by Marcus Alden
‘Well Margaret, how about going to hear that pretty music again?’ Mrs. Finkley rubbed her hands together and her eyes lit up. ‘Out we get then, may as well go now we’re here.’ The couple followed in behind Dan and Sarah having left the car where it stalled.
As they pushed the door back the music got much louder. Mr. and Mrs. Finkley shuffled forwards and sat down next to Dan and Sarah, who had snuck into the back row. Mrs. Finkley jittered with excitement as the choir filled the space.
‘Where’s Will?’ Sarah said as she scanned the mass of red gowns at the front.
‘I think that’s him.’ Dan pointed. Sarah attempted a small, inconspicuous wave towards Will. It worked. Will saw her just as the piece finished. He gave a little wave back. The space was silent. To Dan and Sarah’s surprise Will started to sing solo. The organ eased in and soft choral harmonies accompanied him to words of the Welsh lullaby, Suo Gan. Dan and Sarah looked at each other, astounded at the powerful voice that spun its way out of the tiny framed boy. They couldn’t help but smile. Dan reached his hand across to hold Sarah’s; she didn’t resist but squeezed it back. Mrs. Finkley’s eyes went wide as she noticed them hold hands; she nudged her glasses back on her nose. Mrs. Finkley elbowed her husband in the stomach, but he didn’t appreciate what she tried to tell him and continued to face forwards. As the music drew to a close rapturous applause engulfed the audience. Will’s face beamed. Dan and Sarah stood up; Sarah made a wolf whistle which sparked several dour ladies to turn around. At the front, the incredulous music teacher made multiple bows and basked in his momentary glory.
As people filtered out of their rows, Dan and Sarah approached the group of choristers who waited to return to the college.
‘Will!’ Dan shouted over the hum of people. The blonde boy turned around, his face lit up. They walked towards Will as he separated from his group.
‘I knew you’d come back, I saw her here. She was sat there.’ Will pointed to the exact chair where Jennifer had sat. ‘She got up and walked over there. Then I saw a big guy walk over there too. I was busy singing so I couldn’t—’ Will paused. ‘But then I saw her run.’ Will pointed towards the pillars. ‘She ran quickly down the aisle and out the door. The man followed her, but she got away. I mean, I’m sure she did,’ Will said with wide eyes.
‘What’s over there?’ Sarah asked.
‘Nothing really, that’s why as soon as the intermission started I went to see.’ Will produced the two index cards he’d found. ‘Look, I picked up these by the prayer message board. What do you think it means?’ Will wanted an answer before Dan and Sarah had even seen what was written.
‘Jennifer was leaving a message for one of Atmore’s thugs?’ Dan handed the cards to Sarah.
‘But it’s a recipe for tomato soup? That would explain why he ran after her perhaps. Those two don't look like the cooking type to me,’ Sarah said.
‘But what would Jennifer want to trade with them?’ Dan asked. Sarah shook her head.
‘I don’t know. Maybe we’ll never know what she was up to. She certainly wasn’t just working for Maybury,’ Sarah said.
‘Do you think she was a spy? You know, I once thought my dad was a spy,’ Will said as he switched his eyes from Dan to Sarah and then back again. ‘But then I found out he does plastic surgery for famous people.’ Sarah laughed. ‘So, you’ve solved it, you know what that book means, and the painting? You know about your family now?’ Will said in a hurried tone.
‘Yes Will, we do, and I promise we’ll explain it all to you some time, but not today,’ Dan said. Will’s classmates called him over.
‘Oh, you should come to the open day tomorrow. Oh please come, please. Just pretend to be my relatives again.’ Dan looked at Sarah and rolled his eyes; she smiled back.
‘We’ve had a nightmare few days—,’ Dan said.
‘So you’ll come? Then you can tell me all about it.’ The eager boy probed again as he switched from foot to foot.
‘I’m getting a little better at understanding Dan, and I think that means a maybe,’ Sarah said smiling. Will looked pleased.
‘See you tomorrow then.’ Will clomped across the stones and rejoined his group, late again, but happy.
Dan and Sarah made their way back to the Finkleys, who were still sat in their chairs, and accompanied them to the car.
‘Thank you for all your help. It means a lot to me,’ Dan said.
