As the crowd fell into a curious, questioning silence, Stanley Teach looked up from his crossword puzzle and glowered down the bar to the landlord.
He’d been sitting quietly at the far end of the bar and only half listening to the chattering, but the landlord’s pompous announcement boiled up his anger, and roughly pushing his way through the crowd, stood at Ted’s side.
‘Ted. Dave shopped the big fella for money, I saw him do it, and that blond ponce had copper written all over him, but he still shopped him and sent that blond bastard straight up to your garage.’
Ted froze as the old man’s words settled in his mind, and when the realisation came, his eyes burnt into sharp focus as it all fitted together.
He stood up, the barstool scraping back, his barrel chest heaving, and placing his huge hands down onto the bar, leant forward and glowered into the landlord’s eyes.
‘Dave, you’ve got a fucking big mouth, and I’m not sure if you’re a friend of mine.’
The landlord’s brow glistened with the cold sweat of fear, the look in Ted’s angry eyes sending a shiver running down his spine.
‘I meant no harm, Ted, honest to god. He was a bloody stranger and they ought to pay, they just walk in with their clever jokes and money, take a man’s wife and he’s left all alone with everything to do. It just ain’t right.’
Staring at the bad mouthed, selfish landlord, he wanted to punch his lights out.
‘But you pointed the finger straight at me, you useless, lousy bastard.’
The landlord cringed, ‘I didn’t know he was a copper, honest.’
Stanley Teach lent forward, an ugly sneer on his lips, ‘Bollocks, you just wanted his money, ‘cos you don’t care about anyone except yourself, you never have.’
‘But it wasn’t like that, really it wasn’t. I thought it was alright because the blond said he had an urgent message from the big fella’s mother.’
The throbbing in his head told Ted it was time to leave before he broke the landlord’s neck, and anyway, it was done now and nothing could turn the clock back, so leaving his pint on the bar, walked out into the cool evening air.
With angry hands he shakily lit a cigarette, and drawing deeply on the smoke, thought back through the events of the day.
So, the blond had a message from Frank’s mother, did he?
Well that would be a neat trick, considering she’d died giving birth to him.
Wandering down to his cottage, he thought through the sequence of events since Frank had arrived so unexpectedly, but he knew very little except he was about to start a game, and from some of the names mentioned, Montague, Daniels and Coogan it sounded as if the rules of the game might not apply, and Frank had checked his box, another bad sign, and now this shadow had arrived and was snapping at his heels.
So maybe the game had started and the blond was a player, but he remembered Frank saying, 'the office was organising a party', so maybe Frank thought the game was in the outline stage, but if he believed that, and the blond was a player, it meant the opposition were well ahead of the game, and Frank Lewis, quite obviously didn’t know it had started.
It was a nightmare because Frank could get slotted without even knowing the game had started, and he couldn’t do anything to help as he didn’t know where Frank intended to go after Sheverill’s Farm, and that blond creep was getting closer all the time.
Sighing at the bad luck, he pushed the garden gate open and listened to the eerie screech of the rusty hinges, and although he knew he ought to oil them, he never would.
Standing for a moment, he looked up the winding path to the lifeless windows of the empty cottage.
It was four long years since he’d lost his Maggie to a heart attack, but time meant little, and how could it when he could still see her even now with that quiet smile of hers, gently mocking him.
‘Ted, when are you going to oil that gate?’
Frank walked along the leafy avenue and stepped onto the gravel driveway leading to Sally’s door.
‘Oh. Hello. My word, I haven’t seen you for a while.’
The voice jolted Frank out of his thoughts, and turning to look across the garden, saw Sally’s downstairs neighbour, Rosemary Trent, emerging from the bushes with secateurs in her hand and twigs and leaves in her hair.
‘Hello Rosemary. You’re still gardening then.’
‘Oh yes, my dear, you won’t find me in the flat when there’s gardening to be done.’
