by Roddy Murray
After the details were agreed Dan stood up as if about to make a speech.
"I was hoping things would turn out this way and have prepared a little surprise. Please follow me to the restaurant if you will." And with that he led the way through the door of Bobby's office and down the corridor towards the main entrance to Section D.
He swept the other two men along with him through the security door and past the night guard on duty there.
The guard was the large individual called Greg who had taken an instant dislike to Frank. When he saw what he took to be Frank waltz through the door with two of the big bosses and smile a hello at him he assumed he was taking the piss. His face fixed into a forced grin and he stared with undisguised malice at big Frank. "Just one little excuse," he thought to himself, "and I'll sort you right out."
Blaine for his part had smiled at the guard in all innocence. He was surprised and disappointed not to get the usual polite smile back and sensed an element of hostility directed towards him. Not to worry, he thought. Can't be easy staying there all night with nothing to do.
Dan led the way to the canteen where an area had been screened off near the kitchen. As they entered the newly formed dining room Blaine noticed that a table had been set for three with a proper cloth, cutlery, china and crystal glasses. A rather gaudy candelabra decorated the middle of it but the overall effect was impressive.
"I thought the three of us should celebrate." Dan said. "After all I regard this as representing a new era for Nebus. Of course the main point is that our most successful CEO to date is healthy again and will be with us for many years to come."
He walked over to a side table and picked up a bottle of champagne. He opened it with practiced skill and poured three generous glasses. Handing one to each of his companions, he took the third himself.
"I propose a toast. To Bobby and his team who have ensured your survival, Blaine, and shown the way forward for Nebus management into the future."
They all raised their glasses and drank some champagne. Dan indicated for the other two to sit and rang a small bell which sat beside his place. A waiter appeared with plates containing starters of grilled scallops in a ginger jus, set on the plates like a sculpture amidst an exotic salad. The three men, suddenly aware that they were very hungry and hadn't eaten for some time, tucked in.
Blaine wasn't entirely sure what Dan had meant with his toast but he knew he felt good and he knew he was hungry.
The three of them enjoyed a lavish meal which Dan had obviously taken great pains to organise and each course was accompanied by the perfect and most expensive of wines. As the food went down and the wine took effect they talked and joked louder and louder. Time went by without them noticing its passing until eventually Blaine had to call a halt. Healthy and fit as he was he suddenly felt the need to lie down. He was also surprised at how much he was enjoying drinking the wines and realised he had consumed far more than he normally would. Dan suggested he go back to the apartment and lie down. There had been a delay with the transport for the donor and he wanted to discuss it with Bobby. They all stood up hugged and slapped each other’s backs again. Then Blaine headed, slightly unsteadily, towards the stairs and D Section. He gathered his focus and made it slowly down to the bottom. A strange regret entered his head about not taking a bottle of wine with him to his room but he dismissed it and headed towards his bed.
As he turned the corner towards the security gate he saw the guard look up and eye him suspiciously. It was at that moment that it dawned on him that he didn't have his own security badge. The one round his neck said Frank Chisholm visitor and Sections A-C only written on it. Blaine was sure that wouldn't be a problem with the big man at reception.
The big man at reception had very different ideas. Here came that Chisholm guy without his friends and it looked like he was going to try and get into D Section without permission. Christmas had come early.
"You are not allowed into this area without authority," he growled at what he assumed was Frank.
Blaine was annoyed at the man's tone. "Just let me through if you know what's good for you," he replied.
"Like that is it," thought the guard.
“You are not getting past me without authority to enter this area and you don't have it, mate."
"Just get out of my way," said Blaine angry and emboldened by the amount of wine he had had.
The guard stood up and blocked the way through as Blaine arrived at the desk. Blaine pushed at the guard roughly but didn't manage to get him out of the way.
"You asked for it," said the guard and took a swing at Frank's head.
Before Blaine had time to think about it he had ducked to one side, missing the blow and countered with a vicious left jab which took the guard completely by surprise and knocked him out cold.
Blaine paused and looked at the prone figure at his feet in surprise. Then he stared at his fist and smiled. "I really enjoyed that," he thought to himself.
He pushed the button on the desk to open the security door and headed off to the apartment for a well deserved rest. Pity there wasn't any more drink there he found himself thinking. But the bed looked too welcoming and he lay down on it and slept almost immediately.
Chapter Twenty One
Frank started moving his limbs slightly; testing them and trying to gauge how effective they were as the sedative slowly wore off. It seemed like they were all working again but he found it impossible to figure out how strong his new body was and how effective it would be in a fight with Claude. Not very, was his over-riding conclusion but that just meant it couldn't be a fair fight.
Once he was sure that his new body would at least move when he wanted it to, he decided that if he was to have a chance of avoiding the fatal trip to the States he better act now or never. He cleared his throat to make sure he could speak.
"I need to go for a pee," he said. "You'll need to help me stand up."
