Dragonflies The Duncan Peters Files

by Fontien, Samantha

  Two men each grabbed the rafts and dragged them to the lapping waves, where they bobbed up and down on the shore. Rubin, still with the lady perched on his shoulder helped Duncan usher everyone into the rafts. Rubin had just placed the woman in the raft when they heard the gunfire come through the parameter of the mangrove and several loud voices shouting at them as they fired their guns sporadically. The next thing the group knew were the sound of bullets whizzing past them. Everyone stepped up their pace, fear clearly etched on the released hostages faces. Duncan had charge of Mr. Nichols as he was the primary reason for them being in this mess and he too was placed into the safety of the raft.

  The bullets were coming hard and fast, and they were sitting targets now in the rafts. They had to move from the shore, and they were too close to the seabed to dunk in the high powered engines and start them up. It would give them the boost they needed to get the seaplane whose engines had already been started by the pilots once they had seen them emerge from the tree line of the mangrove. They only had two hundred yards until they made the safety of the seaplane that was to take them back to the mainland and back to civilization.

  Rubin and two others remained in the water, as they started to push the black rafts that stuck out like sore thumbs on the crystal clear turquoise sea that sparkled like a scattering of diamonds with the sun that was rapidly rising. Once they were waist deep, they each pulled themselves into the rafts as the engines were sunk into the water and started up. That’s when the fire commenced again in full flow, as the guerrilla’s emptied rounds upon rounds, onto the white sand at the group.

  No one was expecting the sound they heard next, as they heard a loud suction like pop, and a loud whistle, and then, they heard a huge blast followed by a humongous splash, as one of the boats erupted into a ball of flames from the bazooka that had been fired on them, from the beach by the guerrilla’s. It was the raft that held the older man and wife, the woman Rubin had carried through the jungle and three of their team. The one remaining woman screamed in panic, as they were all covered in red water as she stood up. “Oh my God, were going to die,” she cried over and over again, like a scratched record. One of the team on the boat, pulled her down forcibly, she let out a yelp as she hit the hard fabric which was like hitting rocks.

  “Keep the fuck down you stupid bitch, you’ll get us all killed,” Bill her husband went to say something, but the team member shot him a scolding look, and he sunk back, retreating into his space next to his son holding his terrified wife.

  Still the bullets whizzed around them, as the rafts sped off in the direction of the de Havilland. Duncan looked back at the trail of white and red foam they had left behind them. He couldn’t help but notice there was lots of red, enough for the five people who had lost their lives, two civilians and three of his team. He looked at Rubin, who looked tired from carrying the woman who was now part of the mass of red, as the sea water dripped off his face, he shook his head slowly still pointing his gun, eyes fixed on the shore line. This had been somewhat a clean extraction up until the point of the bazooka being fired. The guerrilla’s had suffered a number of fatalities due to Duncan and Rubin’s team and were using what seemed like everything they had, at their disposal from their arsenal.

  Finally they reached the plane, and docked by the amphibious floats. Mr. Nichols was loaded onto the plane first, followed by the woman, her son, and then her husband and the rest of the team as Rubin insisted Duncan went before him. As Duncan started to climb, he spied a boat fast approaching, with a machine gun, fixed on a pivoting tripod, as it fired rapidly spraying bullets wildly in their direction. He moved speedily as he climbed in through the doorway. He turned around to reach down to Rubin to give him a helping hand as he heard the familiar pop, pop, pop. He could hear the bullets ricocheting constantly off the metal of the seaplane. Time was off the essence as the boat hastily approached, machine gun still blazing. The seaplane rocked violently in the swell as the bullets whizzed, they hit bump after bump causing Rubin to “Uhgg” as he lost his footing, and still the bullets came thick and fast. Duncan reached down and grabbed Rubin’s wrist tightly, as the sounds of pop, pop, pop, rang out again and again. The seaplane had started to lift her nose, and the pilot shouted at him to sort themselves out, as the plane started to move through the waves picking up more speed as he pulled the throttle causing the engines to hum loudly, drowning out the machine gun fire. They had long left the rafts behind; Duncan gave a huge heave and pulled a tired Rubin, up through the door and into the plane as she started to lift her nose high up into the air as she climbed altitude. Rubin slumped onto Duncan;

  “Seriously Chopper, another one of your ovary moments,” and he smiled up at Duncan with a trademark wink.

