Glen & Tyler's Scottish Troubles (Glen & Tyler's Adventures Book 2)

Part 1: The Start of Things

Shadows

He’s late. Ivan spoke Russian with a Moscow accent, clipped and arrogant, like all Muscovites. Sergei thought hard about smacking him, but remembered again who he was.

There was a British patrol in the way. Sergei replied. It was explanation, and a pointed reminder for Ivan to shut up. If he talked that way around the boss…Sergei would need a new security chief.

There was a flash of light from the starboard of the fishing trawler, not as easy to spot as Sergei would like in the grey twilight of the overcast North Sea, but more obvious than he preferred. He raised his binoculars and watched the other vessel, with its topsail light blinking like it had a loose cable. After a moment or two, it stopped blinking. It had been enough time to tell that it was the right boat. The boss was here.

Some minutes later, the other ship pulled alongside theirs. It was nearly identical to theirs in every way, even down to the rust patterns and fading paint. If there was ever someone chatty enough to talk to the British, French, Russian or Norwegian patrols, they would be hard pressed to tell the two trawlers apart. There were three more like them fishing around the North, all with registration numbers off by one or two digits from each other, and registered to similar-sounding generic fishing companies.

Rough looking fishermen began swiftly moving large plastic net floats from Sergei’s vessel to the other, and another steady stream of the net floats moved in the other direction. One set of floats was empty, ready to hold up a large fishing net; the other set of floats contained a cornucopia of illicit items.

A man walked from the deckhouse of the other vessel and over to where one of the gangplanks had been laid between the ships.  He easily walked over the swaying plank, without any obvious concern. He wore a London-style trench coat over an expensive tailored suit. His blonde hair was perfectly coiffured, his appearance that of a fashionable male model, only marred by the scar near his eye, and the tattoos on his hands and neck.

Sergei was also fairly certain that male models could not instill such bone-chilling fear.

Welcome back, sir. Sergei said. He did not offer a hand. The last man who had done that to Pietr Milovich had lost it, or at least, that was the rumor. Whatever the truth, the man did not shake hands with subordinates.

Sergei, find out who gave us the patrol routes for the Irish Sea and make their life difficult. I dislike being late.

Yes, sir.

Permanently, boss? Ivan looked almost eager. What an idiot, Sergei thought, not for the first time.

Pietr gave Ivan a look with his bad eye. In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, he said: That’s two, Ivan. You do not get a third.

Ivan paled, looked sweaty and nodded. This time he kept his mouth mercifully shut.

Pietr gestured for Sergei to walk with him, and they proceeded up to the tiny bridge of the trawler. Once that last door was closed, Pieter spoke.

Is he really Alexander’s nephew?

Yes, sir. I confirmed it with Sasha’s cousin. Sergei shook his head. I think maybe Alexander put him here as a test for us.

Pietr nodded. It would be like him. Two birds with one stone. He sat down and put his feet up. Alexander doesn’t like that I have more loyal men than he does. How were things here?

It’s been quiet, no disturbances here. We had some trouble with one of our men getting drunk in a bar, but it’s been handled.

Police paid off, and the man in a bag below?

Sergei nodded. We waited for you on whether to kill him or not.

Good. Toss him in the sea once the other trawler is away. Pietr pulled out some sheets of paper. Let’s go over the next shipment.

Waking Up

Glen woke up with Tyler in his arms, and felt amazed all over again that Tyler loved him. Even though they’d been married for almost a year, it was still a constant source of wonder.

When he spoke, Glen could feel Tyler’s voice reverberate in his own chest where Tyler’s back was pressed against him. You’re watching me sleep again, aren’t you?

Apparently not. Apparently, I’m watching you pretend to be asleep.

Now you’re just being mean. You know I hate that word.

Apparently.

Tyler swiveled in his arms and looked Glen in his face. Despite his serious tone of voice, Tyler’s face was half-smiling.

Stop it.

Apparently, apparently, apparently—

Tyler tickled Glen until he couldn’t catch his breath anymore.

Good morning. Glen said, when Tyler stopped.

Good morning to you, too.

They kissed.

Then Tyler pulled back. He had a cautious look on his face.

You know I love you, right?

Yes… Glen looked worried. What’s wrong?

We shouldn’t kiss first thing in the morning.

Why not!?

Tyler coughed. Uh, you know, maybe it’s just me overreacting, but ah, you have bad breath.

Glen blushed a little. Oh. Sorry.

