The Last Stand Down

by Philip J Bradbury

  "Stuff to do with the burglary?" asked Mary as the herd of coincidences thundered closer.

  "Look, I don't have the time to tell you everything here but my gut feeling is that's why the car was stolen," said John, his Kiwi voice rising in passion. "The sods have been following us here, we know that but, as you might know, the police aren't much help. Sam was our last hope."

  As John was talking, Mary buzzed Halee, the receptionist, on the internal line. With a phone in each ear, she asked Halee to send up Malcolm Schriever, the new Claims Manager, and to hold any further calls.

  "Yes, sorry John, I'm listening and I'm also organising a few things for you here," said Mary, after thanking Halee for understanding so quickly. "Now John, what are the vehicle details - make, registration, colour, distinguishing marks - and your mobile number?"

  "Though you might need that stuff so here it is," said John, giving her the details.

  "Right John, I now know where your in-laws live and all your vital statistics," said Mary with a laugh. "Let me get our tracers on to it. They're quicker and more efficient than the police for they're on commission and have a reason to succeed!"

  "Oh yea, tracers, they're who you use to find lost cars?" asked John.

  "Lost cars, people, lovers, jewellery ... everything, really," said Mary. "Now, if anyone tries to question or interrogate you, say nothing unless they can give you the password which is Fordyce doughnuts. Got it?"

  "Fordyce doughnuts? Yep, got that Mary and Mr Fordyce seems to think that's funny," said John. "Shall I put him on now?"

  "Not yet. Here's the number for my direct line and also my mobile. If anyone presses you for information, tell them to ring your lawyer - me - at either number," said Mary, giving John the numbers. "Now, you'll hear from someone very soon, by phone or in person, with the password. Without it they or you ring your lawyer. Got it, John?"

  "Yep, got it Mary and thanks," said John.

  "Hello Mary," boomed a familiar Scottish brogue down the line. "How yer be, lass?"

  "Ah, James, I won't lie to you," said Mary, feeling suddenly free to unburden her soul. "I've got a flash job, a good income, a nice apartment but my boss has ruddy well disappeared and this whole Atkinson case has got messier by the day ..."

  "Ah, Mary, are ye still selling buns, though?" asked James, chuckling. "It sounds from John's conversation with ye that you just might be."

  "Gosh yes, James, it's the one thing that's kept me sane and keeps me going," said Mary. "When I get bogged down with my own misery, I feel picked up when I can make someone else's day. My gripes evaporate a little each time."

  "Ay ye're a bonny lass and lovely to hear from ye," said James. "And if I find some bonny lad up here, pining for ye, I'll send him down to yer."

  "Ah, James, it's so nice to hear your happy and ... loving voice," said Mary as a deep sadness and a flood of tears threatened to Kahupt. She kept them at bay, thankfully, as she heard a knock on her door. "Please give Isobel a big hug from me and have yourself one from me too. Ah, James, I don't want to hang up but I really must go. Love to you both."

  "Just know, Mary, that we both love ye and are always here if ye need us, while we're above the earth," said James, chuckling.

  He hung up. Mary sat with the phone still to her ear and gave in to the tears and a deep wishing for more gentle people in her life, like the Fordyces. There was another knock at the door and she quickly slammed the phone down, wiped her eyes, stood up, took off the face of a sad, little girl and put on the face of a successful, dynamic insurance executive.

  "Yes Malcolm, come in," said Mary, sure she looked a mess but beyond caring. She had a job to do and action was better than the meaningless reports she had to complete. Malcolm was a tall, skinny chap with a suit two sizes too big for him. Mary gave him all the details she'd got from John, with instructions to find the car.

  "Yes Miss Collins, we will look into it presently," said Malcolm.

  "No you will not look into it presently," said Mary, heartily sick of the corporate-speak. "In fact, I do not want to hear 'look into it' ever again. You will do it and by the end of the day you will be back here telling me what you have done and what results you have. Understand?"

  "But we have procedures ..."

