by Thomas Wood
I was horrified at the sight of him, he was a total mess, but as I pushed my ear in towards his mouth, I could make out the undeniable sound of breathing.
It was shallow and weak, but the fact was that he was still taking air into his lungs, which meant that, for now at least, Louis was alive.
20
I had to check and doublecheck, but Louis’ pulse was definitely there. It was faint and sporadic, but it meant that his heart was still beating. He was alive.
The overwhelming sense of joy and pride was inexplicable as I stood there with my fingers pressed into his vein, having had to rummage around for a worryingly long time, trying to discover his pulse. I couldn’t quite believe that a man who had always been unassuming and slightly scared, could display such courage and bravery in the face of something so awful, to the point where he had nails hammered through the palms of his hands, scalded with boiling water and then beaten within an inch of his life.
I was ecstatic that my best friend was still alive, that he was still breathing, but the problem was that he was completely unconscious, and I needed him awake for him to be of any use to me right now.
I pulled his torso upwards by the back of his shirt, his neck cracking as his head lolled backwards, so that I could look at him in the face. I wondered whether his eyes were registering the fact that my face was in his, or if the vague expression he wore in his good eye was down to the blindness that he would now suffer from for the rest of his life.
He was of little use to me while he was asleep. I would need him awake, I needed him talking, and the sooner he found it within himself to do that, the better. He was my only lead now, he was the only one who would actually help me to get anything done, I had no one else left, not even Jameson was by my side anymore.
I winced as I delivered the first slap across the side of his face and I couldn’t help but think that I was no better than the evil man who had done this to Louis in the first place. The bruises that were like a patchwork quilt right the way down his face burnt a bright red colour for a moment, before settling down once again to the same old purple pigment that I was getting used to.
I continued trying to slap him to get him to wake up, no matter how much it was hurting him or me, as I wanted him to be able to see who it was, to know that I was doing something about his situation and rectifying the mess that I had got him into in the first place.
“Louis, can you hear me?” I asked in a hushed, but incredibly urgent whisper. Why I was keeping my voice down, I did not know, but it felt like the right thing to do, especially when Louis must have had one almighty headache, and the rest of his family were sleeping next door.
“It’s Alfie, Louis. Can you hear me?” It started to occur to me that it was unlikely that I was going to be able to get through to him, and that before too long I was going to have to leave Louis there and track down the man that had done this to him, he couldn’t have been too far away.
“It’s Alfie, Louis,” I whimpered pathetically, as my emotions surrounding the man lying before me slowly began to catch up and get the better of me. I was pleading with him more for my own sake than for his, as I was already beginning to experience the dark dog of depression at the sight of what I had subjected Louis to.
I continued to deliver slap after slap to the man’s face in the hope that eventually he might come round and give me the information that I needed. Every time I connected with his cheek, all I wanted to do was to look away, but I forced myself to keep looking at him, as if someone was holding onto my head, preventing it from swivelling around, as I knew that at the first sign of consciousness, I would need to start interrogating him.
I felt the tears begin to form in my eyes, waiting patiently in a queue to begin the gradual descent to the ground, as I smacked Louis across the side of the face once again, doing nothing to help his physical situation in any way at all. For a moment, I wondered whether I was making his ailments worse and that, in the pursuit of answers, all I was succeeding in doing was sending him deeper into some sort of coma.
As I delivered the blow that sent the awaiting tears cascading down my cheeks and onto the stone floor, I heard a slight grain of recognition from Louis. At first, I didn’t quite believe it but then again, a low, desperate groan passed over his lips, almost like a creaking door was opening or a starving stomach was crying out for sustenance.
Taking a step backwards I released the back of his shirt slowly, ready to catch him as his body thumped back into the hard surface of the kitchen table, but this time he was able to keep the weight of his own head upright, with the tiniest hint of pride in his posture.
“Alfie, is that you?”
“Yes Louis, it’s me. It’s Alfie.”
By now the tears were in full flow and were playing catch up with one another as they chased the other droplets down the side of my face and through the air, before splashing loudly on the cold floor. I couldn’t conceal my delight at his recognition, as pathetic chuckles and splutters began rumbling their way from the bottom of my heart, before I suppressed them with a lightning bolt of embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” he spluttered, blood and tears mixing together as they simultaneously dripped onto the table.
“I’m sorry, Alfie.” He continued to apologise again and again, to the point where it began to annoy me. Why was this man saying sorry? He had done nothing wrong, all he was guilty of was consistently helping me and rescuing me from situations that I had got myself into. None of this was his fault, none of this was his doing, the only one to blame for bringing this down on him was me. His family were lying dead in the room next door, and yet it was his conscience that seemed guilty and not my own. I couldn’t quite comprehend why he was feeling like that.