Frank smiled as he remembered seeing her gardening by the light of a torch, and it had been almost ten o’clock.
Walking over, she adjusted her scarf and casually tossed it over her shoulder.
‘It isn’t much like summer, is it. I simply don’t know what’s happening this year.’
She cast her hand around the flower beds, ‘Look, everything’s fading too early.’
He edged away. Rosemary was a nice old lady, but boy, did she ever talk.
She flicked her gaze to the red roses, ‘Oh what beautiful flowers, are they for Sally? Oh, silly me, of course they are, and she will simply adore those.’
‘I hope so. Well, I’ll see you later.’
Rosemary watched as he walked to the door and rang the bell to the upstairs flat, and as he waited, couldn’t help thinking Sally was such a naughty girl, but times were hard and maybe there were worse things than to be a company prostitute, and she didn’t have to take just any man, all of her regulars were nice young men.
Hearing the buzzer release the main door, she watched and thought he seemed eager when he stepped inside.
Shrugging her thin shoulders, she slowly walked back to the bushes and felt a tinge of jealousy when she thought of her lonely single bed.
Climbing the stairs, Frank stepped onto the landing and saw Sally waiting at her door.
‘Hello Frank. It’s been a long time.’
Gazing at her, she seemed even more beautiful than his memories had told him.
Her eyes sparkling with light, her auburn hair glistening as it tumbled down around her gorgeous face that always made him think of a china doll, and as usual, was dressed in a creamy jogging suit, so warm and sensuous, just like the lady herself.
In her confident way, she smiled to him, ‘Well? Do I get a hug?’
Slipping the Bergen from his shoulders, he self consciously offered the flowers.
‘Oh Frank, they’re lovely. But you shouldn’t have …’
Taking the flowers, she reached up and softly kissed him on the cheek, and looking into his eyes, saw a man who was physically and mentally drained.
‘Frank? When did you last have a full nights sleep?’
He shrugged and gave a weak smile, ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Right. Well come on then. Let’s get you into bed.’
Locking the door, she went through to her bedroom, but when she began to undress he just stood there in quiet embarrassment.
‘Sally, no offence, but all I need is a good sleep, and later, maybe we could talk.’
She frowned, ‘Alright, but wouldn’t you like to make love first?’
‘No, honestly. I’m fine.’
She pursed her lips, ‘Well if you’re tired, I don’t mind going on top.’
‘Thanks, but really, I didn’t want to see you for that.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure, but if you change your mind, just call.’
Sally walked out smiling, but frowned as she pulled the door closed, remembering that just a few days ago, Tonabie had asked for an update of Frank’s psychological profile, and she hadn’t found it easy as it was quite a while since Frank had last come to see her.
So was it a coincidence that after Tonabie had been asking his nasty, disgusting little questions, here was Frank in her bed. So should she tell him Tonabie was snooping?
Once out of Cheltenham’s traffic, the taxi driver made good time back to Sherston, and parking the car in the backyard, walked across to the kitchen door, but as soon as he stepped inside, his wife ripp
ed a message from the pad and thrust it into his hand.
‘You’re to call this man, he’s on his mobile.’
‘Oh Mary, can’t it wait, I’m meeting the guys in half an hour.’
‘No, it can’t wait. It might be another job, and god knows we need the money.’
Sagging, he took the phone, and calling the number, was surprised as a well spoken voice asked him a list of questions, and answering 'yes' to all of them, agreed.
‘Oh, alright then. Stay where you are and I’ll be there in five minutes.’
He slammed the phone down, ‘Bollocks.’
She stared at him, ‘Well, is it a job?’
‘Yeah, back to bloody Cheltenham again, I’ll never see the guys at this rate.’
She handed him a cup of tea, ‘Strange, isn’t it, you haven’t had a call to Cheltenham for weeks, and now you get one after the other.’
