Chapter 2
The next morning dawned bright and sunny although, from the suspicious glares she was giving the clouds, Sydney had no faith that it would stay that way. She dragged her eyes back to her companion at the breakfast table, but the view was not improved by the sight of Nigel tucking into a "traditional" Scottish breakfast. Sydney delicately smeared some butter on her croissant and remarked lightly, "No wonder you were called 'Podge' as a child."
Nigel frowned, "You promised that you would never utter that name again." Sydney shrugged. "Besides," Nigel continued, "this is traditional, it even said so on the menu. When in Rome and all that. Want to try some?"
Nigel held out a grey coloured substance balanced on a spoon. Sydney eyed it dubiously. "What is it?"
"It's haggis." said Nigel with a mischievous glint in his eye that Sydney knew should not be trusted.
"And what exactly IS haggis?"
"It's an animal native to the Highlands, quite similar to a rabbit actually. They are a protected species now. Very strict hunting laws, but we're in luck. We're right in the middle of the haggis hunting season. Ever heard of the 'Glorious 12th'?"
"I thought that was for pheasant?"
"And haggis. Come on, Syd. Just imagine the weary clansman stalking his prey through the gorse and heather of the Highlands, laying his traps for the cunning beastie. And hurry up, it's getting cold."
Sydney took the spoon and popped the morsel in her mouth, reassuring herself that it could not taste worse than roasted snake. She chewed thoughtfully. Not bad. Not bad at all. Sort of spicy and peppery with a slightly rough texture.
"Well?"
Sydney nodded still chewing.
Nigel grinned. "Actually, I lied. Haggis isn't an animal." Sydney stopped chewing. "See, what you do is take the offal from a cow or a pig, anything you've got really, mix it with oatmeal, stuff it into sheep gut and boil it for a few hours. Delicious isn't it? Those Highlanders certainly got value for money on their animals. Waste not, want not as my mother always said." He happily broke into another piece of haggis.
Sydney swallowed deliberately and pushed away her plate. "I'll wait for you in the car, Nigel."
Nigel gave her a cheery wave as she strode from the dining room. Privately, Sydney promised herself that "Podge" would pay for that, and soon.
***
Sydney had not had a great opportunity to see the town of Ardonen the night before. The drive in from the airport had been through industrial warehouses and dormitory suburbs. Not a very promising location for an ancient relic. But as Nigel drove them down from the hotel, Sydney felt her breath catch at the picturesque scene before her. This was a more conceivable hiding place for a relic.
The old town of Ardonen nestled at the foot of a forbidding rock. Built on its summit was Castle Ardonen which managed to look menacing even with sunlight glinting off its battlements. The town itself started at the base of the rock and continued around the edge of a small bay. Large, sturdily built houses which had once been home to a single family had now been converted to offices, flats, public houses, shops, although the original character of the town had not been destroyed. No neon signs, no garish displays, not even a set of traffic lights. Sydney commented on this to Nigel.
"That's quite an interesting story. Back in the sixties they were renovating the town hall and discovered an old smuggling route, right up through the rock which comes out up there." Nigel gestured up the hill and Sydney craned to see three squat cottages against the hillside. As she watched she saw a car drive past. "The town council decided to widen it and use it as the main route out of the town. Quite a feat of engineering, partly funded by the way, with a substantial donation from the McDonald family. They made it a one way system, so no traffic lights. It's quite a draw for the visitors. This place is a real tourist-trap in the summer."
"You wouldn't know it to look at it now." muttered Sydney. Although she had to admit it was a charming little town. She felt almost sacrilegious, very unusual for a relic hunter, to be driving into this haven in a car. A horse-drawn carriage would have been more appropriate for the cobbled street, not to mention the shock absorbers.
Nigel came up to a branch in the road. "That's the tunnel there." Sydney glanced over to see a yawning opening in the rock, but Nigel turned to the left and parked the car.
Sydney stepped out and took a deep breath of the fresh air, the place was definitely growing on her.
"Hurry up, Syd. We don't want to be late. Mrs Cameron is quite a character."
Sydney joined Nigel and they began to walk towards the town hall. Nigel suddenly stopped and laid a hand on Sydney's arm. "Syd, there's one more thing," he said apologetically. "Don't say anything about being a relic hunter. Mrs Cameron has 'views'."
"Views?"
