The Gated Trilogy

by Matt Drabble

  The young man nodded and Donovan tried to remember the kid’s name but it wouldn’t come. “Send Bailey and Burr in for a minute and go get yourself a beer downstairs.”

  The kid looked at the early hour on his watch and wrinkled his nose at the thought of alcohol at such an hour.

  “A coke, an ice-cream, what the fuck ever!” Donovan snapped. “Just go wait downstairs.”

  The kid left and a few seconds later two slabs of beef and muscle walked into the office.

  “Tafferty’s at St Martin’s with a hole in his leg,” Donovan announced and the two monosyllabic lumps nodded silently. “I want him out because I want answers and once you get them, shut him up - but if you can’t get him out then I want him silenced there and then, clear?”

  The two men nodded again and Donovan felt a little more relaxed. At least with these two there was no brain power to get in the way; you simply wound them up and pointed them in the right direction.

  “Oh, and once you’ve sorted Tafferty, do the same with the kid downstairs. There’re way too many liabilities around here at the minute and the house could do with a little spring cleaning.

  ----------

  Sutherland had driven through the night without much of a plan in mind. All he knew now was that he needed to get these women away from the clutches of Donovan, far away.

  There was a constant drilling through his mind that was trying to grab his attention and fill his thoughts with sense, but he was working hard to drown it out. He had no idea just why he had chosen now to grow any kind of a conscience, but he had, and chances were that it just might get him killed.

  He forced his eyes to stay open. There was no way that he was far enough away from Donovan’s reach yet. The thug was a big man in his own backyard but his influence only stretched so far.

  Right now, as far as Sutherland was concerned, the biggest mistake he’d made was letting Tafferty live. Once he’d killed the two henchmen, he should have stayed and finished the job. He wasn’t worried about Tafferty fingering him to the police - the Scotsman was too old school for that. No, it was Tafferty giving him over to Donovan that was the biggest problem right now.

  He drove on for another hour. The young girl beside him slept on, and although he knew that the women in the back were surely shivering, it was a small price to pay for their freedom.

  Finally he pulled over and the young girl stirred. Her small innocent face was now dark and pained. He could only imagine what sort of ordeal she’d been through and he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

  “We stop?” she asked.

  “Just for a minute. I have to use the bathroom,” he replied, pointing towards the truck stop opposite. “I need you to get in the back and explain to the rest of the women in there that everything’s going to be okay now. You’re all going to be safe, I promise,” he said as he gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her face.

  “Hungry,” she said.

  Sutherland flinched as she put a hand on his leg and moved it upwards.

  “You get me food, I be good to you,” she said as she stroked his thigh.

  Sutherland’s heart broke a little at the loss of innocence. He moved her hand and took off his jacket to wrap around her shoulders. He had to take the lorry keys with him which meant shutting off the heater.

  “You go in the back and I’ll get food for everyone,” he said as he opened the small hatch that led into the back of the lorry.

  The girl crawled through obediently and was immediately greeted with catcalls and wails from the scared women. Slowly, she talked them down until they were all silent.

  He shut the hatch door and stepped out into the freezing morning. He’d driven all night and was now far north enough to get them clear. He walked into the truck stop and up to the counter, all the while trying to remember how many women were in the lorry.

  “Give me 12 burgers, 12 fries and a crate of bottled water,” he ordered.

  “I’m sorry, did you say 12?” the young woman behind the counter asked with surprise.

  Sutherland nodded as he crossed the diner towards a pay phone on the other side.

  It took a quick call to directory enquires to get the number of a nearby charity and he made the call. He gave them the truck stop’s number and address and hung up while they were still barking questions at him.

  He moved back across the diner and counted out enough money to cover the food bill.

  “You want a hand carrying that?” the waitress asked as he struggled out the door with three boxes piled high.

  He didn’t answer, quickly crossing the tarmac to the waiting lorry. He used the front hatch again to pass the food through as he didn’t trust the women not to try and run if he opened the rear doors.

  He waited until he heard the telltale sounds of sirens in the distance heading his way. After what he’d told the charity he knew that their first call would have been to the police.

  He opened the hatch and the young girl immediately jumped up to the opening.

  “I need you to do something for me?” he asked her.

  The girl’s face looked confused but she started to unbutton her blouse.

  “No!” he snapped and then felt guilt as she flinched in fear. “You’re going to be safe now; some people are coming to take you away but I need you to forget me - forget my face.”

  “I not forget,” she urged. “I remember that you help us.”

  He smiled at her gently. “My face, no good,” he said, shaking his head vigorously to illustrate the point. “My help, no good, you forget me, understand?”

  Eventually the girl nodded but she was still not entirely sure, and he realised that it was the best he could hope for.

  He leaned forwards and kissed her lightly on the forehead and then he was out of the lorry and heading towards the fields beyond the truck stop. The motorway heading back ran alongside the field, and when he was far enough along, he hopped over the metal railing and prayed that someone would stop for him soon as he thumbed his way home and to the music that would no doubt await him.