  “Ahh not fair, you reject me, and after I go and save your life Gem, and you know how I love you,” he winked at him, as he got to his knees causing a tired Rubin to slide off him onto his side against the cargo nets smiling up at him.

  He looked around the cabin, to see the freed hostages who were windswept and shivering huddled together with the cold of the air and wind that blew through the still open door of the cabin. He got up and moved to the door, forcing his body against it, closing it airtight. Once that was done, the commotion of the wind rushing around them stopped, and a sense of calm overtook the mood in the plane. He walked up to the cockpit, and spoke to the pilot, before grabbing the radio, and communicating with London that the mission had been a success, they had retrieved Mr. Nichols.

  There was no point in relaying the casualties they had sustained, that could wait until they had touched down on the mainland. He walked back into the cabin, to see Rubin fast asleep on the cargo nets. He laughed to himself, Rubin could sleep on rocks, and he thought back to the many times he had seen him do this. Rubin could sleep for England, he laughed to himself, before he settled down himself. Soon they would be touching down on the mainland and he was exhausted. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, fuck - he and Rubin were getting old he thought. He ached all over. He and Rubes were getting too old for shit like this. He looked over at Mr. Nichols who was being tended to by the co-pilot before closing his eyes, drifting off listening to the hum of the twin engines...

  21..

  Nothing Left to Say…

  As the de Havilland touched down, her amphibious floats that held the retractable wheels, which bounced off the tarmac several times. A startled Duncan opened his eyes with a gasp, on the first bounce the wheels made, looking around him. He had been dreaming of the bazooka attack, and the masses of red water that covered them as it rained down over their boats. The sweat had beaded on his forehead, which he wiped with his hand before looking around the cabin and then at his watch. He sat up from the slumped position he had fallen asleep in. The plane came to an eventual stop just beside a group of black official looking vehicles that had parked at the end of the deserted airfield they had landed at.

  The team started to rise to their feet. What was left of his team were tired, he was proud of them; they had been the right guys to pick for this job. He thought about the three guys and the mature couple who hadn’t made it home. He would call Beth and get the paperwork started and make sure the families would be well taken care of. He sighed to himself. Before anyone left for an assignment, it had been company practice to have everybody do a will. The last thing he and Rubin had done before they left was to put them and the letters for their families along with their own, into the company safe. He would have to take care of all that once he was back in the office, and he would speak to their loved ones personally, like Rubin and he had done before, on other occasions like this.

  The door opened and the heat of the air burst through the cabin. The freed hostages started to make their way to the door. Maureen, the mother, spotted her son Andrew, who was waiting with the official’s, who no doubt, were from the British Embassy. It was quite touching to see the thirteen year old boy run into his mother’s open arms, like he was a five year old little boy. D
uncan watched from one of the porthole windows, a small smile on his tired face. He turned his attention back to the lads filing out through the door. It was then he noticed Rubin was still asleep against the cargo nets. He laughed to himself, fucker could sleep through anything. He moved over towards him and kicked the sole of his military boots.

  “Wake up you lazy fucker,” he laughed. “Come on Rubes, we’ve landed, grab your gear old man and we can get off this rust bucket.”

  He stood there and looked down at Rubin. It was only then he noticed the red trickles of blood that ran down the ridges of the floor, towards the tail of the plane. Panic over took him as he dropped to his knee instantly and shook Rubin’s shoulder.

