by Jordan, G R
Damn, she looks good in those, thought Kirkgordon.
“Sorry about this,” said Tania, “but Mrs Moor has a thing about that brooch. Reckons it’s hers. I’ll just get her back to her bed.”
“Thanks, Tania,” said Kirkgordon, his gaze dwelling just a little too long on her tight-fitting attire.
As Tania tried to lead Mrs Moor away, the old lady grabbed Kirkgordon’s arm again and held on so tightly that her nails drew blood. As her grip eventually slackened her eyes went wild and she blurted out, “I used to have life. I had my life. Now they have it. They have it.”
“Yes, Mrs Moor, us young ones certainly are having our day aren’t we?” Tania chirped in quickly and hurried her out of the room.
There’s something attractive about a caring woman, thought Kirkgordon. He told himself he was just watching Tania help the old lady, appreciating her professional vocation, but when his mind conjured up the image of a thong, Kirkgordon realized his old habits were surfacing all too readily.
Feeling a bit stuck for action, Kirkgordon hovered by the room entrance, hoping Tania would return. After five minutes he recognized her scrubs coming back around the corner. Her smiling face sent a pleasing wobble into his stomach and he began to beam.
“Sorry about that. Mrs Moor is a bit mad on other people’s things. Always reckons they belong to her, from her dodgy past, no doubt. Poor old dear,” said Tania.
“Is she okay?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Yes, she’s fine. I enjoyed last night by the way.” Kirkgordon felt Tania take his hand. She rubbed it gently on the outside with her thumb. “Was a shame to have ended it that way. I would have preferred to have shown you the sunrise.”
“I’m sure the view would have been great.”
“It would have been. My flat’s got a small balcony, very secluded. And the sun shines right into it as it breaks the horizon. There’s nothing like the feel of the first rays chasing the cool night from your bare skin.”
Kirkgordon felt slightly weak. That’s just unfair, he thought. Totally horny, but unfair.
“Next time,” said Tania, “next time.” She held his gaze and noticed his jaw drop slightly as he glanced at her necklace. She leaned forward slightly. “I don’t think it’s my necklace you’re wanting to look at,” teased Tania.
Actually, thought Kirkgordon, it is. Why have I got Austerley’s mad ramblings racing through my head at a moment like this? Damn him.
“What happened to Austerley? He’s sleeping like a log,” said Kirkgordon, to break the moment.
“Oh, your friend,” chirped Tania, reverting to a more upright pose. “They had to sedate him. For his own good, the notes said. Apparently he was getting into a right state so they decided his body needed a rest.”
“Why wasn’t I informed? The arrangements were that I was to be notified if he started to get agitated again.”
“I guess they knew you were out last night and decided to let you sleep. Pretty decent of them, really.”
“Maybe so, but I need to know all his issues when they happen. Can you reiterate that to them?”
“Of course. But I suggest they keep him sedated tonight.”
“Why?”
“You don’t want to miss the sunrise.” Tania turned away almost skipping, letting her long hair bounce freely.
Such a tease, thought Kirkgordon but then corrected himself. A tease would be fine. A little excitement but no real chance of doing anything I shouldn’t. No, she’s playing for keeps. That’s not fair. He tried to focus on Alana but her hair got interchanged with Tania’s and then the faces blurred. In fact, every time he tried to think of a deep, loving moment with Alana, Tania’s face and body would appear in that moment. I need a shrink, he thought. Or a good crack across the skull.
Stumbling slightly, Kirkgordon managed to get himself to the front door before falling to his knees outside. He drew in the salt air in deep mouthfuls but the nauseous state persisted. He decided to walk back to his accommodation. Maybe I have just been up too long, he thought.
Over the next hour he pitched haphazardly, but on a reasonably direct route, to the front door of his guest house. On seeing the state he was in, the lady of the house took him by the hand and helped deposit him into his room. Kirkgordon managed to undress himself and clamber into bed. He closed his eyes. Tania was beside him. And the sun was rising.