I’m pretty sure you aren’t the only offending party.

Glen bound out of bed, dashed across and into the bathroom. There was a gurgling noise, and some spitting. Then Glen dashed back and bounced into bed. He raised his eyebrows at Tyler.

What? Tyler said.

If we’re both at fault here, why aren’t you swirling the mouthwash?

Because I planned ahead last night? Tyler held up a packet of gum, then snapped what he had in his mouth noisily.

I love that you’re so smart. They kissed again, then Glen pulled back. Hang on, if you knew last night that we get bad breath in the morning, why did I have to get out of bed?

Tyler smirked. I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to watch you dash naked over to the bathroom and back?

Glen laughed and tickled him back.

Castles, Moms and Air

Tim met them at the bottom of the main staircase. They were just coming down for breakfast, and Glen knew it was going to be one of those days when Tyler’s right-hand man Tim Franklin met them there rather than after breakfast. The man was unbelievably organized, and helped to keep their crazy life in some semblance of order. It was a good thing Tyler had hired Tim when he did, otherwise Glen was sure the two of them would be stuck on a desert island somewhere, wondering when the helicopter was coming.

Busy day today, guys. Do you want me to run it down for you, or do you want a print out of the schedule with breakfast? Tim put on a smile, obviously trying to make the situation better than it was.

Ugh. Just hit the highlights for us. Tyler’s expression also said: make it brief. Neither of them were all that great in the morning, and before coffee and food — let’s just say that Tyler didn’t need a diamond-studded tiara to be bitchy.

Tim didn’t even refer to notes. Ok, breakfast is in the Morning Room and it’s a big one like you asked. Then you’ve got an hour to catch up on news and email before the artist shows you your finished portrait. That’s in the West Lounge. Then lunch in the small dining room with the team. At thirteen thirty, you and the expanded security crew get in a boat and go ashore. You’ll be met by the usual caravan. Then it’s three hours into the City for the appointment at eighteen hundred hours with the judge for the happiness review.

Tyler groaned. That’s today, isn’t it?

Yes. Tim motioned them towards the Morning Room. After the review, I figured you might want some comfort food, so I booked a bo ssäm at Momofuku Ssäm Bar.

Glen smiled, and Tyler visibly brightened, which was practically magic all by itself at that time of day. The Momofuku Ssäm Bar was one of their favorite places to eat — they served the most amazing Asian food, without regard to any particular cuisine.

"That’s a really good idea, Tim, thank you. Above and beyond. Tyler clapped Tim on the shoulder. Let’s just hope we don’t need as much comforting as we do celebrating."

***

So, the topic for this morning: I own a castle. Tyler swirled his orange juice. Glen could tell something big was coming up. Tyler had that Serious Face.

They were eating breakfast in the Morning Room — a small, brightly decorated room with east-facing windows. Its primary decorating strategy could be summed up as: yellow. Their island estate was full of such wonderful little rooms.

You own a castle? Cool. Another in the long list of crazy things your Grandfather left you. Glen took another bite of his Eggs Norwegian, which tasted like it had just been flown in from Food Heaven. Mentally, he was kicking himself.

Not my Grandfather, actually. It came from my Mother’s people. I’ve owned it since, well, since my Mom died when I was eight, but I’ve never had the means to do anything about it.

Glen looked pained. Oh, man.

What?

I don’t know anything about your mother. Did you tell me and I don’t remember? Glen looked guilt-stricken.

Tyler stood up, came over and squeezed his shoulder. No, not really. I barely remember her, just fragments, blurs. If I didn’t have pictures, I’d hardly know what she looked like. I never really talked about my mother at all.

Oh.

Yeah. So. I have this castle.

Ok, visit to the castle, cool. Germany? Ireland?

Tyler grinned. You’ll just love this. Scotland.

Glen looked surprised. Your Mom was Scottish?

Her Dad was Scottish, she was American/Scottish. And … I, well. Tyler looked uncomfortable. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, I know Scotland is kind of a thing for you, but I just wasn’t ready to talk about my Mom yet.

Oh. And now?

Tyler swallowed. Then let out a breath, and smiled grimly. Now I can, you know, cry in front of you.

Glen stood up and pulled Tyler into a hug. You always could, you know.

Half into Glen’s shoulder, Tyler said Well, I know that NOW.

Glen let go of Tyler, but kept an arm around him. He pulled Tyler’s chair closer with his foot and they sat down again.Ok, so let’s talk about your Scottish family and that History doctorate I haven’t quite completed.