  “Rubes,” he said with urgency as shook his shoulder again before instinctively placing his two fingers on Rubin’s neck. He hung his head, his fingers still on his jugular. It was while he hung his head, that he saw the exit wounds on Rubin’s body. He took his fingers away from his neck and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, the grief surged through him, hot tears welled up in his eyes blinding him as his knee gave way and his arse slumped to the floor in sitting him down beside Rubes in complete devastation. He couldn’t speak, he was choked, he could only shake his head in utter dismay. Rubin was gone, and now he was alone. He sat there on the plane next to Rubin, listening to the joyful voices outside the plane, consumed in the silence of his grief.

  A few minutes passed when one of the team popped their head back inside the plane.

  “You coming boss man?” he said as his head peeped in, once he caught sight of Duncan sitting beside the lifeless Rubin. He pulled himself into the cabin with a “Lads,” alerting the other team members, that something was wrong. He stood in front of the two. “Boss?” He asked, alarmed, but already knowing the answer to his question when Duncan simply nodded the once. He bent down to see if he could do anything. Duncan grabbed his arm, and shook his head no, the tears like glass pearls, escaping from his eyes, running down his cheeks slowly. Duncan was so numb he didn’t feel it. The team member slumped down unsteadily with the shock, as the rest of the men filed into the cabin. The emotion was clearly evident on their faces, as they sank down, despondent, in the cabin of the de Havilland with Duncan and Rubin. The atmosphere in the cabin was sombre, and the hard men sat there solemnly in silence with their brother in arms, listening to the triumphant voices, celebrating, outside on the tarmac.

  Duncan travelled with Rubin from the Philippines; he never left his side throughout the entire journey, just like Rubin would have done for him if the shoe had been on the other foot. They landed at RAF Northolt. It was an incredibly sombre situation, as Rubin’s casket was taken off the transport plane with military honours in the early hours of the morning. Duncan stayed with him as they drove to the funeral home and made the necessary arrangements. Once he had finished, he went to the office armed with each of the deceased men’s personal possessions in a black sports bag. He was not only physically, but emotionally worn out by the time he reached the office. He was greeted by a solemn looking pair, Beth and Rizzo, who both had tears in their eyes. He walked past them as they stood there inconsolable. They went to say something; he just walked straight into his and Rubin’s office. He couldn’t deal with their grief right now.

  Duncan placed the sports bag down onto his desk and stood there staring at the company safe which was housed in the wall of their office. He spun the dial left and right until he heard the barrels click into place releasing the lock, and the safe door popped open. He stared at the door, hesitating before he angrily pulled it open, to face the eight letters and personal documents sitting on the shelf. He reached in and took hold of the white handwritten envelopes. He shuffled them looking through them as he saw the names. He took the four envelopes of the deceased out and walked to his desk and sat down. His eyes were automatically drawn to Rubin’s empty chair. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He reached down into his bottom drawer and pulled it open and grabbed the bottle of scotch and a single glass, popping it down on the table in front of him. As Duncan poured himself a drink, he looked at the envelopes that had fanned out like magicians playing cards. He picked up Rubin’s who’s was top of the pile. He slid his finger into the corner and torn it open.

  They had a pact between them, that if anything should happen to either of them, they would do what was needed. Normally when they came back, they would shred these letters in the shredder as they toasted their safe return home with the bottle of scotch and two glasses in Duncan’s drawer. This time however there would be only one to shred, his own. He swigged hard from the glass as he pulled the neatly folded handwritten letter and started to read.

  Well Duncan,

  If you’re reading this then I’m a gonna. I have a few things I need you to do for me Dunc. Enclosed is a letter for Jess, make sure she gets it old boy.

  As you will see from my will, I have left the house in Loftus Road to Jess, the other properties do what you need to do, I know you’ll do right by me, you always did.

  Mate, you have been a brother of brothers. I couldn’t have chosen better when I met you. We’ve been through a lot together, and it’s been one hell of a ride and I wouldn’t change a single thing.

