The police are often told to be wary of alien items found on their premises. It’s impossible to rule out some kind of revenge attack for an arrest or just a general hatred of the uniform. But Karl hadn’t been a frontline officer for thirteen years, and had stopped working for the police altogether three months ago.
Curiosity got the better of him.
Gently, he prodded the holdall. There was something in it, but it didn’t feel like a bomb. Or a dismembered body part.
With a fingertip grip on the zip, he gripped the other end of the bag and pulled the zip open.
He was perplexed. Shocked. Amused. He didn’t know what to do next with his find, whether to report it or keep it.
He picked up a bundle and strummed through it. He estimated the bundle was worth ten thousand pounds. It was one of five similar bundles.
Inside the bag there was a note and a brand new padlock. He read the note, smiling a wry smile before placing it back into the bag.
They say crime doesn’t pay, but the hours are good.
Please accept the contents of this bag.
I don’t know its origin, whether legitimate or not, but I give it to you to do with it as
you please. Take a holiday, give it to charity, or hand it in to your nearest police
station.
p.s. sorry about the padlock, I bought you a new one.
Chapter 88
The knife spiralled in the air, gleaming as it caught the sunlight, toppling end over end until lost from sight over the cliff edge. There was no sound as it hit the water. Not that anything could be heard over the sound of the stiff coastal breeze or the roaring tide crashing against the rocks below. It was as good a place as any to lose a murder weapon. But was it really a murder? More a revenge killing than anything else.
Nobody cared for the victim.
The tough walking boots were starting to show some wear and tear. It was no surprise after walking up to ten miles of coast path every day for the last few months, regardless of the weather. He’d have to buy a new pair, which would mean going to a shop in town. He didn’t like going to town. He preferred the solitude of village life, away from crowds and traffic and the bustle of normality which he was desperately trying to avoid.
A large chunk of cliff that had been uncovered by the elements, making a perfect seat for his daily meanderings, it was where he contemplated the path of his life. Dominic Carver was not the man he wanted to be, anymore. The person who had run with the wrong crowd since he was a teenager; who had committed crimes across his home city; who had spent a large part of his life behind bars. He didn’t want to be that man again for as long as he lived. Change needed to happen. He wished it had happened on the day he left prison. But it hadn’t.
The same man had gotten involved in something highly illegal, risky and dangerous. Although he always thought it was his life to risk, he hadn’t figured on so many others being hurt in the process. Bad decisions get people killed.
So he’d changed, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly.
Every single day his mind would return to that moment in the hangar. The moment a Red Admiral butterfly changed his fortunes. He wasn’t inspired to change because of the butterfly. He was given the chance to change because of the butterfly. For while the small flying insect was unaware of the influence it had had, its choice of resting place was very significant.
Dom had been about to meet his fate, to accept his death. He had done wrong and those closest to him had suffered the ultimate consequences of his actions. It was a fate he thought he deserved. But fate stepped in, granting him one last chance, sending him a messenger. When the butterfly landed to rest its weary wings from battling against the breeze, it landed inside the hangar. More significantly it landed next to the handgun dropped by Gary when Dom had hit him with the car. Because Dom was focused on what was happening on the other side of the car, he had not noticed the weapon.
Fate stepped in.
He had taken the gun in hand and stood to face his aggressor, firing off a single shot. It was a fateful shot, hitting Richards in the throat, killing him almost instantly.
For every death there is a rebirth.
For Dom, it was his.
He had picked himself up, grabbed the holdall of money out of the boot of the damaged Astra, taken Richards’ BMW and booked into a local bed and breakfast. Amazingly, he’d slept for ten hours, had a good breakfast and vowed never to return to the city of his birth. The change had started. He’d held up in the B&B for a week and spilled the beans on everything he knew about Mach Tech, the Boss, and all the various criminal activity he had witnessed. He wasn’t stupid enough to make the phone calls from the far end of Wales; instead he took the train to Swansea to see an old prison mate who could sort him out with a whole new identity, including a full financial background, fake references and even fake payslips, and took the opportunity to call from a burner phone, spilling all he knew about the criminal network of which he had been a part.
Within the week, a package was delivered by hand to Dom’s refuge and the change was complete. He could escape from the chrysalis of the B&B and reappear as a whole new person. Now he was the butterfly.
Determined to be a different person from now on, Dom was setting himself into a series of routines; reading, walking, exercising and eating well. He had rented a cottage in a village in West Wales, didn’t own a TV or a car, and lived as best he could, using the stolen money to get by on. It worked for a few months until he discovered not everything had fallen to karma, even with a helpful nudge.
He had heard on the grapevine that Kevin Dunstan, while under investigation, was still walking the streets scot free.
That was never going to sit well.
For one day only, Dom returned to the person he used to be, seeking retribution in a way that was beyond him.
Retribution was achieved but he had to balance it with an act of contrition.
Now was the hardest part. Dom - no longer called, or answering to, Dom - would have to find his place in the world; living, working, surviving like everybody else. It was a challenge. For now, he would try his best. Whether he could carry it off, only time would tell.
Time was all he had left.
Author bio
Nigel Shinner is a Pembrokeshire born and bred self-published author with five books to his credit. If you enjoy a thriller that is aimed just a little left of centre then you should certainly check out other Nigel Shinner titles but first strap yourself in for all the twists and turns that the author will send your way.
Nigel lives in Pembrokeshire with his partner and is a father of four.
For more information on Nigel Shinner and any news of future releases, please follow the author’s social media pages.
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