Yeah, I was thinking you might want to finish your dissertation.

Glen rolled his eyes. You do nag about that.

What? Think how much happier my Nanna will be that I married a doctor. Tyler grinned.

Glen laugh-snorted. The he got control of himself. So you’re thinking we’ll take a quick trip to Scotland, I’ll do some whirlwind research and my dissertation will miraculously finish itself?

No, silly. We’re going to Scotland for our first anniversary.

Oh yeah. Glen smiled.

Like you forgot. What were you going to buy me? A submarine? A spy car? A super-yacht? Tyler had that look six-year-olds get right before Christmas.

Glen paused. A castle.

No! Tyler looked alarmed. You didn’t sign anything, did you?

No, not yet, so it’s a good thing you mentioned it.

Damn, Glen, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin it for you.

It’s ok. I’m sure I’ll come up with something. Glen sighed. So, Scotland?

Yeah, so, we go for our anniversary and stay there for a few months while you poke around a little. We can run things from there.

We can?

Sure. We’ll take some kind of mobile command center with all the high-tech gizmos. Plus we’ll have Tim. And the boys. Tyler gestured, virtually encompassing everything.

So we’re taking the whole show on the road?

Yeah, sorry. Tyler looked contrite.

No, it’s ok. Really. I know that’s how things are going to be. Hopefully we’ll get some fun alone time. Glen smiled half-heartedly.

We will, I promise. Tyler said, firmly.

And? Glen said, after a moment.

There’s an and?

There always is, Tyler. It’s part of your ineffable charm.

Tyler smiled. Well, there is this local problem…

Glen laughed. Of course. And it has to do with the castle, doesn’t it?

Sort of? Apparently the castle comes with a village.

You own a village?

I own a Scottish village.

Uh, Tyler, this castle and village don’t come with a title, do they? Glen looked wary.

Dunno? Tyler seemed a touch confused.

Dunno or don’t want to mention that I’ll have to buy a kilt for your swearing in ceremony? Glen half-smiled as he sounded stern.

Tyler grinned. No, Tyler leered. You really think I’d hesitate to get you into a kilt? With your legs?

Glen laughed. Ok, good point. I’ll poke around and find out for you. I think it would have to involve some kind of minor Scottish peerage. At the very least, you might have an ancestral freehold on the town, which is rare enough.

Ancestral what-now?

Freehold. Basically it’s like owning the town. You have the original property rights. It’s like being the landlord, only once you setup a lease with someone, you have to abide by the terms of it until it expires. And the leases usually have really long terms, like 99 years. It’s weird.

The property rights is sort of what this is all about. The guy managing things over there is probably a villain. Tyler sighed. I got a letter from one of the people there who is being evicted for being one day late on her rent.

Seriously? That’s kind of harsh. Glen frowned.

Right, so we’re going to fly out in person and find out what’s really going on. Tyler shook his head. If this guy is doing half the things this woman claims in her letter…

Glen smiled. You’re going to bonk him on the head?

Tyler grinned. Don’t tempt me. No, I’ll just fire him.

Tyler took a bite of muffin, chewed slowly and looked thoughtful.

What?

Just planning. It’s going to be a big expedition. And I want a backup plan, too, in case we run into trouble. Tyler chewed more.

Oh, how often does that happen? Glen said.

Tyler looked at him dumbfounded. Did you seriously just say that?

Never Read the Scandal Sheets

Have you read this?! Glen shoved the printed pages under Tyler’s nose. Tyler was at his laptop, reading up on the day’s financial reports.

Tyler leaned back and gave Glen a sarcastic look. Hi, Tyler, do you have a second to talk to me about something that’s pissed me off?

Glen pressed his lips together more firmly and just looked at Tyler, who put up his eyebrows in surprise.

Wow, ok, you’re really angry. Alright, let me read it. Tyler gently pulled the pages away from Glen. Sassy Female Blogger? I love her. She’s like a real investigative journalist and damn, does she skewer people — oh, crap. Tyler had read down the page to the title of the piece: Tyler Conrad: Saint With a Fortune, or Liar With Lucre? He stopped and looked up at Glen. I’m not going to be happy after I read this, am I?

Glen shook his head.

Tyler sighed, and closed his laptop. Then he leaned back and started reading.

Glen could visibly see Tyler get angry, and then angrier. After a moment or two of reading, Tyler stood up and continued to read while he paced.

