Unexploded Love

by Paul Gait

  ‘Oh that’s interesting. I’ve got trouble with my drains,’ she said innocently.

  ‘Have you seen your doctor about it?’ he joked.

  ‘You know what I mean. You fool. I got home yesterday and it had flooded the front of my flat and leaked in.’

  ‘Much damage?’

  ‘Yes I spent all afternoon and evening drying it off. I think my carpets ruined.’

  ‘Insurance job then?’

  No, it’s happened before and they won’t insure me. It’s a basement flat.’

  ‘Oh dear. I could come and have a look at your drains if you want me to,’ he offered.

  For a moment she was flummoxed. ‘I…I’m…’ She was now getting in too deep. She would have to give him her address. Flirting in the bar was OK but…

  ‘Well think about it. The offer is there if you want me to try and sort it out for you.’

  ‘That’s very kind, thanks.’

  ‘ ‘We knew that the heavy rain would make the ground very sodden. When it’s like that it’s impossible to operate the JCB safely,’ he added.

  ‘You mean, that’s why you were skiving.’ She jested.

  ‘No, I wasn’t. It’s because the groundwater doesn’t drain very well.’ He became serious. ‘There are some boggy bits on the site and the rain would have made it impossible to work. As it is, it’s still pretty marshy there today.

  ‘Oh dear. Well you’ll be gutted to know that you missed out on the free beer,’ she teased.

  ‘Free beer? That’s a bummer. Can I have mine today then?

  ‘No. Sorry. The special offer lasted only one day to attract the crowds in because of the rain.’

  ‘Drat. But I can’t imagine the Landlord giving anything away.’

  ‘No, you’re right he didn’t. So what’s it to be today?’

  ‘Oh you tease,’ he said sitting on the barstool opposite. ‘With suggestive questions like that you set my imagination running wild.’

  ‘If you can keep your mind off sex for a minute,’ she insisted.

  ‘Me talk about sex? You do me a disservice,’ he pleaded with false innocence.

  ‘So, what’s it to be?’

  ‘Ein bier bitte.’

  ‘Oh get you. Is there no end to your talents? ‘So you can talk German as well as English and bullshit.’

  ‘Elizabeth, that’s not the sort of language I expect to hear from a refined lady such as yourself,’ he blurted in mock horror.

  ‘It’s obviously rubbing off from you,’ she reposted.

  ‘Oh that’s hurtful,’ he said, with feigned distress. ‘Actually it’s no big deal for me speaking German. My family comes from Germany.’

  ‘Oh proper European then!’ she stated, moving towards the beer pump. ‘Pint of real ale then?’

  ‘Yes please.’

  Frank watched closely as Liz pulled his pint, admiring the fine down on her sun bronzed arm which caught the light. Her small hands grasping the beer engine handle made him feel weak inside. He studied her face. Total concentration as she filled the beer mug, the tip of her tongue flicking sensuously over her lips.

  ‘You have an exquisite technique pulling that beer pump,’ he said huskily. ‘You know what it reminds me of?’ he added, seductively.

  ‘Food?’ She demanded ignoring the innuendo.

  ‘Another of those delicious BLT’s will do me nicely thanks.’

  Frank fished a crumpled ten pound note from his back pocket and offered it to Liz in outstretched fingers. She took it slowly and was pleased to have her small hand sandwiched between his large hard hands.

  ‘Got you,’ he said smiling.

  ‘You’ll have to let me go otherwise I can’t give you any change,’ she replied, without trying to pull away, a slight quiver in her voice.

  ‘Holding your hand is change enough,’ he beamed. Reluctantly he let go. Liz went to the til and rang up his order. She could feel his eyes on her as she fished around the coin drawer for his change and felt excited by his attention.

  ‘Right Sir, your food order will be with you shortly,’ she said returning to him. She dropped the coins into his open palm and as she did so, he enfolded both his hands around hers again. She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach but slowly pulled her hand away from the brief ‘embrace’. All the while he had been studying the reaction on her face.

