Heroes Don't Travel

by Roo I MacLeod

  ‘Who the feck are you?’

  Ben didn’t answer. Tommy stood to join Ben and the girls followed.

  ‘What are you feckin’ doing here?’ the man said. His next step stumbled as his body shook from a coughing fit. ‘Did you do dis?’ His hand waved toward the inferno behind him.

  A crack sounded and timber fell, the flames jumping at the fuel. Ben shook his head. A gust of wind fanned at the flames. The front of the building crackled, the yellow licks of flame reaching high into the night.

  ‘Who did dis to my home?’ He noticed Claudia and a blackened finger rose to point. ‘You,’ he said. ‘It was you. Why, you feckin’ poisonous bitch. What have we done to you? You put my son in hospital and now dis. My family was in dair.’ He pointed at the building, a lick of flame shooting up the inside front wall. ‘Little Connor,’ he cried. ‘We can’t find Connor or Mrs. Smith. She went back to get him. You feckin’ killed ‘em.’

  He stumbled forward, bending to pick up a piece of charred timber. Ben attacked before the man could raise the weapon. He struck hard and fast, jabbing quick sharp punches to the nose. The man staggered backward, trying to keep his balance and fend off the attack. Ben continued jabbing, forcing the man backward until he had him trapped against the dog cage. The dogs jumped at the man as Ben stepped back, and the man slumped. Ben stepped in and struck an upper cut to his chin causing the man’s head to jerk back and smack against the wire.

  A truck started. Headlights shone on the cage.

  ‘Quick,’ Ben said. ‘We’ve got to leave.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Barney Visits Max

  Max sat at the head of his dining table, steam rising from a large mug, but sipping on a glass tumbler of whisky. The soft, internal light reflected on the large windows. Outside, the bright spots illuminated an unkempt garden. Gnarled trees crowded the back of the property, their roots drinking from the river Ost. A large motor boat bobbed on the water, knocking against the wooden jetty running parallel to the property. A grotesque stone figure spat a dribble of water into a pond of lilies occupying the center of the grounds. Two large marble tombstones dominated the left side of the garden. A rusted, wrought iron railing fenced the two corpses from the real world.

  The phone on the table rung with a shrill tone and he reached across to push the answer button. A dark figure alighted from a dinghy, looping a length of rope to the jetty posts. Max sipped and placed his glass on the table and watched the figure approach through a swirling mist.

  ‘Hello,’ he said to the phone.

  ‘We have something of yours.’ The voice sounded robotic and distorted.

  The figure walking his backyard emerged into the bright light. Max felt surrounded. A copper in his backyard and an unknown nuisance waited for his reply on his telephone.

  ‘Do you?’ he said. ‘What could that be?’

  ‘It’s small, but precious to you. And we want nothing more than to give it back to you.’

  ‘Good. Who are you?’

  ‘You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Let’s just establish if you are missing anything that you might think is precious.’

  PC Barney Baker nodded to Max as he crossed the patio and approached the back door. ‘I’m a busy man, so no games. What you selling? I’ll tell you if I buy.’

  ‘The cost is an interview with General Batista with your blessing.’

  ‘I have not that power. We are done.’

  Barney entered the building and climbed the steps to the ground floor. He offered a nod to the girl rushing through the foyer with children in hand. His polished boots clicked with authority on the parquet flooring. He approached the room Max occupied and offered a sharp rap to the door before striding inside.

  ‘We are not done. Listen to this recording…’

  Barney waited by the door, giving Max space as he waited on the phone. Silence and Max’s impatience had reached its limit before static sounded and the clear childlike voice spoke. ‘My name is Lucas Meldrum.’

  Max sat up in his chair, his hands gripping as fists. Again silence and Max leant toward his phone waiting to hear more, before shouting. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  A loud click sounded.

  ‘Problems?’ Barney said.