When you needed privacy, Havers found the best way to clear an area was to be as offensive as possible without speaking. So he wasn’t dressed in his usual crisp suit and bowler hat but instead continued with his tramp disguise. On reaching the viewpoint known as Gibbet Point, he had observed a number of couples and individuals enjoying the day. The scene was calm and peaceful and he felt slight remorse at ruining Sunday afternoon for these good people. But this was where the signal had come from. The tech crew had confirmed it and now he needed to work the scene.
Sidling up to one couple, he sat down beside them without a word. The reaction was instantaneous.
“Bloody hell, brother, get a bath!”
Soon the area was almost clear. Genuine manure always worked well. The stupid tramp, sleeping in the wrong field. But then he struck a problem. The last remaining person, an older lady on her own, actually undid her flask and handed him a cup of tea. Havers took it and spat the tea into the air.
Undaunted, the lady started asking questions. Did he have accommodation? Did he know where he could get help? Had he been homeless for long? These types were the hardest, thought Havers. Caring people are the hardest to move.
But then the woman left in a hurry. Someone urinating at her feet was just too much. Who knows what a man like that could do next? She was a woman alone, after all. He’d already cleared everyone else away. As she sped down the hill, she tried to dislodge the image from her head.
Havers, having adjusted himself back to decency, began to bring out some devices from under his coat. He wasn’t entirely sure how they worked. That is to say, he could operate them but he didn’t know why they functioned like they did. In his job, science, magic and the paranormal world all blended and you had to be beyond yourself to understand it all. But Havers was the controller so he couldn’t go there. He needed a dispassionate, cool and untainted head. Keeping his delvers-into-the-strange-happenings close meant he had access to all the tools without the risk of attachment.
A grey box with a whirling antenna began to beep. A black stone on the ground changed to a purple tint. And a small mirror, over which Havers had watched a colleague recite an unknown incantation, showed a green outline, shimmering. Confirmed, then. Something was being brought here.
Havers quickly gathered the objects back into the concealed pockets of his coat. He needed to find out who was doing this. Wilson hadn’t sent back much information and the initial comments from the priest had hardly been conclusive. A “strange evil presence” wasn’t much to go on. If he hadn’t known Father Jonah personally, he wouldn’t even have sent Wilson. Havers stumbled like a drunk across the area, looking for anything else of note.
There was blood on that grass. Old, certainly. But blood. Reaching down, he plucked a few blades of the grass from the ground. His other hand reached inside his coat and pulled out a tiny black box. He opened a small drawer and placed the grass inside. Scratching his ear, he opened up the communications link with headquarters.
“Caretaker here,” came the response from his earpiece. “Alpha four X-ray papa niner seven two delta Charlie.”
“Prime. Romeo Fife tree Juliet foxtrot Lima wun ait niner sierra. Sample in for analysis. Is it his?” Havers wandered over to the lookout point. There had been no further contact from Wilson. He had sent a panic distress signal and then disappeared. It didn’t look good.
They all assumed he didn’t feel anything. Mr Cold, the Iceman, they called him. The one who would always do what was necessary, even if that meant killing one of his own. And he would. He knew that. But it didn’t mean he liked it or that he didn’t think abou
t it. I lose a bit of my soul every day in this job, he thought. Wilson might be better off having not climbed the ladder. Even dead, he probably still was. Still, it won’t comfort his parents. George and Anthea. Their only son, too.
“Prime?” asked his earpiece.
“Here,” answered Havers.
“Affirmative.”
“Prime changing to aggressive observation. Alert the standbys. This looks like trouble.”
“Roger.”
Havers looked out to the sea. His intuition was screaming at him but he wasn’t sure what it was saying. Perhaps the priest could help. And Austerley might know. He was a receiver, after all. Austerley always received dreams or visions when there were supernatural or occult happenings afoot. An enormous sense of dread came over Havers as he looked out to the sea. Time to find out more about the history of this place, he thought.
Delivery and Collections
A parcel van pulled up outside the care home, much to the surprise of Graham. He had worked as the manager for over a year and no delivery had ever happened on a Sunday. Especially not a Sunday evening. Still, he thought, I’m here working so why not anyone else?
A uniformed driver stepped out of the van, entered the building and approached Graham at the front desk. “Hello. It’s been a heck of a day, sorry it’s a bit late,” said the driver.
