The Whisky Affair (Raymond Armstrong Series) (12 page)

Unless it was family… Maybe James needed to bump off his dad to gain control. Still, that only gave him fifty percent unless Louisa was in on some plot with her brother. Couldn’t be, he thought. But, after talking with Kate, his mind was clear on one thing: He needed to stick to Louisa like glue and keep her in his sights at all times. If someone planned to make a move, it would likely be on her.

Raymond continued and paused at a set of traffic lights where he could see the castle looming on the top of the hill. Stirling was preparing to be the political capital of a new independent Scotland if the vote went as expected.

Stirling had been the home to William Wallace, an iconic legend in Scotland. Thinking about the Battle of Stirling Bridge Raymond was again reminded of Gordon’s father, the prominent Knights Templar who told stories to a very excitable little boy. Gordon had loved his father to death.

Raymond had always been fascinated by historic battles, where the underdogs won. Against all odds, a small band of men would defeat a large army. He had studied many of these battles, and had wondered if, on the odd occasion, God took sides.

One of the stories Gordon’s father relayed several times, was about the Great Siege of Malta, in 1565. The Ottoman Empire invaded the island of Malta, the defensive position held its ground with only 500 Knights. In spite of the small brigade of knights and only 2000 footman, they eventually defeated 25,000 battle-hardened Turkish troops.

The battle of Stirling Bridge was quite similar, where the Scots were outnumbered ten to one and yet defeated the English with ease, killing over six thousand English soldiers. Raymond learned from these stories that it’s not just about the numbers, but about executing the right plan – or you pray that some unknown force provides a large dose of inspiration.

It had been quite some time since he had visited Stirling and he was astonished at see all the new hotels, restaurants, and shopping centers. In the recent past, this was a town full of tourists in the summer and dead by winter.

He reserved the last room available at the hotel that was hosting the whisky event and booked a seat on Louisa’s flight for the next day – from Glasgow to Toronto. He would inform Louisa of his plans when he met her that evening.

He drove through the center of the town, pausing to look at the new parliament building with the Scottish flag, presumptuously proudly flying.

When Scotland came close to becoming an independent country, Stirling had really come to life. When Scotland voted to separate from England, voting had been close right down to the wire. In the last week leading up to the crucial vote, it was speculated that the vote would be at least 52% in favour of an independent Scotland.

During the final vote, Raymond was reminded that any close vote always put the definition of democracy under personal debate. Bush had won in 2000 though he’d lost the popular vote. More US citizens voted for Gore – and yet Bush came away with more seats. Ridiculous, that that could happen, especially when one considered how different both candidates were in their beliefs.

At least, Scotland chose to ask all of its citizen what they wanted with one simple question: Do we stay or do we go? As it happened, Scotland had a phenomenal ninety-seven percent turnout at the polls. And when it came right down to it after the ballots were counted and recounted, a six percent margin was all that separated the vote. He wondered how much unrest there would be, because instead of the projected fifty-two percent decision in favour of Scotland separating from England, fifty-three percent voted ‘no’ to separation. We will see, he pondered.

Sterling’s surge in activity might wan over the next several months, but for now, it remained a bustling center.

Tonight’s whisky event was being held at the newly renovated 5-Star Highland Hotel. The Highland Hotel was located in the city center and within easy walking distance of all amenities. The original hotel was built in 1854 and keeping to the city’s mandates, any renovators kept the façade intact and the interior comparable to anything London could offer. Several years earlier, the hotel took over the entire block to build a conference center and the new addition actually looked like it belonged to the original structure.

Curious to see the interior of the hotel, Raymond walked through the main doors and asked the concierge where he could find the venue for the evening’s whisky event. The hotel lobby was spectacular – polished marble floors with high, arched ceilings. The furnishings were modern and tasteful. Luxury at its best.

He made his way to the grand ballroom on the promenade floor overlooking the lobby. Many of the whisky producers were busy setting up tables for that night’s tasting. He knew from experience with his whisky club, that there was a great deal of preparation that went into an event and this one was a premier event in Scotland. It was on a grand scale and none of the exhibitors needed to be distracted by him being nosy. His goal for the night would be to keep an eye on Louisa.

Raymond returned to his hotel and ordered room service. He called Louisa who told him that the event started at 7:00 and suggested he arrive early.

He arrived early, as requested, picked up his large exhibitor’s badge, placed it around his neck, and looked around for Louisa. He found her making minor adjustments to the distillery displays, checking the tasting notes next to the relevant single malts. The large banner behind the table looked great with the slogan: WHAT A BEAUT!

While waiting for the event to start, he wandered around looking at all the whiskies – a true spectacle in his eyes. He noticed ‘Brand Scotland’ was the center piece, with all other countries on the periphery like a moat surrounding a castle. No doubt that was the intention, he mused. There seemed to be more countries making fine single malts than he could have foreseen a few years earlier: England, Wales, Canada, USA, India, Tasmania, and Japan.

He came across an interesting table showing a variety of old single malts. What may I get you sir?” said the young man eyeing Raymond’s vendor badge.

“Well what a choice… I really have no idea.”

“Who are you representing at the show?”

“The Bute Distillery. I am Louisa’s uncle,” Raymond told him.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear about Gordon Reid. What a loss to our industry,” the young man said, his smile sympathetic.

Gordon nodded.

“Try this.” He poured a large sample into a glass and handed it to Raymond.

“What is it?” Raymond was surprised by the deep, rich dark amber of its appearance.

“A Mortlach 34, sir. Please enjoy. My compliments.”

Raymond nosed the Mortlach and carried it around the room, cradling it like a newborn baby.