  "But no, you have a car to find and there is no we in this!" said Mary, running her hand through her thick black hair in despair. She had thought this was going to be so simple and straightforward. She waved Malcolm to sit. "Firstly, Malcolm, there is no we. You will do it. You will pick up the phone. You will talk to the trackers. You will follow up their progress. They will ring you back on their progress before I see you at the end of the day. Have you got that?"

  "But that's the job for my staff. I'm the manager," protested Malcolm.

  "Look Malcolm, this is your first job since you took over from Arthur. I want to know you can do it. And, if you can't, how the hell are you going to instruct others to do it?"

  "Yes, but ..."

  "And, if you'd done your research instead of trying to chat up Halee, you'd know the sensitivity of the case," said Mary, elbows on her desk, looking directly at him. Malcolm went bright red. "The Director here, Sam Lord, has gone missing. He may be dead. We don't know. The FSA are breathing down our necks. The police are breathing down our necks. Ape-like burglars are invading our building. This, young chump, is not just another case. You will do it and you will not tell anyone else what you're doing or that you're doing it. Got that?"

  "But we have procedures for these things and we must audit our progress ..."

  "Listen Malcolm. Listen very well," said Mary, not taking her eyes from his. His redness was now supplemented by sweat behind his spectacles and a licking of his lips. "We are not a government department. We do care about our customers. In fact, young man, we care about our customers more than we care about our little rules. Understand?"

  "Well, yes, but ..."

  "But nothing. We have two customers in a foreign country. They're scared. They're confused. Their lives have been thrown into turmoil by some twerps who think it's fun to take other peoples' property," said Mary, sitting back, her eyes never leaving his.

  "Yes, I understand that but these procedures are in place for good reason," said Malcolm. "We can't just go grabbing cars back without due process."

  "OK Malcolm, take your coat off. Now!" shouted Mary.

  He stood and took his coat off, looking confused.

  "Now take your trousers off. Now!" shouted Mary.

  He started to undo his belt and stopped.

  "But I can't just do that here ..."

  "You will do as I say!" said Mary.

  "But, Miss Collins, this is most irregular," said Malcolm, unsure what to do next.

  "Absolutely! Most irregular. It's most bloody irregular for two foreigners to be in the predicament they're in," said Mary, firmly. "Now, imagine that you were standing in this office, stark bolloking naked, and I said that I had to follow due processes and involve an audit team before you could get dressed again. Would you appreciate my love of rules then?"

  "Ah, no," said Malcolm, smiling sheepishly. "I ... I do see what you mean. Appropriate rules for appropriate circumstances?"

  "You're a quick learner, Malcolm," said Mary, clapping her hands. "So, shall we do it my way and, God knows, we may save a lot of unnecessary misery and, if we're really lucky and/or diligent, we could find our Mr Lord again. I'm sure he'd appreciate your part in helping him out of the mess he's in."

  As Malcolm left Mary's office - quicker and more unsteadily than he entered - her phone rang.

  "Miss Collins, you said to hold your calls but you'll want to take this one, I know," said Halee, in her refreshingly direct way.

  "Uh, yes," said Mary. Halee's efficiency and judgement, along with her ability to cut through stupid bureaucracy, were so refreshing and she wondered for a second why she had not considered the girl for Toby's or Malcolm's jobs. She trusted Halee's judgement implicitly and told her to put the call
through.

  "Hello Mary, how are you?" came an all-too-familiar voice.

  "Oh, Sam, are you alright? You sound ... oh, I don't know, rugged," said Mary, desperately trying to staunch the thousand other words she needed to say.

  "Well, yes, it has been a trying time and the end's not in sight but I'm okay ... I think," said Sam who sounded hoarse and weary. "Now, I was wondering if you could do something ..."

  "Oh yes, anything Sam," said Mary, interrupting. "Just tell me what it is."

  "Please Mary, let me talk. I don't have much time," said Sam.

  "Oops, sorry," said Mary. "I'm listening."

  "Can you meet me in Charing Cross Road at nine o'clock this evening? There's a blue door, opposite Pizza Express. I don't know the street number but it's just up from Trafalgar Square. You'll find it," said Sam, speaking quickly. "Can you dress like you're not you? Say, like a man with trench-coat and hat or something? And bring my spare briefcase which is at the top of Ahmed's coat cupboard - that's most important. He doesn't know that but it's there - you know what it looks like?"

