Tag: short story

A to Z Challenge – T is for: There’s a moment when it all comes together…

T2020

Kyle had been surprised to get an email from Janine, the wife of his brother Daniel. When Daniel had arrived on his doorstep, he wasn’t exactly a mess, but he had been struggling to understand why his wife of over twenty years would betray him as she had.

To Kyle, though, it wasn’t exactly a revelation. He had known the moment he saw her, just before the wedding, what type of woman she was. Definitely not monogamous. After all, he had seen her off and on during the six months he had been working in Washington, not only with Michael, but with several other men of varying degrees of importance, and not once as just good friends.

And, after he left, to get away from a toxic environment, and an equally toxic relationship with a woman he accidentally discovered was lying to him about not being married, he had learned that Janine had been having not one affair but several and that one, in particular, had exploded, forcing her to disappear back home or have her affair with Michael exposed to the world. It appeared Michael’s career had been more important than her reputation.

The fact she married Daniel as a face-saving exercise had not sat well with him and his last meeting with her was a very bitter row, and neither had spoken to the other since. Now that email came out of left field, leaving him wondering why she would send him an email, and how, in fact, she knew what his email was. Clearly, she still had particular ‘friends’.

He had left that email sitting unread in the inbox for two days, each morning the mouse pointer hovering over in, with the intention of reading it, and then, at the last second, passing over it.

There was nothing she could say to him that would justify what she’d done, and, he had told Daniel that in his opinion, he was better off without her.

On the morning of the third day, his curiosity got the better of him

There was no attempt at justifying what she’d done. Just advice that she would be arriving in London in two days’ time, and to ask if Daniel would see her so they could talk about their situation.

Terse, bordering on brusque, Kyle was equally amused and disappointed.

He sent an email back, terse, if not equally brusque, telling her not to bother, that Daniel had already assumed she would try and patch things up, and he was not interested.

She simply replied she had to come to London and gave him the flight number and the estimated time of arrival.
Kyle made two decisions, both of which he was going to regret. The first, he didn’t tell Daniel that Janine was coming over, and the second, he would go to the airport and tell her in person she was wasting her time.

Thus, standing outside in the arrivals area, he waited. The plane was late, nothing unusual there, and calculated he had time for a coffee and a scan of the paper before she appeared. When she did, about an hour after the plane touched down, the thought he might not recognize her was instantly dispelled. Last time he had seen her, she had been drop-dead gorgeous, and time had done nothing to dent that beauty. She had only one small case, so she had traveled light, also unexpected.

There was no smile, just a frown, as though the delay in arrival was just another annoyance among many. He could see her quickly scan those who were waiting for other arrivals, and picked him out almost instantly. He watched her approach, then stop in front of him. There was not going to be hugs or any sort of greeting.

“Janine.”

“It’s been a long time, Kyle. I must say I wasn’t expecting you to come to the airport.”

“I wasn’t, but I didn’t think a phone call would suffice. You’re wasting your time.”

“Is that Daniel speaking, or you. If I recall, you never did like me very much.”

“I thought I made my position very clear.  It seems I wasn’t wrong.”

“Twenty years, Kyle.”

“A leopard doesn’t change its spots, whether it’s twenty days, twenty months or twenty years. Aside from that, you say you’ve done it once, but in living that lie, what else have you lied about because as far as I can tell, nothing you say can be believed.”

“It was once, and it was a mistake.”

“And there you have it. I don’t believe you, and neither does Daniel. And before you tell me I’ve poisoned him against you, don’t. You did that all yourself.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes. I’m done. Don’t bother us again.”
Kyle was not sure what Janine had expected of him or what she hoped to accomplish. Why hadn’t she simply contacted Daniel direct? If she could get Kyle’s email address, surely she could get Daniel’s phone number, unless Daniel had replaced his existing phone with a burner. Now that he thought about it, Daniel’s call to tell him he was coming to see him was from ‘No caller ID’, clearly an indication he had no intention of talking to her.

Now that she was here in London, perhaps it was time to tell Daniel. The last thing he wanted was for Daniel to think his brother was also not telling him the truth, especially if she did have a way of contacting him.

He pulled out his phone and called.

“Where are you?” When Daniel answered, it didn’t sound like he was at home.

“I went for a walk, and now I’m sitting in a small park. It’s the weirdest thing.”

“No so much. The houses around you don’t have front or back yards, so they just share one. Look, I’ve been keeping something from you, and I shouldn’t have. Janine emailed me a week ago and said she was coming over. I told her not to, but she came anyway, and I’ve just seen her at the airport. I told her you were not interested in talking to her. I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn.”

Silence. Perhaps he should have told Daniel when he got the email.

“Why would she bother?”

Not the reaction he expected. “Perhaps she thought you could patch things up. The way you spoke when you got here, I didn’t think you would be interested, at least, not for a while.”

“I don’t know what to think, to be honest. I miss her, I hate her, I hate what she did, perhaps it was my fault.”

“No, don’t go down that path. You did nothing wrong, and you didn’t deserve what happened. She made the mistake, not you. She still insisted it only happened once, and it was a mistake.”

“She seemed very happy at the time, even when she saw him off, so I’m not quite sure how she could suddenly be so contrite. No, you were right Kyle. I don’t want to see her, at least not for a while longer.”

“OK. At least you finally got out of the dungeon and getting some fresh air, or as fresh it can be. That’s a good first step. I’ll be home in an hour or so, and we can go out to lunch.”

It was a good sign, Kyle thought as he put away the phone. Perhaps they could talk further, see if he could find out what the real problem was with Daniel. There was something else weighing on his mind, something that was going to be hard to get him to talk about.
Three days later, and three emails to Kyle later, Daniel decided he would go to meet Janine, but on neutral territory, The Orangery at Kensington Palace, for afternoon tea.

It was a custom that Daniel knew would be lost on her, but he appreciated the nuances. In fact, in the time he’d been staying with Kyle, they’d been to Fortnum and Mason, Selfridges, and Harrods to sample their version. The best do far: Fortnum and Mason.

Kyle had offered to go with him to act as a buffer, but Daniel told him he could handle it. Since telling him of her arrival, Daniel had time to consider his position. And to promise himself he wouldn’t get angry.

He got there early, and had a pot of tea sitting on the table. He was having a blend that the Queen allegedly had, and it was quite good.

He saw her arrive at the doorway, scan the interior, find him, and then walk over. He didn’t get up. The gentleman had taken a holiday.

She sat, then said, “Hello Daniel.”

Before answering, he poured her a cup of tea, then said, “It’s the Queen’s special brew.” No hello back, just a neutral look in her direction. That everlasting beauty of hers radiated in the room, and more than one man had given her a subtle look as she crossed the room. It reminded him of how being envious, like that, had played a part in what he felt towards her. It should not matter, but it did.

She sipped it and made a face. Whether it was awful or too hot, he wasn’t going to ask.

“You didn’t have to come over here to see me. A phone call would have surfaced,” he sais, after another sip of his tea.

“I don’t have your new number.”

“You didn’t have Kyle’s email address, but that didn’t stop you. I suspect you have it, just not sure what my reaction would be if you rang it. You see, when you start lying, where does it stop?”

“I have never lied to you, Daniel. Not once in twenty years.”

“Perhaps then it’s not in the lies, but what you haven’t told me.” If she was going to entertain a battle of words or wills, this time he would fire back. Acquiescing because of the fear of offending or losing her was no longer a fear but a reality. He couldn’t make it worse.

