Dead Edge

by Jack Ford

  Cooper put one foot on Rosedale’s hands, and leant his knee against the big cowboy’s shoulder.

  ‘Push me up,’ Cooper said.

  With incredible strength, Rosedale raised his cupped hands slowly up, lifting Cooper higher and enabling him to use his elbows to wriggle his body onto the top of the flat roof.

  ‘Pass me that piece of mirror.’

  Rosedale quickly stretched and passed it up to Cooper who took it and hurriedly wiped off the blood. Looking out to the ocean, he glanced around. Then stared into the distance. Focusing on the West horizon.

  Standing Westwards, Cooper grimaced with pain as he held the mirror with one hand and picked up the rays of sun on it, working out the angle of the reflection. Stretching out his arm he made a V shape with his torn fingers, making sure the light bouncing off the mirror pointed at the center of the V in the direction he was facing.

  Satisfied at the angle of the sun on the blood stained piece of mirror, Cooper, with an uneasy sigh began to send out a distress signal.

  Flashed three dots.

  Tilting the mirror quickly in and out of the sun.

  Flashed three dashes.

  Letting the mirror stay and reflect the rays for longer to generate a lengthier burst of light

  Flashed three dots again. Hoping the rays of sun would project off the mirror and cross the miles of ocean to be seen by a passing boat.

  Minutes passed by and the sun still beat down with cruel intensity as Cooper continued to send out the international Morse code distress signal. He felt weak. Battling to focus as the pain in his fingers crushed him, and waves of nausea came and went.

  And then in the distance, he saw what he was beginning to fear he would never see. A boat. A helicopter… Help.

  He called down to Rosedale and Maddie as he stood in a pool of his own blood. Relief cracking his voice. ‘They’re coming. Someone’s coming.’

  HATAY PROVINCE, TURKEY

  41

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  It felt like an hour. It’d been eight by the time they’d been taken back to shore by a NATO helicopter. The boy with no name had been flown to a Cypriot hospital and although no-one had said it, Cooper knew it was very unlikely he was going to pull through. The initial diagnosis had been heat exposure along with dehydration, and the coma he was in, it looked like he was staying in.

  With his hands bandaged, Cooper clumsily tried to smoke his cigarette as he leant against a tree in the dark of night directly opposite a small bar.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Something he was good at. Like a wolf watching his prey.

  Maddie and Rosedale had driven directly to the airport, full of shock and without answers as to who the boy was. Full of anger at how events had quickly turned into a tragedy.

  And he was shocked.

  And he was angry.

  But the difference was, he wasn’t going anywhere. The difference was, he was going to get answers. One way or another.

  Maddie had been pissed with him that he’d decided to stay. Worried and anxious. Although he’d tried to assure her there was nothing to be worried and anxious about… Well, not for him anyway. And Rosedale had just stared. Shaking his head at him. Mouth tight with disapproval. Saying more than a thousand words could ever say.

  An hour later. Still standing. Still watching, Cooper finally saw what he’d been waiting for.

  The hunter was about to get his prey.

  Throwing his cigarette down and grinding it hard into the soft ground, Cooper pulled up his blue jean jacket collar. Strode with purpose towards the bar.

  Inside the air was thick with smoke and the smell of alcohol mixed with the sizzling meats on the grill mangal cooking over a charcoal fire. And the chattering voices rose up, serenading the night.

  Cooper glanced round. Feeling his jaw tighten. Feeling the anger burn into his soul.

  He headed for the far corner where a group of old men sat chatting. He stopped. Smiled. Then without warning slammed his foot against the legs of one of the wooden stools sending the man who was sitting on it sprawling across the wooden floor. The group of old men shouted at him in Turkish.

  Ignoring them, Cooper grabbed the guy by his coat, using the shooting pain running through his hands and down through his fingers as the driving force to spur himself on.

  Picked up the man. Threw him hard against the wall, sending one bottle of wine and six glasses and two tables and four chairs skidding across the floor.

  ‘Remember me? Remember me?’

