For as long as I lived, I would always remember my three days of salmon fishing. Following the aged guide with his heavy brogue through the woods to the deep fast moving Jorg river was peaceful and breathtaking. Most of my and my three companions’ time was spent admiring nature. The river was so densely packed by the silvery-pink fish that we didn’t have to worry about the fishing part of our trip. The lodge ended up selling our catch to the nearby villages while keeping the choice of the lot separated for our own dinners.

...

The fifth day in the highland country I discovered someone had leaked my presence at McHendrick’s Gin Distillery when our group returned from a nearby castle tour, which turned out to be more of a keep instead of a castle, we found that prestigious dining hall filled with a group of Britannian tourists, all female...

Smiling ruefully, I washed up and changed. I did dress up a bit more than I had planned on, before rejoining my ‘surprise’ dinner companions.

The three couples from yesterday joined me and the suddenly appeared dozen well-dressed new arrivals for dinner at a very long single table, which was only intended to seat sixteen. The house had added an extra chair, without complaint, I imagined.

My placard had been moved to the head of the table whereas the three couples had been moved to the foot end of the eighteen-foot long sixteenth century table. I had become surrounded by willing women by someone’s manipulations ... Again. If I could prove that Sydney Thomas was behind this, I would gladly strangle the bitch. Boris or no Boris.

I sipped my ale and began learning the ladies’ names, who chased me half way across Britannia, when four heavily armed women in full dark blue combat gear, toting sub-machine guns, entered the room searching for someone.

As much as I hoped that that someone was not me, a spark of recognition lit all eight of their eyes. In pairs, they separated and quickly surrounded me, stilling the room.

Full body armor, visored helmets, throat mics, sub-machine guns on slings and at the ready, Nordic blue eyes, and white BPS logos, all strong indicators of Miss Larkin’s own private protection services company.

“Dr. Volkstag. A moment of your time?” a Norge accented agent bent over and ‘asked’.

“Excuse me, ladies. Hopefully, I will be right back.”

Following the woman, I dreaded what she had to say.

“I apologize, Dr. Volkstag. My employer sent my team to protect you during your vacation. Sydney Thomas asked me to convey a message.”

I groaned. “What is it?”

“Your name has been leaked as the next Captain of the Legacy. If you feel the need, let one of us know and we will return you directly to the New Mexico base.”

“Is there a danger of anyone acting?” I knew that there was. Miss Thomas had not planned on releasing my next posting until after I left Earth for that reason.

“There is, sir. We have two more teams on the way; until then, please try and stay in view of me at all times.”

“Can I finish my meal?”

“Yes, sir. But if I say we bug out, then you must accompany us without delay.”

“Wonderful. Your name?”

“I am Kjersti Natvig. Please wear this bracelet at all times. Do not take it off even for the shower.” The stern and armed woman handed me an etched men’s silver bracelet along with a silver pen and a note. Since she did not comment on either aloud, I suspected that meant I was supposed to read the note in private later. And soon.

Released from my short impromptu briefing in the corner of the hall next to the bookshelf, I returned to my chair and dinner companions. A bit subdued.

Two armed and armored women standing in each corner of the centuries old dining room cast a pall over the diners. It wasn’t until the pumpkin risotto was mostly consumed that the huntresses surrounding me began to perk back up.

The silent unmoving guardians allowed everyone to mostly put them out of their minds, especially Pricilla and Jackie, who were quite engaging. By the end of the meal, I had a suspicion that the other women were acting as shields and support for those two.

After finishing an enjoyable apple-based pastry over coffee, those two, who had been acting more and more in concert as the dinner progressed, invited me to their room. All under the pretense of continuing our dinner conversation.

Glancing at Agent Natvig and acknowledging her barely perceptible nod, I agreed to the ladies’ offer but first visited the little boy’s room before accompanying my latest pair of stalkers to their suite. The note gave brief instructions on activation of the tracker in the bracelet and pen.

Dammit. I was on vacation. My last one for a very long time, I suspected. I hoped that I could enjoy the rest of it, yet worried with the latest information release it would end early.

I would be seriously pissed if the trip to Ireland and my St. Andrews tee time were canceled. No one had more practice on sand traps than I did. No one ... well maybe an Arabian Sharif might.

My Tee time wasn’t cancelled!

Two days later, I joined a threesome of Russe businessmen on the fabled St. Andrew’s links; their fourth wasn’t able to make the trip. My putting could have been better, but I scored an 81, which pleased me since I hadn’t been on a real course in years. For the last two years my practice time had been all on the dunes of Mars. The desert of northern New Mexico wasn’t noted for its golf courses which hadn’t helped my game. The facility that I had been studying in did have a short par three and a balloon covered driving range within a few miles, that was it.

After our round, the Russe businessmen invited me to a late lunch, which I accepted. I was accompanied by my new bodyguards and they were by theirs. With the number of tattoos on their guardians, I guessed that their business might not be quite legal. But my lunch companions acted professional, so it might have been the Vids influencing my imagination.

My bodyguards were very discreet, staying in the background and not interfering with my vacation. Even when the Britannian government’s version of their state department came calling – they wanted an interview but, as per my boss’s instructions, I gave them Sydney Thomas’s office phone number.

Let them try and get anything from the amazing intellect of Miss Sydney Thomas without paying through the nose for it.

Unfortunately, upon my arrival at the LaGuardia airport in New York, the heavy-handed Federation State Department was present, along with the FBI. My bodyguards were of no assistance after we had landed in a private terminal for customs and even L&S’s own security were detained.

Sitting in a conference room with four men in suits grilling me on my remit, job description, specifics of the Legacy, the true purpose of my trip to Scotland, who I met there, what color were my socks, and how many butterflies did I see, wasn’t my cup of tea ... well, maybe not the last two.

I answered what I thought I could safely and put off the rest. Regardless of what I said, I knew my interrogators would not be happy.

No lawyer, no phone call, no food or drink outside of some sugar cookies from the vending machine and water in a waxed paper cup brought to me by one of the agents. Five hours later, the high pressure ‘interview’ was interrupted by a single knock on the door. A short but insistent one. Which must have originated from the men behind the two-way glass, since the lead Fed backed off for a minute, and spoke to his cohort facing away from me with his mouth covered.

I was too tired to care why they stopped. I was starting to need sleep desperately. I had not slept on the plane back to the Federation, nor the eighteen hours before I arrived at Heathrow.

The pause in questioning let me sleepily relax in the uncomfortable chair. I hoped that whoever gave my inquisitors pause was powerful enough to spring me.

Ten minutes later, my wishes were granted. Sydney Thomas, with Boris in tow, entered the twenty-by-twenty room which consisted of a single table bolted to the floor and three padded metal chairs, which weren’t.

“Are you unharmed, Geoffrey?” in my lack of sleep and exhaustion, her concern sounded and felt genuine.