“Then perhaps I should tell you what I haven’t said. I first met Michael in Washington. He dazzled me, far more than at University. I knew he was married, and still, I did what I did. Back then I didn’t care. Not until we became front-page news. Push came to shove, and I lost my job and my reputation. I came home, tail firmly between my legs, realized that if I wanted any sort of future it would have to be with someone like you. We didn’t meet by accident Daniel. We met because I wanted to see if what I had thought of you before I left, was still true. With Michael around, it was always hard for me to, well, be with someone else, or think about anyone else. But you always remained in the back of my mind, and, when I found out you were not going out with anyone, well, not seriously, I thought, what if…”

“… your second choice would still blindly accept you because he would think it was too good to be true?” I tried not to put any rancor into it and failed. Her change in expression told me she’d noticed it.

“No Daniel, you were never my second choice. You had always been my first choice, but I was too stupid. or too ambitious, to see what was right there in front of me. It took a huge humiliation to do that.”

Daniel was not sure if this was a confession, or a carefully stage-managed speech complete with the contrite inflections in her voice. If it was true, it might have been a revelation, but with his trust so broken, he was not sure what to think.

“Why fuck him then, in our house, in our bed?”

Blunt, perhaps, but he was not interested in being polite. He didn’t do anything wrong.

“Because I was a fool. We’ve been drifting apart the last few months, and I know there’s been stuff on your mind, but once, we used to talk about it. I had no idea what was happening at your work, and that’s on me, I guess I got too wrapped up in my own self-importance to notice. You can’t tell me that we were not falling apart.”

Be that as it may, it hardly seemed to Daniel to be an excuse for what she did. “You could have said something.” It was a lame reply. It was descending into he said she said, and not addressing the real problems.

“You could have talked to me. I don’t believe you were blind to what was happening.”

She was right, I hadn’t missed what was happening. But there was that small matter of pointing out what she had become, something I had been loath to do. Perhaps it was the time to say my piece and damn the consequences.

“Be that as it may, you said it yourself, you were too wrapped up in your own self-importance. You changed, and I didn’t like you’d become. You wanted the money, the mansion, the lifestyle, the New York penthouse weekender, and you’re welcome to it. That’s not who or what I am.” There, it’s done. Ten years too late.

Silence. No answer perhaps, or was it a case of the defense lawyer about to launch into a killer closing argument. He recognized the signs, the moment he’d taken one step too many.

“Yes, you’re right. And if that was the case, I’d not bothered to come over here, and try to convince you otherwise. You’ve heard of the expression, keeping up with the Jones’? Me, it was trying to keep up, and/or going one better. Ursula.” she shook her head. “I only realized what was happening when I told you about the penthouse. Your expression was the epitome of disapproval. Something else I’m guilty of Daniel, and something I’m not very proud of.”

There was just the right amount of contrition, and in a sorrowful tone. She had been the top student in her drama class at school and played some very convincing roles in the school’s productions. And, he’d noticed over the years, some of the roles she had played, with him, but mostly in front of others. At times Daniel felt like this was a performance.

She took a deep breath. Time, he thought for the closing argument, the one that would sway the jury. He’s seen her do it countless times before.

“So, I’ve said my piece, and I will say, I had anticipated your reaction. I’ve said I’m sorry, and I mean it. I’ve said it was a mistake, and it was. Like you, I’ve decided that I can’t stay in what used to be our home, for exactly the same reasons as yours. It will always remind me of the most shameful behavior. I told Ken to sell it, and everything in it. I told him to sell the cars, in fact, to liquidate all our assets. I’m not going home. I came here to be with you. I wasn’t lying when I told you, you were my first choice, and over time, my only choice to be with until the day I die. That will never change no matter what you decided today, tomorrow, or next week. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will always love you. I want you to think about this: there’s a moment when it all comes together when you instinctive know that you’ve found the right person. That wasn’t Michael, it was you, Daniel. I knew the moment I first saw you, and then, that first day after I returned, that there was no one else. I’ve made mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. I’ve hurt you but I would like the opportunity to make it up to you.”

She took a sheet of paper out of her handbag and slid it across the table. Daniel unfolded it. A for sale notice on a property in Tuscany, a town that seemed vaguely familiar to him, Arezzo. Or near there.

“It’s a disaster. But I thought you and I could live there, fix it up, and get to know each other, properly this time, without any of those people I know you dislike. Just us, and a quiet leisurely life. I’m going there tomorrow. I hope you will come and join me.”

She stood. Closing argument completed; standing ovation from the gallery. Not.

“Thank you for listening to me. It’s more, I know than you think I deserve.”

Then she was gone. No one but Daniel watched her leave. It was not the in the manner of a woman who had thought she’d won.

Daniel spent the next four hours wandering around Kensington Gardens. He tried to tell himself that it was water off a duck’s back, but it wasn’t. It was that phrase, there’s a moment when it all comes together when you instinctive know that you’ve found the right person. He knew the first time he’s seen her, at school, a long, long time ago. She was right. He felt it again sitting in front of her. He wanted to be mad at her, he wanted to be angry for what she had done, but in the end, it didn’t really matter.

He would never be able to explain it, to himself, to his brother, to any of those at home that he could live quite easily without seeing any of them ever again. They belonged together.

And the thought of a few weeks, or months, or even years, in Tuscany held a great deal of appeal.

But, best not to go straight away. Perhaps give it a week. He’d look for a travel agent on the way back to Kyle’s place.

 

© Charles Heath 2020

A to Z Challenge – S is for: Surely there’s a better way…

S2020

Surely there’s a better way…

When you have secrets, sometimes it’s very hard to hide them from others.

It was something Henry had to do since the day he could speak. The fact that his parents had been murdered because of their profession, something his grandfather told him was akin to ‘working for the government’. The fact that he was from a very wealthy and influential family. The fact he was heir to a fortune. The fact he was anything other than just another boy, who grew up to be just another man.

His whole life, to this point, had been ‘managed’ so that no one, other than a selected few chosen by his grandfather, knew who he was, or what he represented. And more to the point, he had been told to just live his life like any other of his age.

Yes, he went to a private school, but it wasn’t an exclusive one, yes he went to university, but he had got into Oxford on his own merit, and, yes, he was smart, smart enough to create his own business, and make a handsome income from it. And no, he never drew upon the stipend he had been granted by his parents will, so it just gathered dust in the bank.

Henry was an only child, and to a certain extent, introverted. It was a shyness that his grandfather knew existed in his son, Henry’s father. It could be an asset or it could be a liability. With Henry’s father, it had been an asset, a means by which many had misunderstood him. It might even serve him well for the next phase of his life.

Today, Henry was meeting his grandfather at Speaker’s Corner at Hyde Park, and an unusual meeting place because in the past it had always been at his grandfather’s club. At his grandfather’s request, he had undertaken a three-year program, one that his father had, and his father before him, and a pre-requisite for a profession that would be explained to him.

And it was all because Henry said he was bored. The business he’d built could run without him, his attempts at relationships with various girls and women hadn’t quite achieved what he was looking for, even though he had no idea what he was looking for, and, quite frankly, he told his grandfather, he needed something more exciting.

It was, he’d been told, the way of the MacCallisters. Ever since the British tried to put down the Scots.

Henry was listening to a rather animated man preaching the word of the Lord, but he was not sure what Lord that was. Anything he quoted from the bible resembled nothing he had read and remembered. Perhaps the man was on drugs.

Two or three people stopped, listened for a minute or two, shook their heads, some even laughed, and moved on.

“It’s the last bastion of freedom of speech, though I can say this man is not about to gather an army of insurrectionists any time soon. Let’s walk.”

His grandfather was getting old, and walking was getting more and more difficult. More scotch was needed, he had told Henry, to ward of the evils of arthritis. And, he added, ‘I should have had a less devil may care attitude when he was younger.’

It was a slow amble to the serpentine, which, being a bright sunny day, if not a little chilly, was alive with people.

He waited until his grandfather spoke. One lesson he had learned, speak when you’re spoken to, and if you’ve got nothing to say, best to remain silent.