‘That’s alright dear,’ Mrs. Finkley said as she tapped Dan on the back.
‘Let me know if there’s anywhere else I can take you,’ Mr. Finkley said in an expectant tone.
‘We’ll be fine here; you’ve done a lot already.’ They had done a lot, Dan thought, no taxi would have driven like that.
‘You will come to see us again, won’t you dear?’ Mrs. Finkley said. Dan recognised her tone of voice; it was her roundabout way of asking for money.
‘Yes, I will, don’t worry.’
‘Ok, well goodbye then dear,’ Mrs. Finkley said.
‘Goodbye to you both,’ Mr. Finkley added. His wife waved out of the window at Sarah. Sarah gave a little wave back and a smile at the strange, but lovable woman in the front seat. Mrs. Finkley unwrapped a toffee and threw the wrapper into the foot well.
‘Time to go John,’ Mrs. Finkley said as she chewed a toffee.
‘Yes Margaret, time to go.’ The car shuddered back and forth as Mr. Finkley made what was supposed to be a three-point turn into a ten point turn.
‘You don’t find many people like them,’ Dan said as he watched on with amusement as the Finkleys sped away towards the town. But Sarah didn’t hear him. She was distracted by a balloon that was tied to some railings. The pink balloon bobbed about next to the cathedral doors without an owner. Sarah walked over to it. She fetched her wallet and took the photo out of her ex-boyfriend. Sarah unwound the ribbon from the railings and wrapped it around the photo. Dan watched her.
‘I’ll always love you, but it’s time you went home,’ Sarah said. She let go of the balloon and it rose into the air. Sarah moved back to see the balloon soar higher and higher into the sky with the little piece of paper still wrapped up. Sarah smiled and cried as she watched it fly away over the cathedral until it had vanished.
Chapter 22
‘Yes—.’ Hawk answered his mobile as he stood in Maybury’s drive. He opened Maybury’s car boot with his other hand and saw the round holdall stuffed with clothes and cash. His fingers parted the clothes from the thick piles of cash. Pocket money, Hawk thought, would be handy. He threw out the items one by one into the boot leaving a creased pile of the dead man’s belongings. Hawk smiled as he took the holdall of money and shut the boot lid down. ‘I don’t know, he’s been useful. I always planned on splitting, you know, when the job was done, but I wasn’t going to kill him.’ The voice on the phone continued to talk. Hawk started to think Atmore’s assistant was right; eliminating Harrier would be the best option if he wanted to guarantee his own security in the future. If nobody knew of his past life then there would be no weakness in the chain; no-one to spoil his dream of escaping to a private beach with his new riches; no-one to blackmail. ‘I’ll do it, but that’s it; no more. I want a new life, a fresh start away from here,’ Hawk said. ‘I’ll let you know when it’s done.’ Hawk finished the call feeling uneasy; the media was coming down hard on Atmore and any further connection with him was dangerous. ‘It would be a cleaner cut if Harrier wasn’t—,’ he said to himself. Hawk decided to do it, not for Atmore, but for himself. He could dump the body in the woods; it was quiet in the woods. Hawk reached his mobile back out; Harrier answered.
‘Don’t worry about Jennifer now; we don’t need her help. I’ve got something much better. I’m at Maybury’s house. I’ll explain later. Where are you?’ Hawk paused for the answer. ‘Stay there, I’ll come and get you.’
Hawk walked back down the lane and to the rented car parked on the verge. The trees rustled overhead like a warning sign that tried to get his attention;
he ignored them. The car skidded on the damp grass and left muddy tyre tracks. As Hawk accelerated down the lane, he thought for a second why he had done it all. He had given his best years to an international criminal, forfeited a family life, and planned on shooting his only colleague. The answer came to him in an instant.
‘Money,’ the thug said out loud as he glanced over to the holdall shoved in the footwell of the passenger seat. A stack of notes peeked through the zip of the emaciated bag. More money than some earned in years lay on the floor. Soon he would have more money that he had ever possessed, courtesy of Atmore and his instructions. ‘I deserve it. I earned it, and I’ll enjoy spending it. When I’m rich, nobody can say no to me. I’ll be the boss, not Atmore.’
* * * *
Harrier opened the passenger door and clung to the roof of the car as he leant in.