He slurped the tea, ‘Oh, I know why, right enough, it’s about the fare I’ve just taken, and he was a decent sort of a bloke, fairly quiet but dead straight, and he gave a good tip.’
‘So were all those questions about him?’
‘Yeah, the posh bloke said he’s been chasing around all day trying to catch up with him, ‘cos his mother’s been taken seriously ill and he needs to get him to the hospital.’
She stared at him, ‘Oh, the poor woman, lying there all alone at death’s door.’
‘Yeah. Oh well, I suppose I ought to do it.’
She snatched his cup, ‘You certainly will, ‘cos that poor woman will be needing her son. I don’t know, you give birth to them, and they’re never there when you’re dying.’
Pulling up to the meeting point, the driver saw a tall, blond young man, and in a moment was driving back to Cheltenham, and though he tried conversation through the journey, the creepy blond only wanted answers to the same questions he’d asked on the phone.
Had his fare been a big man with brown hair? Did he have an army-style backpack? What time did he pick him up? Had he been alone? Where did he pick him up from? What time did he drop him off in Cheltenham? Did he say what his plans were? Questions, questions, questions.
After a while the driver began to get a nasty feeling that something wasn’t quite right, after all, these two men couldn’t be more different, and how they could be best friends was just too hard to believe, and now there seemed to be no concern at all, or even any mention of his friend’s mother who was supposed to be seriously ill.
The blond’s mobile rang just as they were coming into Cheltenham.
‘Hello? Ah, yes, good afternoon sir. Oh, not too bad, just a few minor problems, he’s a rather slippery character. No, he doesn’t, and it shouldn’t be too long now.’
‘Yes sir, I’m getting quite close. Cheltenham actually. Yes, it is rather ironic.’
Giggling, he laughed callously at someone’s private joke.
‘I certainly will, sir, you can rely on that. No ... not at all. It will be a pleasure ... and believe me, the pleasure will be all mine. Yes sir, and goodbye for now.’
Looking up into the rear view mirror, the driver saw the blond’s eyes staring into his, and they seemed to be warning, or threatening, like twin points of blue ice. Looking arrogantly away, the creepy blond stared coldly out through the window, his thin lips forming a sneering smile, confident and vengeful.
The driver’s guts turned over. This was no friend, helping a friend, this was a bloody awful situation and somehow he’d got mixed up in it.
Carrying on through town, the driver wanted this creep out of his car as soon as possible, but as he pulled up to the big man’s address, he couldn’t help feeling guilty.
‘Cabby, this is the right address, isn’t it? You’re quite certain?’
The driver glanced down to his worksheet that settled any arguments with the taxman.
It showed the pickup, cost, and destination address of all his fares, and with a shrug, passed it back to the blond.
‘Yeah, this is the place. Well you can see that for yourself.’
The blond took the clipboard, and looking down the list, smiled as he ran his finger along the line of the last entry, but glancing to the meter, he frowned.
‘Yes, this would seem to be the right address, but why did you overcharge him.’
‘Overcharge him? What the hell do you mean?’
‘Well according to the excellence of your bookkeeping, both my friend and I have made an identical journey, and yet there’s a difference of £5 in the meter readings.’
‘Five pounds, but that’s impossible, there can’t be.’
‘Well it’s here, clear enough, unless you made a detour.’
The driver remembered the florists, ‘That’s it, I had to wait while he bought flowers.’
The blond smiled. ‘Flowers. And flowers for a woman no doubt.’
Turning, he gazed up to the old house, ‘And did you see my friend, enter the house?’
‘No, I was too busy with the traffic.’
‘Indeed. And that, I fear, may be the pity of it.’
The blond tried the house, but as expected it was a decoy and time was running out fast.
When the syndicate discovered this Section man was to be the investigating officer at Thornley Manor, it was decided their only chance was to turn him into a double agent by threatening his family, but that could only be done by discovering his true identity, and before he disappeared into GCHQ.