Claude looked up and reluctantly put his magazine down, walked over and helped Frank sit up. Frank noticed the magazine was an issue of Muscle and Fitness, which didn't give him any greater confidence in his plan succeeding. He moved to the edge of the table he had been lying on and stretched one leg so that it touched the floor. He shuffled forward and put the other foot down as well. Frank felt himself being roughly pulled upright and onto his feet. He swayed a bit and for a split second thought he was going to fall over, but managed to get his balance and remain standing. Slowly he put one foot forward and then the other making slow progress towards the bathroom. All the time he moved he was trying to assess how useful this new body could be. It was not fit, to say the least, but its very weight might give him some kind of advantage. He was moving slowly and cautiously but guessed he could move a bit faster if he needed to. The limbs all worked as they should and he was now quite confident of his balance.
Claude watched his captive's progress all the way. Whatever he had been through medically and whatever he had been in the past, this McCoard guy didn't look like he could cause any trouble. He had done a few jobs for Nebus over the years when they needed extra security for staff at home or abroad or wanted someone scared off, but this looked like being the easiest money yet. Get this walking corpse over to the States and hand him over to some other freelance security guys there. Piece of cake. If it all went to plan he could be having a beer in his favourite sports bar the following night cheering on the Red Sox.
Frank closed the door of the bathroom behind him and nearly fainted at the face looking back at him in the mirror. Instead of Frank "the tank" Chisholm's cheeky grin there was a pallid and chubby face staring back. There were certain similarities it was true but this was a cruel caricature of his former self.
He dragged his eyes away from the mirror and looked around the bathroom. There wasn't much to see. A toilet, a sink and a shower with some towels over a towel rail which was firmly attached to the wall. Then he noticed that the toilet roll holder on the wall was broken and somebody had kindly brought i
n a floor standing version to replace it. Presumably this was a temporary
arrangement till someone with clearance to work in D Section could get round to fixing it. Frank examined it closely. It was a stainless steel affair with a D shaped loop at the top for the toilet roll itself. There was a long, narrow barrel-like piece under that which connected to a circular base plate on the floor. Frank tried it for weight and liked it. The British army had never trained him to use a toilet roll holder as a weapon of choice but the base plate was fairly heavy and sharp at the edge. He lifted it over his head and waved it around a couple of times to make sure it would hold together. It seemed wellconstructed as these things go and Frank decided this was his best chance of escape.
There was no lock on the door, allowing any guard to check on who was inside and what they were doing, Frank had noticed. He hit his new weapon off the floor and shouted to Claude outside, "Help, I've fallen over! I need help!”
Outside Claude was starting to get pissed off with this McCoard guy. He put his magazine down again and walked to the toilet. If that lame son of a bitch had fallen over and pissed himself he was getting left where he'd dropped till it was time to head for the airport. If he hadn't, he was going to get dragged back to the bed and hurt on the way. He straightened his jacket and reached for the door handle.
Inside the bathroom Frank waited with the toilet roll holder above his head. He knew that he would get one go at this and that if he didn't put Claude down first time he would get a severe beating, and any chance of escape would have gone.
He watched the handle of the door turn and as an angry Claude appeared through the open door Frank brought the improvised club down on the top of his head as hard as he could. It connected with the guard’s head with a loud thump and Frank knew the sharp edge of the base had dug in deep. For a second Claude just stood there with his angry face staring at his attacker.
"Shit", thought Frank, "He's not going down."
He frantically raised the weapon and was surprised that he was able to and to land another blow without Claude moving a muscle. He must have been stunned from the first blow. The second time the base of the toilet roll holder connected with Claude's head it had the desired effect. His legs gave way first and then he slumped to the floor unconscious.
If anyone had asked him later Frank would have admitted that the next two blows were gratuitous but he was in no mood to take chances and didn't want to risk his guard coming round any time soon and raising the alarm.
He pulled the body into the bathroom hoping the blood outside would not be noticed. The amount of blood inside could not be missed but there wasn't time to do anything about that. Frank closed the door of the bathroom as he left it and took stock. He was uninjured but still fairly weak. He could move reasonably well and behave as if he was fine should he have to. A quick search of Claude had revealed no weapons, which was a disappointment but he decided he probably had to get out of here using brains rather than brawn.
He moved quickly over to the door and tried the handle. The door was electronically locked. He swiped the badge which was round his neck and could have shouted with joy as he heard the unmistakable click as the lock was released. Opening the door he looked out. The suite was empty. He risked a quick look through the door of Room B, but it was deserted too.
"Body snatching-bastards," he whispered under his breath and headed to the exit of the Nebraska suite. He opened the door and looked outside. Again there was nobody about. He could see the main entrance to D Section and knew there would be guards outside. It was a huge risk but he guessed the British guards at reception weren't in on what had happened inside, in which case they should be cool with an American businessman with rights of access leaving the area. Hopefully they were focused on people trying to get in rather than those exiting through the door.