  The man, wide-eyed with terror, nodded as Cooper pressed down with his boot against the man’s chest. He pulled him back up, to the sound of the guy’s leather coat tearing. With his broken English and his hands up in surrender, the fisherman stammered.

  ‘Please… please, you no understand.’

  Through clenched teeth, Cooper snarled. ‘I don’t understand? What don’t I understand, sir? That you drove off and left us on the ship in the middle of the sea? That you stole all our bags and belongings? Is that what I don’t understand?’

  ‘Sorry… I… please. No hurt.’

  With the blood coming through the bandages on his hand, Cooper shook the man hard. Flipping back his head. Flipping it forward.

  ‘No hurt? Really? Is that what you think, no hurt? Well let me tell you something, captain, it’s too late for no hurt.’

  Proving his point. He slammed his forearm across the captain’s mouth. Burst his bottom lip in two.

  ‘You see I’m holding you responsible for the boy that was on the ship.’

  Confusion creased the captain’s forehead as blood trickled down from his lips. ‘Boy? Please. What boy?’

  ‘You see it doesn’t matter what boy. Not anymore. That’s another thing that’s too late. He’s probably not going to live, because of you. You see if you hadn’t left us and taken our bags we might have been able to save him. But because you did, he’s in hospital and it doesn’t look like he’s coming out. So the question is, captain, what am I going to do with you?’

  ‘Please.’

  Cooper threw the man against the wall. Again. ‘Stop saying please. Gets me right here. Makes me real mad.’

  ‘Sorry… Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t like sorry either. You see the problem is, you should never take on a crazy guy who’s got nothing else to lose.’

  Then quickly but with controlled, deliberate rage, Cooper clutched the captain’s torn coat collar, dragging him along the floor to the entrance of the bar.

  Kicked him right outside.

  Dragged him back on his feet.

  Swung his fist clean against his chin.

  Put him back down on the dusty ground.

  ‘Tell me about Ismet, captain.’

  Shielding his face, the captain shook. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know what?’

  ‘Ismet. I no know him.’

  ‘So he didn’t put you up to leaving us on the ship? You’ve never spoken to him? He’s not part of it?’

  ‘No. No.’

  ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘Yes… Yes.’

  ‘Because if I find out you’re lying to me, I’m going to kill you. You understand that?’

  The captain’s face drained of color. Said nothing. Could only nod.

  ‘Now I haven’t fully decided what I’m going to do to you, but I’m coming back. Tomorrow. I want my bags and all my belongings. I don’t want any of it missing. So whatever you’ve done with it, you better undo it. You understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh, and captain. If the boy dies, don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’ll get a maritime burial.’

  42

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  Back at the private port set below the Turkish mountains, Cooper stood on the craggy hill staring down at the glitzy turquoise sea, looking like a precious stone twinkling under a jeweler’s light.

  He took a long, deep drag of his cigarette, leaving it to hang at the side of his mo
uth. Wiped away the cold sweat gathering in his sternal notch before getting back into the SUV, heading down to the large white building on the empty harbor.

  ‘Mr Cooper, it’s good to see you. I’m glad you called. I was beginning to wonder.’

  Sauntering across to Ismet’s desk, Cooper ripped one of the large posters off the wall, tearing it up as he walked. ‘This is how it’s going to go, you son-of-a-bitch. I ask you the question and then you give me the right answer.’

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Wrong answer, because I’m the one asking the questions.’

  Cooper walked around the desk to where Ismet sat. He span the chair round to face him and straddling his legs either side of it, grabbed Ismet’s hair and forced a piece of the torn poster into his mouth with his bandaged fingers.

  Like a stoplight hanging over a highway, Ismet’s face turned bright red as he struggled to push Cooper away, but his strength was no match and, after a few seconds, panting heavily with fear shining out of his eyes, he abandoned his fight, sitting frozen looking up at Cooper.

  ‘That’s better. Now shall we begin? Who was the boy on the ship?’

  Furiously, Ismet spat the poster out. ‘My men will kill you for this.’

  ‘Wrong answer again, Ismet.’

  Cooper jammed a handful of poster deep into the back of Ismet’s mouth. He began to choke, mucus bubbling out of his nose.