‘What are you doing? Get in,’ Hawk demanded.
‘Where are we going?’ Harrier asked.
‘Hurry up!’ A bus approached in the rearview mirror. Harrier got in the car; his shoes kicked the bag of cash. ‘What’s this?’ He undid the half-closed zip. ‘What the hell?’
‘It’s mine, leave it.’ Hawk didn’t mean to bark back. It was his, but he didn’t need to tell Harrier that.
‘Is it now?’ Harrier looked at him. They drove out of town. Hawk scouted for a location that would suit for both privacy and concealment of the body. Agitated, Harrier rotated his gold ring with his thumb. ‘So, where are we going?’ Harrier asked again. ‘Maybury is dealt with I assume?’ Hawk nodded; his eyes on the lookout for any available spot to turn in and disappear down a wooded lane. He saw one.
‘Ah, we’re here,’ Hawk said.
‘And where is here?’ Harrier asked. The car swept into the narrow single-track road.
The leafy lane was crowded with trees that overhung the verges. The branches matted together at the tops and formed a darkened corridor, like a nave, but in this nave the pillars were made of tree trunks and the vaulted ceiling of leaves. It was well hidden from the main road, Hawk thought. He stopped the car in front of a metal gate that enclosed a wood. The gate was tied to a wonky wooden post with frayed orange twine.
As Hawk switched the engine off he felt a cold metal circle being pressed to his temple.
‘Get out, slowly,’ Harrier said as he held his gun to Hawk’s head. Taken by surprise, Hawk did what Harrier requested and got out of the car. But, as soon as he had stepped out, Hawk slammed the door and ducked down. Harrier fired a shot too late; the bullet smashed through the driver’s window and disappeared into the woodland. Hawk moved around the edge of the car towards the boot and got out his own gun in preparation. Harrier leapt out from the passenger seat and over the gate in anticipation for the inevitable battle that was to commence. Hawk heard the clang of the gate and edged round the side of the car. Harrier fired again towards him, this time it hit the bodywork and pierced a hole in a door panel.
‘You think I’m so stupid, don’t you?’ Harrier yelled out in anger from behind some trees. Hawk didn’t give away his position by replying, but instead, he crept closer banking on the fact Harrier wouldn’t be able to see him crouch round the thick hedge. Hawk gauged from Harrier’s voice that he had not moved far beyond the gate.
‘Atmore’s assistant called me too you know; offered me a million if I killed you. Sure, I said, why not,’ Harrier said.
He offered me two million, Hawk thought. Hawk stood up confident of where Harrier’s voice came from. He fired a shot and ducked back down, it skimmed past Harrier.
‘Don’t you see? Atmore wants us both dead,’ Harrier shouted from behind a stocky tree trunk. His voice was more distant than it had been before, Hawk analysed. He took a risk and undid the orange twine on the gate. The thug crept through into the wooded area and slid behind the nearest tree. Harrier peered round and noticed the wide-open gate swing in the breeze; he panicked. Watching the trees, he looked for Hawk’s position along the edge of the pistol. One tree then another, but there was no movement.
Hawk waited behind the thick tree trunk, still and quiet for the right moment. He shut his eyes so there were no distractions. He filtered out the regular sounds of the wood; Hawk identified Harrier’s position with the rustle of feet. Rotted leaves and flakes of bark shifted twenty feet away. Hawk could tell Harrier peeked out and back again, out and back again.
Hawk emerged from the tree as Harrier stood out to scan the avenue. Harrier saw him and fired his gun in quick succession at the new target; the booming sound sent birds out of the branches into safety. Two of Harrier’s wayward bullets ripped into Hawk’s belly and chest at the same time that Hawk fired a single shot towards Harrier. The lone bullet struck Harrier in the forehead; he fell to the ground.
Harrier was motionless. Blood oozed from the exploded hole in his head and ran down his nose and cheek. Harrier’s eyes were open like that of a doll: frozen with a look of surprise.