“I have found a job you might like to have a go at. Nothing difficult, mind you, but a perhaps, at times, hard work. I think you’d be good at it.”

“Is that meant to be a hint, and I have to guess?”

“I think you’re smart enough to know what it might be yourself, young Henry.”

I think I did too. Everything I’d been doing over the last three years led me to believe I’d been training to walk in my father’s footsteps. It was with the Army, and I had imagined my father had been a soldier, though I’d never seen him in a uniform. But my Grandfather had said he worked for the government, so I wondered if that might be some sort of policeman, or some sort of internal agent, like MI6. It had not been boring, and the exercises had been ‘interesting’, but no one had said what the end result of this training might be; in fact no one had said who they were.

“Something hush, hush as the saying goes.”

We had gone about fifty yards and reached a cross path. As we did, a youngish woman dressed in leather appeared and walked towards us.

“I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Henry. Her name is Marion, though I suggest you don’t call her that.”

She smiled. “Call me Mary. There’s only one person in the whole world that would dare call me that, and he’s standing here. Your grandfather has spoken a lot about you.”

Henry’s first impression; she had been to the training school he had. He could see it in her manner, and in the way she scanned the area, even though it didn’t look like she was. He’d been doing it himself, and he had seen her earlier. What made her stand out, she didn’t have a bag like all the other women.

“I hope it was good, not bad.”

“You have no bad traits?”

“Everyone had bad traits. You’ll just have to get to know me if you want to know what they are.”

“Well,” my grandfather said, “enough chit chat. Mary has a task, and she needs a little help. I thought you might want to join her.”

“Doing what?”

“She’ll explain it on the way. When it’s done, come and see me.” With that, a hug from Mary, and a handshake from his grandson, he turned and walked back the way they had come earlier.
“So,” Henry asked, “What’s the job?”

“I have to pick up a computer.”

“That doesn’t sound like something you would need help with.” In fact, if he was right in his assessment of her, he was the last person she needed, if at all. She looked to him as if she could handle anything.

“It’s one of those just in case situations.”

They walked a circuitous route back to Park Lane and crossed both roads, up Deanery Street, left where Tilney Street veered off, and then a short distance to Deanery Mews. Henry noted this was an area with a lot of expensive real estate, and scattered Embassies. If he was not mistaken, the Dorchester Hotel wasn’t far away.

Walking down the mews seemed to Henry to be walking into a trap. When he looked back towards Deanery Street he thought he saw two men position themselves, not quick enough to prevent him from getting a glimpse of them.

“You do realize that getting back out of here could be a problem.”

“It’s why I asked for help. Just in case.”

No visible sign of fear, or of what the consequences might be if this went south. Perhaps his grandfather had considered this a test. But what sort of test?

They reached the end, and, just around the corner, a van was parked with what Henry assumed was the driver, standing by the open driver’s door, smoking a cigarette.

Mary stopped about ten feet away from him. “Have you got the package?”

He reached inside the car and lifted up a computer case. There didn’t necessarily have to be a computer in it. I looked up and around. It was a good place for a meeting. No witnesses. But there were CCTV cameras. I wondered if they were working.

The man tossed the bag back in the car. “Have you got the money?”

She held up her phone. “Just need the bank account details.”

“OK. Just step over here and let’s get this done.”

She moved closer, and in a flash, he had grabbed her, holding her by the neck with a gun to her head. The two men Henry thought he’d seen at the top of the mews were now within sight, and both had guns trained on him. A trap, indeed.

“What do you want?” Henry asked.

“Tell your boss the price just doubled. Two million. You’ve got five minutes.”

I shook my head, not to clear the cobwebs, but to calm down and think rationally.

Talk first. “Surely there’s a better way to do this. You don’t need to hold a gun to her head.”

I held my hands out just to show I wasn’t a threat.

“No, probably not.” He released his grip and lowered the gun.

A very, very bad mistake.

 

© Charles Heath 2020

Inspiration, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

And the story:

 

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discrete distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

 

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three thousand footfall down the mountainside.

Good thing then I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

 

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car, and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication where he went.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

 

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”  available soon.

InspirationMaybe1v1

 

 

A to Z Challenge – R is for: Remember that time…

R2020
I don’t remember 40th birthday parties being all that interesting.

It was going to be a momentous year as each of our friends celebrated theirs.  We were of a group that had formed strong friendships at school, and they had lasted over the next 25 years, even when some had ventured further afield, and others had stayed at home.

I was one of those who had remained in place, as had my wife, and several of the neighbors.  I never had dreams of venturing any further than the next state, and except for a couple of years on transfer for the company I worked for, I had lived all my life in the city I was born.

The same could not be said for Janine, my wife, who once had a vision for herself, a career in law in either New York or Washington, and had ventured there after graduating law school, stayed a year, and then returned in circumstances that she had never talked about.  She had accepted my proposal, we had married, and that was that.

Twenty-five years on, there had always been that gap, that part of the story I’d never asked about and one I felt she would never talk about, and it was a small chink in what I wanted to believe was an almost perfect marriage.

But there was one small caveat she had requested, and that she had no desire to have children, or to be a mother, something she said she would be terrible at.  It didn’t bother me, one way or another, though as each of the others had children, there was a small part of me that was, for a while, envious.

Michael Urston was one of my close friends, lived across town, was also a lawyer, and a man of ambition.  He’s taken his law degree to Washington and converted it into a path to public office, and had attained the lofty position of Mayor for a number of years of our fair city, and then paradoxically didn’t run for re-election for reasons I never thought stood up.  But it had been his decision, part of the plan to retire at forty, and he’d achieved it.  Ursula, his wife, was prickly at the best of times and had always considered herself above all of us.  I guess being a prom queen had that effect on some people.  She liked to be the center of attention, and for some reason, she and Janine always managed to rub up against their respective wrong sides.

Something else I knew; he had a thing for Janine, as had several others in our group, and I could see, sometimes the looks that passed between them, and I was not sure how I felt about it.  There was never any indication of either talking it further, but there was a bond between them that sometimes I envied, especially lately when it seemed, to me, that we were drifting apart.

But tonight, it was going to be Janine’s fortieth birthday party, and there was going to be a dozen friends coming.  At the last minute, Janine had changed the venue to a restaurant rather than at our home, and that I suspected was because we lived in a magnificent house that all the others envied, and I was sure it was out of deference to them.  Buying the house had been her idea, and down through the years, as we moved into larger residences, she had been trying to shed the memories of where she had come from.

Neither of us had been from wealthy families, and I had no wealthy family connections.  I was from generations of motor mechanics, which was my first occupation in the family business, and Janine’s family were farmers, something she had no intention of becoming, hence the desire to become a lawyer.  And I didn’t think either of us had airs and graces despite what we owned or how we fitted into the local society.

Fred DeVilliers and Susan, his girlfriend of many years, they didn’t believe they needed a piece of paper to sanctify their relationship, were best friends also, though I knew Janine and Susan were not quite as friendly as it appeared.  That I noticed some years ago when both were having a heated discussion, one they thought no one was around to hear.  Their bone of contention had something to do with Michael, and I didn’t get to discover what it was.

As for the others, they joined in the conversation, ate the food, drank the wine, and then went home again.  Like me, they were not interested in politics, religion, or miscreant children’s stories.  Our get together was children free, and often about reminiscences of older and more carefree times.

Oh, and just to stir the pot a little, this day, I had tendered my resignation as CEO of the company.  It was a matter of principle, the board having decided to downsize, and shift a proportion of manufacturing offshore, a decision I knew I would have to implement if I stayed there.  When I vehemently disagreed, I was given the option to leave on mutually agreeable terms.  It was not something I could spring on Janine, but, equally, it was not something I was going to be able to hide from her.  Not for very long anyway.