  Cooper pulled the saliva-drenched pieces out of Ismet’s mouth.

  ‘I’ll ask you again. Who was the boy?’

  Ismet, dark-eyed and with a cutting stare, glared at Cooper. ‘Go to hell!’

  With rapid speed, Cooper tipped Ismet backwards on his chair, ramming the rest of the torn pieces hard into his mouth. Pushing it. Stuffing it. Shoving it in until there wasn’t room for any more. Watching as his eyes bulged, his face ballooned and his panic caused his body to writhe as Cooper held his nose shut.

  ‘You going to answer the question, Ismet?’

  Squirming from the lack of oxygen and the force of Cooper’s weight, Ismet gurgled a noise. And with a taunting smile, and a mocking tone, Cooper said, ‘What was that? I can’t hear you… Are you trying to tell me you’re going to answer…? Is that a nod?’

  He let go. Leaving a coughing, spluttering, gasping and spitting Ismet to get his breath back.

  Handing him a tissue, Cooper asked again. ‘Who was the boy?’

  Rasping, Ismet tried to answer. ‘What boy, where?’

  With a dull, dense ache beginning to attack his stomach, and a chill in his body like the long dark winters of Alaska, Cooper, agitated, wiped the cold perspiration away. He’d thought there was enough OxyContin running through his blood stream, but now realized he might have been wrong.

  ‘Ismet, you need to believe something, even if it’s the only thing you ever believe in your sorry life… I want to kill somebody. Don’t matter who. Don’t matter how. But it so happens you’re the only one here. So do the math.’

  ‘Mr Cooper…’

  ‘And before you think I won’t. Look at me… Do I look like a man that has time to play games? Between you and me, Ismet, I’m one helluva a mess right now. And at this moment, I don’t care. I don’t care what happens to me. And I certainly don’t care what happens to you. So, I’ll ask you again, who was the boy on the ship?’

  Tense, strained, Ismet rasped, ‘Mr Cooper, even if you threaten to kill me.’

  ‘Promise to.’

  ‘Even if you promise to kill me. I still won’t be able to tell you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The boy. We found him almost dead on your ship.’

  Ismet clenched his jaw. Unease spreading through him like a forest fire. ‘I told you not to go on board, Mr Cooper. For every action there is a consequence. There are people I have to answer to who won’t be happy with your decision.’

  ‘Like I give a damn about that. All I care about is the boy and why he was on your ship.’

  ‘Clearly you’ve already made up your mind that I’ve got something to do with it, and therefore you won’t believe me when I say that I’m sorry such a tragedy has happened. It’s not uncommon to hear such stories, but nevertheless each time it happens, it’s no less tragic… I’m assuming you took him to hospital?’

  Cradling his stomach with his arm as the acute withdrawal cramps intensified, Cooper nodded. ‘A NATO helicopter took him.’

  A short silence. A soulless stare along with a supercilious smile. ‘NATO… you should congratulate yourself. Who knows what would’ve happened to the boy if you’d followed my instructions… Perhaps this is a reason for celebration rather than accusation.’

  The fear of the impending withdrawals distracted Cooper from being able to think clearly. To hold on to the certainty he’d had before. To be able trust that instinct which told him what felt right. What felt wrong.

  Staggering back, to rest on the desk, Cooper said, ‘Don’t mess with me.’

  Ismet smiled. Stood up. Strolled with confidence towards Cooper. ‘I’m not. And sadly, there are some desperate people needing to do desperate things to escape from totalitarian regimes. Their lives and their families are under threat. Or they’re simply just looking for a better life, to be able to live without fear. We forget how lucky we are, Mr Cooper, not to have to resort to hiding between the wheels of a lorry, underneath a train, stowing away on a ship, or even putting your children in a dinghy to sail across the sea, never knowing if you’ll see them again. You just read about it in your papers, but we see it. Daily. And it never gets easier. Especially when it comes to children. We try to be vigilant when it comes to checking our ships before they sail, specifically for this reason, because as you know, Syria is only a few miles from here. I don’t blame them. If I was in the same position, and saw an opportunity to flee my persecutors, I’d take it. Wouldn’t you, Mr Cooper?’