  Knowing you, you will have a bottle of scotch sitting in front of you….It’s not the answer to any problems, but I think you know that already!! Go easy I’m not here to bail you out now!! (God it felt funny writing that ha ha)

  Attached is my funeral arrangements, yeah, you know I’ve already picked my music.

  Duncan looked at the sheet of paper attached to the letter via a paperclip before he continued to read.

  You will need to contact Jess, her number is on my phone, do me a favour, tell her I DID love her in my own way, she was the closest I had to perfect. Look after her Dunc; she’s not as hard and crunchy as she makes out.

  Talking of hard and crunchy, and seeing you can’t fight back with me, I’m going to say the name of Simone…. You know what needs to be done here old boy. You two were always perfect for each other. Try and give it another go, for both of your sakes.

  Anyway, I can’t write anymore, as your looking at me funny from your desk, and you’re putting me off you fucker, so I will love you and leave you my friend.

  Take care of yourself, especially as I can’t be there to do it for you.

  See you when I see you.

  Love you mate,

  Rubin.

  Duncan reached for the glass choking on the lump that had formed in his throat, he held the glass to his lips, and took a drink, as the tears silently rolled unconsciously down his face. He picked up the folded envelope that had fallen onto his desk when he opened his letter, and looked at it. He slammed the glass down on the desk, he was lost. Duncan looked over again at Rubin’s empty chair. He jumped to his feet popping Jess’s letter into the inside pocket of his jacket. He reached into the sports bag and took out the brown envelope that contained Rubin’s personal possessions and took out Rubes’ phone. He turned it on and waited for the screen to light up, before he searched for Jess’s number. He was pleased to see that Rubin had Jess’s address listed with her number. She was only in Acton, not far from her parents. He took a deep breath and checked his pocket for his keys and headed out of the office.

  Duncan walked up the path of the double-fronted Edwardian, semi detached terraced house. He stood at the royal blue, half glass paneled door, his finger hovering over the bell, trying to muster up the courage to just press the damn button. He didn’t understand why he was here; Jess and Rubin had been over long before him and Simone, but it was what Rubin would have wanted him to do. He took a breath as his heart thumped like a drum, and pressed the bell firmly and waited.

  He saw a shadowy figure approach the door from behind the glass, he held his breath as the door opened and there stood a still stunning, forty year old Jessica. She stood there momentarily staring at Duncan, shock evident on her still beautiful face, before she cried out “NOoo” before
she collapsed. Just before she could hit the floor, Duncan’s strong arms caught her. He stepped in and swept Jessica up and carried her into her living room, and laid her out on one of the cream couches. He had no sooner placed her down, when she opened her eyes, she looked immediately at Duncan and then started shaking her head ‘no’, the realization of why he was here as the tears welled up, burning her eyes until they started to pop out and down her face.

  “No, no, no Duncan, he can’t be?” She looked over at him in deep shook. “No, he can’t be gone?”

  Duncan moved to her and sat down beside her; he softly grabbed her hand and held it. The lump was choking him again; he could feel his own tears well up.

  “I’m sorry, Jess, he’s gone,” and he couldn’t stop the solitary tear that rolled down his cheek like a glass pearl. He didn’t know why he was here, but it was what Rubin wanted. “We were on a messy extraction in the Philippines; he got hit a few times with enemy fire.” The tears trickled down on the tracks of their predecessors down her face. The image of Rubin and he attempting to board the moving seaplane flash into his head “I didn’t know he was hit, I didn’t know.” And with that his shoulders caved in. “I didn’t know, he didn’t say he was hit,” and he shook his head as his shoulders heaved up and down with the grief.

  He looked over at her, the tears streamed down her face; she put her arm around him comforting him, as she sniffed trying to stop her nose running. Clearly, she too was being choked by the lump that had no doubt gathered in her throat.

  “He asked me to give you this,” and his hand reached inside his suit jacket, as he passed the letter to her he started to speak as she tore open the envelope and started to read. “We only got back today.”