"She has a real bee in her bonnet about 'preservation', if you know what I mean."
Sydney smiled grimly. "Oh, I see. And she doesn't take kindly to 'looters', am I right?" Nigel nodded. "Well, I'll just have to set her straight won't I?" She moved to march off, but Nigel tightened his grip.
"After she shows us the vault, Syd, please." he entreated.
Sydney tossed her hair. "All right, AFTER we've seen the vault."
They moved off together.
***
Sydney and Nigel had no problem entering the town hall, but neither of them were expecting to be stopped by a policeman.
"Sorry, Madam, Sir, but the Burgh Hall is closed for the moment." The policeman held out his arms barring the way.
"But we have an appointment with Mrs Cameron, the Burgh curator."
"And you are?"
"Nigel Bailey, this is my associate, Professor Sydney Fox."
"Constable Partridge, Ardonen police. I'm afraid Mrs Cameron is unlikely to be seeing any visitors today. She's had quite an upset."
"Is she all right?" asked Sydney.
Before the constable could respond they all heard shrill tones from above. Two figures came into view, one a police sergeant, the other a short, plump woman with a shock of unruly grey hair. As the two made their way down the ornate staircase, the woman's tones moved from high-pitched distress to strident anger...
"... who would do such a thing... no respect these days... close contact with the police... we did everything YOU recommended... appreciate that, but it doesn't excuse... I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RESOURCES!"
This last was said at a shout. Mrs Cameron suddenly realised that she had an audience, an open-mouthed audience. She straightened her twin-set and turned sweetly to the sergeant.
"Sergeant Paterson, you have been kindness itself in this trying circumstance. I realise that the protection of local historical artefacts is quite likely a low priority considering the large area you have to... administer." Paterson puffed out his chest. "But, I'm sure that you would agree, such wanton vandalism, has its roots in some deeper malaise. The person, or persons who did this were obviously after something." Mrs Cameron paused long enough to flick her glance over to Nigel, she focused again on the police officer, "And that something was cash. I understand that there is a growing, er trade? Is that the current term? In drugs, in the," Mrs Cameron's lip curled in distaste, "new town. Find the people who did this, Sergeant, and you might find other avenues of enquiry?"
Sergeant Paterson tweaked his cap, "Rest assured, ma'am. No stone will be left unturned." He nodded to Partridge and both officers left the scene, doffing their caps.
"She's good." murmured Sydney.
Mrs Cameron whirled to face them. "Indeed I am, dear. I'd be much obliged, Mr Bailey, if you could explain why I have such an eminent relic hunter as Professor Sydney Fox on my doorstep the day after my offices are broken in to."
Sydney and Nigel exchanged glances. Nigel shrank back from Sydney's accusing stare. "I thought you said she had 'views'?" Sydney hissed.
"I do." Mrs Cameron smiled, "I also have excellent hearing. Why don't we continue this in more comfortable surroundings?" she gestured towards an open door.
***
Nothing! Nothing of any use. Nothing of any value. He'd found nothing to sell that would even cover the cost of his tools!
Bailey had been wrong. For the first time, Bailey had been wrong. And it was going to reflect badly on him, he knew it. He slammed his fist into the dashboard in frustration. Then took a deep breath to calm himself. This was not the end of it. The client would simply have to accept that there were hic-cups in every operation.
As if on cue, Troy's mobile rang. Troy took another deep breath and answered the call.
"... I regret, sir, that my associate's assumptions proved unfounded on this occasion. However we do have a new lead..."
Troy held the handset away from his ear as his employer blasted forth with his reply. Even then he could still hear the anger in the man's voice.
"I'm paying you more than enough to sub-contract out to the best, Troy!"
Troy slowly returned the handset to his ear.
"I can assure you..."
"Assure me nothing! Just do what I am paying you to do!" The voice on the other end took an ominous tone. "Because I assure you, Troy. If you and your associate cannot deliver you will both have successful new careers... as fertiliser!" The line went dead.
Troy held the 'phone away from him. He tried to tell himself that he was not afraid. But he knew he'd be lying. He'd had his doubts from the start. But he did want to be rich, and no-one else was prepared to pay his price. It looked as if he was going to have to go back to the drawing board. And, on the bright side, he did have a ready made scapegoat if it all went wrong.