  He cleared his throat, ‘I didn’t realise you were a runner,’ he said, picking up his pint glass. ‘No wonder you’re in good shape.’

  ‘Thank you kind Sir,’ she blushed. ‘I’ve been running for a few years now.’

  ‘Is that so nobody can catch you and chat you up?’ he probed.

  ‘In any case, I’m…’ she stopped in mid-sentence for she was struck by a crazy notion. For the first time in her married life she wanted to hide the fact that she had a husband. Hoping that he hadn’t already spotted her wedding ring, she excused herself by saying, ‘I’m just going to check on your food order.’

  ‘Ok,’ he said, watching her closely as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Instead of staying in the kitchen she went to the staff toilet, licked the flesh of her ring finger to make it slippery and started tugging at the small gold band.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she chided herself, stopping and gazing at her reddened finger. ‘Look at you. Throwing yourself at a bloke almost half your age?’

  She thought about the differences between William and Frank’s personalities. They were poles apart.

  Frank exuded a ‘joie de vie’, had energy, and a happy go lucky nature. His cheerful chat up lines made her laugh. When he was talking to her he was totally focussed on her. She was flattered by it. She didn’t have to fight anyone else for his attention. Like a giddy school girl, he made her feel important.

  Whereas William was a controlled and staid individual. Although their personalities worked well together, in reality the relationship had become dull, predictable, even boring. Almost like brother and sister. The excitement had gone out of their marriage

  She had to admit that he hadn’t always been like that. He’d been a fun guy when she first met him. But his job had changed him to a serious, emotionally flat person.

  She thought about the lack of their togetherness. In the early days separation through his various postings didn’t seem to matter. But now, somehow it did. She wanted to be fussed over, to be complemented, to be loved, to be touched, stroked, and hugged. Disappointingly, William’s ‘reserved’ romance failed to excite her anymore.

  She tried to rationalise it. Ok, William was doing a vital job for Queen and country in fifty degree heat in a hostile country. Were he was forever looking over his shoulder dodging bombs and bullets. Frank, on the other hand, was digging holes in an air conditioned JCB with no threats or danger. But even so…

  But with Frank she was experiencing something different, this other man’s attention excited her.

  She was working herself into a frenzy of dissatisfaction. To add to her discontent she didn’t even have a ‘decent’ house to live in. They had rented out their own fully furnished house. On the rare occasions William came home from a tour he stayed with her in the flat and frustratingly got under her feet. He was constantly messing up her well-ordered meticulously planned daily routine.

  She shook her head to clear her mind of her marital negativity. However, she gave the ring one last tug and this time it came off. She quickly put it into her pocket and made her way back to the kitchen where Frank’s food was waiting.

  She picked up the plate and took it to him in the bar.

  ‘I thought you’d deserted me,’ he said, looking into her eyes, trying to read her thoughts.

  ‘Sorry about the wait,’ she said, fishing out the cutlery from under the bar and presenting it to him. ‘Sauces? Don’t tell me. Tomato wasn’t it?’

  ‘You’re getting to know what I like. Well some of what I like anyway,’ he added seductively, throwing her a beaming smile. He picked up the BLT in his th
ick chipolata sized fingers and demolished a large portion in one enormous bite.

  ‘You running again this afternoon?’ he asked, spraying crumbs.

  ‘Yes. I normally do alternate days. Keeps me fit,’ she announced putting her hand on her flat stomach.

  ‘So I can see,’ he added, following her hand with lustful eyes. ‘Well fit,’ he whispered, smirking.

  ‘You obviously keep fit too. Is that in the gym?’

  ‘Bit of gym. Bit of circuit training. I’m playing in a big rugby game in a few days. You can come and watch me perform if you like. On the pitch of course,’ he added suggestively.

  ‘Of course, where else? No I’m sorry but I’m busy at weekends painting scenery for our next show.’

  ‘You can paint me in my rugby gear if you like. I do modelling.’

  ‘I paint with a nine inch roller,’ she explained.

  ‘Well that will cover one part of me at least,’ he added cheekily.

  Liz blushed at the innuendo, ‘Oh hark at you big boy,’ she laughed, trying to play down his boast.

