“So, what do I do? Shall we go back to the hotel?”
“No, you’ll be alright,” Stratton assured him. “Once you’ve been in there for a few minutes and your body acclimatizes it’ll die down. It’s just the initial shock that gets you. It’s my fault really, I should have warned you.”
Oggi braced himself and re-entered the building. Now that he knew what to expect the blast of heat wasn’t half so bad. By the time they had been in the restaurant queue for a few minutes his feelings had reduced to a manageable level.
They paid for their breakfasts and sat down in the corner, away from the windows and prying eyes. Oggi had a oversized plateful of grease, but Stratton was content with a couple of slices of bacon and a hash brown.
“What’s wrong with you?” said Oggi. “You’d usually eat more than me. Is it something to do with that ‘twinge’ you had?”
Stratton ignored him and munched on a piece of bacon.
“Come on mate, you can tell me. What’s up?”
“I don’t know,” said Stratton. “I just feel a bit odd, that’s all. I’ll be alright, I’m sure.”
Oggi got stuck into his food, happy to be back in civilization, if only for a while. His exile on the moors had given him a renewed appreciation of the simpler things in life. Just sitting in a roadside café amongst living, breathing people was a real treat. His eyes moistened slightly at the thought of leaving it all behind.
Stratton picked up on his friend’s sadness. “It’s hard to let go, isn’t it?” he said.
“Of what?” said Oggi.
“Of what we’re accustomed to.”
Oggi smiled in acknowledgement. “I guess it is. I’ve always fancied getting away from this place and going to live abroad. But now that it comes down to it, I’m not so sure I want to go. I complain about this country like everybody else: the weather; the government; public transport etc., but there’s something about it and the people that live here that’s inherently beautiful. I’m not sure if I could handle permanent sunshine and no worries.”
“I’m sure you’ll give it a go,” laughed Stratton. “But I know what you mean. There’s beauty in everything if you look hard enough, even tragedy and death. You’re eyes are beginning to adjust to the light.”
“What?” Oggi grunted, between mouthfuls.
“You’ve stepped out of the cave and you’re beginning to see the world as it really is. You’re awakening from your slumber.”
“Oh yeah, the cave,” said Oggi. “Plato’s cave.”
Stratton took a few small mouthfuls of food and looked around the restaurant. “Can you see that?” he said, pointing to a young girl eating with her parents next to the window.
“Can I see what?” asked Oggi.
“That girl in the pink dress, she’s got so much energy flowing through her. There’s a haze around her that’s thick with it.”
Oggi glanced over and shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Look a bit harder. Don’t focus on the girl, focus on the air around her.”
“I don’t really want to stare,” said Oggi. “People might think I’m a paedo.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, nobody’s looking, just give it a try.”
Oggi put down his fork and trained his eye on the girl’s silhouette. At first he saw nothing except for the window frame behind her. But then, as he concentrated harder, a mist started to form. “Fuck me,” he said. “That’s weird. It’s almost like a heat haze.”
“Yeah,” said Stratton. “You’ve got it. Everyone has it. I chose her because it was the biggest and easiest to see. Children are filled with cosmic energy, it’s only as we grow older that it fades. The world slowly chips away at it: hate and greed and despair grinding it down until it’s all but disappeared. Every malicious act, unkind word or broken heart takes a little bit more from your soul. Reiki helps build it back up.”
“But surely it doesn’t fade in everyone,” said Oggi.
“No, of course not. Some people retain most of it throughout their life. They tend to be people who maintain a child’s outlook, always wide-eyed and hopeful, letting misfortune and oppression wash over them like the phantoms they are. As Buddha says ‘no enemy can harm you as much as your own thoughts’.”
“Yeah. Wise old goat that Buddha,” said Oggi. He took a hearty gulp of tea then added, “Have you always been childish then?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Stratton. “I succumbed to the false gravity of life like everybody else. I had to rebuild myself from scratch. When Stella left me…Well, let’s just say I was the spiritual equivalent of a void. But then again, I’ve told you that before.”
“I know,” said Oggi. “It’s just difficult for me to equate you with that sort of unhappiness any more.”