“Louis. Louis, calm down. Relax, it’s okay, I’m here now.” I didn’t know if that was meant to be calming him down or me, as I wasn’t sure if I was in his predicament, that I would be particularly eased by the presence of the man who, since I had met him, had caused nothing but anguish and trouble for the entire locality. He was beginning to become very panicked and his head was jutting around at so many different angles that I struggled to keep up with him. It was as if he was having some sort of seizure. His eyes soon followed suit, darting around in every direction as if he was hastily looking for something, or for someone.
“I’m sorry, Alfie. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to do it.”
“It’s okay Louis, you’ve done the right thing. You’ve made me very proud.” I thought that I made out a wry smile under all the bruising, which was quickly abandoned on account of the excruciating pain.
“And my family…are they okay? I thought I heard something next door.”
“Yes mate, they’re as good as gold. I’ve just told them to stay out of the kitchen for now if that’s okay with you? You’re not exactly the best-looking bloke right now if you don’t mind me saying.”
I got what I thought was a chuckle from him for a moment, which was interspersed by bubbles of blood coming out through the mouth, spilling onto the kitchen table, complete with three or four cracked and broken teeth as well. He stared at them in utter bemusement, as if he had just regurgitated three bars of gold along with his teeth. For some reason he couldn’t quite believe it.
I hated having to lie to him in that way, but I wanted him as calm as possible right now, I needed to manipulate him for my own gains. It wasn’t pleasant, and it didn’t sit easily on my conscience, but it had to be done, he had to think that his family were safe and sound for now.
He continued trying to speak and I could only make out a word here and there, as I gently stroked his bloodied and matted hair to try and calm him down to the very best of my abilities, which were clearly severely limited.
“You need to get out, Alfie. You’ve got to leave me here…He said he’s coming back. If he knows that you helped me out you won’t be given a second chance…and neither will I.”
“Who? Who said they’re coming back?”
I
knew full well who had done this to him, it was Joseph, and I couldn’t help but think what must’ve been going through Louis’ mind when he saw his former friend begin to hammer giant nails through the soft tissue of his palms and into his own kitchen table.
“You know what he is like, Alfie. Please, you must go.”
When I had known Louis for just a few weeks, he had confided in me that he believed Joseph was capable of evil things, which I didn’t doubt for a second, but now I had seen for myself the horrific reality of how far this man was prepared to go to keep his darkest secrets, secrets like Geranium, hidden from people like me.
“Go Alfie. Leave me here. You know I’ll be okay.”
I knew he was right, something which I hated, especially when it meant that I would have to leave him in a precarious situation such as this. It was entirely possible that one of Joseph’s cronies was keeping a watch on the house, to wait for me to leave before going in, to finish Louis off. It began to cross my mind that this could all have been an elaborate trap and that Louis had only been temporarily saved from the same fate as his family, because he was meant to talk to me.
I felt like my whole life was going from one set up to another, but right now I didn’t care as long as I managed to get face-to-face with Joseph. I didn’t even care if I survived or died any longer, just as long as I managed to put a bullet in Joseph’s skull first.
As I began to make movements to leave Louis’ kitchen, I realised that this could be the last time that I saw my best friend. Not out of a desire to never see one another again, but because one of us, or maybe even both of us, were heading straight towards death.
I took one last look at my weary friend as he sat fixated to the table, who clearly didn’t have the energy or the drive to even turn and watch me leave. He simply sat there, staring at the weakened skin on the backs of his hands, before I turned away from him, closing the kitchen door firmly behind me.
I barely even looked at the bodies of Louis’ family as I charged towards the front door, but just before I left the house, I made sure that I looked half presentable to the public that could potentially be on the other side of the door. I’d come way too far for that now, I had done too much to be tripped over by something as trivial as a speck of blood on my shirt.
Not much of what had passed over Louis’ lips had been that comprehensible, but the one thing that he had managed to get out to me was absolutely vital, and I was sure it was the only reason why Joseph Baudouin had let him live.
Joseph wanted to meet me later that night.
Louis, despite all of that pain and suffering that Baudouin had put him through, had still managed to listen and remember when and where I was to meet Joseph. My pride and awe of the man soared to new heights as I had watched him cough up more of his own teeth just trying to get the words out of his head.
This was it. This was going to be my final showdown with Joseph and one thing was for certain, at least one of us would end up dead. But if I was to die, I wanted to go knowing all of the facts, I wanted all of the answers ranging from Operation Geranium, all the way up to how Jimmy had become so involved in all of this.
There was so much that was up in the air at the moment, but I took comfort from knowing that there was one thing that was certain; there was only one person that I trusted. And that person, was me.
I knew that I couldn’t risk trying to find Jameson now, as my search would more than likely end up with him dead and me lying next to him. Likewise, I wouldn’t be able to contact any of Louis’ faithful followers on this one as I didn’t have enough time, but I only had to look at what my involvement had done to Louis’ family to know that Joseph would have no hesitation in wiping out their innocent relations as well.