  ‘I’m nothing but honest,’ he said, washing down the BLT with the last drop of his pint.

  ‘Anyway, as much as I’d like to stay with you all afternoon and as you aren’t going to invite me back to your boudoir, I shall have to get back to digging holes.’

  ‘Umm, I’ve been thinking about your offer.’

  ‘Offer?’ Frank looked puzzled.

  ‘To help sort my drains out.’

  ‘Yes and?’

  ‘Yes if you wouldn’t mind. That would be very kind of you,’ she said, hoping she’d made a sensible decision.

  ‘Brill. We’ll make the arrangements tomorrow then,’ he said a big grin spreading across his face.

  ‘Ok, So we’ll see you tomorrow then?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Try and stop me.’

  Frank paused at the door to pick up his boots, turned and blew her a kiss. ‘Guten tag Schatz,’ he said and left.

  Liz tried to remember her schoolgirl German, but failed to recall that he had called her ‘sweetheart.’

  ‘Missing you already,’ she whispered and the gloom descended again on her spirits.

  CHAPTER 8

  Afghanistan

  Ahead of him the soldier was walking slowly, sweeping the vallon methodically across their route on the faint path in the sand, moving with metronomic precision, left to right, right to left, left to right.

  Occasionally, a faint beep emanated from the mine detector and the team immediately stopped and took up defensive positions where they stood in single file, ten metres apart.

  Vigilance increased to spot any sudden movements in the surrounding areas. Was it an ambush? Heart rates increased. Adrenaline flowed and apprehension lined their faces as the suspicious contact was meticulously revisited. The detectorist hovered the head of the vallon fractionally above the hot desert floor. Satisfied after a further examination that it was nothing to worry about, he moved on again leading the others…left to right, right to left, left to right.

  William was sweating profusely as he followed behind his lead man. The weight of his bulky 150 pound armoured bomb suit gave him a strange gait as he waddled behind the mine detectorist.

  The small group approached the suspected bomb. It was a fifty gallon oil drum placed outside a school.

  While William and the detectorist went forward to examine the suspected bomb, the team took up defensive positions.

  After carefully checking around the oil drum for any wires or trip switches the soldier with the metal detector withdrew. This time, the metronomic sweeping was slightly faster.

  William was now by himself. It was all down to him alone. The world receded.

  He looked into the top of the open oil drum and carefully moved a sack that covered the contents. As he moved it aside he could see a circuit board and a small collection of multi-coloured wires taped together with black insulating tape.

  ‘Smithy,’ he called to his deputy over his radio.

  ‘Roger. Receiving you Boss.’

  ‘I confirm it is a bomb. Tell the guys we’re going to be here for a while.’

  ‘Roger boss.’

  William examined the oil drum and estimated that it contained about 10 pounds of plastic explosives. If it detonated this would set off a sympathetic explosion with the shells and grenades beneath it creating a deadly shower of hot shrapnel. He would be vaporised.

  He had already made the decision not to use the robot to explode the device because of the collateral damage it would cause to the local school building nearby. Although it had been evacuated, the building was a precious commodity for the small community.

  He knew that documenting the construction of the device was just as important as defusing and retrieving it to provide forensic evidence. The evidence would be used by his colleagues to disarm similar devices. But it was important for his own kudos, to tackle the intellectual challenge that the bomb maker had set him. For him, defusing the bomb was like doing the Times crossword. Difficult but satisfying.

  In any case, he had a sneaking admiration for the bomb maker too. The stakes were high. One wrong move would have fatal consequences in spite of wearing the heavy protective bomb suit.

  His helmet camera had already transmitted their long walk to the site of the bomb and now, by switching on his chest camera, it would record all his movements and actions whilst he gave a running commentary defusing the IED.

  Immediately after, he would review all the footage and commentary when he wrote up his report … if successful. Otherwise someone else could see what had gone wrong and ensure no-one else experienced the same outcome.

  He knew from failed attempts by some of his colleagues that the new bomb maker was using a booby trap wiring configuration. Consequently, if the wrong wire was cut, the device would explode.