  "Yes Sam, the black one with the gold fittings."

  "Right, I have to go now, Mary, and you do realise it could be dangerous, don't you?" asked Sam quietly. "You don't have to do this ..."

  "Oh, Sam, you know I wouldn't miss the excitement!" said Mary with mock bravado. "Yes I know it's dangerous, Sam, and I'll make sure I'm not followed." She found her excitement was rising, despite the apprehension for what could be ahead.

  "Bye my dear, I must go!" said Sam and the phone clicked off.

  My dear? My dear! He called her my dear! Her tears started to flow all over again - tears of happiness, tears of excitement and, most of all, tears of relief. She sat and let them flow, knowing she was safe as no one was permitted in without an appointment or knocking.

  Her door burst open and was slammed shut and Mary realised Halee was hugging her.

  Malcolm returned an hour later, flushed with success. The car had been found two streets over from the Fordyce's, locked in the police yard. He acted as if he had driven up to Dunfermline and found the vehicle himself. Mary allowed him to savour his pride.

  "These people have no regard for the rules," he said.

  "Yes, you'd expect the police to act ..." Mary started to say.

  "No, not the police, these New Zealanders, these foreigners," said Malcolm, correcting her as the colour rose up his pink face. "When my tracker told them, they just went down there and demanded the car back ... and made a terrible to-do about it. You can't just badger the police like that. They have a job to do and there are procedures ..."

  "My God, you and your bloody procedures, Malcolm!" thundered Mary, immediately wondering how quickly she could have him replaced with someone with a brain. "Before you is the evidence that the police have acted illegally, have stolen a car without due process and yet you would support these crooks because they're in a pretty uniform. I don't believe it!"

  "But they're the police, Miss Collins. We can't just go ..."

  "Oh yes we can, Malcolm, and we will," said Mary firmly. "Uniforms or no uniforms, I will not stand by and have people being abused. They want to act above the law and so we'll get the media in there and let the people decide on what's right and what's not."

  "But you can't just do that, it's not proper ... it's ... it's, well, what would head office think," stammered Malcolm, taking off his glasses to wipe his forehead and eyes.

  "Look, Malcolm, if you're more interested in looking good than in doing good, you have no place in this company," said Mary, before she realised the import or her words but realising she had little time to waste with such ineptitude. "You're off the case and back at your old job and you'd better find another company to work for within the month!"

  "But ... but you can't do that! It's ... it's unfair dismissal!" stammered Malcolm, outraged, his thin body quivering.

  "Oh yes I can! You are actively supporting an illegal act and so you're an accessory to the crime. We do not employ criminals here, young man, and you'd better decide, very quickly, whether you're on the side of the law or that of injustice. Give me your decision by ten tomorrow morning and, until then, I'm taking over. Now go home and ponder your options."

  "But it's not time to go home yet!"

  "It is for you, Malcolm," said Mary quietly. "You're no use to us in this state and you have a life-changing decision to make. Go and make it. Now!"

  As Malcolm left the office, spluttering and protesting, Mary rang two connections - one at the Daily Telegraph and one at the Dunfermline Press - and gave them the scoop, along with the password so they could interview John and Belinda. Then she prayed to God she had done the right thing.

  "Sam is a mysterious character, Mary, but one cannot but like him," said Ahmed in his perfect Oxford English. "Besides, I cannot close my eyes to this and not be there to help you if you need it. You're brusque and rude but you're also efficient and motivating to all the staff and you've done a lot of good to this branch. I do not want to see you or Halee hurt and so I will be there. I will not hear otherwise."

  Mary felt flushed at this unsolicited compliment and his support and she knew he would not be dissuaded. She smiled, a little misty-eyed, at Halee who, like Ahmed, would not be put off joining her as well. They decided not to tell Stephen, the Financial Director, who would have disapproved of the whole thing. Ahmed gave Mary his coat and trilby hat - both too large - and Halee made quick adjustments with needle and thread that she had procured, magically, from somewhere, for Mary's smaller frame. Because of his beard, Ahmed could not pass for a woman so he said he'd wear his traditional Pakistani salwar kameez clothes, under which it would be easy to conceal several guns.