This one would be just me and Joseph, it was between us two alone. I was hoping that everyone else of any significance would begin to fade out into my periphery so that I could remain focused on what might lie ahead. I didn’t need any more clouded judgement, I didn’t need any more rash decisions, I couldn’t afford to think about Cécile, and it would be suicide to think about Red.
I suddenly had a heart wrenching thought that Louis might somehow rip free of the kitchen table and venture out into his front room, observing the scene of carnage that had befallen his family. As the image crossed my mind, my heart changed, and I knew immediately that I had to initiate some sort of clean-up operation, to cushion the blow for Louis when he found out.
Louis Junior was far heavier than I had ever imagined, and I dragged his body away from the door, towards the chair in front of the fireplace. I began to realise how heavy all of my limbs were beginning to feel because of the intense activity that I had put them through in this last week.
I moved around the room as silently as possible, trying to make as little noise as I could so that Louis did not become suspicious of what I was doing, I didn’t want him to think that it had been me who had executed them.
Lifting his arms high above his head, I pulled Louis Junior into the chair and sat him down as if he had been there the whole time. Similarly, with Louis’ wife, I hauled her into the opposing chair and sat her as if she had been there all afternoon, in conversation with her teenage son.
If Louis was to make it out into the front room, I wanted him to at least partially believe that their deaths had been quick, and that they had been sitting there innocently when a bullet had been put through their skulls. I hoped that he would appreciate my grotesque gesture of appreciation for him and his family.
I pulled the rug over the bloody pond that settled on the floorboards of the room, hoping that by the time Louis discovered it most of the blood would have seeped into the foundations of his home.
Replacing his prized ornaments back on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, I felt suddenly saddened that I might never see this room, or Louis, ever again. But I knew what I must do. Gripping the door, and with one final sweeping look around the room, I opened the door, letting streams of sunlight bounce off my face.
21
As I sat there waiting for him, I wondered how many more of these desolate and run-down buildings Joseph had in his inventory, ready to use at a moment’s notice for a meeting, or in our case, a final showdown.
I had wanted to get there nice and early, to have an opportunity to wander around the place, to work out what my potential exit strategy might be when the time came, if I actually lived to see that sort of a thing happening.
I wasn’t going to be naïve. Yes, the abandoned factory and warehouse that Joseph had chosen was empty for now, in fact, it seemed like not a single soul had set foot in the area for quite some years. But I knew that as soon as our meeting was underway, the area would be flooded with men; German soldiers, corrupted resistance fighters and maybe a handful of other allied soldiers that he had managed to turn through the course of the war so far.
The area that Joseph had chosen for us was carved up, straight down the middle, by a single train track that must have supplied the factory back when it was in operation, or ready to ship out whatever was being made here, off to one of the French markets as soon as possible.
On the eastern side of the area, was the main factory building, a large brick-built structure, that ran for well over four or five hundred yards, across two storeys, large, airy windows running the length of the building, on both stories.
The inside of the factory was exactly how I had suspected, completely barren of anything that may have suggested what had been manufactured here years ago, apart from the odd sheet of steel and corrugated iron, that was more likely to have been a shelter for a runaway soldier than a result of production here. Most of the windows were still intact, one or two beginning to crack under the strain of keeping the rest of the building upright, but by and large, the building itself was in a relatively good condition.
On the western side of the track was a large warehouse, which mirrored the factory in length, but was far smaller in terms of its height and depth. One end was completely open
, with nothing there to protect it from the elements, which had resulted in huge puddles having formed right the way across the stone floor, which put me off from searching it any further. Regardless, I could see straight from the open end to the closed end, with nothing to note apart from the large brick pillars that supported the roof and stopped it from becoming an open-air warehouse.
As I had patrolled the whole area, briefly checking in all of the little offices and outhouses that had clearly been erected around the perimeter of the main factory and its warehouse, I noticed that the train track continued on further south, which I began to walk down in search of an escape route.
I noticed the water tower from quite some distance away and realised that it would have a decent view over the whole of the factory but would still be able to retain some cover due to the trees that had now started to grow around its base.
As I lay on the cold steel of the water tower, I wondered how busy this particular water stop had been back in the day, and how many people operating it would have ever guessed that one day it would be the observation post for a British soldier, awaiting the arrival of one Frenchman and his accompanying German army.
I preferred it up there in the tower, as opposed to on the ground, where the grass was coming up through the cracks in the concrete, swinging in the breeze at knee height. I knew that my vantage point would have been a popular position for a German sniper to site himself, but as soon as I saw Joseph heading in, I would be at the bottom of the ladder and on my way to the factory. My goal was to not get killed before I made it inside that building, everything else was completely inconsequential to me.
I sighed heavily as I began to think about what was going to happen over the next few hours, and how these could be the very last few hours that I had on this earth. It is impossible to tell yourself to not think about the near future when you are convinced you are going to die, and that was exactly what was running through my mind.