Troy stared coldly at the Burgh Hall before turning the ignition of his car and speeding away through the tunnel.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny although, from the suspicious glares she was giving the clouds, Sydney had no faith that it would stay that way. She dragged her eyes back to her companion at the breakfast table, but the view was not improved by the sight of Nigel tucking into a "traditional" Scottish breakfast. Sydney delicately smeared some butter on her croissant and remarked lightly, "No wonder you were called 'Podge' as a child."
Nigel frowned, "You promised that you would never utter that name again." Sydney shrugged. "Besides," Nigel continued, "this is traditional, it even said so on the menu. When in Rome and all that. Want to try some?"
Nigel held out a grey coloured substance balanced on a spoon. Sydney eyed it dubiously. "What is it?"
"It's haggis." said Nigel with a mischievous glint in his eye that Sydney knew should not be trusted.
"And what exactly IS haggis?"
"It's an animal native to the Highlands, quite similar to a rabbit actually. They are a protected species now. Very strict hunting laws, but we're in luck. We're right in the middle of the haggis hunting season. Ever heard of the 'Glorious 12th'?"
"I thought that was for pheasant?"
"And haggis. Come on, Syd. Just imagine the weary clansman stalking his prey through the gorse and heather of the Highlands, laying his traps for the cunning beastie. And hurry up, it's getting cold."
Sydney took the spoon and popped the morsel in her mouth, reassuring herself that it could not taste worse than roasted snake. She chewed thoughtfully. Not bad. Not bad at all. Sort of spicy and peppery with a slightly rough texture.
"Well?"
Sydney nodded still chewing.
Nigel grinned. "Actually, I lied. Haggis isn't an animal." Sydney stopped chewing. "See, what you do is take the offal from a cow or a pig, anything you've got really, mix it with oatmeal, stuff it into sheep gut and boil it for a few hours. Delicious isn't it? Those Highlanders certainly got value for money on their animals. Waste not, want not as my mother always said." He happily broke into another piece of haggis.
Sydney swallowed deliberately and pushed away her plate. "I'll wait for you in the car, Nigel."
Nigel gave her a cheery wave as she strode from the dining room. Privately, Sydney promised herself that "Podge" would pay for that, and soon.
***
Sydney had not had a great opportunity to see the town of Ardonen the night before. The drive in from the airport had been through industrial warehouses and dormitory suburbs. Not a very promising location for an ancient relic. But as Nigel drove them down from the hotel, Sydney felt her breath catch at the picturesque scene before her. This was a more conceivable hiding place for a relic.
The old town of Ardonen nestled at the foot of a forbidding rock. Built on its summit was Castle Ardonen which managed to look menacing even with sunlight glinting off its battlements. The town itself started at the base of the rock and continued around the edge of a small bay. Large, sturdily built houses which had once been home to a single family had now been converted to offices, flats, public houses, shops, although the original character of the town had not been destroyed. No neon signs, no garish displays, not even a set of traffic lights. Sydney commented on this to Nigel.
"That's quite an interesting story. Back in the sixties they were renovating the town hall and discovered an old smuggling route, right up through the rock which comes out up there." Nigel gestured up the hill and Sydney craned to see three squat cottages against the hillside. As she watched she saw a car drive past. "The town council decided to widen it and use it as the main route out of the town. Quite a feat of engineering, partly funded by the way, with a substantial donation from the McDonald family. They made it a one way system, so no traffic lights. It's quite a draw for the visitors. This place is a real tourist-trap in the summer."
"You wouldn't know it to look at it now." muttered Sydney. Although she had to admit it was a charming little town. She felt almost sacrilegious, very unusual for a relic hunter, to be driving into this haven in a car. A horse-drawn carriage would have been more appropriate for the cobbled street, not to mention the shock absorbers.
Nigel came up to a branch in the road. "That's the tunnel there." Sydney glanced over to see a yawning opening in the rock, but Nigel turned to the left and parked the car.
Sydney stepped out and took a deep breath of the fresh air, the place was definitely growing on her.
"Hurry up, Syd. We don't want to be late. Mrs Cameron is quite a character."
Sydney joined Nigel and they began to walk towards the town hall. Nigel suddenly stopped and laid a hand on Sydney's arm. "Syd, there's one more thing," he said apologetically. "Don't say anything about being a relic hunter. Mrs Cameron has 'views'."
"Views?"
"She has a real bee in her bonnet about 'preservation', if you know what I mean."