Hawk writhed from side to side on the bed of leaves in agony, aware as the hot blood poured out from the punctures in his flesh. His head throbbed with pain. He used what strength he had to lift his hand from the ground and feel his wound. His fingers touched his pierced flesh; he flinched. Hawk lifted his hand to eye level and saw that the tips of his fingers were stained with blood. Hawk tried to stand, but he couldn’t push through the pain. He coughed up a mouthful of blood. Hawk lay on the forest floor as time passed, he stared up helpless to the converging branches. Some birds fluttered back to the branches and warbled. Echoes of an eerie pheasant’s call sounded from deeper in the woodland. Hawk couldn’t tell how long it had been since he had been shot. Time stretched; seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours. Hawk’s vision became blurry and inter-dispersed with blackouts that shook him back into a frightened consciousness.
After another momentary blackout Hawk felt a sudden surge. Hawk jittered and slumped sideways. His breathing stopped, but the blood still poured out.
The thugs’ bodies lay on the muddy, blood-soaked ground. The woodland cathedral shook with the breeze and cast off old leaves in sporadic throws. Some leaves blew down the aisle and drifted over the thugs’ bodies. The figures slept like stone effigies, but, instead of clasped hands, their bodies spread out in contorted positions. A gust of wind carried the blood-spattered leaves away as fresh leaves fell to replace them.
Chapter 23
‘Stop it Dan, I can’t see,’ Sarah said as she walked like she was drunk.
‘That’s the idea of a blindfold; you’re not supposed to see,’ Dan said.
‘I haven’t got time for silly games Dan; I’m doing my dissertation. What have you brought me out here for? You better not knock me into something to teach me a lesson,’ Sarah said.
‘Like what lesson for example?’ Dan asked.
‘Like you should always see beyond what’s in front of you and not just do what others tell you to do. Or something equally metaphorical,’ Sarah said. She walked with her arms out in front of her as she felt for clues.
‘You’re really over thinking this Sarah. You’ve been spending way too much time staring at those academic textbooks. Every time I ring you’re always busy writing this or stressed about that. You’re going to get a first, you’re going to be fine, and yes, your parents will be proud. Stop worrying. This is a just a bit of fun, so relax, ok?’
‘Ok—,’ Sarah said. She knew Dan was right.
‘I keep meaning to ask, how is the Finkleys’ student lodger settling in?’
‘Oh yeah, Beth is doing well and the Finkleys love having someone else in the house. They said it’s like having their daughter back at home again. So it’s worked out well for everyone,’ Sarah said. ‘So, what’s the surprise?’ Sarah asked.
‘And yet again the wise one speaks. Will you just wait? I thought we’d go on a walk,’ Dan said. Sarah rolled her eyes, but the blindfold reduced the intended effect.
‘A walk, if you think I need a—.’ Dan interrupted her.
‘Okay,
we’re nearly here. Step to the right a bit,’ Dan said. Sarah shuffled across and searched the air with her hands again.
‘Are you ready?’ Dan said nervous and excited, unsure of what Sarah’s reaction would be. He had never wanted to share something with someone as much as he did now.
‘Seeing as you’re not giving me any clues, I guess I’m as ready as I can be. Hit me with it, well, unless it’s a baseball bat.’ Dan stood behind Sarah and lifted the blindfold away from her face.
‘Ta-da,’ Dan said. He waited with anticipation, but Sarah’s eyes were screwed up and she kept them shut.
‘I don’t like surprises, what if it’s something horrible?’ Sarah asked. Dan moved round to see her contorted expression.
‘Sarah, don’t be silly. Besides, this isn’t horrible, it’s a good surprise, trust me. Open them on three, two—.’ Sarah opened her eyes and saw a country house with a white painted façade. Rows of symmetrical sash windows spread out from a grand porch in the centre. Trees surrounded the house and a sweeping drive led away into the distance. Dan and Sarah stood next to a parked car underneath a large oak tree.
‘That’s it?’ Sarah questioned. ‘You’ve made me come all this way blindfolded in the damp grass to announce you’ve become a member of the National Trust? Whoa, good for you, but you know Dan, I did have plans. I’m struggling to keep on top of my studies, and I had that sickness bug, and Gemma at work is—.’ Dan started to laugh. ‘And all you do is mock me? I really don’t have time for sipping tea with old ladies and admiring musty antique furniture. So, if it’s alright with you, I’m going to go,’ Sarah said. She started to walk away.
‘Are you really that dense? It’s mine,’ Dan said. He looked at Sarah in disbelief.