  Max turned to the view outside his window. A swirling mist had settled. The tombstones and the crass gargoyle pond statue stood above the white blanket. The outside spotlight died as he swallowed his drink in one gulp. His hand jerked, the nervous twitch knocking the glass against the polished wood. He placed the glass on the table and gripped its edge, trying to calm his nerves. His heart pounded against his rib cage and his breathing rasped with shallow, rapid breaths. He wanted his oxygen, but didn’t want to ask a copper to fetch his help.

  ‘You don’t know the half of it, but that’s not your concern. What are you doing here? You and that Webster girl don’t think you need to be knocking on my front door? The Man is rewriting the Law daily, but you still need my permission to enter my house. No? Me being the good citizen, having nothing to hide from the law, accepts your visit with good humor.’

  ‘Do you want me to leave?’

  ‘Well, given that you might not leave, I’m not going to make that choice. And I am curious as to what you and I could have to talk about. It’s not often I have the attentions of Ostere’s finest within an hour of each other.’

  ‘PSO Webster you said?’

  ‘Oh dear. Your partner, she not talk with you?’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Well, I’m thinking you talk with her.’ He pointed at the phone. ‘I’m happy for you to call.’

  Barney pulled at his shirt, ensuring it hung straight on his body. He paced the room with measured strides and turned with military precision, stopping to look out of the window. ‘You’ve employed a man wanted for the murder of two police officers and one civilian. He is also wanted for questioning regarding the massacre at Ostere Academy last Christmas. My sergeant is keen to have a conviction with front-page headlines to help wipe the massacre from the wee tykes’ minds. Parents need reassuring that in this day and age crimes get punished. We have reason to believe he’s in the Lowlands and he’s in pursuit of a girl called Claudia. Our source has also told us that there is a child involved.’

  Max didn’t move a muscle, but his respirations quickened. A finger tapped the table, but he remained still and silent.

  Barney resumed his pacing. ‘Ben Jackman is the man I seek. He answers to the name Street Boy. He is a vagrant. The army seeks him for not answering his call-up for National Service. He is a thief and a murderer. He needs capturing and arresting and locking up. I personally would be happier if he was hung on the nearest limb and gutted.

  Max raised his eyebrows at the last statement. ‘Disemboweling is good.’

  ‘Now I don’t need to explain the urgency of my mission,’ Barney said. He paced to the door, turned and focused on Max. ‘And I’m not going to overplay the danger this boy offers to our community. Nor should I have to explain that harboring such an individual places your own liberty at risk.’ He turned to look at Max over his shoulder. ‘Do I?’

  Max remained focused on the tumbler at his hand. A slither of tongue licked at his cracked lips hoping for a taste of the whisky.

  ‘I know of this boy you talk of,’ he said. ‘He was performing a task for me, but as of this moment I am unaware of his whereabouts.’

  ‘What about your black man.’

  ‘As of this moment I am unaware of his whereabouts also.’

  ‘Is he in the Lowlands?’

  Max reached for his empty glass. The door opened and a tall bald man appeared at the door. He wore a sleeveless jacket and faded baggy jeans with new white trainers. ‘You okay, Mr. Meldrum?’ he said. ‘We’re ready to roll. Do you want to watch?’

  ‘I’ll be there in a minute. Can you fill my glass and tell them I’ll need my oxygen and a hand getting to the studio.’

/>   ‘You making a film? Cool.’ Barney stepped forward and picked up the glass. He motioned for the man to leave the room. ‘I didn’t know you were a patron of the arts. You got your fingers in everything. I tread the boards myself during my time in the forces.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to end this discussion. Maybe another day, but I’d appreciate it if you made an appointment. I get many more uninvited visitors I’m going to buy me a dog.’

  ‘Dogs won’t do it, Max. I was A1 sharp shooter in the army. After my first tour, I trained as a sniper and have over two hundred kills to my name. Dogs won’t be a problem. But maybe, Max, we can help each other.’ He filled the glass, the smell of the whisky turning his stomach. He sat opposite Max with the glass before him. His eased forward, his back ramrod straight, and his fingers light on the table. ‘I know a man, my sergeant in the army when I did my second tour. He could bring your child back to Ostere.’

  ‘What do you know about my child?’

  ‘That he’s missing and you have wasted a lot of money trying to find and bring him back home.’