Sydney smiled grimly. "Oh, I see. And she doesn't take kindly to 'looters', am I right?" Nigel nodded. "Well, I'll just have to set her straight won't I?" She moved to march off, but Nigel tightened his grip.
"After she shows us the vault, Syd, please." he entreated.
Sydney tossed her hair. "All right, AFTER we've seen the vault."
They moved off together.
***
Sydney and Nigel had no problem entering the town hall, but neither of them were expecting to be stopped by a policeman.
"Sorry, Madam, Sir, but the Burgh Hall is closed for the moment." The policeman held out his arms barring the way.
"But we have an appointment with Mrs Cameron, the Burgh curator."
"And you are?"
"Nigel Bailey, this is my associate, Professor Sydney Fox."
"Constable Partridge, Ardonen police. I'm afraid Mrs Cameron is unlikely to be seeing any visitors today. She's had quite an upset."
"Is she all right?" asked Sydney.
Before the constable could respond they all heard shrill tones from above. Two figures came into view, one a police sergeant, the other a short, plump woman with a shock of unruly grey hair. As the two made their way down the ornate staircase, the woman's tones moved from high-pitched distress to strident anger...
"... who would do such a thing... no respect these days... close contact with the police... we did everything YOU recommended... appreciate that, but it doesn't excuse... I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RESOURCES!"
This last was said at a shout. Mrs Cameron suddenly realised that she had an audience, an open-mouthed audience. She straightened her twin-set and turned sweetly to the sergeant.
"Sergeant Paterson, you have been kindness itself in this trying circumstance. I realise that the protection of local historical artefacts is quite likely a low priority considering the large area you have to... administer." Paterson puffed out his chest. "But, I'm sure that you would agree, such wanton vandalism, has its roots in some deeper malaise. The person, or persons who did this were obviously after something." Mrs Cameron paused long enough to flick her glance over to Nigel, she focused again on the police officer, "And that something was cash. I understand that there is a growing, er trade? Is that the current term? In drugs, in the," Mrs Cameron's lip curled in distaste, "new town. Find the people who did this, Sergeant, and you might find other avenues of enquiry?"
Sergeant Paterson tweaked his cap, "Rest assured, ma'am. No stone will be left unturned." He nodded to Partridge and both officers left the scene, doffing their caps.
"She's good." murmured Sydney.
Mrs Cameron whirled to face them. "Indeed I am, dear. I'd be much obliged, Mr Bailey, if you could explain why I have such an eminent relic hunter as Professor Sydney Fox on my doorstep the day after my offices are broken in to."
Sydney and Nigel exchanged glances. Nigel shrank back from Sydney's accusing stare. "I thought you said she had 'views'?" Sydney hissed.
"I do." Mrs Cameron smiled, "I also have excellent hearing. Why don't we continue this in more comfortable surroundings?" she gestured towards an open door.
***
Nothing! Nothing of any use. Nothing of any value. He'd found nothing to sell that would even cover the cost of his tools!
Bailey had been wrong. For the first time, Bailey had been wrong. And it was going to reflect badly on him, he knew it. He slammed his fist into the dashboard in frustration. Then took a deep breath to calm himself. This was not the end of it. The client would simply have to accept that there were hic-cups in every operation.
As if on cue, Troy's mobile rang. Troy took another deep breath and answered the call.
"... I regret, sir, that my associate's assumptions proved unfounded on this occasion. However we do have a new lead..."
Troy held the handset away from his ear as his employer blasted forth with his reply. Even then he could still hear the anger in the man's voice.
"I'm paying you more than enough to sub-contract out to the best, Troy!"
Troy slowly returned the handset to his ear.
"I can assure you..."
"Assure me nothing! Just do what I am paying you to do!" The voice on the other end took an ominous tone. "Because I assure you, Troy. If you and your associate cannot deliver you will both have successful new careers... as fertiliser!" The line went dead.
Troy held the 'phone away from him. He tried to tell himself that he was not afraid. But he knew he'd be lying. He'd had his doubts from the start. But he did want to be rich, and no-one else was prepared to pay his price. It looked as if he was going to have to go back to the drawing board. And, on the bright side, he did have a ready made scapegoat if it all went wrong.
Troy stared coldly at the Burgh Hall before turning the ignition of his car and speeding away through the tunnel.