She was running late at her office, and I agreed to meet her at the restaurant a half-hour before the other guests were due to arrive.  It was nothing unusual for one or other of us to be running late.

As it happened, I left the office, and the building, an hour after tendering my resignation.  The company didn’t want me hanging around and granted me the two weeks I’d normally have to work off before leaving, for security reasons.  I quit, therefore I had to leave, in case I had some desire to sabotage the company in some way.  I wouldn’t but it was standard practice, and it didn’t go unnoticed that I was escorted by security to my office to clear the desk, and then to my car.  They also gave me the car as a parting gesture.

After leaving the office I went home.

I took what amounted to over twenty year’s service in a cardboard box to my home office and dropped it in the corner.  Not much to show for it, other than a decent salary, annual bonuses when we made a profit, and quite a few shares, not that they were worth much now because of the board’s hesitation to embrace new technologies.

About two hours later I heard a car pull up out the front on the driveway, and two doors close.  A look out the window that overlooked the driveway showed it was Janine and Michael, who as the approached the door were in animated conversation.

I thought about letting them know I was home, but then a voice inside my head said how many men have come home during the day to surprise his wife and found her in bed with another man, or, in these rather liberated days, in bed with another woman?

And that think between them, would it be now I would discover what it was?

It made me feel rather horrible to think I could suspect her of cheating, but it momentarily took away the sting of the resignation.

The door opened and they came inside.  I could just see them from where I was standing, a spot that they would not see me, not unless they were looking.  And my heart missed a beat, they were embraced very passionately, leave me with no other conclusion than this was a middle of the day tryst.

“Come,” she said, taking him by the hand.  “I only have a couple of hours before I have to get back for a deposition.”

With that, they went up the stairs and disappeared into the bedroom, our room.

I sat down before I fell down, then having regained some composure, went over to the bar and poured myself a drink.

Two losses in one day.  A job, and a wife.  I guess it wasn’t exactly a revelation.  I knew something was amiss, and I conveniently ignored all the signs.  I thought about going up and walking in on them, but that, to me, seemed like a childish act.  After a few more drinks, I decided to wait, see if they both left, and then decide what to do.

The front door closing, and the car departing, woke me out of a reverie.  I got up and looked out, expecting to see an empty foyer, but instead saw Janine, in a dressing gown, still holding the front door handle, as if transfixed.  A beautiful memory of what had just happened, or a tinge of regret, and another secret to be kept in a head, I knew now, held so many others.

I decided to make myself known, now rather than later.

“Do you come home often during the day,” I said, standing in the doorway where she could see me.

She jumped, perhaps in fright, or in guilt, it didn’t really matter.

She turned.  “Daniel.  What are you doing here?”

“I resigned this morning.  A difference in opinion on how the company should proceed.  I was escorted out, and decided to come home.  I should have gone to a bar.”

She knew that I knew, so it would be interesting to see what she had to say.  I could see her forming the words in her head, much the same as she did in a court of law.

“It was the first time, Daniel, an impulse.  I’m not going to make an excuse.  It’s on me.  I wanted to find out what it would be like.”

And that made me feel so much better.

“Well, it’s a hell of a fortieth birthday gift, Jan, and one I guess I couldn’t give you.  I trust you didn’t grant that wish to any of the other men who may desire you?”  OK, that wasn’t exactly what I meant to say, but the words didn’t exactly match what I was thinking.

“You mean do I sleep with every man I have a desire to?”  A rather harsh tone, bordering on angry.  She was angry with me.

“You tell me what I’m supposed to think.”

“I had sex with one other man, no one else, since the day we were married.  It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.  If you hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Washington,” I said, almost to myself, a light bulb lighting up in my head.

The memory of a distant conversation, on a holiday, when we visited Washington, Philadelphia and New York.

“What about Washington?”  A change in her expression, slight, but I could see it.  She remembered it too.

“Remember that time, at one of those monuments, probably Jefferson’s, when you said something rather odd, and when I asked, you brushed it off as nothing important.  You were looking out over the water and said it was one of your fondest memories after, and then stopped yourself.  Michael had just married when he moved to Washington, and you were there too, for a year.  I suspect now you and he had an affair, and it ended badly as affairs do and the woman has to leave.  There’s always been that bond between you.  Not the first time Jan.  The affair never ended.”

“It did, Daniel.  Like I said, this was a mistake.  It won’t happen again.”

I stepped out of the office and walked down the passage and come out into the foyer.  Two stories high, it had been a debate whether to have a fountain in the space adjacent to the stairs or a statue.  The statue won, I lost.

Close up, I looked at the woman I’d loved from the moment I first saw her, and of the surprise when she agreed to marry me.  I had no idea then I was her second choice.

“I’d say I’m on a roll.  Lost my job, then lost my wife.  Bad luck comes in threes, so I’m going to lose something else.”  I looked around.  “This house?  I don’t think I could stay here, not now.  It would just be a reminder of everything bad that’s happened to me today.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.  I told you it was a mistake.  I made my choice twenty odd years ago and it hasn’t changed.”

She took a step towards me, and I took one back.  The thought of being close to her now, after what she had just done, didn’t feel right.

“Look, before you do something silly, let’s sit down and talk about it.”

“No.  There’s nothing really to talk about.  I’m sure you can come up with a very convincing argument that will justify everything you’ve done, and why I’m being a fool, but the truth is, there are no words that can justify what you just did.  Yes, I could forgive you, and believe me, I want to, but there’d always be some resentment and the fact I could never trust you again, even if you promise not to.  What’s done is done.   Have a great birthday, and party, and make up some excuse for me not being there, but I’m going away for a while.  You have got everything you ever wanted Jan.  Be grateful for that.”

With that, I turned and headed for the door that led to the garage.  I wasn’t going to leave by the front door.  I expected her to say something, but she didn’t.  I expected a reaction, but there was none.  What choice did I have?

In the car, I found myself heading for the airport.  I couldn’t go to my parents, they were dead.  My sister lived on the other side of the country, and all I would get from her if I told her what happened would be an I told you so, so it was down to my brother, who had moved to the UK to get away from everyone.  I called him, and when he answered, I simply said, “I’m coming to see you for a while.”

And he replied, “It was Washington, wasn’t it?”

He’d know who she was, and who Michael was when he saw them together all those years ago.  And tried to warn me before I married her.

What was it with politicians and women?

 

© Charles Heath 2020

A to Z Challenge – Q is for: Quick, before I change my mind…

Q2020

There’s a point where you suddenly realized you’ve been tricked into doing something you wouldn’t normally do, and, worse, by someone you thought was your friend.

That thought, along with others, floated around in my mind while considering my fate; in a small room in the basement of a house that belonged to, what I now knew to be a criminal.

Everyone knew of Joe Delaneo as a wealthy philanthropist, not the head of a gang that had barely registered on the crime scale, and definitely not on the police radar.

Their crimes were, but it was a matter of fact the police had no substantial leads, nor any idea who was purporting the crimes.

But I knew. Now.

However, the chances of escaping with this knowledge and passing it on were somewhere between impossible and needing a miracle.
I had time to reflect on how I got here.

Basic human failings. The desire to take people at face value. To accommodate people who seemingly sincerely tell you they care about you, and then spin you a story about how a certain person stole something of theirs, and they wanted it back. The was more to the story, but it was the implied gratitude that reels you in.

I believed it was my one and only chance with Marylou Brenner. I even believed the story of how she had tired of Max Brenden, a gifted quarterback destined for bigger things, because of his wandering eye, and dismissive attitude. I’d seen him with other girls, and seen how he treated them.

A shake of the head, and a realization of how big a fool I’d been. Perhaps they knew Joe Delaneo was a criminal or maybe not, they just got lucky, but the result was always going to be the same. Trouble for me and amusement for them.