  ‘How are you going to succeed where I couldn’t?’

  ‘This is what my old sergeant does. He’s thorough and ruthless and he’ll have that child back with you before the day is over.’

  ‘What’s in this for you?’

  ‘Street Boy will follow the child.’

  A finger tapped methodically. He smiled, the effort resembling a sneer and his head nodded. ‘Does he understand the stakes in the Lowlands? Does your soldier understand that Gypsies are plain dumb obstinate to the point of stupid and they won’t give the child up?’

  ‘So the Gypsies have the child?’

  Max hesitated before answering the question. He looked at his glass and Barney gently launched the glass to slide the length of the table. It stopped between Max’s hands without spilling a drop.

  ‘I’m assuming by your hesitation that you’ve got no idea where the child is?’

  ‘At this present moment, no, I don’t. You heard the phone call. Up until that point I believed Winston had the child, but unless the man I raised from childhood has turned on me, it would appear something foul has occurred.’

  ‘When did you last hear from Winston?’

  ‘A couple of hours back, perhaps. He’d found the child at a pub called the Hangman and was on his way home.’

  ‘And Street Boy?’

  ‘I haven’t heard from Street Boy.’

  Barney pulled a notebook from his top pocket and clicked his pen. He scribbled notes and looked up at Max. ‘Where’s the Hangman?’

  ‘God knows. Somewhere near the Gypsy site. Bloxhelm or Malcombe. It can’t be hard to find.’

  ‘So he needs to talk to the publican, check out the Gypsies and get the child and bring me the head of the Street Boy. I may be able to pull the records on that phone call, but my guess is it would be a waste of resources.

  ‘General Batista is a big name in the Defense Department. Who would want a meeting with a General and why. Any ideas?’

  Max shook his head.

  ‘Street Boy comes from a military background, doesn’t he?’

  Again Max shook his head.

  Barney clicked his pen and placed it in his top shirt pocket with his notebook. The chair scraped as he stood and he straightened his uniform. ‘My man will require payment.’

  ‘I can sort that now.’

  ‘No, he will require payment when the job is complete. I have my salary and don’t need to be touching your money. He will demand a fair price. It will be high, but I advise you to pay. Are we agreed?’

  Max picked up his glass and held it up in salute. He sipped, timid sips as Barney left the room. Max scratched at his cheek and turned to face his garden. Dawn fought with night. The spotlight came to life in his backyard as a crane landed in his pond. Its spear-like beak darted deep into the mist and water hunting for fish.

  Max’s breathing stopped. ‘Damn thieving bird,’ he muttered.

  The whites of his eyes enlarged and his face turned puce. As panic took hold, his lungs kicked in, and he gulped with shallow breaths. A feeble hand trembled as he lifted the whisky to his mouth. He sipped, dribbled and sipped again.

  Barney reappeared in the back garden with his phone at his ear and the crane flapped and launched into the air. Max sighed and his shoulders dropped. The chalky pallor had deepened, but his breathing remained steady. The phone rang and his hand jerked, spilling whisky on the polished wood.

  ***

  ‘Sarge,’ PC Baker said. ‘It’s Baker here.’

  Barney paced the short wooden pier. Worn planks showed the dark water beneath. The tide moved out into the eastern channel, the river water rushing to join the sea with the mist swirling above. Barney leant against the large boat secured to the pier. ‘I’ve got a job for you and your men. It involves a child, a good wedge and a chance to enhance some skills. Might you be interested?’

  Barney smiled at the reply. ‘Good. Simple task, but I’ll email the details through. There’s a child been taken hostage in the Lowlands. Possible abductors are a site of Gypsies between Bloxhelm and Malcombe, and a publican running the Hangman in the same area. The client is an old man called Max Meldrum.’ He nodded to the conversation. ‘Yes, Mad Max. A Piece of info for you and you’re going to like this. Characters also interested in said child are Street Boy and Tommy the Car. A Picture of the child will follow.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Winston Smells Bad

  Loubie flopped on the frozen ground clutching at her bandaged arm. Her pale face shone in the light of the campfire. The dog sat next to her and nudged her hand onto his head for a pat. Tommy fell beside her and threw his coat over her shoulders. Pete stacked the campfire with wood, stirring up the embers to burn and nurture. He scooped a handful of tealeaves into the billycan and placed it on the metal plate to boil.

