by Rob Ashman
Monday 21 March was a significant date in the Lucas household calendar. It was the day he finally returned to work. He had been back now for three days. Not that anyone would have known because he had been holed up in his office talking to the FBI suits for the entire duration.
Lucas harboured a dark thought, which he kept securely to himself. Let them bring a new guy in to run the show and I’ll drive a desk in a back office somewhere. It was once the job he loved, but now the role of Police Lieutenant appeared like a giant nettle which he had no intention of grasping.
After everything that had happened, Lucas couldn’t move on. How could he? There was no resolution to what had taken place, just one giant loose end.
One big, fat, ugly loose end.
He was aware that the talking had stopped and the FBI agents were staring at him with a look of expectation that said, ‘It’s your turn to talk now.’
He looked up and didn’t even bother to pretend. ‘Sorry, guys, I wasn’t listening. You need anything else?’
‘It’s been a long few days but I think we have all we need,’ the taller of the two men replied, nodding his head. Lucas still couldn’t remember their names.
You had what you needed two damn months ago, Lucas thought, keeping his mouth shut.
They rose from the circular conference table and shook hands across it. There was a palpable sense of relief that the gentle tones and soft questions had at last come to an end.
‘Thanks guys.’ Even Lucas had to admit his words sounded hollow and disingenuous. He just wanted them both to piss off.
Lucas ushered them to the door, limping without his stick, and showed them out. He flopped down in his chair and shook his head. There was a knock on the door and his mail arrived.
The plain white document-sized envelope with the handwritten address stood out from the rest. Lucas pulled it from the stack and held it in his hand, turning it first this way then the next, as if examining a piece of evidence. It was addressed to him with a date stamp of Monday 21 March and from the postmark he could just about make out Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
It was written in an ornate copperplate script with flurries of expert swirls around his name: Lieutenant Edmund Lucas. He frowned and edged his finger into the corner of the flap, and then slid it along the top, ripping it open.
The envelope felt empty.
He peered inside.
It certainly didn’t contain a letter or a document, but Lucas knew there was something at the bottom. He tipped the envelope sideways to extract whatever was inside.
The first grains of bright white sugar rolled from the confines of the envelope and onto the polished surface of the desk. Lucas was stunned, unable to comprehend what was happening.
He tilted it further. More grains of sugar spilled out and pooled in concentric circles on the table top. The more Lucas tilted the envelope, the more sugar cascaded down, along with what looked like squares of white paper. Lucas upended it and allowed the complete contents to empty onto the desk. He stared at the mess of sugar and paper, holding his breath.
It took a few moments for the cogs to turn and for realization to dawn. Then tears welled up in his eyes and he exploded, slamming his fist into the table.
‘No!’ he yelled at the top of his voice.
As he punched the desk a second time, the door burst open.
‘Are you alright, boss?’
‘No, I am not!’ Lucas spat the words across the office. ‘Get those FBI bastards back here now.’
He was ready to grasp the nettle and spoiling for a fight.
Ten white paper packets, with their tops torn off, lay scattered across his desk among the sugar.
They were perfectly flat.
Mechanic was back.
The End
Now also available, the next two books in the thrilling Mechanic Series.
Book 2 In Your Name
Book 3 Pay The Penance
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Acknowledgments
I want to thank all those who have made this book possible – My family Karen, Gemma, Holly and Maureen for their blunt, painful feedback and endless patience. To my band of loyal proofreaders Yvonne, Lesley, Christine, Penny, Christine, Austin, Nicki, Laura, Jackie, Alex, Anne, Frazer and Simon who didn’t hold back either and finally my talented editor, Helen Fazal, who kept me sane when I needed it and without whom this work would be devoid of punctuation, grammar and syntax.