  ----------

  “We can’t get involved in this, Sir, surely?” Avery exclaimed after Patterson had left the office.

  “This is about family, my dear.” Tolanson smiled kindly. “If we do not take care of our own then what good are we?”

  “But if this gets out - that you used undue influence to try and protect the relative of a major party member - my God, the press will bury us!”

  “You worry too much, Avery. I’m not going to be doing any back room deals. No strings will be pulled, Scouts honour,” he joked, raising a salute. “But I will not abandon a friend in need; it’s just not in my nature.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t know any more,” Avery mused, half to herself.

  “Oh Avery,” Tolanson laughed good-naturedly. “Take a look around, my dear. This isn’t some seedy backroom parlour with fat sweaty men smoking cigars and plotting to run the world. Whatever must you think of me?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she responded quickly, feeling the man’s hurt from across the room. “I didn’t mean to imply anything inappropriate.”

  “You young people,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “Always so cynical, always so mistrusting, always so obstinate, thinking that the world should fit into your way of thinking.”

  Avery suddenly felt a small chill in the air but Tolanson’s forehead was sweating and he wiped away at the perspiration with an absent-minded hand. The smile was still stuck to his face but now it looked a little plastered on as though the edges were showing.

  “Why must everyone think that they have the right to stick their noses into the affairs of their elders and betters? Why must I constantly have to explain myself?”

  His voice was rising now and Avery felt decidedly uncomfortable. Tolanson had never been anything but a perfect gentleman in her presence, and despite his relative youth in political terms, he had an old school dignity about him. However, now he was sweating and
his face was becoming increasingly flushed as his words started to sound like a rant.

  “I try and get things done around here and yet I’m surrounded by incompetence!” he snapped, slamming his fist down hard on the desk between them.

  The loud impact made both of them jump and their eyes locked across the room. Avery stared at her boss with no little trepidation and suddenly she didn’t recognise the piercing blue eyes staring back at her. In that single split second, all life and breath was sucked out of the small office.

  The light seemed to dim until all she could see was him. The man standing across from her was a stranger. His face wasn’t old, it was ancient - thin parchment-paper skin stretched across a bulbous skull. His features were hard and cruel and looked at her with sheer contempt.

  The office door suddenly burst open and McDere’s huge frame entered and the spell was broken. The image was shattered just as quickly as it arrived and now Tolanson was just himself, a little tired looking, but the man she knew.

  “Sir?” she ventured with no idea how to follow up.

  “Hmm?” he responded, his face thick with a vacant expression.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, fine,” he answered slowly. “What was I saying?”

  “Nothing of any great importance, Sir,” McDere interjected and then he was leading Tolanson by the arm and out of the room.

  Avery was left alone wondering just what the hell had happened and maybe if she was losing her mind. The longer that she sat at the desk, the more that the image faded and the more she felt like a fool.

  “There’s more of gravy than the grave,” she quoted to herself, remembering that she had skipped breakfast and was probably just overworked.

  She slapped herself a couple of times across the face to wake up properly and checked her calendar for the rest of the day. As usual it was a smorgasbord of hand shaking, shoulder holding and arm twisting.

  She rummaged through her desk and realised that she needed a file. Normally she would have called Raymond. The young kid’s amorous intentions were more annoying than flattering but his endeavour was useful at times. Unfortunately, he’d called in sick according to the posted staff sheet and she’d have to waste time getting it herself.

  She exited the office and stopped at Mrs Wilberforce’s desk.

  “Can you chase up Raymond, see when he’s coming back in?” she asked her assistant.

  “Should be tomorrow,” the older woman answered without looking up from her computer.

  “You’re sure?”

  Mrs Wilberforce favoured her with a look that made Avery feel foolish for even asking. The older woman had a habit of making her constantly feel like she was being scolded by a teacher.

  “Can you check anyway, please?” Avery bristled, determined not to be intimidated by a supposed subordinate.

  She waited while the woman placed the call but she hung up without receiving a reply from the other end.

  “He must be sleeping.” Mrs Wilberforce smiled a little too widely. “Just a 24 hour bug; he’ll be in bright and early tomorrow, my dear, I assure you.”

  Avery left the woman to her work and, not for the first time, wondered how she could replace the assistant without making too much of a fuss. Tolanson had a soft spot for Mrs Wilberforce and she had been his choice for Avery; for better or worse, she was stuck with the woman.

  As she spent the next few minutes searching through the filing cabinets in one of the outer offices, she gradually forgot about the incident until it faded into the recesses of her mind. It faded but never entirely died there.

  CHAPTER 12

  RUNNING ON EMPTY

  Donovan’s envoy headed to St Martin’s Hospital. The young man drove while the two apes filled the large backseat space with ease.

  His phone rang and he looked briefly at the caller ID; seeing that it was the office, he sent it through to voicemail.

  Raymond drove carefully with a watchful eye on his speed and his driving. There was no way that he wanted to get pulled over when he was sure that his passengers were armed.

  St Martin’s was busy, as always, and he had to circle several times looking for a parking spot. Eventually an old woman hobbled slowly towards a car and Raymond slowed down behind her.