  Slipping slightly on the edge of the desk, Cooper muttered, ‘I’m asking the questions.’

  A twitch of a smile. A glint. ‘So I see.’

  ‘And the ship. Why was it…’

  Ismet interrupted. ‘A stealth ship…? These are unsafe waters, and this is my business. This is all I have for myself and my family. I don’t know if you’ve ever had nothing, but I have, and it’s not a pleasant place to be. I’m a simple olive exporter. Out there on the ocean I can’t protect myself. Aside from it being hard to pick up on the radar, my ship acts as a deterrent. People think twice. It’s a jungle out there. Piracy. Kidnapping. Robbery. Dangerous waters… Are you alright, Mr Cooper? I could get my men…’

  ‘No. No. You don’t go anywhere.’ Cooper put his hand out in a gesture of authority, but finally lost his balance and slipped, sliding to the floor.

  Standing above a sweating, shaking, trembling Cooper, Ismet grinned. ‘Okay. Whatever you say. You’re in charge.’

  With a fading whisper, with eyes rolling, with his body going into spasms, Cooper said, ‘So, the boy…’

  ‘… Is clearly part of this tragic scrabble for survival. And it won’t be the last time this happens. I’m just sorry you were caught up in it. But to think I had anything to do with it is, how do you say it? Absurd. Frankly absurd… Mr Cooper, can you hear me…? Mr Cooper…’

  43

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  In the bedroom of Levi’s small ranch just outside Phoenix, Cooper lay in bed. He listened as Dorothy gave him a piece of her mind.

  ‘It’s no good tryin’ to give me all that sweet talk. You might as well save it. You ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock. Don’t bother giving me a but, either. I’ll tell you when you’re fine. And don’t try to get out of bed otherwise I’ll be all over you like white on rice. You hear me?’

  ‘I can get out of bed. My legs aren’t broke.’

  ‘You heard what the doctor said.’

  Cooper gave a wry smile at exactly what the doctor had said. Or rather what he had done. Which was little more than getting out his fancy pen and written with his fanc
y swirls another prescription for another lot of pills. Welcome to hell.

  ‘Dorothy, he never said I couldn’t walk. I’ve got things to do. Got people to see…’ Cooper trailed off as a memory of Maddie came into his head. He didn’t remember much after he’d collapsed. Not really sure he wanted to. Maybe if he really thought hard there was a slight, vague recollection of Ismet’s men taking him to the airport. How long after he’d passed out they’d taken him, he didn’t know. Hadn’t bothered to find out. It was all a blur. The journey home. Even being tucked up into bed in the Walkers’ house. There was nothing there. All of it nothing but a fog. All of it apart from the way Maddie had looked at him when they’d sat on the private plane Granger had sent for him. Disappointment didn’t even come close.

  ‘I appreciate everything you’ve done, but really I got to go. I need to see Maddie.’

  ‘That woman’s a saint, Thomas. You know that? If it was me, I wouldn’t have bothered flying all that way just to bring you back, I’d have left that sorry butt of yours in Turkey.’

  Cooper managed a smile. Warm and loving. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

  She kissed her teeth at him. ‘All this foolishness. All this wanting to get up and break bad. Wanting to carry on. Well, let me tell you, Thomas Cooper, you couldn’t carry anything right now, not even a tune in a bucket. And if it wasn’t for my back, I’d have a hankerin’ to give you a whoopin’ for all the worry you’ve caused. How you thought this was okay, I’ll never know.’

  ‘Woman, why don’t you leave him alone?’

  Dorothy Walker pursed her lips. ‘Levi, in all the time we’ve been married I’ve never wanted your opinion and I’m not going to start wanting it now. You hear me?’

  Levi, rested on the smooth-sanded wooden door frame Cooper had put in last fall. He shrugged, watching his wife tucking the sheets tightly under the mattress of the bed Cooper was lying in. ‘At least this way it’s your ass she’s bugging and not mine.’

  Shooing him away, Dorothy said, ‘Don’t stand there like a tick on a dog, go and make yourself useful, Levi Walker.’