I don’t believe this! Tyler shook the pages in Glen’s direction. Did we get a call or an email or a fucking fax asking for our reaction to this thing before she published?

Glen shrugged. Not that I know.

Tyler held up a page and read aloud from it. ‘So Tyler Conrad marries his best friend and assumes the largest fortune ever inherited. Fine. True love, romantic life partners, progress for homosexual marriage. Great! Only — I dug around a little’ —You know, I used to love it when she said that. It meant someone was going to get it and good. ‘And guess what I found out? The poster boys for the modern bisexual man — never had boyfriends. Or looked at men. Or even kissed each other. Once. I talked to friends, family and servants’ — what family, what servants, I’d like to know — ‘and no one can even remember them LOOKING at men, much less kissing in the corner. Plenty of people remember girlfriends, and Tyler had quite the reputation as a ladies man in college.’ Oh, that’s rich. I dated like five women—

Six.

Tyler glared at him mid-pace, and then read on. ‘So I ask you: if we’re expected to believe these two guys didn’t marry for the money, are we supposed to swallow the idea that they were man-sex virgins on their wedding night? Really? Virgins?’

Glen couldn’t help smiling at that. Well…

Tyler blushed. Yeah, if she only knew. Man was that night —

Awkward?

Yeah, and passionate. Tyler flashed Glen a smile. Then it faded. I can’t believe this! She’s like the best progressive blogger out there. It’s like getting stabbed in the back by your best friend. Ok, I mean I guess it’s a little bit unbelievable, but man, she’s one of the only real journalists out there — not like most of the so-called journalists at newspapers or even worse — cable news. Where was the call for our side of the story? I would have given an interview.

Really?

Hell yeah! It’s Sassy Female Blogger — she’s awesome. Well, she WAS awesome. Damn it! Tyler sighed. And we can’t even call her, or drop by her offices. That mysterious secret identity of hers is a lot less amusing when it means I can’t call and yell at someone. Well, not yell, exactly — just… Tyler made a helpless and frustrated gesture, waving his hands in the air.

Did you read to the last line? Glen looked thoughtful.

No, what’s it say? I couldn’t read more.

She’s going to do a follow-up, after more digging.

Is that good or bad?

Portraits and Airships

I like it. Glen said, looking up at the finished oil painting. Tyler, true to his word, had commissioned a portrait artist to do him and Glen. After a few go-around sketches, Tyler had come up with a theme based on the old American Gothic painting, only with hockey sticks. Obviously, the business major had paid attention in art class.

Yeah, that guy is good. I was worried it was going to be hokey, Tyler said.

The hockey sticks or the poses?

The whole thing. Painted portraits can be really awful if they’re not done right.

What’s that out the window over your shoulder?

Tyler grinned. A little something I had Michael add.

Why did you have our portrait painter include … ok, what is it? A spaceship?

It’s an airship, actually.

An airship.

Yup. Tyler got that look on his face, the innocent look that made Glen want to strangle him. Or at least tickle him until he begged for mercy.

Glen put his hand over his eyes, and turned around to face the large expanse of windows behind them. If I lift my hand away from my eyes right now, I’m going to see one of these airships on our lawn, aren’t I?

Tyler laughed, then put his arm around Glen’s shoulders, facing the windows with him. Am I getting that predictable? And yes.

***

The thing looked like a jet plane wildly distorted, or a sleek alien spaceship, Glen couldn’t decide which. They went out after the engines were shut down and the dust settled. George waved to them from the open gang-plank. George was one of their bodyguards, but since he had an aviation background, it looked like Tyler had given him the keys to the new toy.

This thing is amazing, sir! George’s English accent slipped a notch or two towards his London roots when he got excited, rather than the proper withdrawing room voice he usually affected.

Thanks, George, I’m glad you like it. How does it handle? Tyler surveyed the thing with his hands on his hips, a pose Glen liked to refer to as Lord of All I Survey. Tyler didn’t use it very often, but when he did, you knew he liked whatever it was he owned. Glen had to admit it was a cool looking vehicle.

Well, I can’t say it goes all that fast, it’s slower than an airplane or even a helicopter, but you can land it anywhere there’s space. That’s beauty! Plus it’ll drop onto water or snow as well as ground. Come on in!

Glen wasn’t sure how to react to the normally stoic George. The man was evidently an aviation nut.

