Underdogs

by Jack Fiske

  These events, with hindsight, had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Jim didn’t mind changing his name – the old one hadn’t been that great anyway. He didn’t mind moving either – this part of the country was certainly an improvement on Belfast or on Reading come to that. Above all though, he was grateful for the chain of events that had led to him meeting Susan and being part of the family of the man who now faced him across the desk.

  “Well? Tell me what’s on your mind then,” Stephen said, as he got up and opened the window an inch or two to let in some air.

  Jim wanted a second opinion on the stranger in the woods, but he could hear the sound of a tea tray rattling as Marion came up the stairs.

  “I’ll tell you later. It’s not something I’d want Marion to worry over.”

  On cue, Marion came into the room with a tray on which stood two mugs of tea, a small sugar bowl, which was purely for Jim’s benefit, and two pieces of cake.

  “There you are,” she said, putting it down on Stephen’s desk. “I’ll leave you to it because I know you’ll have business to discuss. It would be nice to see something of you today though. Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest you know!”

  Stephen smiled as she went back to the kitchen.

  “What is it that you wouldn’t want Marion to worry over?”

  Jim went over the morning’s events in some detail, drawing a sketch of the graffiti that now marked the ash tree at the bottom of his garden. For good measure he also mentioned the drive over that morning and his suspicion that the black Volvo might have been following him.

  “So you’re worried that the two are connected?” Stephen said, helping himself to a piece of chocolate cake.

  He looked thoughtful; staring out of the window, as if there might be a black Volvo waiting somewhere out there, just beyond the fence.

  “Jim, I agree you should be careful. It seems to me that the graffiti could be there to identify your house to someone, although who we don’t know. If the Volvo was following you, then it’s not unreasonable to assume that they had been watching the house as well.”

  “Could be,” Jim agreed, taking a sip of his tea. “My main worry is what on earth will I do if my past has caught up with me?”

  Stephen put a hand on his shoulder. “Well that’s a bridge that we’ll cross if we have to. If the IRA really are looking for you and they were in the Volvo this morning, then they had the perfect opportunity to ambush you, when you were alone and unarmed on a quiet country road. So why didn’t they?”

  “True.” Jim had to agree. It was a fair point and it made him feel better.

  Stephen continued, “For all we know this man in the woods might be some tree surgeon working for the Forestry Commission and the Volvo might have just been an old couple out for a Sunday morning drive in the Forest.”

  “Yes you’re right,” Jim agreed, “no point in me getting too wound up about it.”

  “Probably not. Not unless you see them again. But I do think you should be careful though. Make sure that Susan knows about the car and give her the registration number. She’s a level-headed girl and it won’t do either of you any harm to take a few precautions, just to be on the safe side.”

  Stephen checked his watch. “Now then,” he said, putting the matter to rest, “what are you and Susan doing this afternoon?”

  “I don’t think we’re doing anything in particular.”

  “Well, since it’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we all go over to Hengistbury Head? We can walk the dogs along the beach and stop for something to eat at the White Hart on the way back.”

  “O.k.” Jim smiled. “The White Hart definitely appeals and you know Millie and Wolf love the beach. Let me phone Susan and we can collect her on the way.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were pulling out of Stephen’s driveway in his Range Rover, with Millie jumping about on the back seat and Stephen’s dog Sandy looking expectantly out of the window.

  Susan and Wolf were waiting for them when they got to the house and Wolf jumped into the back with his tail wagging furiously at the sight of the other dog. The two were firm friends and Wolf knew that if Sandy was there, they’d be going somewhere interesting.

  Susan slid in the back next to Jim and handed him a jacket.

  “Here, you’ll probably need this. It’ll be windy on the beach. I’ve brought your boots as well, just in case you want to go running about with the dogs.”

  “Thanks,” Jim replied with a grin and gave her a hug.

  “Break it up!” Millie exclaimed, pushing them apart. “I want to go in the middle!”

  Jim obligingly moved over to let his daughter squeeze between them as they pulled away in the direction of the coast.

  The remainder of the afternoon was very pleasant, spent wandering through woods and along beaches. Jim had Millie and the two dogs running around, throwing sticks and chasing after them, whilst Susan had a long chat with her parents as the three of them walked more sedately behind. By the time they got back to the car, everyone was thoroughly exercised and more than ready for something to eat.

  The White Hart, a large traditional pub, situated on the A35 a few miles from Christchurch, was popular with the whole family. Jim and Susan liked it because of its friendly atmosphere, the good food and the fact that children were always welcome. It was also one of the few pubs in the area where you could bring your dogs in with you, although not into the restaurant.

  This afternoon, they had only just settled into a corner of the lounge bar when a waitress appeared to tell them that their table was ready.

  Jim stood up. “I’ll go and put the dogs in the car. You go through and I’ll see you in the restaurant.”

  “Here, let me,” Susan interrupted. “I’ve left my bag in the back. I can get it at the same time.”

  “O.k.” Jim agreed. “What do you want to eat and we’ll order for you?”

  “Oh, get me the steak and ale pie that’s written up on the blackboard will you. With potatoes though, not chips.”