  It took the woman forever to dig out her keys and get behind the wheel. Another car pulled up behind them as they waited for the woman to navigate her way out of the space. The driver behind beeped his horn impatiently and one of the apes - Bailey or Burr, the young man didn’t know which was which - started to get out.

  “Stay there!” Raymond exclaimed. “You really want to make a scene, given why we’re here?”

  Bailey or Burr slammed the car door shut with a grunt.

  Raymond shook his head and wondered just what sort of idiots Donovan had saddled him with.

  He’d been liaising with Donovan for Mr Tolanson for a couple of weeks now. He had little doubt that the ends always justified the means and this country needed not a man like Tolanson: it needed Tolanson himself. The whole damn place was quickly going down the toilet as immigrants and crime ran rampant across the streets and no one seemed to have the guts to step up and take it back - no one but Tolanson.

  He’d been a member of several far-right groups growing up, searching for an answer as to why his father had been stabbed to death for the contents of his wallet. The killer had never been caught, but every time that Raymond closed his eyes, he saw dark skin behind the knife that had destroyed his family.

  Following his father’s murder, his mother had dived into a bottle and stayed there until it had killed her. He had drifted through life constantly struggling to find an outlet for his anger. Football hooliganism had held a brief sway for a while, and while the organised violence was appealing, he’d found that even the hooligan gangs had become multi-cultural.

  The far-right political groups claimed to support a ‘whites only’ policy, but despite all of their endless talking, they had little teeth and were full of empty promises.

  It had been a young MP who had finally shown him the way. Christian Tolanson had approached him after a rally and had talked his language. Tolanson had been the only one to understand his pain and know how to best direct his anger.

  He had been far more action than talk and now they were on the edge of greatness. Tolanson knew how to play the game, how to win power first before unleashing it, unopposed. Together they would change first the country and then the world and Raymond was going to have a front row seat.

  When he’d finally managed to park, he exited the vehicle with the two goons in tow. Tolanson’s instructions had been clear: play the dim-witted fool in both the campaign office and in Donovan’s company. It wasn’t a part that he liked to play but it was his job and he did it well. Donovan’s financial contributions were funding the campaign, and while there were many facets to winning an election, the biggest one was money.

  He moved around to the rear of the hospital until he found what he was looking for: a staff entrance.

  “You two head into the reception area and wait there,” he barked at his chaperones. “Don’t say anything to anyone and keep your heads down. I’ll come get you once I’m in.”

  The two apes looked at him a little quizzically but finally obeyed his instructions.

  There was a staff parking area as well as a delivery bay. The entrance was unsurprisingly guarded by key card lock. He passed his time inconspicuously until a young nurse exited and then he rushed forwards. He considered using his charms on the nurse but decided that she was probably more used to the arrogance of doctors.

  “Hold that!” he ordered and the nurse automatically snapped to attention at the sound of an authoritative voice.

  “Doctor Jenkins here to see Doctor Wyatt; what floor is he on?” he barked brusquely.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to let the general public in through here,” she said in a small voice.

  “Dammit, girl, are you deaf? Me Doctor, you nurse
,” he hammered at her. “Now where’s Doctor Wyatt?”

  The girl looked at him uncomfortably. “I… I don’t know a Doctor Wyatt.”

  “Then what use are you?” Raymond sneered. “Get out of my way. I’ll find him myself.”

  The girl complied with the order and he was in. He slammed the door behind him and heard the young nurse mumble something presumably unpleasant in his direction.

  The corridor was tiled white and stank of the underlying deep cleansing chemicals that haunted every hospital.

  He moved quickly and easily through the lower level. All hospitals were essentially mazes and, as with most, the floor was painted with different coloured lines with a corresponding map on the wall to indicate which led where.

  He found the laundry and snagged a slightly crumpled doctor’s coat from a dirty pile. It was the least stained of the bunch, and after a quick hair tussle, he looked like a suitably under-pressure and overworked young doctor.

  He headed up through the lower level and into the main building. He followed the ‘New Admission Ward’ directions until he found what he was looking for. He knew that Bailey and Burr might already be on their way; they wouldn’t take orders from him for long or sit still.

  The ward was half empty and he brushed past several nurses, male and female, all of who averted their gazes as his white coat offered a cloak of superiority.

  Tafferty was sitting upright in bed, his bright red hair instantly recognisable. The trouble was that he wasn’t alone. The man standing next to his bed and talking intently to him was dishevelled and large. His clothes looked like they’d been slept in and were cheap. He was either a cop or a reporter and neither choice was a good one.

  Raymond busied himself looking over charts from the edges of beds as he moved along the ward towards Tafferty.

  “Any news, Doc?” an old man asked him as he picked up his chart while watching Tafferty from a distance.

  “Any news?” the old man pressed again.

  “Excuse me?” Raymond said, hearing him for the first time.

  “My test results, are they back?”

  “Good news; you’re going to be fine,” Raymond replied, not wanting the man to make a scene if he went the other way.