  "Guns? Ahmed, you're not carrying guns are you?" asked Mary, shocked.

  "Of course not, just joking!" said Ahmed, laughing, more jolly than she'd ever seen him. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. "I'll be strolling by and loitering in and out of Pizza Express, so I'll keep an eye on you both."

  Mary was touched by his gallantry and felt like giving him a hug - she felt much less alone with this large, dark man with her, along with Halee the pixie.

  The Turncoat

  Tuesday, 13th March 2012, 11.46 p.m.

  The front door wasn't locked, thankfully, and he took the five paces up the passage with a thumping heart. All was quiet. Eerily quiet. He peered round the door and saw Joan, in the lounge, on a kitchen chair, hands tied behind her back, ankles tied together and with a mouth-gag. Her grey-tinged blonde curls looked as if someone had grabbed hanks of it and her eyes were wide and frightened. She nodded to her left and Arthur looked further round the door to see Mollie, their neighbour, trussed up similarly. Joan was then indicating to him furiously and he determined that she was trying to tell him about something upstairs. He listened and could hear rustling, probably in his office. He dropped the bag and rushed to Joan, untying her gag as the phone rang.

  "Get it!" she whispered urgently and he fled with the wings of Pegasus into the dining room and picked up the phone.

  "Help! hel ..." he yelled, then the phone went dead. There was a curse from upstairs and then the sound of someone running along the passage and clattering down the stairs. Had there been time for Arthur to panic or react, he would have done the former. As it was, Toby burst into the dining room, wrenched the phone from his hand and twisted him around in an arm lock before he had time to do either. He was then pushed, rather rudely, into the lounge and onto the couch.

  "Don't you move an inch!" commanded Toby as he disappeared and reappeared with another dining room chair. "Sit!"

  Arthur got up and sat in the appointed chair.

  "Now, where do you keep rope?" asked Toby, looking around quickly as if it might be stored in the lounge.

  "Oh dear, rope ..." said Arthur, pondering. "It's not something we usually carry here ..."

  "And where's the stuff for the Atkinson case?" interrupted Toby.

  "Ah, I took it wit
h me ..." said Arthur, instantly regretting his helpfulness. He made a mental note to tell more lies.

  "I know that, Arthur!" said Toby. "You must have stuff in your computer ..."

  "Not much, really, it's all in the files, I'm afraid," said Arthur, thankful he'd taken the precaution of regularly downloading all the Atkinson files onto computer sticks, now hidden in Joan's underwear drawer.

  "My god, you old codgers, just not computer savvy are you!" said Toby, obviously impatient.

  "No, I suppose not ..." said Arthur.

  "So, where's your rope then?" demanded Toby, returning to his initial problem.

  "Ah, it should be in the back shed, behind the mattress and freezer against the back wall," said Arthur, thinking of the most inaccessible place he could imagine.

  "Right. So, move a muscle and you're dead. Got it?"

  "Oh, yes, dead," said Arthur, trying to look submissive.

  Toby fled out the back and Arthur leapt up. Joan had acted suitably statue-like for Toby not to notice her gag was loose. Arthur untied her hands and, when done, bent down to untie her ankles.

  "No, no, I can do that," whispered Joan. "Get Dottie's."

  "Yes, just a minute," said Arthur, rushing from the room. He quietly opened the front door and motioned frantically to Dominik, who was watching, with great intent, two young girls walking past. Arthur didn't want to be seen out of his seat or to make any noise before Dominik arrived. He continued to wave frantically and, just as he was about to give up, Dominik looked his way and then burst from the van like fireworks.

  "Yes Mr Arthur, trouble?" asked Dominik, obviously relishing some action.

  "Yes, aah, bad man out the back," said Arthur, pointing down the passage.

  "Right suh! Me deal with bad man then," said Dominik, squaring his massive shoulders and walking purposefully, though cautiously, into the dining room. Arthur returned to the lounge to see the two ladies fully untied but sitting as if they weren't.