“It’s fine. Sunday working, always a joy to do. I understand perfectly.”
“I’m looking for a Mr Austerley. Have a special delivery for him which needs to be delivered in person.”
“Ah,” answered Graham. “That could be a problem. Mr Austerley is not in a fit condition to sign anything.”
“Oh. Well, do you mind if I take this up to his room? It’s a celebration package and I’ve been instructed to set it up for him. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Well, Mr…?”
“Gavin, call me Gavin.”
“Gavin. Well now, Gavin, that could be awkward. We’re a little low on staff at the moment and I can’t really leave the front desk,” said Graham.
“I get what you’re saying, governor, but it’s quite a special thing, this. Especially for people about to go to hospital. That’s what it says, anyway. Just a wee balloon thing. Do you mind? I’ll go there myself and that. If you don’t mind.”
Graham thought for a moment. Then he broke into a large smile.
“Look, okay. Just because of what it is. Mind you don’t hang about. Also, if Mr Austerley wakes up, don’t speak to him or anything, just come and get me. He can be a wee bit temperamental. That’s one disease that can’t be cured, unfortunately.”
“Sure, governor. Not a moment too long up there, I gotcha. Where is it?”
Graham gave the directions to follow and the delivery man strolled calmly away, holding the large box under his arm. Good, thought Havers, I’ll get to see him alone. This disguise is pretty effective.
Havers could hear Austerley’s snoring from outside the door. In fairness, he had heard him a corridor away but hadn’t realized who it was. The room he entered looked neat and tidy. Austerley was lying on the bed under a duvet. Shutting the door gently behind him, Havers got out a torch and opened one of Austerley’s eyelids. He tapped Austerley’s forearm and slapped his face gently. Dammit, he thought, they must have given him enough to knock out a rhino.
There was a noise in the corridor. Havers broke open the box and took out a jaunty balloon which had emblazoned on it “Make sure to get a good footing”. He was crouching down to fix the balloon to its stand when the door opened and a young woman dressed in scrubs entered.
“Is everything alright? Graham said you would be here. I just wanted to make sure Mr Austerley wasn’t disturbing you,” said the woman.
“Oh, no, not a word from him. Plenty of snoring, mind.”
“It’s a bit sick that, really.”
“The balloon? It’s a personal message so maybe he’s a bit sick too. You see all sorts doing this.”
“I suppose. Is that you finished? Doesn’t look like much to it.”
“Yes, that’s me. Just going to grab my things.” Havers spotted a book on the table beside Austerley’s bed. The same one he had handed to Kirkgordon that morning. Now, he thought, that can’t be lying around for all sorts to read. Careless, guys, careless. He picked up his box and turned around, shielding the book behind him. “Time to go, I guess.” As he spoke, Havers’ free hand picked the book off the table and held it to his back as he walked away. “You first, ma’am.” As the young woman exited he brought the book round quickly and dropped it into his box.
Havers felt the woman’s eyes on his back all the way down the corridor and was careful to stay in character. “Thanks for your time, mate,” he said to Graham as he reached the front desk. “Cracking body on that nurse of yours.” Graham nodded and Havers walked out of the building with his contraband.
Havers sat in the van and tried to visualize the scene he had been in. Something was up and he didn’t believe Austerley’s sedation was above board. Water jug, glass, all looked okay. Suitcase, yes, normal. The book being left out in the open wasn’t so normal. Certainly not from Austerley. He would have understood the danger of what it contained. Kirkgordon? Maybe the error was his. Everything else looked fine, nothing out of place. Except… what was that small object close to the bed? His brain had registered it ever so briefly but there was definitely something unusual there. Closing his eyes, he drew the memory out of his mind. Small, it was small. A token perhaps? No. Slightly bigger. Green, definitely green. Emerald, there was an emerald. And diamonds. A brooch. That was it, a brooch. Better sketch it for the boys back at HQ.
Next stop was Mr Kirkgordon. Perhaps it was time to enlighten him about Wilson. Hopefully the priest had been of use to him. The trouble with Father Jonah was that he took some convincing. A good man, no doubt, but not always one to toe the line in service of the country. Or of those who protect it, at least.