“The pain’s been washed away…Well, maybe washed away isn’t the right term. It’s been sublimated into something divine. Anger, frustration and pain are only energy, just like love and happiness. The secret is to see them for what they are, embrace them, and turn them into light. Everyone can do it, it just takes time and practice and will.”
Oggi finished his last mouthful of sausage, washing it down with the remains of the tea, and lay down his knife and fork neatly on the plate. “Right then,” he said. “I suppose we’d better get back to the safety of the hotel room. I don’t think anybody will clock me, but it won’t do to tempt fate.”
“No, of course not,” said Stratton, getting out of his chair. “I’ll just go and get a paper.” Once again he grabbed his stomach, and winced.
Oggi stood up and put his hand on Stratton’s shoulder. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” he said. “Nothing you want to tell me about?”
Stratton shook his head. “No mate, if I knew I’d tell you. I don’t know what’s going on. It’s only a little twinge anyway. Come on, let’s get going.”
Chapter 72
Alonso sat awkwardly on the sofa, arms and legs tied and mouth gagged. Cronin stood over him sipping coffee. Stella sat in her chair smoking a B&H.
“What are we going to do with him?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Cronin. “I could always kill him.”
“Probably not the best idea,” she said. “Anyway, haven’t you taken holy orders or something.”
“I have, but not willingly. I haven’t got the heart for mindless killing any more though. I suspect we’re just going to have to keep him here until it’s safe to let him go – which could be a long time. We’ll have to feed and water him though.”
Stella cooked some breakfast and Alonso was allowed the use of his arms and mouth to eat. Cronin sat opposite him throughout with a gun at his chest.
“You are making a big mistake, Ms Jones,” Alonso said as he ate. “This man is an enemy of all that is good in the world. He wants the peoples of the world to continue warring and fighting, and never come to the kingdom of God. All that we want is to bring harmony and peace to this troubled planet.”
Cronin rolled his eyes. “Put a sock in it weasel boy,” he said. “We know exactly what you and your cohorts want, and that’s power. You won’t be happy until the whole world has turned its allegiance to the Vatican.”
“This is not true,” countered Alonso. “We want peace and unity.”
“Of course you do – as long as it’s on your terms…Anyway just hurry up and finish your food, my arm’s starting to hurt.”
Once Alonso had finished Cronin took him to the bathroom and bound him tightly to the radiator.
“He should be alright in there until we get back,” he said. “Are you sure you’re comfortable doing this?”
“Yes,” said Stella. “Well, not entirely, but I’ve got no choice. He needs help getting out of the country, and I’ve got to take a chance. You’re the only option I’ve got. You can help him can’t you?”
“Yes, of course I can. I can have him out in a couple of days if he wants. But I can’t make any plans until I’ve spoken to him myself.”
Before se
tting off Stella went to her bedroom to check her voicemail. There was nothing more from Jennings. Her face fell. Had he received her text? More than likely he had, so why hadn’t he got back to her? Surely, even with his busy schedule, he could have found time to at least acknowledge her? It was most unlike him to be lax with his communications. She sat on the edge of the bed and gave her phone a mournful gaze. Then, with a sigh, she shrugged and went to join Cronin.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Stella unconvincingly. “Shall we make a move?”
They made their way out of the city in relative silence, Stella chain smoking at the wheel of her MR2, and Cronin lost in passing thought. It wasn’t until they hit the M4 that the quiet was broken.
“You seem stressed,” said Cronin.
“What do you expect?” she replied between drags. “I’m betraying Stratton’s trust.”
“I’m sure he’ll understand. You’re doing the best thing you can. Anyway, is it really just that? Or is there something else?”
“I’m just a bit worried about one of my friends, that’s all. I sent him a message and he hasn’t got back to me.”
“When did you send it?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Not everybody answers their messages straight away you know,” said Cronin. “You might want to give him a while longer, before you start panicking.”
“Maybe,” said Stella. “But I sent him a message asking for his help. He’s not the sort of person who would ignore it. I’m pretty sure he should have contacted me by now.”
