by John Stewart
The Last
Resolution
by
JOHN STEWART
Copyright © 2015 by John Stewart
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
http://www.reddreamproductions.org
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
The long drive to London had left Pierce Renshaw fatigued, but as he neared his destination, the anticipation of the encounter that lay ahead, lifted his mood. The location he had received led him to a secluded part of the city, but undeterred, he progressed through the wooded parkland and came to a halt in an isolated parking area.
As he sat in his impressive 4x4 Jeep, he muted the radio and checked his roadmap to confirm that he was in the right place. The lack of lighting in the car park prompted him to turn on the overhead light inside, plunging the outside into almost complete darkness. As he scanned the map, he heard some movement to his left. Looking out the windows proved pointless as all he could make out was his reflection in the glass. Again, he heard more noise, this time coming from the rear of the car. With a slightly concerned look at the map, he confirmed he was in the right place and watched the passenger door for the arrival of his much-anticipated guest.
The seconds passed in solitary silence. He turned the radio back up to create a more relaxed mood and took a moment to look through the enticing pictures messages he had been sent weeks earlier, but still no one appeared. He killed the internal lights and switched on the external headlamps atop the roof to see if anyone was around, but the beams were absorbed by the sprawling parkland beyond. Struggling to see out, he moved himself closer to the window and just as he did; something hit against the side of the driver door. The bang all but lifted him out of the seat, and he immediately started the engine and put the Jeep into reverse. The promise of ‘The experience of a lifetime,’ was no longer as appealing as it seemed over email and all he wanted now was a quick exit. He let the handbrake down and accelerated hard, but the vehicle didn’t move. He tried again, but there was something blocking him in from behind. Now, justifiably panicked, he shifted into first gear and attempted to mount the high curb in front, but again the Jeep wouldn’t move. Outside a flashlight flickered to his right, compounding his fear. He decided to get out and make a run for it; he was no hero and in his mind, he had obviously become the victim of an elaborate online car-jacking scam. He pulled the door handle and pushed hard against the door, but once again his exit was blocked. The flickering light from the torch outside became constant beam, shining directly into his face.
With a shaking hand, he pressed a button, which lowered the driver side window and shouted into the light.
“Look, take the fucking car, just let me go!”
No sooner had the words left his trembling lips than a water balloon struck him square in the face. The shock of the balloon was followed by a moment of relief as he thought that maybe it was kids playing a prank. However, this was short-lived and was replaced by terror the second he realised, that what was in the balloon, was not water.
The pungent odour was unmistakable. The balloon was full of petrol and in his panic, he closed the window as fast as the electronics would allow. The window was just about sealed when a flying rock opened it again. The window burst into a thousand pieces of cubed glass, sending him into a frenzy. Another balloon quickly followed, and as he wiped the stinging liquid from his eyes, he saw the torch was now facing those of his attacker. The cold eyes stared at him with a recognition he had long pushed to the back of his mind and the meaning of the words ‘Experience of a lifetime,’ became horrifically clear to him. Still staring, the hooded attacker ignited a flip-top lighter, let it fly and calmly watched with satisfaction as the Jeep burst into flames and roared in a high pitched screaming fireball.
Chapter 1
Mike Wesley was standing by his office window, lost in a daydream as he looked down on the busy central London streets below. It had been almost a year since he had uprooted his life as the local Garda in Kilcrew, Co. Roscommon in favour of a job as an investigator with a top UK newspaper and he often found his mind drifting back home.
As he stood there, buried in thought, Rebecca Hollister crept up behind him and held a fresh cup of coffee to his nose. Rebecca was the reason Mike had ended up in London, and their childhood past coupled with a recent, albeit dramatic, reunion in her hometown of Kilcrew had brought them closer than ever before.
Since setting up in London, they had been working on and off together on various stories for the newspaper that required more than the usual level of investigation. Mike had a bumpy start and struggled to shake the ex-cop title with his co-workers. Not to mention the ex-cop whose girlfriend had gotten him a job, but before long his investigative abilities spoke for themselves and he had come to be an indispensable member of the team.
Rebecca had an easier transition as the events of Kilcrew along with her subsequent publications had given her a heightened profile in the media world. With that profile came a certain freedom for her to take on the kinds of stories she wanted to work on. Inevitably, the stories she wanted were ones that often placed her in the field and sometimes even in a spot of bother, a fact that Mike did not relish, but Rebecca was very much her own woman and he knew better than to argue the point with her.
Snapping out of his daydream courtesy of the Java scented air, Mike turned with a smile.