Of course, I was not cat burglar, and no experience in breaking and entering, and setting off a silent alarm was inevitable, as was capture.

What, at first surprised me was the fact Delaneo hadn’t called the police to report me. That set off the first alarm bell. Then, another man, one with a scarred face, a man I’d not seen before, came to the room and asked me questions. Who sent me, what was I looking for. I told him the truth, and he didn’t believe me. He didn’t say anything more, just glared at me, then left. It was enough.

I’d seen the movies and TV shows and guessed what happened next. Torture, either waterboarding or electricity. A battle with pain that no normal person could withstand, and for a mere boy just starting university, my threshold would be all of 30 seconds. The anticipation would make that about 15 seconds by the time he arrived with the equipment and equally mean-looking assistants.

There was a bed in the room, and I sat on it. Sleep was the last thing on my mind.
I was woken by the rattle of a key on the lock and the squeaky hinges of the door opening.

It was the best time to come when I was half asleep and disorientated. It took three seconds to realize where I was and five more to remember what had happened. By that time a fist had wrapped itself around the clothing on my shoulder and dragged me to my feet. I Neely collapsed, remembering at the last second that he would probably drag me to where we were going, and finish up in an unceremonious heap in front of whomever he was taking me to see.

Better to arrive on my own two feet. Begging might come later.

We went up a flight of stairs and along a long passage to the back of the house. I’d broken in via the back of the house and made it as far as Delaneo’s study before being caught. We passed a large room with library shelves, a dining room, and an empty room before we arrived back in the study.

In daylight it seemed bigger, but equally as forbidding. More shelves, more books, cabinets, luxurious chairs, a magnificent desk, and an alleged crime lord sitting behind it.

The fist released its grip on my clothes and the man it belonged to stepped back two paces. He had a gun, I saw it just before he grabbed me, as a detective in a shoulder holster. I saw it briefly last night, and it looked big and deadly.

“So, Jim, it is Jim isn’t it?”

Should I agree or pretend to be someone else? Where did he find out my name? I’d stick with the truth. “It is.”

“What were you after?”

“I don’t think it matters now that I’ve had time to think about it. I suspect the people who sent me on this goose chase are probably laughing their heads off about now.”

“So, this is a prank, and you’re the stooge?”

“As much as you probably don’t want to believe me, but if you think about it for one minute, you’ll see the truth of it. Hell, if I was this remarkable cat burglar you seem to think I am, the first thing I’d have done was disable the alarm, and then enter through the rear. The fact there was an unlatched window at the rear comes as no surprise. Everyone forgets something once in a while, and it has been seasonally hot.”

He looked at me with a rather strange expression. Was he horrified, or intrigued that I would talk to him so?

“Who are you, really?”

“Just a stupid fool trying to impress a girl. The wrong sort, but then people like me always seem to try and punch above his weight. I’ve learned my lesson I can tell you.” I took a deep breath, resigning myself to my fate. “Look, whatever you’re going to do, just get on with it.”

Delaneo’s expression changed, it wasn’t quite evil, but somewhere near it. He looked past me at the man standing behind me. “Impatient little bugger, isn’t he? ” I assumed the man behind me nodded because he didn’t speak.

“Take him away. I don’t want to see him again.”

I felt the man behind me move forward, and grab my shoulder again. He twisted me around to face the door, and we left the room, the man closing the door gently behind him. We walked up the passage towards the front door. Another man opened it. He took me as far as the edge of the patio and let go.

“Think yourself lucky this time. You come back, you’re luck will run out. Now go, quick, before I change my mind.”

I sighed inwardly in relief and went down the steps. He could have thrown me down, but he didn’t. I was, as he told me, quick to get to the gate and then, outside, I ran.
“You’ve got to stop throwing fools into the breach, Marylou.” Delaneo glared at her in much the same expression he had for all people under the age of 40. As a miscreant.

“They need to be tested.”

“Well, he didn’t turn to water if that’s what you want to know, not like that footballer chap of yours.”

“Oh, he’s not mine, not anymore. I have someone else in mind to take his place. Someone far more interesting.”

 

© Charles Heath 2020

A to Z Challenge – P is for: People have a way of surprising you…

P2020

Last days were supposed to be joyous, the end of your working life and the start of the rest of your life.

I’d spent the last 35 years working for the company, navigating through three buyouts, five name changes, and three restructures. I was surprised I was still employed after the last, only two years before.

But, here I was, sitting in the divisional manager’s office, my office for one more day, with my successor, Jerry, and best friend, sitting on the other side.

“Last day, what are you thinking?” He asked casually.

It might have been early, but we both had a glass of scotch, a sin l e malt I’d kept aside for an important occasion and this seemed like one.

I picked up the glass and surveyed the contents, giving myself a few moments to consider an answer to what could be a difficult question. To be honest, the thinking had started on the subway on the way in, when I should have been working on the crossword, but instead, I was lamenting the fact that the next chapter of my life would be without Ellen.

We would have been married, coincidently, 43 years ago today, had she been alive. Unfortunately, she had died suddenly about four months ago, after a long battle with cancer.

And I still hadn’t had time to process it. Truth is, it had been work that kept me together, and I was worried about what was going to happen when it would no longer there.

To a certain extent, I was still on autopilot, her death coming in the middle of a major disaster concerning the company, one that had finally, and successfully, been brought to a conclusion with favorable results for everyone.

But what was I thinking right then, at that precise moment in time? Not something he would want to hear, so I made the necessary adjustment. “That I’m basically leaving you a clean slate, so don’t screw it up.”

I could see that was not what he wanted to hear.

He decided to take a different tack. “What have you got planned for the first day of retirement.”

He knew about Ellen and had been there for me, above and beyond what could have been expected from anyone. I owed him more than a platitude.

“Sleep in, probably, but I’m going to be fighting that body clock. It’s going to be difficult after so many years getting up the same time, rail hail or shine. But we had plans to go away for a few months, you know, the trip of a lifetime, then move. Ellen wanted to go back home for a while, now, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.”

“Then perhaps you should, or at the very least, go home for a while. You said you both come from there; who knows, being back among family might just be what you need.”

It was something I had been thinking about and had been issued an open-ended invitation from her parents to come and stay for as long as I wanted, one that I was seriously considering.

But, before I could tell him that, the phone rang.

Never a dull day…
The day went quickly, and as much as it was expected I’d hand over anything that happened to my successor, I couldn’t quite let go. There was the proverbial storm in a teacup, but it was a good opportunity to watch the man who was taking over in action. He had a great teacher, even if I said so myself.

But it was the end of the day and the moment I had been dreading. I’d asked the personnel manager not to make a big deal out of my departure, and that I didn’t want the usual sendoff, where everyone in the office came and I would find myself at a loss of words and feel like I had to speak to a lot of people I didn’t really know.

There were only about a dozen that I really knew, a dozen that had survived the layoffs and restructuring, and although there were others, I didn’t have anything to do with them. My last job took me out of the office more than being there, and so many of the other people were from offices scattered all up and down the east coast.

I’d mostly said my goodbyes to them on the last quarterly visit. Sixteen offices, fifty-odd employees who were as much friends as they were staff who worked for me. There had been small dinners and heartfelt moments.

This I was hoping would be the same.

Jerry had been charged with the responsibility of getting me to the presentation; they called it a presentation because I had no doubt there would be a presentation of some sort. I had told the CEO a handshake and a couple of drinks would suffice, and he just congenially nodded.

Jerry had taken the manager’s chair and I was sitting on the other side of the table. We’d finished off the last of the single malt, and dirt was time to go. I closed the door to the office for the last time, and we walked along the passage towards the dining room. It was a perk I’d fought hard to keep during the last restructure when the money men were trying to cut costs.