  “Fish and chips for me please!” Millie butted in. “Mummy, can I come with you? I need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Come on then,” Susan agreed and smiled at Jim. “We’ll pay a visit on the way back. Won’t be long.”

  Outside it was still a glorious day and Susan, Millie and the two dogs crossed to the car, which they’d left on the far side of the car park. Another advantage of the White Hart for dog owners was the fact that three mature chestnut trees stood at the corner of the car park, where they provided welcome shelter from the sun if you could get a space under their canopy of leaves.

  This afternoon, the pub’s evening rush had not yet started and they’d had no problem claiming their usual place beneath the biggest of the trees. The two dogs were soon settled in the back of the car and Susan walked round opening all of the windows an inch or two, to make sure they had enough air.

  Susan had just taken Millie’s hand and turned towards the pub, when she felt a tremendous blow between her shoulder blades and was pitched forward onto her hands and knees.

  “Millie . . . !” she managed to scream, before another blow knocked the wind out of her completely and she was forced down to the ground by the weight of her attacker kneeling on top of her. A powerful arm forced itself around her neck and a cloth with an overpowering smell of something volatile was clamped over her mouth.

  Susan twisted and kicked and tried to bite the hand that held the cloth, but without any effect. Her eyes streamed and she fought for breath, clawing at her attacker and rolling from side to side, but gradually her struggles subsided, the fight went out of her and she lay unconscious on the ground.

  Screened by the car on one side and the chestnut trees on the other, no one had noticed the brief struggle and a few moments later two unconscious forms were bundled quickly into the back of a black Volvo, which drove quietly out of the car park and turned north onto the A35 towards Lyndhurst.

  In the pub, Jim, Stephen and Mar
ion chatted away, unaware that anything was amiss, whilst in the car park two dogs barked furiously in the back of the Land Rover, too far away to attract anyone’s attention.

  TWO

  As the Volvo drove north, the driver and his passengers said little. The three made an unusual combination. Liam Quinn, the driver, was thin and wiry, with a pinched face and a strong Irish Accent, despite the fact that he had lived in London for most of the last ten years. In his early forties, he had been on the wrong side of the law for most of his life and was nominally in charge of the group.

  In the passenger seat, Tony Bryant looked out of the window as the countryside passed by. At twenty-six, he was the youngest of the three and was there to provide the muscle. Although not heavily built, he was over six feet tall and kept in shape by boxing at one of the amateur clubs in London. With a distinctly mean look and a temperament to match, most people had learnt to give Bryant a wide berth and that suited him fine.

  In the back, Ronnie Dunn nervously pulled on a cigarette and flicked his ash out of the window. Like Quinn, he was in his forties but looked as if he would be more at home in the members’ bar of the local golf club, or sitting in a restaurant having Sunday lunch. What hair he had was neatly swept back and unlike the others, who wore jeans and t-shirt, he was dressed quite smartly in a shirt, jacket and tie.

  With one last draw on his cigarette, Dunn flicked the butt out of the window and turned to check on their two unconscious passengers. Susan stirred slightly as he bent over her.

  “The woman’s starting to come round Liam.”

  “Give her another dose,” Quinn replied. “Not too much though, we don’t want to overdo it.”

  Following instructions, Dunn rummaged around in the sports bag that lay by his feet and produced a small bottle and a cloth.

  “Use the mask Ronnie,” Quinn instructed, watching proceedings through the driver’s mirror. “Five or six drops should do it and leave it on until she goes under again.”

  The bag, which was obviously well stocked, yielded a green disposable medical mask which Dunn dosed with a few drops of liquid, before placing it carefully over Susan’s mouth and nose and securing the elastic around the back of her head. As he did so, Susan turned her head weakly, as if half aware of what was going on, before she sank back into unconsciousness.

  “How’s the girl?” Quinn asked.

  “Out for the count,” Dunn replied.

  “Check her pulse will you and make sure her breathing is regular. The last thing we need is for her not to come round.”

  Dunn felt for the pulse in Millie’s neck and put an ear over her mouth before confirming, “She’s fine. She’ll probably start to come out of it as well before too long.”

  Having taken the mask off Susan again, he performed the same checks on her and apparently satisfied, pushed the bag to one side and settled back in his seat.

  As they drove further north, the woodland of the New Forest grew patchy and started to give way to a mixture of farmland and the more open spaces of Salisbury Plain. In the back of the car, Millie coughed quietly in her sleep and Quinn flicked the driver’s mirror down to see for himself if she was waking. Satisfied, he glanced at his watch before turning his attention back to the road.

  “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” he commented.

  A few miles further on, Quinn turned the car onto a minor road which crossed open countryside and shortly after, turned once more onto a gravel track marked ‘Henson’s Farm – Private’. The track was obviously more used to tractors and four wheel drive vehicles and Quinn slowed to a crawl to make sure that he didn’t ground the car as he picked his way carefully around the potholes and avoided the deeper ruts. To one side, the track was bordered by a conifer wood which ran its full length, whilst on the other side, cows stared enquiringly over the barbed wire fence as they passed by. A hundred yards from the road, the track rounded a large barn, ran past some smaller farm buildings and came to an end in the enclosed yard at the rear of a large farmhouse.

