by Park, J. R.
‘Detective Norton, what are you doing here? We must stop meeting like this!’ It was Royal, the agent from MI5.
He entered the room and looked down at the body, a small grimace of disgust gripped his features.
‘Oh dear,’ Royal said, ‘what a mess.’
‘You knew about this!’ Norton shouted at Royal. ‘This whole mess is down to a piece of Government property.’
‘Have you been talking to Orchid?’ asked Royal. ‘From the state of your bruised face it certainly looks like you two have been playing. I was informed you had her in a holding cell, and she informed us where to find you.’
‘You can’t cover this up Royal,’ Norton protested, ‘people need to know.’
‘Do they?’ asked Royal rhetorically. ‘I don’t think they do. There are a lot of things that people don’t need to know.’
He stepped over George’s body and picked up a chair from the floor. Righting it he took a seat, crossing his right foot over his left thigh, and relaxed into the back rest until it creaked.
‘Why don’t I tell you a little story about Jake?’ Royal began. ‘Jake gets up in the morning; he puts his clothes on in a rush and makes his way to his boring office job. On his way there he complains to himself about how boring his life is and he gets angry that the supermarket has run out of chocolate brioche again. Every morning he stops by to purchase chocolate brioche and every few days they have run out before he gets there. He is annoyed and continues his walk to work wondering why the supermarket can’t get its ordering right to meet demand and where is he going to get his sweet fix from that morning. These things concern Jake, but these concerns are a luxury; a luxury brought about by living in a safe and protected country.’ Royal’s voice was eerily calm and collected as he spoke, ‘We do a lot of things to afford Jake the ability to have a boring life, to have the luxury of getting angry about the stock levels of chocolate brioche in the mornings. And a lot of those things Jake doesn’t need to know.’ Royal remained seated, but narrowed his eyes and stared directly into Norton’s, ‘Give me that flash drive, Norton.’
‘Not a chance,’ came his reply.
Royal stood up and the two squared off to each other.
‘Then I’ll take it by force,’ threatened Royal.
‘We’ll see about that,’ challenged Norton.
Royal came at him with the skill and speed of a trained service man. A roundhouse kick to Norton’s side proved he had good fighting technique and power to match. The kick connected heavily and Norton winced in pain. The bruised detective had been in a lot of fights over the last few days and he began to feel the tenderness of his injuries as Royal followed his kick with a powerful fist and punched him on his already damaged cheek. He stumbled to his knees and the pain reminded Norton he was getting too old for these kind of confrontations. Deep inside he just wanted to stay down. He knew getting up to fight would result in more punches and kicks being received but he knew he had to. Seeing another fist coming towards him Norton held his arm up and blocked the blow. Another tried to connect but again the detective deflected the attack, making Royal hit the wall. The MI5 agent’s pain was clearly visible as his knuckles buried into the plaster. Norton took this cue to hit Royal hard on the cheek. The retaliation felt good as Royal fell to the floor, hitting his head and losing consciousness.
Norton checked Royal was still breathing then put the unconscious man’s hands behind his back, locking his wrists together with a pair of handcuffs.
That should hold him for a while when he wakes up.
A quick search of the agent’s pockets uncovered a set of car keys which Norton took with him.
He was glad of taking the keys. As he suspected he went back to his car to discover the tyres had been slashed, no doubt by Royal to make sure he couldn’t get anywhere easily. Norton took the keys he had stolen and pressed the unlock button. Across the street a black BMW 5 series made a beeping noise and its lights flashed.
Bingo!
He ran across the road and jumped in the car. The key fitted perfectly into the ignition and started first time. The car roared as, excitedly, he revved the engine and drove off.
With the Death’s Head program in his pocket he knew he had the prize, but now what to do with it? Where to go? The city glided past the tinted windows as he made his way across its busy centre. His mind began to wander, thinking about his next course of action, so much so that he completely missed a set of traffic lights that were changing in front of him. He zipped through as they turned red, narrowly avoiding a car coming alongside his left on the crossroads. The other car honked its horn as it swerved wildly to miss him. Behind him Norton heard more horns beep and looked back to see two more black BMWs dodge the traffic to make the same dangerous journey he had just done.
They couldn’t have just done the same as him? They would have been further away from the lights with plenty of time to stop. And they are both the same make of car!
Suspicions flew through his mind that he was being followed. The confirmation came when a shot was fired from one of the cars, hitting the side of Norton’s vehicle.
Royal hadn’t been alone.
As the chase began Norton knew he had the advantage. He’d worked in this city all his life and knew every road, every nook and cranny. Turning sharply he sped down a small alleyway with only inches to spare either side of the car. The other two followed him, but with the walls being so close they had no room to aim their guns out of the window. The cars bounced off the walls as they sped down the narrow alleyway, accompanied by a sound of scraping metal. Despite the minor bodywork damage they all made it through and emerged in the middle of St Paul’s market. Glancing at his watch Norton knew the market would be packing up at this time. The crowds would be sparse but there would still be empty stalls, crates and vans in the middle of the road as the traders prepared to end their day of business and head home. Norton dodged between the obstacles but did not brake or slow up. The cars followed but the second car turned too late round some crates. The car arced out in a larger turning circle and smashed into the side of a parked van.