They went up the gangplank, which were more like stairs built into a door, and entered into … a luxury hotel. That was Glen’s first thought. Everything was sleek, modern and light, wood and metal. There were a lot of large windows, way more than any airplane had a right to have. It made the airship seem more like a building than something that moved under its own power. Glen had the distinct feeling that he’d wandered onto the set of some new scifi show.

It looks like a space lounge, Glen said.

Tyler gave him a look. Yes, I suppose it does. This is the main meeting area, and also one of the observation spaces. Tyler brought Glen further into the airship, down a step or two into a circular sunken lounge area with bench seating. Tyler pointed at the floor. It was a large circular piece of glass or plastic, and showed a view of a lot of blown-around grass a few feet below them. The view’s better from the air, obviously.

Cool! Glen smiled, and then frowned when he thought about it. Assuming I don’t have to walk on it when we’re in the air.

No worries, this is strong stuff. Bullet-proof, too.

Ok, that’s handy. This thing is HUGE.

It is. Next up, the Library.

Tyler and George led them around, showing off the master suite (with a king-sized bed, Tyler was quick to point out), the kitchen, the gym, the office, several small state rooms and the cockpit. It was a spacious craft and every comfort appeared to be available. There was even a bathroom with a tub nearly the size of a swimming pool and a sauna.

Tyler explained that the thing was a hybrid of an aircraft and a giant Zeppelin-style airship (though helium, not hydrogen). He even had pictures of it being built.

How much are these things? Glen asked.

About $40 million a pop. Tyler said, off-hand.

Glen paused and looked at Tyler. Then he smiled. So you bought two?

Tyler laughed. Yeah, you got me. I’ll buy even more if they pan out. Think what kind of emergency aid delivery you could do with these things.

Glen nodded. That’s a really good idea.

Yeah. If our experience with them measures up, I’m going to put in an order for 10 of them for the Foundation, then have them stationed strategically to move aid wherever it’s needed. Of course, that’s the cargo version. Tyler said.

And not the giant luxury deluxe model. It is a bit like a flying cruise ship. Glen said.

Oooh, that’s a great idea! If I was less stupidly rich, I could probably turn that into a business idea. Tyler said.

You know, there’s no reason we can’t fund startup ideas like that and employ more people. Besides, there are advantages to owning your own flying cruise ship. Glen said. As we found out with the regular kind.

Boy, isn’t that the truth. Ok, now onto the planning meeting. Tyler stepped out of the bridge area, where they’d ended up talking, and into the large meeting space at one end of the Great Room. There was a table for ten there, which looked like it was upthrust from the floor (deck?). Around it were comfy-looking swivel chairs bolted down. Several people were already there.

There’s a planning meeting? Glen looked around at the assembled people.

Mr Dillon, their head of security was there. He was a man in his late fifties, very fit, with military-cut grey hair and a fatherly attitude. James Harroway, the head of their in-person bodyguard detail, sat ram-rod straight in his chair. He was the very picture of a marine: blocky, hard-faced and muscled. He also had a wicked sense of humor when he indulged it. Then there was Tyler’s factotum, Tim Franklin.

Sure. We’re taking a big trip, so big plans. Tim? Tyler leaned back into the chair and assumed a deceptively relaxed pose. In reality, the posture allowed him to chill into a light mental state that he used to enhance his crazy-good memory. He liked to use it at meetings so that he remembered all the little details.

With George’s help, I’ve laid out a course, gotten fuel estimates, compiled a dossier on this Dumfries man of yours and called a few people I know to get some background on the area.

Anything leap out at you? Tyler said.

Yeah, Dumfries is a grade-A asshole. Oh, and there might be some more than minor criminal activity in the area, so I’m digging a little deeper. I have friends at Interpol that won’t wake up for a few hours. I’ll know more tomorrow. Tim said.

Ok, copy Dillon on anything that might present a security threat. On that front, James, what do you think? Tyler said.

I don’t like the situation much. James said, frowning slightly. We’re going into a place where it’s likely everyone will dislike you. On the up side, the gun laws are so strict, no one should be armed. On the down side, it also means we won’t have firearms. If we’re going in public, I’d suggest you use at least four men any time you go out.

Tyler scrunched his face. Really? Yuck. He looked thoughtful. I was thinking this anyway, but how about we go in anonymously to start with? That way I can get a feeling for what things are really like when I’m not The Man, and your guys don’t have to do extra long shifts to cover everything.

James nodded. That would be better. What’s our cover?

Tim tapped the table with his pen. "Just a bunch of