“Hey Miss Hollister, since when are you making coffee for us peasants?”
Rebecca smiled. “I’ve been known to make exceptions for outstanding performances.” Winking as she took a sip out of her cup.
Mike laughed. “Why do you think I’m wrecked this morning? We could really do with a holiday ya know.”
Rebecca sighed. “I know, but I’m not sure the boss would let both of us take time off together. We’re just too bloody good, besides there’s a ton of potential stories on my desk to get through.”
“Anything interesting?” Mike said as he moved towards his desk.
“Ah, nothing that would
warrant the talents of Hollister and Wesley,” Rebecca said with a laugh.
Mike sat back in his chair raising an eyebrow.
“I presume you put Hollister before Wesley for alphabetical reasons?”
Rebecca laughed. “Of course, I’ll see you later,” she said, turning toward her own office.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Mike said holding up his ‘I heart Ireland,’ mug the guys in the office had bought him as a joke.
Rebecca looked back and pressed her finger to her lips.
“Shush.”
As she walked away, he took a moment to remind himself how lucky he was. The events of the previous year could have easily turned out very differently and they had quite literally left their marks.
“Ancient history,” he said aloud, stopping his mind from wandering too far. Just as he spoke, one of his colleagues, Ray Phillips passed by his desk.
“What’s that, Danny Boy?” Ray said with his usual dry humor. The title ‘Danny Boy,’ was Ray’s latest nickname for Mike and it wasn’t going away, much to Mike’s annoyance.
“Keep walking, Phillips. I wasn’t talking to you,” Mike shot back without skipping a beat. Ray was with the paper longer than Mike but was his junior by some years and often liked to remind him of the fact. They weren’t enemies, in fact, they both got on great but showed it in the form of mutual ridicule. This kind of humor was relatively new to Mike, but he enjoyed it in small doses.
“Actually, Ray, do you have anything I could get stuck into? These last few stories haven’t exactly been mind blowing.”
Ray stopped and sat on the edge of Mike’s desk.
“Well, they can’t all be explosions and helicopters,” he said with a chuckle.
“Funny!” Mike said raising his middle finger in jest.
“Anyway, I thought you and Rebecca would be talking to that detective? He seemed keen to meet you,” Ray said with a genuine expression.
Mike took a second before responding. Rebecca hadn’t told him anything about any detective, but he wasn’t about to let Ray know it. “Ah, we’re discussing options on that one, might do later. No worries, I’ll dig something up.”
Ray stood from the desk. “Well, don’t go digging too deep. Isn’t that how you landed here in this little slice of paradise? Cold case copper!” Ray said sarcastically as he walked away.
“Good one! No really, you should write that shit down.” Mike said as he leaned back in his chair, feigning a smile to mask his annoyance at what he’d just heard. He sat for a few minutes, finishing his coffee before checking through his emails. For all he knew, Rebecca may well have sent the details of this detective on to him. They had made a deal not to discuss work issues once they left the office and had been doing a pretty good job of it in recent months. As he scrolled through the spam, he saw nothing relating to any detective.
“Why would she speak to Phillips about a story before me?” he thought to himself as he tried not to get too frustrated. He took a breath, calmly stood up and walked towards Rebecca’s office.
***
Two days earlier, Rebecca was out in town interviewing a teacher about a recent school dinner scandal that had made local headlines. Despite spending almost two weeks digging into every aspect of the school and its staff, she couldn’t find an angle worthy of any further effort. As she wrapped up the conversation, her phone rang. She thanked the young woman for her time and expressed the importance of the call, when in truth it was an unfamiliar number and she didn’t have a clue who was on the other end of the line.
“Hello Sir!” Rebecca exclaimed as she stood up from the coffee shop table waving goodbye to the teacher.
“Hi,” the male voice on the other end of the line said, surprised by the greeting. “I’m not sure I have the right number. I’m looking to speak to a Mr. Michael Wesley.”
Rebecca noted the formal tone of the man and immediately gave a guarded response. “Can I ask what this is regarding, please? Mr. Wesley is very busy at the minute.”
The reply she received was equally as guarded.
“May I ask? To whom am I speaking with?”
“Of course, this is investigative journalist Rebecca Hollister,” she said with an authoritative tone.
“Ah right, my apologies, Miss Hollister. I bumped into a Mr. Ray Phillips outside your offices yesterday and he gave me this number when I mentioned an interest in speaking to Mr. Wesley. Either way, I would like to speak to you both…”
“I’m sorry who is this?” Rebecca said cutting across him.