  This was his challenge as he knelt down and studied the wiring loom. First he decided to cut the tape holding the wires together so that he could trace each one. He removed one of his thick protective gloves to enable him to manipulate a scalpel to achieve the task. Slowly he went about his job. Nothing was rushed. He took his time, calmly slicing through the tape, making sure he didn’t cut into the thin plastic insulation of the wires.

  He possessed infinite patience, something which he knew irritated Liz.

  Satisfied he’d removed the necessary tape, he gently prised open the wires and studied the resulting ‘bird’s nest’.

  Fortunately for him the wiring block had been disturbed when the oil drum had been positioned, exposing a series of looping wires.

  Methodically he traced the wires and drew a circuit diagram in his head, repeating his vision to Smithy, who was drawing it on paper as he relayed what he was seeing.

  Not until he had painstakingly traced all the wiring did he stop and discuss his thoughts with him. As he did so Smithy advised him that one of his colleagues was currently on a similar job and wanted to speak to him on the air.

  ‘Yes that’s OK. We’re encrypted anyway. Put him on.’

  After a few seconds of clicks and bangs he heard the distorted voice of his mentor Pete.

  ‘Hi William, [static] how [static] doing?’

  ‘Pete…Pete can you hear me OK. Signal keeps coming and going here.’

  ‘Yes, I [static] hear you OK.’

  ‘This is a bit unusual. To what do I owe the honour of the call?’

  ‘Sounds like you [static] me are dealing with the same [static]. Mine’s outside an A & E department so [static] reluctant to get the robot to blast it. How far are you into [static] job?’

  ‘Sorry Pete, your signal is very poor.’

  ‘[static] your signal is breaking up here too.’

  ‘Well I’ve got a good idea of the circuitry. OK so far?

  ‘Yes, [static] ahead.’

  ‘This guy is good. He’s even thrown in a few redundant components to mislead me.’ Ok so far?’

  ‘Did [static] say component
s?’

  ‘Redundant. I say again redundant components.’

  ‘Yes [static] redundant. Roger. Go ahead.’

  ‘He’s used the same coloured wiring twisted together to make tracing them difficult. OK so far?’

  ‘Colour [static] twisted’

  ‘Yes, However, I think the booby trap fire wire is the violet one.’

  ‘No [static] say [static].’

  ‘Sorry Pete, lost you altogether then. I repeat the colour wire is Violet. I spell. Victor, Indigo, Oscar, Lima, Echo, Tango. Roger?’

  [Static]

  ‘Pete you receiving over?’

  [Static]

  Smithy’s voice came on. ‘Sorry boss, we appear to have lost him. He’s operating from an area where there’s a lot of radio interference. To add to our problems we have a large group of spectators collecting out here. The boys are feeling a bit threatened. How much longer do you think you’ll be?’

  ‘Not long I don’t think. It looks like our friendly bomb maker has used a sleeve at both ends to mark the important wire.’

  ‘What about disconnecting the battery?’ Smithy suggested.

  ‘No. I reckon if I cut the supply off to the relay, releasing it will trigger the detonator.’

  [Static] You receiving [static] William? Over.’

  Ah, you’re back. ‘Did you hear what I said Pete?’

  ‘Yes. [static] Just about. OK. I see where you’re coming from. Let me [static] check of this one.’

  The communications link went silent for a few minutes and then Pete’s voice came through the static.

  ‘Yes it sounds [static] it’s one and the same. So you reckon the [static] wire?’

  ‘Go again with the colour wire.’ William demanded ‘I wouldn’t want you cutting the wrong one. I’d never hear the last of it.’

  ‘Too true, I’d [static] back [static] haunt you,’ the other joked. ‘Wire is Violet. Roger?’

  ‘Yes, that’s a roger,’ William confirmed. ‘Look out for the sleeved wire. Did you get that Pete? Over.’

  ‘No I think we’ve lost him again.’ Smithy informed him. The static in his earpiece disappeared as the comms link with Pete was cut. ‘Boss the natives are getting restless.’