Why he had the shackles, that wasn’t so clear. I looked from where Davies was bound by the wrist and ankle and then met Grandad’s eyes with a raised brow.
“Ask me no questions, girl, and I’ll tell you no lies,” he grinned at me in a way that made me choose to leave it at that and rather quickly. “Let’s go have the tea then. Prince Charming will be sleeping it off for a while yet.”
Over tea, while Da went into town to get a bunch of nonsense that wasn’t needed but that would keep him busy finding, I explained to Grandad what had happened and how he’d ended up with a billionaire in his basement. Even as I told the story I found myself feeling like a prize idiot. Yes, I could get a pile of money for Davies, several piles in fact. And there was no question he deserved a sore head and a bit of humiliation for his high-handed bullshit and complete lack of care for anything other than himself and his garbage business dealings.
But with all of that said, the bright light of morning, a few cups of Barry’s Tea with a plate of toast, and my Grandad’s whiskery face all brought me around to the truth that I had done what I had done for no real reason other than anger and a bit of vanity.
Endangering my family and possibly my team in the process.
I said as much and got waved off by the old man, “Never mind all that. You’ve done it. Yer man in the basement is here now, and probably looks at the odd abduction as the price of being himself. You get some sleep, and then talk to your people, the bad ones I know you know, and see about who you have to get the word out to about the money and how much you want. I must see to the goats before they eat their way through the barn wall.”
Standing up, he stretched and groaned again, and I wondered how long he’d be able to work the farm, even with the help of the few locals he paid and the students who lived here on and off. A few Euros would have to fall into his pockets as well, even if hedidn’t care for it.
Tousling my hair on the way out, he looked at the basement door and laughed and muttered, “You keep me young, Fee, yes you do.”
Several texts and five hours of sleep later, I woke with a fresher head and to the smell of Da making a curry. Laying on my back in my old bed, in my old room, one of the couple including his own bedroom that Grandad hadn’t made over to hold several students, I gave myself a few moments to pretend this was a normal visit.
Out of the window, the wood holding it in place slightly warped so it whistled like something from a ghost story, Grandad’s voice came, cursing out his bull, Samson. Fighting the curry was the old stone smell of the walls, manure, the herb plot, and decaying veg in the composter that was like a teenager’s perfume - strong, unappealing to most, yet so nostalgic.
Sitting up, I looked at my mobile, quickly deleting most of the texts from my group. They would be better off not hearing from me for a while, though I was happy to note that they had maxed out most of Davies’ cards in a wild number of fucked up places before disposing of them.
I smiled to think of the look on his face when he saw his monthly statements.
The coded messages I had sent to the two people I knew - one in Russia, the other in Nigeria - who would be interested and able to help arrange the technical parts of a ransom had both been received. Viktoria had told me she would contact me later, that she was in the middle of a thing. Iyare responded with a series of emojis and a free download of his Afrobeat band’s latest track, which was his way of telling me he was taking one of his periodic vacations fromcriminal activism.
After showering and changing into the work clothes I left at the farm, I checked the news, curious as to how Davies’ disappearance was being framed.
And kept looking.
And looking.
Nothing. The only recent news about him besides a few pieces about his appearance at the protest were some gossip column articles speculating his having had a falling out with another English Godking, Alastair Someoneorother, who was his bestie and who had recently married.
Well, that might explain Davies’ current interest in turning his blood into scotch, though it was hard to imagine the rich having enough humanity to care about anyone.
Downstairs Da had left a pot on the stove and headed out, probably to deal with the geese. The mean-tempered things hated everyone except him so when Ma kicked him out and he came home he took over looking after them.
I called out for Grandad before I noticed that the door to the basement was cracked open. Damn.
I opened it the rest of the way and stepped in far enough to get a peek at Davies. He was alive, haggard, in need of a shave, hollow-eyed, and probably shaking for a drink, and yet his handsome face was amused, and his rich, raspy voice managed to fill the room with arrogance.
Good luck to him trying that on Fintan Cassidy.
Who gave me a start, climbing back up the stairs for a moment I thought he was sick, his face was that green. He closed and locked the door and pulled off the Halloween mask.
“Oh, it's Frankenstein! I thought you were looking extra handsome today, old man.” I served us each up a plate of curry and rice.Da was the best cook in the family, especially whenusing the veg and chickens from the farm. “So, how is our guest?”
“Feisty as a bantam, arrogant as… an Englishman.Eager to talk to you and in need of a wash and change of clothes.” Grandad looked at me, waiting to see if I had a plan, an idea, anything to add.
“I’ll find something for him to change into. When you and Da go to the pub tonight I’ll see to him.”
“You mean,” he raised his finger to his temple, gun-like, and fired, and then laughed at his own joke.
After a few hours of good work on the farm and a late tea, my fellas headed off to Farragher’s pub and I checked my mobile for what felt like the thousandth time. Still nothing, not the slightest hint of a murmur of a rumor that a billionaire was unaccounted for. I knew that the ultra-rich like to keep themselves to themselves but even my connections in high-level corporate security seemed blissfully unaware.
That wasn’t merely unusual, it was positively unnatural, bordering on the supernatural.
After raiding the closets and the trunks in the attic I found a few articles of clothing that would fit Davies, and that would please me to see him wearing. Then I slapped together a sandwich that I wrapped in a napkin, not wanting to risk giving Davies a plate or anything he could break and use as a weapon. The gun and knife I’d taken from him implied he’d had some kind of self-defense training.