“My name is Simon Meadowcroft. I’m a former Detective Sergeant with the Metropolitan Police and I would like to avail of your services.”
Rebecca paused for a moment to consider her response.
“My services? I thought you wanted to speak to Mike?
“Let me clarify, Miss Hollister. I have read about Mr. Wesley’s work, specifically regarding the case you were both involved with last year in Ireland. I have something that could benefit from your combined expertise.”
Rebecca grimaced at the thought of getting involved in another murder case. She, unlike Mike, had made a concerted effort to move forward and put the events of Kilcrew firmly behind her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Meadowcroft. I think you’re confusing us with private investigators. We are investigative journalists. We research and investigate newsworthy stories. We don’t take cases and forgive me if I’m being presumptuous, but what you seem to be hinting at sounds very much to me, like a case.”
“Could you at least meet me and hear what I have to say? I think Mr. Wesley will be interested,” Meadowcroft pleaded.
Rebecca replied in a firmer tone than before.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Meadowcroft. You’ve got the wrong people. Thank you for your call.” She ended the call before he could say another word and looked down at her shaking hands.
***
Mike stood at Rebecca’s office door and politely knocked on the window. Rebecca was on the phone, but waved him in when she saw him through the blinds. He sat down in the chair facing her and waited while she confidently negotiated what sounded to be a daily rate with a confidential source.
“Okay, that sounds perfect. I’ll confirm on my end and get back to you, but it should be fine. Speak to you soon.” She hung up the phone with a smile.
“Sorry, what’s up?”
Mike held back his annoyance but got straight to the point.
“I was just talking to Ray and he mentioned some detective we’re apparently supposed to be meeting with today. Am I missing something?”
Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her chair and leaned forward to explain herself. “Right yeah, I forgot Ray knew about it.”
“What’s with the secrecy?” Mike hit back showing a little more grievance.
“It’s not a secret, I just didn’t think it was right for us.”
Mike could tell something was wrong by the way she was holding herself. She was usually very steady when handling stories of a difficult nature, but this was different.
“What’s wrong?” he said with a more concerned than aggrieved tone. Rebecca could feel herself tighten up but did everything in her power not to let it show.
“It’s not a story Mike, I think it’s a case!”
Mike’s eyes widened as a wave of feelings passed over him, the most prominent of which being curiosity.
“A case? Why would a detective want us to work on a case? Surely he has the whole of Scotland Yard to pull resources from.”
“He said he’s a former detective, but he sounded very young to be retired, so God only knows why he’s out of the job.”
Mike’s interest only grew the more she spoke.
“What’s the case? Murder?”
Rebecca frowned at his obvious enthusiasm.
“I didn’t get into the details of it.”
“What! Why not? It could be a great story.”
Rebecca was getting frustrated with the questions.
“Mike, it’s a diffe
rent world here. Things happen in this city that make smaller towns look like playschools. I don’t think we should get involved in something we know nothing about.”
Mike didn’t appreciate the condescending tone of her statement. “You’re starting to sound like my old boss, Becca. Remember what you said when you asked me to come to London with you? ‘If we don’t take a leap every now and then, how the hell do you expect us to get anywhere?’ You said that and convinced me to come here.”
Rebecca exhaled, knowing he was right and if the tables were turned, she would dig her heels in until she got her own way. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”
Mike saw the genuine look of concern in her eyes and backed down. “Okay, if you really feel that strongly about it, we’ll leave it alone, but next time just keep me in the loop. We’re a team remember.”
Rebecca gave him a warm smile.
“I remember. Sorry, I’ll speak up next time.”
Mike stood up and left with a silent smile. He wasn’t so much angry as he was disappointed with her and as he walked back to his desk, the thoughts of getting his teeth into another real case, stirred the instincts of the cop inside him.
Chapter 2
Several days passed and both Mike and Rebecca had taken time to properly talk about where they were headed and re-evaluate what they had hoped to achieve by moving to London together. Mike had taken on a story about the ever-rising bicycle thefts in the city centre and Rebecca had moved on to a story about reported abuse in some nursing homes on the outskirts of the city.
Mike struggled to get motivated about his story, but once he got out on the streets, he slipped into investigator mode and got to work. It reminded him of a case he worked back in Ireland when he was first starting out as a Garda. A local bicycle repair shop owner was paying some youths to steal bikes from the surrounding towns so he could resell them. He got away with it for a long time as he would file off the serial numbers, re-spray them and replace the decals.