  Ben found Pete’s prison hooch and took a good slug of the thick, dark liquor, and shuddered at the taste and burn on the back of his throat. Claudia sat on Pete’s rock, her hands held out to the fire, rubbing them hard, wringing her fingers and tapping her feet. She looked at Ben and shook her head.

  ‘We got to go,’ she said, pulling her jacket close to her body. ‘We’re doing no good sitting about here.’

  Birds tweeted in the trees at the bottom of the hill. A grey light stretched to the east and cars could be heard on the A road beyond the scrub at the bottom of the hill. A figure approached from the top of the hill with an armful of fallen branches to burn. He limped on his left leg, a raggedy bandage wrapped about his upper thigh.

  ‘Abe,’ Pete called out. ‘That’s Abe, Tommy. He’s the man I was telling you about.’ He jumped up and ran to him. He took his wood and leant Abe an arm to lean on as they made their way back to the fire.

  Loubie’s shoulders hunched and her body trembled. Tommy turned to the visitor and smiled, offering a small wave. Abe stepped to the fire and stared at Loubie.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. He approached with his arms outstretched and a smile struggling to remain on his face. He hesitated, waiting for Loubie to react. She threw her cigarette into the fire, eased herself upright and backed away. ‘Come on, Loubie Lou,’ he said. ‘You got to let it go.’

  The look she offered bordered on feral. She turned with a hiss and ran toward the trees lining the road.

  Tommy looked at Abe and Ben. ‘What’s up?’ he said.

  ‘Go and get her, Tommy.’

  Tommy set off, running after the figure disappearing into the chill morning. Ben stepped up to the fire. ‘You and Loubie got history?’

  ‘Yeah, you could say that,’ he said. ‘We haven’t seen each other for a while.’

  ‘She doesn’t seem happy about that, eh?’

  Abe offered a smile, but his gaze dropped to the ground. He looked pale in the red glare of the fire and a tremor showed in his hands as he combed them through his greasy hair. He sat on the rock by the fire. Pete, Cl
audia, and Ben surrounded him, but they’d turned their backs to watch for Tommy and Loubie.

  Claudia kicked at a smoking ember spat free of the flames. ‘We’re going to get my son. Soon as.’ She faced Ben with her hands on her hips. ‘Sorry, but that’s our priority. Not this soap opera.’ She pointed at Abe. ‘Who the fuck is he, anyway?’

  Abe sat in the dirt with his back against the rock. He’d fashioned a tatty cigarette from Pete’s pipe tobacco and was grimacing with each drag on the butt.

  Ben didn’t know who Abe was, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t know who Claudia was, except the mother of a lost child and the daughter of a nasty man called Max. And he wasn’t sure any of them were his business. He’d been shot at, burnt and was still wanted for crimes he didn’t commit. And he was short a wage.

  ‘Well?’ Claudia said. ‘Are you going to stand there like a moron forever?’

  ‘Easy,’ Ben said. ‘There’s no good you insulting me, girl. You’re in the company of a man who don’t give a shit about nothing. I can walk away. Easy.’

  He paced downhill, stopping to face Claudia. ‘But I do have some affection for Loubie, and she’s my concern at the moment. Let’s deal with Loubie and while we work her issue out, we can contemplate your child’s predicament as well. We can do these two things, but please, don’t take the piss out of me. Okay. I need to make a call,’ he said. ‘Phone to spare anyone?’

  Pete produced his prison issue brick with big buttons and a tiny screen. ‘It looks like one of them dinosaur fossils. You been fossicking, Pete?’

  ‘I’m only to use it in emergencies. Even then I get beat if I call them. When I first started out here the wolves was real trouble, serious. I kept calling them telling them I was being attacked. They don’t come anymore, but they check the phone and if there are calls registered I get a beating.