Norton caught the crash in his rear view mirror and couldn’t help but raise a smile. That car wasn’t going anywhere. One down, one to go.
They cleared the market and joined up with the motorway that ran through the city. He didn’t want to put lives at danger but he had to shake his pursuer. He weaved in and out of lanes, past lorries and hoped that he could get enough traffic between himself and the MI5 agent that he might hide in the busy flow. This was not to be as the chasing agent stuck to him like glue. Every time Norton boldly cut lanes through a gap between an HGV and another vehicle the MI5 agent would do the same. In fact he was so intent on following Norton he was close to running people off the road.
Fearing more innocent people would be hurt Norton took a blocked exit onto the building site of a new road. It was late and most of the workers would have gone home by now. There would certainly be fewer cars to worry about. He crashed through the No Entry sign and sped forward. This new road was part of a bridge construction. It hadn’t been completed or connected yet and Norton knew he was driving toward a man-made cliff face. Further along the road ascended as it went over the river, but it stopped halfway; the connecting piece was separated by a gap of 50 metres. He looked back to see the other car still hot on his tail as they sped past signs warning them of the bridges unfinished nature and the danger that lay ahead.
Could he make the jump? He wondered to himself as he held the accelerator firmly to the floor with his foot. The speedometer continued to increase 90 – 100 –110 – 120 mph. His pursuer had seen the bridge was out and understood what Norton’s escape plan was. Like his target he too had his foot clamped to the accelerator and managed to catch Norton up. The two now drove side by side like they were competing in a drag race. The huge drop in the road grew closer and closer and as it did the gap seemed to grow wider and wider. It was going to take all their speed to make that jump.
>
Suddenly Norton turned the wheel hard and slammed on the brakes. His car turned 180 degrees and skidded to a stop; his back wheels inches from the edge.
He looked through the rearview mirror to see the MI5 agent drive off the road and plummet into the river below.
There was no way anybody could make that jump, he thought to himself. Damn fool had watched too many James Bond movies.
Norton caught his breath as he sat in the motionless car and tried to figure out what to do next when he heard a familiar voice from the back seat.
‘Hello stranger. That was a wild ride.’
The silky tones of that voice were last heard confessing all she knew whilst tied to a chair in an abandoned factory. It was Orchid. Her hands were held behind her back where Royal had cuffed her for transportation. She had been laid down on the back seat all this time!
Orchid sat upright and smiled at his reflection in the rearview mirror.
‘I hope you have what I’m looking for,’ she said.
It had been a long day but there was still work to be done. He had secured the flash drive with the Death’s Head program and avoided capture from Royal and his men but it would not be long before they looked for him again. Unsure of his next move the one thing he knew for certain was that going back to his home was a bad idea. That would be the first place they would look. Mel had died just over three weeks ago and her family were still sorting out her belongings. Until that had been finalised it had been agreed that Norton would look after her house. Maybe it was just instinctive for him to come to this house whenever he needed help or comfort, but whatever the reason this was his hideout for the night. The added advantage was that Mel’s house had a covered garage, a good place to hide the battered BMW.
‘They’ll have a tracking device on the car you know?’ Orchid informed him. She was no longer in the police uniform that had previously been her disguise, but was dressed in prison overalls. They hung loosely from her toned physique. Her hands were still cuffed as she sat on a stool in the kitchen. The kitchen was large with a rustic design; its wooden shelves were full of crockery and tinned food. A fruit bowl sat proudly on the oak table, but it stood empty. The kitchen was clean but a layer of dust and dirt hung in the air and coated every surface. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks and the musty smell of inactivity seeped from the surroundings.
Orchid faced the backdoor; it was open and led to the garage. The garage was large enough to hold a car and works bench. Tools littered the bench and hung from the cold, cobwebbed walls of grey stone. Norton was in the garage scratching his head as he looked over the car.
‘Where is it?’ he asked.
‘Uncuff me and I’ll show you,’ she said dryly knowing the response she was going to get before it came.
‘I don’t think so, you’re far too dangerous for that.’
‘Fine,’ she huffed, ‘go underneath the car. Check on the back left, near the axle.’
‘Got it,’ she heard him say, his voice becoming muffled as he climbed under the car.
‘You have to be careful about removing-’ her instruction was halted by the sound of a destructive bang. Orchid shuddered as she heard the sound and shook her head disapprovingly.
Norton entered the kitchen holding a hammer in one hand and a dented tracking device in the other.
‘I’ve got it,’ he said proudly. ‘What did you say?’
‘Never mind,’ she replied rolling her eyes as she did so, ‘now what are you going to do with it?’
Norton had already thought of that and took a piece of paper from the kitchen table. With quiet concentration he folded it with the skill of some practiced measure until he had constructed a paper boat and stuck the device to its base. Taking it outside he placed it on the river that flowed past the bottom of Mel’s garden. He held it steady for a few moments to get the balance then let it go, watching it float off at speed down the river.
‘I was going to suggest using a scrambler,’ said Orchid when he returned back to the house.