It was one of the few battles I won.

He opened the door and stood to one side, and ushered me through.

It was a very large space, usually filled with tables, chairs, and diners. Now it was filled with people, leaving a passageway from the door to a podium that had been set up in front of the servery, where a large curtain stretched across the width of the building with the company logo displayed on it.

There were 2,300 people who worked in this office and another 700 from the regional offices. By the look of the crowd, every single one of them was there.

It took fifteen minutes to get from the door to the podium. Faces of people I’d seen every day, faces I’d seen a few times a year, and faces I’d never seen before. On the podium there was a dozen more, faces I’d only seen in the Annual Accounts document, except for the General Manager and the CEO.

“You will be pleased to know everyone here wanted to come and bid you farewell,” the General Manager said.

“Everyone? Why?”

“Well, I’ve learned a lot about this company and its people over the last week, and frankly, people have a way of surprising you. And given the impact you have had on each and every one of them, I’m not surprised. So much so, they wanted to give you something to remember them by.”

A nod of the head and the curtains were pulled back, and behind them was an original 1968 XJ6 Jaguar, fully restored, a very familiar XJ6. The car had belonged to Helen and I had to sell it to help pay the medical bills. It had been a gut-wrenching experience, coming at a time when everything that was happened to her almost overwhelmed me.

“Jerry told us about this particular car, so all of your friends thought, as a fitting memory to you and of her, that we should find it and restore it. Everyone here contributed. It is our gift to you for everything you have done for us.”

So much for the usual sendoff…

 

© Charles Heath 2020

Inspiration, maybe

A picture paints … well, as many words as you like.  For instance:

lookingdownfromcoronetpeak

And the story:

 

It was once said that a desperate man has everything to lose.

The man I was chasing was desperate, but I, on the other hand, was more desperate to catch him.

He’d left a trail of dead people from one end of the island to the other.

The team had put in a lot of effort to locate him, and now his capture was imminent.  We were following the car he was in, from a discrete distance, and, at the appropriate time, we would catch up, pull him over, and make the arrest.

There was nowhere for him to go.

The road led to a dead-end, and the only way off the mountain was back down the road were now on.  Which was why I was somewhat surprised when we discovered where he was.

Where was he going?

 

“Damn,” I heard Alan mutter.  He was driving, being careful not to get too close, but not far enough away to lose sight of him.

“What?”

“I think he’s made us.”

“How?”

“Dumb bad luck, I’m guessing.  Or he expected we’d follow him up the mountain.  He’s just sped up.”

“How far away?”

“A half-mile.  We should see him higher up when we turn the next corner.”

It took an eternity to get there, and when we did, Alan was right, only he was further on than we thought.”

“Step on it.  Let’s catch him up before he gets to the top.”

Easy to say, not so easy to do.  The road was treacherous, and in places just gravel, and there were no guard rails to stop a three thousand footfall down the mountainside.

Good thing then I had the foresight to have three agents on the hill for just such a scenario.

 

Ten minutes later, we were in sight of the car, still moving quickly, but we were going slightly faster.  We’d catch up just short of the summit car park.

Or so we thought.

Coming quickly around another corner we almost slammed into the car we’d been chasing.

“What the hell…” Aland muttered.

I was out of the car, and over to see if he was in it, but I knew that it was only a slender possibility.  The car was empty, and no indication where he went.

Certainly not up the road.  It was relatively straightforward for the next mile, at which we would have reached the summit.  Up the mountainside from here, or down.

I looked up.  Nothing.

Alan yelled out, “He’s not going down, not that I can see, but if he did, there’s hardly a foothold and that’s a long fall.”

Then where did he go?

Then a man looking very much like our quarry came out from behind a rock embedded just a short distance up the hill.

“Sorry,” he said quite calmly.  “Had to go if you know what I mean.”

 

I’d lost him.

It was as simple as that.

I had been led a merry chase up the hill, and all the time he was getting away in a different direction.

I’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book, letting my desperation blind me to the disguise that anyone else would see through in an instant.

It was a lonely sight, looking down that road, knowing that I had to go all that way down again, only this time, without having to throw caution to the wind.

“Maybe next time,” Alan said.

“We’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.”

 

© Charles Heath 2019

Find this and other stories in “Inspiration, maybe”  available soon.

InspirationMaybe1v1

 

 

A to Z Challenge – N is for: No stone unturned…

N2020

Mondays were usually a slow day to start the week, a brief few hours after the storm the was every Friday. Some chose to come in late, others gathered on arrival to have a team debriefing.

Our department chose to have a debriefing, and it was my job to analyze all the data and turn it into a graphical representation that basically said the business was heading in the right direction – up.

But, this Monday morning, the circumstances were slightly different.

The head of the company had personally sent both an email and a memo to every employee, an event that had never happened before.

In fact, for most of us, it was an eye-opening discovery, one where had the company not become engulfed in a scandal of international proportions, his identity might have remained a secret.

Not that it mattered to the 15,000 odd people who worked for the company, because the bottom line was that it would not affect us, or our employment.  Well, that was the message the email and the memo was primarily about.

Was it too little too late?

The problem was that the morning’s paper’s headlines screamed scandal in large letters and then went on to describe how the company was basically a front for laundering money associated with various criminal activities. It stopped short of accusing the company’s upper management of being criminals, but it was clear, reading between the lines, they had to know something was wrong.

I walked into the meeting room where all of the Department’s staff were seated, talking among themselves, that dying down the moment I closed the door behind me. On the desk in front of each was one of the three morning papers, all with basically the same story.

I didn’t bring a paper in with me, nor a copy of the email, or the memo. I was hoping the meeting was not going to be about the scandal.

I was wrong.

It was one of those companies where everyone knew everyone. I knew everyone in the room, and regarded most as friends as well as workmates. The company promoted from within and on merit, and with this, I had the respect of everyone who worked under me.

I could see by the mood, and looks of expectation, that trust was going to be tested.

“I suspect that everyone has seen the news, and hopefully read both missives from management regarding the situation the company finds itself.”

That was met with a murmur of agreement.

“It was also, for some, a surprise.”

For others, it was not. Our department was basically in place to ensure that all transactions were conducted properly and that clients’ accounts were managed within the guidelines set by the company, and the various government institutions responsible for financial affairs.

Several of the senior officers had come to me with what they regarded as anomalies, and I have given them the authority to investigate. It was also within my remit to advise the relevant government authority. Most of the anomalies had simply been oversights by the account manager, except for one, which as far as I was aware, had been cleared.

Or not.

“Can we safely assume that Wally Anderson’s somewhat abrupt was not as described?”

Wally Anderson’s abrupt departure had been described to me in a one-line email, ‘taking some personal time to work through some family issues’. In the week leading up to his departure he had become increasingly agitated, and one call one of the others had taken in his absence was from a reporter.

It was one of his accounts that remained doubtful, until shortly after he left when an external investigator was brought in.

But I had a difficult line to walk, trying to placate both sides of the spectrum and management, and as a leader. Respect could be won or lost in a matter of words.

“That might or might not be the case, but the odds are, given what we’re reading, that there may be room for doubt. However, despite what we may conclude, or deduce, it is better for all of us to keep an open mind. I suspect, at some point, again based on what I read, we might be approached by the police or representatives of a number of regulatory organizations for information.”

It was as far as I got.

The side door swung open, and my superior, the Chief Accountant, strode in, along with the mystery man who was, the papers said, the Owner, followed by the harried personal assistant.

“Mr. Nelson…”

The Chief Accountant stood front and center to the group. I thought it wise to stand off to one side, the opposite, in fact, the Owner, now standing just inside the door, next to his PA who was quietly talking into her cell phone.

“I’ll take over from here, Max.”