  In the yard, a silver BMW stood at the foot of a short flight of steps which led to the back door, making quiet clicking noises as its engine cooled down.

  “Boss is back already,” Dunn remarked.

  “Better check in then,” Quinn replied. “Go and ask him what he wants us to do with the passengers while we keep an eye on them.”

  Dunn stubbed the butt of his latest cigarette in the car’s ashtray and climbed out, thankful to stretch his legs. Only Quinn had been to the farmhouse before and had described it as the perfect location. Dunn had to agree. The yard he stood in was enclosed on three sides by the farmhouse and its outbuildings, whilst on the fourth, thick conifer woods shielded them from prying eyes. Not that there was likely to be anyone passing by. The gravel track ended at the farm itself and Dunn hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road that led here. The farmhouse was large and imposing, but rather run down. The woodwork was starting to rot in places and had obviously not seen fresh paint for quite some time. The gutters were sprouting weeds and some of the slates on the low roofs of the outbuildings were cracked or missing.

  As Dunn climbed the steps to the house, the door opened and the boss stepped out. If you met Colin Walker under different circumstances, you would assume he was a respectable businessman. In his mid fifties with silver-grey hair and weathered features, he was dressed appropriately in a tweed jacket and corduroy trousers and could easily have been the landowner. It was only when you looked more carefully that you noticed the mannerisms and the look in his eye which told you to tread carefully – that this was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with.

  “Afternoon Mr Walker,” Dunn said politely.

  Walker grunted and ignoring Dunn, walked over to the car. “O.k. Quinn, get them into the annexe. Everything’s been prepared. Come and let me know when you’re done.”

  Walker nodded briefly at Dunn as he turned and headed towards the front of the house whilst the three set about moving the captives.

  Susan was light and between them Dunn and Bryant managed her easily, whilst Quinn led the way with the unconscious form of Millie slung over one shoulder. They didn’t have to carry them far, just across the yard to one of the more substantial outbuildings, which unlike the rest, had a solid wooden door and iron bars over one of the windows. Inside, the building was more inviting. What looked like a store from the outside had in fact been converted at some time into additional accommodation. Quinn turned into a room on the left, which was furnished as a bedroom and dropped Millie onto the double bed at the far end.

  “All the comforts of home,” Quinn remarked sarcastically.

  Dunn and Bryant lay Susan on the bed next to her daughter and looked around.

  “Leave them there for a minute,” Quinn instructed. “I’ll show you round and then you can get settled in.”

  It didn’t take long to walk round what was a small self-contained flat. The building had been converted some time ago from an old storeroom into a granny-flat. From the small hallway at the front of the building, a large bedroom led off to the left and a similar sized sitting room lay to the right. Beyond the sitting room was a small but adequate kitchen, whilst beyond the bedroom an en-suite bathroom provided washing and toilet facilities. All the rooms had old, well-worn furniture and the living room in particular was a little cramped, due to the fact that a folding bed had been set up against one wall.

  “There’s only one bed,” Bryant immediately complained. “Who gets to sleep on the couch?”

  “Oh don’t worry about that,” Quinn replied. “Walker wants one of you here all the time, so whoever it is will need to sleep on the camp bed. The other can have a room to himself in the farmhouse. Sort it out between you, but it’s probably sensible if you take it in turns. There’s tea and coffee in the kitchen and food in the fridge. All you need to do is put your feet up and watch TV.”

  Quinn pointed to the corner of the room where a portable television was perched on top of a second, full
size set. “The portable is linked to a camera in the other room. We’ll switch it on in a minute.”

  As he led the way back to the bedroom, Quinn continued, “Make sure the bedroom door is locked at all times. We’ve changed the door and put bolts on this side so it’s pretty solid. Someone will bring food over from the main house, so there’ll always be two of us here when you need to open up.”

  Walking through to the bathroom, Quinn pointed out a small frosted window to the rear. “Don’t worry about the back; the window’s had bars put on the outside. There’s a second camera in here as well though – think of it as a perk for whoever’s on duty when the woman takes a bath. Oh and talking of the bathroom, I’m afraid that you’ve not got one, so there’s a bucket in the corner of the living room – just like being back in the Nick eh Tony?”

  At the White Hart it was nearly four hours since Susan and Millie had disappeared. Stephen and Marion walked round the car park one more time and then went back to the car to phone Jim.

  Earlier, they had taken some time to realise that anything was wrong. Food had been ordered and the three of them had chatted about nothing in particular for ten or fifteen minutes, before a waitress arrived with the first two plates. Marion had hurried off to the ladies to see what was holding her daughter up, but returned immediately to say there was no sign of them. Ten minutes later they had checked the car, checked the rest of the pub and asked if anyone had seen them, but without result. Reluctantly, they’d agreed to go on with their meal in the hope that something entirely innocent had sidetracked the two and that they would turn up at any moment. However, as time dragged by and there was no sign of his wife, Jim became more and more worried. After twenty minutes, he couldn’t sit still any longer and they went to search for them.