Frank took a deep breath, straightened has jacket and shirt and headed to the door. He pressed the open button and walked through as nonchalantly as possible. There was one guard sitting in the usual position beside the desk. Frank tensed himself ready for any awkwardness but there was none. Instead the guard gave him a respectful smile and said, "Goodnight Mr McCoard."
Frank was not confident enough of his voice and accent yet so he simply smiled back and gave a mock salute. The guard smiled, returned a similar mock salute and went back to reading his newspaper.
Frank waited till he was round the corner before breathing out a huge sigh of relief. That was easy enough he thought. He continued towards the main reception where he knew at this time of night another guard would be on duty. As he passed, the guard again looked up and smiled. Frank smiled and nodded back. At least these bastards were showing him a bit of respect.
He walked to the front door and out of the building with no clear plan of what to do next. He vaguely knew he needed help, which meant Paddy, but how the hell could he explain the fact that he had been transferred against his will into a fat American's body? Paddy was ready for most things but this would be a step too far. He also knew he needed to get away from the Nebus plant quickly and buy time to think things through, including some way of getting Paddy onboard. He checked his pockets for money to see if he could afford a taxi. He found a wallet with £500 in new twenty pound notes and a similar sum in dollars. That should get him back to Ayr. The hotel was a non-starter for now. Whatever the plan had been, Bobby and his American friends would have arranged something to sort his checking out without raising suspicions. Chances are the staff at the hotel would be so pleased to be rid of him they would ask no questions whatsoever.
As he walked away from the building towards the main road he suddenly noticed a dark people-carrier with the courtesy light on. Surely it couldn't be his old pal Jim. But it was. Frank was just about to run over to the vehicle and jump in when he remembered that he now looked completely different to their last meeting. That was a pity he thought to himself with major understatement. Still, he was sure Jim would not be in on the dodgy dealings of D Section and might be persuaded to give Mr Blaine McCoard a lift somewhere, even if not all the way to Ayr itself.
Frank tapped the window and Jim looked up from his book. He lowered the window and said, “Can I help you?"
Looks like he doesn't know who I am, thought Frank.
"I'm Blaine McCoard and I need to get to Ayr in a hurry. Are you free to take me?" Frank asked.
"I'm booked for a trip to the Crowne Plaza Hotel, Glasgow. It has been delayed for three hours but it's too tight for Ayr in between. I can check in with Dr Bartleman if you like."
"No need, I've just left him in D Section and he might be all night now." Frank bluffed. "They suggested I take their lift which must mean you and head over to the Nebus plant in Old Cumnock. There's a big problem there I need to sort."
Jim looked at him, shrugged his shoulders and told his unexpected passenger to jump in. It made no difference to him. He was scheduled to be available all night for D Section personnel and one was as good as another. A trip all the way to Ayr and back would break the monotony of the shift.
He sneaked a quick look at the American as he made a meal of climbing into the passenger seat; "jump in" seemed ambitious in retrospect. Once his passenger had finally got in and put his seatbelt on, Jim pulled smoothly away from the car park and headed out of the industrial estate. He noticed the American kept looking back nervously as if expecting someone to follow them but nobody did. Either way his badge said access all areas which told Jim he was important, so no point asking any questions.
Frank relaxed a little with every mile travelled. He had felt clumsy and awkward getting into the people carrier but overall he had got the hang of his new body. He had even got the drop on Claude he thought and giggled out loud. He looked at Jim and was about to take up where their previous conversation had ended but stopped himself just in time. After a while though, he started to ask Jim about his job and family. Jim covered ground Frank already knew but it was good just to talk to somebody. The conversation drifted int
o sport and "soccer" in particular. Jim was very impressed by this American's knowledge of Scottish football, including its rivalries and slang. He should meet big Frank, Jim thought to himself, they'd get on like a house on fire.
The journey took almost two hours but passed quicker than either had expected as they discussed their favourite moments in Scottish football. As they arrived at the Ayr by-pass Frank had a thought.
"Can you take me to the station please? I'm meeting someone there who'll drive me to the plant."
"No problem at all if you’re sure they will be waiting?"
Jim confirmed.
He turned and headed along the by-pass but half way along it, took the long road down into Ayr itself and pulled up at the railway station.
"This is perfect," said Frank in the strange mid-Atlantic accent he was having to get used to. He turned and shook Jim's hand. "Been a pleasure."
He then quickly hurried through the doors and into the station as if late for an appointment. Jim waited a few minutes just to be sure his passenger wasn't going to reappear and then headed off on the journey back towards Edinburgh.
Chapter Twenty Two
Blaine was woken what seemed like minutes later but was actually early next morning by a worried looking Bobby Bartleman.
"We have a bit of a problem," Bobby said. "The donor has disappeared."
Blaine’s head was fuzzy with sleep and a hangover so it took a few seconds to remember everything that had happened.
"What do you mean disappeared?"
"He has left the building during the night after assaulting two of the guards, one British and one of our American staff. Apparently he persuaded our driver to take him to Ayr station and we have no trace of him since."