He switched his attention back to the group and took a few seconds to run his eye over all over them, almost as if he was looking for someone or something.

“I have spent the last 48 hours in rather tedious discussions with the regulators who insist that they received information about the Ridley investigation. Unfortunately, without consulting the company, he took part of the results of the investigation to them. Was anyone here aware of his actions?”

Another eye cast over the group, and, in the end, a glance at me.

I felt responsible to answer for the group.

“Investigations are conducted by individuals, and as far as I was concerned, the Ridley investigation was his. As equally that after he departed, that investigation was completed and cleared. Are you intimating that it wasn’t?”

I knew as much about it as the others.

“It was, until someone else reopened it, and reported it. We believe it was someone in this room.”

“That’s not possible,” I said. “I have oversight of all the officers in this room, and the ability to monitor everything they do and everything they look at. You know the security protocols in place in the software itself.”

“An investigation into the software has been implemented, and it shows that certain log files were altered so that the user log wouldn’t show who looked at the records. Someone with database experience.”

“We’re basically auditors not database managers.”

“Well, someone apparently is. Everyone is on notice. We will find out who it was, and believe me when I say we will leave no stone unturned in the process.”

An almost imperceptible not from the Owner, the harried PA was still on the cell phone, the Chief Accountant gave the group another steely look, then glared at me, said, “My office, one hour,” then left pulling the other two along in his wake.

I cast an eye over the group, picking out those whom I suspected were capable of performing such a search and destroy operation. Three.

“My door is open for anyone who might have any information, with the promise of anonymity.”

I left them with that and also left.

What should have been a quiet morning’s discussion just became a witch hunt where someone would be burnt at the stake. Whether they were guilty or not.

 

© Charles Heath 2020

A to Z Challenge – M is for: More or less…

M2020

It was meant to be time to reacquaint as brothers.

Louis and I had not seen each other for decades, and when he returned, about a week before, I got the impression there was more than just ‘missing his brother’ going on.

But that was Louis. He was never one to say what or how he felt about anything, preferring to be the strong silent type, and it had not fared well for him transitioning from teenager to adult.

As for me, when our parents split up, Louis went with our father, and I stayed with our mother, and, given the amount of acrimony there was attached to the split, it was no surprise to anyone that Louis and I had effectively become estranged.

In fact, when I had tried to find them, about two years after the split and our mother had died suddenly, all I found were loose ends. They had effectively vanished.

With that part of my life effectively over, I had married, had children and watched 30 years disappear before Louis suddenly popped up. He simply knocked on the front door one afternoon, Helen answered it, and within minutes they were the best of friends. I’d had that rapport, once, many years before, but life and circumstances had all but ruined that.

Or perhaps that was just me, worn down by that same life and circumstances we were all supposed to take on the chin.

His arrival was a welcome distraction, and when, after a week, he suggested that he and I go on a hike, the sort our father used to take us on when we were a family, I agreed. Helen was happy to be rid of me, and I guess a week without our arguing would suit everyone.

It was probably fortuitous timing. Helen and I had finally got to the point where divorce lawyers were about to be called in. The children had all moved on and had children and problems of their own, and we, as parents just didn’t gel anymore.

Besides, I said, just before I joined Louis in the truck, ready to embark for the wilderness, it would be time to clear my head.

And by day two, my head was clear, and Louis, taking the lead, led us along the ridgeline, a trek he said, that would take us about seven hours. We’d stopped the previous night in a base camp and then headed out the next morning. We were the only two, it being early in the season with snow still on the ground.

Above was the clear cloudless blue sky and in front of us, trees and mountains. There was snow on the ground but it was not solid and showed no signs of human footsteps, only animals. The air was fresh, and it was good to be away from the city and its pressures.

Approaching noon, I’d asked him if we were about halfway. I knew he was holding back, being the fitter of us.

“More or less.”

“More or less what, more closer or less close than we should be.”

I watched him do a 360-degree turn, scoping out our position. It was a maneuver I was familiar with from my time with the National Guard. I’d used my backcountry experience that I’d learned from my father, as a skill I thought they might be able to, and eventually did, use. I got the feeling Louis was looking for something.

“You get the impression we’re not alone?” I asked. I had that nagging feeling something was not right, not from about two miles back in the forest. It was like my sixth sense being switched on.

“Doesn’t seem so, though there have been a few animals lurking behind us, probably surprised anyone’s about this time of the year. It’s been a while, so I’m just getting a feel for the trail. This is, for now, our mountain.”

There was a time, from a time when we were kids, that I could tell when he was lying. He was better at covering it, but it was still there.

Where we’d stopped was a small clearing, a staging point that would be used by other trekkers, still overgrown because of lack of trekkers. Ahead there were the signs of a trail, and after six months, it would become clear again. In places, as we had made our way from the base camp, sections of the distinctive trail had all but disappeared, but Louis seemed to know where he was going, and it was not long before we had picked up the trail again. This spot was a lookout, giving a spectacular view of the valley below, and a fast running river through it.

I walked to the edge and looked up and down the valley, and at the trail that ran along the cliff for a short distance. I looked down, not the wisest of things to do, but it was long enough to catch sight of several charred pieces of wood. On top of the snow. The thing is, someone had been along this trail before us, and recently, something I thought wise to keep to myself.

Back at the log, I sat for a moment and drank some water, while Louis stood patiently, but impatiently, for me to join him.

“You look like you’ve got somewhere to be.” Probably not the wisest thing to say but it was out before I could stop it.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, then it was gone. “If we stop too long, joints will freeze up, especially when it gets colder.”

“Sorry.” I put the container back in the pack and joined him. “Let’s go. The cold and I don’t get along very well, and it’s been a long time since the last time I ventured into the great unknown.”

“Helen said you gave up trekking when you married her.”

“She wasn’t a trekker, Robbie. We all have to give up something, sooner or later.”

Another hour, feeling rather weary, we’d come to another small clearing and a place where I could sit down.

“You always were the weak link, Robbie. Admittedly you were younger, but you never seemed to grasp the concept of exercise and fitness.”

I looked up at him and could see my father, the exact stance, the exact words, the exact same sneer in his voice. It all came rushing back as if it was yesterday, the reasons why I chose to go with our mother, that another day with his bullying would be one too many. And he was a bully. And, in an instant, I could see the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

“Out of shape after languishing in an office, perhaps,” I said, “but I was never the disappointment our father always considered me.”

“You didn’t join the army, follow in his footsteps, as he wanted us to do. I did. Proudly served, too.”

I could see it. Like father, like son. No surprise Robbie had followed in his father’s footsteps. And it was a clue as to what Robbie had been doing since I saw him last.

“So, tell me about it.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I probably wouldn’t. Let’s push on.”

I’d also thought, along the way, he might ask questions, delve further into the problems that Helen and I were having, but I knew she had told him all he needed to know. I’d been held up at the office, and had rung to ask her to take him to dinner, get to know him, she might get to learn something of my life before I met her, details of which I hadn’t told her other than that my mother was dead, my father had left and taken Robbie with him. My past, I’d told her from the outset, was not something I would talk about.

I didn’t ask what they talked about, but I could see a change in both of them. Perhaps she had succumbed to Robbie’s charm, back in school all the girls did, but they all soon learned he was not a nice person, not once you got to know him. I didn’t warn her, and perhaps that was regrettable on my part, but it reflected the state in which our relationship had reached.

I’d also tried, once or twice, to find out if our father was still alive, but he deflected it, changing the subject. That meant he was still alive, somewhere, perhaps annoyed at Robbie for coming to see me. If I was a betting man, I’d bet our father would have denied permission for
Robbie to do so, even if he was a grown man and capable of making his own decisions.

Odd, but not surprising. Even now I could remember my father had secrets, and those secrets had fed into the breakup of our parents.