It was a tall order, but as this game was driven by Corporate International Terrorism there was a fortune to be made, and the only prize for failure was a bullet in the head.
5
Ted awoke at six o’clock to a day of blue skies and sunshine, so maybe the summer was lingering on, and as the thoughts of yesterday returned, slid his hand across and wished Maggie was there, his lover and best friend, the only one he could let his heart out to.
But he was alone now, just like Frank Lewis, except on the rare occasions when Frank was down, he usually went to Sally.
He sat bolt upright. Of course, why didn’t he think of that before?
Having washed and dressed, he went downstairs, and sliding back the wood panel beside the chimney breast, took out an old oil skinned parcel and unwrapped Bertha, his WW11 Luger machine pistol, and snapping in the magazine, glanced to the phone, but the rules would have to be obeyed now, and phone tracking made a call far too dangerous, so all he could do was drive over to Sally, and if he were lucky, Frank might be there.
Walking up to the garage, he called Len and told him he’d be out for a while, and he shouldn’t say a word to anyone.
Charlton Kings was quiet as Ted swung the vicar’s car into the avenue. Driving slowly, he checked the houses on either side but there was nothing unusual, and cruising back, parked with a good view of the area.
After a while he hung Bertha around his neck by the strap, slipped into the blue overcoat and hoped it didn’t look out of place in the warming sun.
Taking his time, he walked slowly up the avenue and used a wobbly limp to let him stop and rest for a while on every other wall, but the prim, immaculate gardens were all clear, the expensive cars were empty and there was no sign of glinting metal in the bushes, but most important of all, there was no sign of a blond, male or female.
Frank dreamily awoke feeling warm and relaxed in the deep bed, but stretching out, frowned when he heard a soft musical voice, whispering in his ear.
‘Hello, sleepy bones.’
Turning, he saw Sally’s beautiful face next to his on the pillow.
She smiled, ‘Well you sure were tired; you’ve slept right through till morning.’
Coming wide awake, he realised she was in bed with him.
‘You don’t mind me being here, do you, I didn’t want to sleep on the couch.’
He gazed at her, ‘No, of course not, if it’s alright with you.’
‘Well of course it is, you silly, I’ve told you enough times.’
Reaching over, the sheet slip
ped down to reveal her large naked breasts, and smiling, she began to play with him, ‘And this is fine with me as well.’
He fell still. All he’d really wanted was her company, but she’d misunderstood.
‘Sally, you don’t have to, it isn’t why I’m here.’
She placed her finger across his lips, ‘I know, but I want to, so don’t stop me.’
He sighed, and relaxing back, gave in to what would surely happen.
For Sally, making love had always happened with the other operatives, and she’d accepted it, almost as if by routine, but it had never happened with Frank Lewis, and the thought of finally having him now was setting fire to her emotions.
Taking her time, she savoured the moment, her kisses soft, lingering and luscious on his lips, her hand exploring his muscular body and the aching hardness of him.
Rising up, she slid her soft thigh across his hard belly, and sitting down on him, murmured as she swung her heavy breasts across his face, her nipples across his lips.
‘Sally …’
‘Hush now. Just relax and I’ll show you how good I can be.’
He shuddered as her warm silkiness came sliding around him, and as she began to rise and fall, took his hands and cupped them to her breasts. Sinking down hard, she thrust her hips until they cried out together in the agony of the most beautiful orgasm.
Ted limped along, and when he was almost opposite Sally’s driveway, the door to the flats swung open and she stepped out with Lewis, and as they were saying their goodbyes, a car came cruising up the avenue and stopped right outside her house.
Slipping his hands into the false pockets of the overcoat, Ted watched as a young man got out of the car. He was tall, had earrings, and a blond crew cut.
Taking hold of Bertha, he slipped the safety catch to 'off ', and now the blond only had to make one false move, and Bertha, with her stuttering rattle, would cut him in half.
Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) Page 5