He looked at his watch as the doors opened and a large crowd of people entered the room. It was 7:05 and when he looked at the Bute table he could not believe his eyes. The table was so packed with eager whisky fans he could not see Louisa at all.
Had
something happened to her?
As he moved toward the table, she came into view, pouring whisky like a bartender on a Friday night in a busy London boozer.

Raymond took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves just an inch and announced, “Okay, who is next?”

Thirty minutes later, when the crowd was subdued somewhat, he was totally wacked. He looked at Louisa with a smile.

“Welcome to my world,” she said, a smile beaming across her face. “A bit busier than your private tastings?”

“Oh, yes!” He unpacked some supplies to replace what had been used to handle the crush.

“What do you have there?” asked Louisa eyeing the whisky sample that was back in his hand.

“Mortlach 34, from a very polite young man at that table,” he said pointing across the room.

“Yes, they’re a really good independent bottler,” she clarified.

“What would be the difference between their Mortlach and one from the distillery?”

Louisa thought for a second. “They buy the casks direct from the distillery and continue to age them. Sometimes they will finish them in a different cask for a year or so to offer their own expression.”

Raymond looked a tad confused.

“Let me have a nose, will you?” asked Louisa.

He watched as she nosed the Mortlach 34 then waited for her commentary.

“More sherry than normal. So, they bought the cask from Mortlach many years ago. Aged it for many years and on the last year before bottling placed the whisky in a different sherry cask for one more year.”

“Okay,” said Raymond, a little less confused.

“Most important thing is; do you like it?”

“Love it,” he said now cradling it again against his chest.

“Right, have another break and enjoy yourself. I am used to doing these events on my own.”

Raymond moved off, keeping Louisa in his sights. He had seen a room at the back of the ballroom, with a sign reading: BLIND TASTING TRIVIA. Another sign beneath announced that the ten-pound entrance fee was a donation to support guide dogs.

Well, I might as well find out if I am any good at this single malt whisky hobby
. I have sampled quite a bit in my time, he thought.

He checked to see Louisa was fine on her own and then paid to enter. He was given a pen and paper with questions from one to eight. He analysed the room as well as each question to see what was required, before deciding to participate. He saw that each table had four whiskies representing their own region of the official Scotch regions.

Table one’s signs read: WHICH OF THESE MALTS IS NOT FROM ISLAY, THE QUEEN OF THE HEBRIDES?

Piece of cake, he thought, nosing the first.
Number three for sure. That one is from the western Highlands
. Next…

When he finally made it to table eight, he was confident he would do well and could probably answer them all correctly.
Which of these is a blended scotch?
No problem, he thought, confidently writing down the answer.

He handed in the card with his name and all his answers circled and walked back to the Bute table. With only fifteen minutes remaining, the table was relatively quiet so he went to find Gordon’s friend.

“Andy, I want to thank you for arranging our trip to
Auchenagie
. It was my last memory of time with Gordon and I will treasure that for a lifetime.”

“I still can’t believe it,” he replied.

They made small talk, catching up on whisky trends, in general. In between their chats, Andy served a constant line of whisky fans, all clamouring for a taste of their favorite range of expressions. Old distilleries with a modern taste. He understood the mystique and fascination that whisky fans were discovering with this company. His day in the field, standing right there where Auchenagie produced whisky one hundred years ago, had made him an instant fan.

At the end of the evening, the lights flickered to signal consumers that they had five minutes until closing time. The MC tapped on the microphone to bring everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Thanks to all the suppliers for giving up their time and bringing knowledge and their finest single malts to this event. To complete our wonderful evening, I would like to announce the blind-tasting results and extend thanks to so many of you who gave it a go. We have raised a nice amount of money in support of guide dog training. In fact, some of the suppliers have chipped in to round off the number to ten thousand pounds.”

The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

Now the results: In third place Raymond Armstrong. And we have a tie for first place with all eight correct answers – Catherine Dodds-Smith and Julie Prince.

Not bad, Raymond thought. He should have known he’d be beaten – that he would lose to the ladies, as usual.

He turned to Andy. “They say that genetically ladies have a shaper nose than men. I read that somewhere in a wine magazine.”

“Excuses, Raymond. Take the loss like a man.” Andy laughed.

Raymond walked to the Bute table and offered to help Louisa pack up. However, she was on a roll, chatting away to a group of fans. He poured himself a wee dram of Big Bute and continued his walk around the room.

Intrigued, Raymond tried the latest expression from
Glemonarngie
with a malt that had been matured in three separate wine casks that in the end, were married together. Delicious, he thought. Both
Lagavulin
and
Bowmore
had been experimenting with rum casks which proved to be the surprise of the evening for him. His favourite was the Arran 18. It seemed to provide everything for his palate in a single malt whisky.

He left the ballroom briefly to take in the night air and planned to head back momentarily to help Louisa. He into the MC in the hotel foyer. “Excuse me, but which questions did I get wrong?”

“Just one actually… Islay.

“No, can’t be. I picked number three, which I swear was a coastal,” Raymond clarified.

“No, that would be a
Bunnahabbin
, from Islay.”

“Damn it!”

Raymond had snagged the last first class seat available. After a discussion with the staff at Glasgow Airport he managed to get a seat next to Louisa for the flight from London to Toronto. They landed in Heathrow with plenty of time to spare and made their connection to Toronto without a hitch. The plane took off on time, which was a surprise since Heathrow was a complete overload with a disaster only waiting to happen. Fortunately, the new London airport was on schedule to open the next year.

Once they had reached a cruising altitude of thirty-seven thousand feet he unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to see what Louisa was reading. The new issue of
Whisky Today Magazine
.

“I still find it quite bizarre that you are coming with me, Uncle Raymond.,” she said, looking up.

“So tell me about the ladies-only event, since I won’t be getting an invite.”

“Do you remember a few years ago when whisky tastings became so popular on Twitter?” she reminded him.