“So, you’ve been dodging it for days now, but you still haven’t told me if dad is alive or dead. He’d be about seventy-odd now.”

He stopped and turned to face me. “Would it matter if he was alive? I doubt you’d want to see him after what mother must have said about him.”

Interesting that he would think so. “She never had a bad word for him, and wouldn’t hear of one spoken, by me or anyone. And I have wondered what became of him, and you. At least now I know you spent time in the Army. If I was to guess what happened, that would be high on my list.”

“No surprise then you became an office wanker.”

Blunt, but, to him, it was a fact. I’d used that expression when telling Helen one time after a very bad day.

“We can’t all be heroes, Robbie.”

I put my hand up. Alarm bells were going off in my head. “You can come out now,” I yelled.

Robbie looked puzzled.

“I know you’re there. You’ve been behind us for about a half-mile now.”

A few seconds passed before the cracking of a twig, and then a person in a camouflage kit came towards us.

He’d aged, hair and beard grey in places but almost white now, but the face was familiar.

“What brings you to this part of the woods, Dad. Or is it just an unlucky coincidence?”

 

© Charles Heath 2020

What happens after the action packed start – Part 40

Our hero knows he’s in serious trouble.

The problem is, there are familiar faces and a question of who is a friend and who is foe made all the more difficult because of the enemy, if it was the enemy, simply because it didn’t look or sound or act like the enemy.

Now, it appears, his problems stem from another operation he participated in, and because of it, he has now been roped into what might be called a suicide mission.

 

I left the others out the front of the hut in Barnes charge, except for Williamson who stayed inside, feigning illness.  If everything went according to plan, a sketchy plan at best, Monroe would slip the diamonds to Williamson, and then melt back into the bush, heading back towards the fork in the road heading to the airstrip.  She would then report on what troops were between us and our objective.

I signaled for Davies to join me.

The commander and the man who’d reported to him earlier strode across the compound to a smaller building that might pass as a jail.  There was a guard out the front who jumped up and snapped to attention when the commander came up the steps.

“Open the door.”

The guard fumbled with a ring of keys, found the one for the door, and unlocked it.

The commander looked at me.  “You may speak to them for five minutes.”

“Alone.  You have my word we’ll not try anything.”

He nodded at the guard.  “Bottom of the steps.  Don’t let them out of your sight.”  To me, he pointed to another building about 50 yards away, “I’ll be there, don’t keep me waiting.”

We waited for him to come down the steps and start striding to his office, then went up the stairs, and I knocked on the door.  “My name is James, and I’m here with Davies to take you home.  We’re coming in.”

I opened the door slowly pulling it towards me, and the odor that came out of the room was that of people who had not been allowed to wash for several days, if not longer.  Once the door was fully open and the interior lit, I could see two stretchers and two men sitting up, struggling with the light in their eyes.

At least they were able to sit up.

Our information was they had been captive now for about seven months, and, looking at them, they didn’t seem to appear to badly off.  They showed signs of weight loss, and pallid skin, but not to the point of being maltreated or starved.

“Who did you say you were?”  The man on the left was about 50ish, grey thinning hair, and I suspect once a lot bulkier than he was now.  There was an air of brashness about him, but that would have been beaten out of him long ago.  Now he was just a shell of his former self.

“Sgt James, and Lieutenant Davies.  Part of the rescue team sent to bring you home.  A Colonel Bamfield sent us.”

“You took your time.”

Th either man spoke.  Younger, a military type, perhaps the other man’s bodyguard.  He had a few scars, so I expect he had offered some resistance and paid for it with the butt of a gun or two.

“We tried once, but it failed.  There were not the people who had been holding you at the time though, were they?”

“No.  If that was an attempt, they were the people who came to ‘rescue’ us, only it was a means for them to use us for ransom.  It’s taken them a while to find the right people.  Bamfield you say?  Who is he?”

“Runs the military’s operations that the military doesn’t want to acknowledge.  We’re here, but we’re not here if you know what I mean.”

The older man shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  What happens now?”

“I go and have another chat with the commander.  We exchange gifts, and we leave.”

“You do realize that’s not going to happen,” the military type said with a degree of despondency.

“How so?”

“There are about 50 men here, possibly more, all armed, and all waiting for you to arrive.  I expect they’ll take the ransom and then kill all of us.”

“Yes, I had thought that might be the case.  But, don’t worry.  We have a few tricks up our sleeve.  So, gather your belongings, if you have any, and wait for us to come back and get you.”

“Are you going to drive out of here?”  The military man spoke again.

“A short distance, yes.  There’s an airstrip not far from here, so all we have to do is get there, and we’re halfway home.”

“There’ll be government troops there.  It’s used for people coming in to visit the national park and they provide local security.  Boroko knows the Captain in charge there, and they have an arrangement.  He’ll know what your options are, and you’ll just be walking into a trap.”

That had always been a possibility, but Bamfield wouldn’t send us there unless there was a chance we could use it for our escape.  But, what the man was saying was just another wrinkle in a plan that had lots of wrinkles.

“Provided you get a mile from this place before being attacked.”

“All very interesting points,” I said.  “But, like I said, pack your stuff and let me worry about the details.  Feel free to take in some fresh air while we’re gone.  It won’t be long.”

“I’ll stay,” Davies said.

“OK.”

I took a last look at the two, both now struggling to their feet.  They might not be in as good a condition as the commander had said.  As long as they could cover about half a mile at best, everything would be fine.

I walked slowly back to the hut where Williamson had just emerged, and I went over to him.

He handed me a package that hardly made a dent in my pocket.  It was probably the reason why diamonds were used, small, and easily transportable.  Gold bars would have been a different, and far more difficult, proposition.

From there, I walked more briskly to the commander’s hut and as I approached he came out.

“Everything in order?”

“It is.”

I pulled the package out of my pocket and handed it to him.  “You can check the contents while I wait here.”

A smile, like a cat who swallowed the canary.  A nod to a soldier standing behind me, I could hear the weapon being trained on me.

“I guess this is where…”

A second later the soldier crumpled to the ground, a bloody mess where his head had just been.  A second raised his gun and suffered the same result.

“Call off your dogs’ commander.  I’m sure we both don’t want to see people die needlessly.”

Two hands for a signal to lower weapons.

“Your missing people.”

“Out there, strategically placed.  Excellent marksmen too.  At the moment they’re showing restraint.  It’s up to you how long that lasts.”

He motioned to the guard at the prisoner’s hut to take them to the cars, “Join them, Sargeant James, I’ll be along when I’ve checked the diamonds.”

By the time the two men had joined the rest of the team at the cars, the commander had come out of his office and was walking towards us.

“Three cars, we’ll keep the other.  I assume you’re heading towards the airstrip.”

“It’s one of our options.  I hear the government had a platoon of soldiers there under the command of a Captain.  You might want to warn him we’re coming.  You might also want to warn whoever you have in the field between here and there we’re coming.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety once you leave the compound.  If there is anyone out there, it will not be my men.  We have an agreement remember.”

“Good.”  

While we were talking the others had got themselves into the cars and started the engines.  Time was of the essence.

We walked down to the barrier, and once again he ordered his guards to remove it.

Once they had the cars drove past and then the last car stopped just the other side, waiting for me.

“I wish you good luck, Sargeant James.”

“Let’s hope the atmospherics don’t interfere with my call to my people.  I’d hate to see this place destroyed because of a misunderstanding.”

I hadn’t seen Jacobi since just after we arrived, and he had headed straight to the commander’s hut.  No doubt they had a lot to talk about.

I got in the car, and we drove off.

I was half expecting a hail of bullets, but all I could see was the two guards replacing the barrier and the commander standing behind it, arms crossed, still looking like the cat who swallowed the canary.

 

© Charles Heath 2020