The results from the lookout point were troubling Havers. The amount of background spiritual energy was alarming. Usually with results like that one would expect “disturbances”, things the general public would have spotted. Nothing too outlandish, but certainly reportable. But he had checked with the police and there had been nothing unusual, nothing.
Havers tapped his ear and once HQ had checked in with the codes he asked them to find a local historian for him. The name came back. A Miss Jane Goodritch, working at the local arts centre. Havers decided that he would visit her after checking on Kirkgordon. He pulled up to the side of the road five hundred yards from Kirkgordon’s guest house.
Checking the street as he approached the house, Havers noticed he was being watched from a red hatchback just opposite the guest house. Inside was a black-haired woman and a balding man who, on seeing him, began to kiss. Pretty amateurish, thought Havers. They are far too close to the building. I’d sack my people for a tail like that. As Havers reached the door, it opened, forcing him to take a step back. A rotund lady stepped out of the house.
“I’m sorry there’s no answer from his door, Miss Goodritch, but I shall certainly tell him you called,” said an older lady standing in the doorway.
“Miss Goodritch?” enquired Havers. “Miss Jane Goodritch?”
The rotund lady was taken aback. “Yes. Who’s asking?”
“Allow me to introduce myself, ma’am. Major Havers. Arthur Lewis Siddlington-Havers, at your service.”
“Very good, sir, and congratulations on such an impressive name, but why are you asking for me?”
“Dear lady, I think we have come to see the same person. Mr Kirkgordon.”
“Kirk? You mean Mr Gordon. His first name’s Kirk.”
“As you wish. Is he well?”
“He’s in his room asleep,” said the landlady. “I was telling Miss Goodritch that he hasn’t moved since he came in today. Sorry, but you’ll have to come back.”
“Ladies, forgive me, but kindly step back inside the building.”
&nb
sp; “Why should we?” asked Miss Goodritch.
“Because my gun says so. It has a silencer and I am capable of delivering the necessary blow if required but I’d be happier if you just got inside quickly. Before they really take an interest in you.”
The women were startled but, as Havers had gambled, self-preservation made them step back inside. Shutting the door behind him, Havers looked at the trembling women and the gun barrel he was pointing at them.
“Apologies, but we needed to be inside. This building is being watched. Those people in the red hatchback across the road. And I have need of some answers which I might not want them to hear.” Havers extended a hand. “My name is Major Havers. I work for Her Majesty and I need to see my employee, Mr Kirkgordon. I realize you are a little in shock but your co-operation is appreciated. Oh, my gun. Here, you hold it, Miss Goodritch.”
Havers handed the gun to Miss Goodritch who immediately pointed it at Havers’ head. “Now sir, tell me who you are.” Havers laughed.
“Handing over of a loaded gun to the general public is not standard practice, Miss Goodritch. And I never break standard practice.” Havers whipped the gun from her hand and pointed it at his head before pulling the trigger six times. “I am your friend, possibly your protector, so please co-operate. I’d call the police to verify this for you but I really don’t want to bring the squad cars with their lights here. So please, will you take me to Mr Kirkgordon?”
The ladies were still nervous but the landlady led the way to Kirkgordon’s room.
Havers knocked on the door hard and called out Kirkgordon’s name. He tried three more times, then said to the landlady, “My apologies, but I need to enter,” and kicked the door through at the handle. It swung open and a fusty smell hit his nose. “I think my man was out last night.” Havers examined Kirkgordon’s hands and noticed a red rash on the back of one of them. Opening the eyelids, he checked the eyes and then placed his head close to Kirkgordon’s chest to monitor his breathing.
“Ladies, Mr Kirkgordon is not asleep. He is in fact being held in stasis. Which means someone will come for him. I don’t know who – perhaps the people in the car. This puts you in great danger and so I am going to take both of you to the local police station. We are also taking Mr Kirkgordon with us, but not through the front door. You’ll have to trust me on this. If you find that difficult I can load up my gun again and be more persuasive. Trust me, you are in great danger.”