‘Sometimes the simple ways are the best,’ he retorted.
‘You call origami simple?’ Orchid turned her attention back to the room and looked around. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘This is my girlfriend’s house. Or at least was. She died. Recently,’ his face saddened.
Orchid either didn’t pick up on his change of mood or didn’t care, either way she seemed to completely ignore it.
‘I need to get out of this,’ she looked down at her overalls. ‘Can I borrow some clothes from here?’
‘No!’ Norton snapped.
‘Sheeesh you are grumpy,’ she said and turned away to look out the window into the garden.
Norton turned his back on her and stormed out of the kitchen. He stomped back to the garage, sitting down by the battered table strewn with tools. He put his hand in his coat pocket and pulled out the flash drive. Eyeing it with curiosity he traced the scuffed edges of the writing.
What was he going to do with it? He thought about his many options. He should send them all down, leak it to the press and create a worldwide scandal. But the longer it was still around the more chance it had to fall into the wrong hands. If anyone in authority got hold of it then it would end up back with MI5. Give it to a journalist and they wouldn’t be able to protect it against the likes of Orchid. He slowly began to wind round the handle of a vice that was bolted to the table, opening its metal jaws as he did so. How could something so small cause so much trouble? But the destruction it had caused; the deaths he had seen! It had to be destroyed; there was no way he could let it continue to exist.
He placed the flash drive into the jaws and began twisting the handle round and round. The turning action began to stiffen as the vice started to squeeze the piece of hardware. As he continued to close it the plastic casing split and squeaked before letting out a satisfying crunch as it cracked. The joy on hearing that sound did not make him stop in his work as he continued to crush the device. Round and round he continued to spin the handle. Closer and closer the jaws came together until they almost met. It had to be completely destroyed, until there was nothing left than dust. He stood to the side to get more leverage; propping one foot against the wall and, using all his strength, he pulled the vice as tight as it would go.
‘There!’ he said with an air of accomplishment.
‘No!’ Orchid screamed.
He turned round to see her stood in the garage, hands still cuffed behind her back but with a face twisted in anger.
‘You stupid bastard!’ she screamed as she kicked him in the chest and knocked him to the floor. ‘You fucking stupid bastard! Fucking! Stupid!’
Orchid’s verbal abuse was punctuated each time with a heavy boot to Norton’s body. She continued to kick him whilst he laid, defenceless on the ground. He coughed blood as her foot buried into his stomach but unlike all the other times they had engaged in combat, this time he didn’t fight back. Norton had achieved his aim and destroyed the threat of the Death’s Head program, what was left here for him now? His career and reputation would be in ruins for going against MI5 and his only love had been brutally murdered. Every blow hurt, but he smiled with each impact hoping it could be the last bit of pain he would ever feel.
Orchid stopped her assault and put her foot on his chin, forcing his head back and exposing his neck. He closed his eyes, awaiting the end.
‘Please,’ he groaned, ‘kill me.’
‘I should kill you,’ she said with disdain, ‘but your miserable life seems punishment enough.’
He waited for the final blow. The final surge of pain as Orchid stamped on his windpipe and suffocated him.
But it did not come.
When Norton opened his eyes she was gone.
The soft, familiar feel to the sheets of Mel’s bed hugged Norton with the reassurance of a lover. The morning sun was shining through the curtains giving the bedroom a comforting orange glow. He rolled over in a half waking slumber and felt the w
armth of where Mel had been sleeping. Burying his head in the sheets he inhaled deeply allowing himself to absorb the beautiful, sweet scent of his girlfriend.
She’s probably been up for hours, doing bits round the house, he thought.
The gentle clink of cutlery and china confirmed that she was making a cup of tea. It must be Saturday, he thought, she could never sleep in.
There’ll be faint kisses on the lips next, he smiled; a nudge and then something like ‘Come on lazy bones it’s time to get up!’ Then she’ll probably rub my shoulders before resorting to my weak spot and tickle my feet.
He grinned to himself as he remembered the last time that happened. She’d taken hold of his ankle and wiggled her fingers over the sole of his foot. He had roared with laughter and gently kicked his feet before grabbing her wrists. They’d wrestled on the bed and giggled; Mel had squealed with amusement as Norton managed to flip her on her back and pin her to the bed. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled before leaning closer. Their lips met, soft, fleshy and moist; the feeling of her lips on his sent a pulse of pleasure through his body. He felt the blood pump faster under his skin and a stirring in his groin as his penis began to swell. Her fingers gripped his erect cock as she slowly began to massage the shaft backwards and forwards, causing it to grow even larger in her palm. Mel bit her lip in anticipation of what was to come.
Norton’s mobile began to ring and vibrated violently, pulling him from his half sleep.
He looked around and found he was in Mel’s bed, but the room looked different. The cold, long shadows in the bedroom haunted a place that had been untouched for weeks. Certainly not touched by the hand of a house-proud owner, not by the hand of Mel. He reached across to Mel’s side of the bed, it felt cold and empty. Around the room the long shadows held secrets; in the darkness there lingered the memories of love and smiles. Laughter, sex and happiness.