“The text may have got lost in the ether. There’s sometimes a time delay. I’ve received messages two days after they’ve been sent.”
“Whatever,” she said tetchily. “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not that important any more.”
Cronin let the subject lie, sensing that there was more to it than just friendly concern. There was a slow fuse burning and he had no desire to assist the flame. “Do you fancy putting the stereo on?” he asked, to change the tenor of the conversation.
Stella obliged him and the sound of guitars and wailing filled the car.
“Guns n’ Roses,” said Cronin. “This takes me back a bit. Were you a big fan?”
“I guess so,” she said. “It fitted in with the way I was at the time. I suppose it was more what it symbolized than anything else. My parents hated it for a start, and that had to be good.”
“I imagine you were quite a handful back in the day,” said Cronin.
“I guess I was,” she laughed. “But then again, so were they,” she added, her face dropping slightly.
“Did you not get on with them?” asked Cronin.
“Does any teenager?” she replied. “To be honest they were too busy at each other’s throats to notice me most of the time. Then Dad left and it was just me and Mum. After that I spent as little time in the house as possible. I couldn’t stand being around her constant nagging and moaning. Now I look back on it though, it all seems a bit heartless. She was hurt and scared and frustrated and alone, so no wonder she acted the way she did. I wish I’d helped her out a bit more rather than shutting her out and running around with the local bad boys.”
“I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself, it’s a common enough phenomenon. It was your parents’ responsibility to look after you, not the other way round. The problem with most parents is that they have no idea of the amount of distress they cause their children. They get so caught up in their own problems that they forget how sensitive young people are. To quote Philip Larkin: ‘They fuck you up, your mum and dad’.”
“They certainly do,” Stella agreed. “But I’m alright with them now, just about. Did you get on with your parents?”
“I’m not sure,” said Cronin. “I suppose so, in the beginning anyway. We were a large Catholic family: six boys and three girls. There was always a clamour for attention, and I suppose they did their best to treat each of us equally, even though it felt like I was invisible half the time. They were strict but never bullying or overbearing, except where religion was concerned. The Catholic way was the only way. It was drummed into us as soon as the umbilical cord was off.”
“They must be very proud of you, being a priest and working in the Vatican,” said Stella.
“I’m sure they would be if they knew,” said Cronin.
“You haven’t told them?”
“No, I haven’t. Like I said, I got on with them in the beginning. When I got to about thirteen or fourteen, I started to formulate my own ideas and question their beliefs. We lived in Belfast, and although the violence had subsided slightly since the seventies it was still rife. I couldn’t, and still don’t, understand why two factions who worshipped the same peace-loving Messiah were constantly at war. By the age of fifteen I’d stopped going to church, and by sixteen I’d been thrown out of the house.”
“So you haven’t seen them since then?”
“Yes. I went back a few times to try and make the peace. But once they found out I’d joined the British army that was it – I was a traitor, a murderer, and no son of theirs. I pointed out that my job was protecting innocent people, and not murdering them like the IRA, but that just infuriated them more. After that all contact ceased.”
“That’s sad,” said Stella. “Do you think you’ll ever make it up with them?”
“I hope so, but it’s probably a bit of a long shot now. I don’t think my comments about the IRA were very well received. I suspect my father had links with them.”
“What about your brothers and sisters, do you still talk to them?”
“I’m in touch with a few of them, mainly by email, but they don’t know about my current position. They still think I’m in the army, and I don’t disabuse them of that idea.”
Apart from the inevitable traffic when they joined the M5 their journey was swift and uneventful. Stella did her best to keep calm, but by the time they reached their destination the ashtray was overflowing and a coughing Cronin was about to take out a lawsuit.
“Are you sure this is alright?” said Cronin, as they got out of the car. “Perhaps you ought to go and check with him first, if only to put your own mind at ease.”
“It’s a bit late now,” said Stella. “I’ve made the decision I think is best. He wanted my help getting out of the country, and I’ve found someone who can do it. If he doesn’t like it, tough shit.”
Chapter 73
Jennings stood on the balcony of the suite and looked out over Hyde Park. It was a busy Saturday morning despite the weather. He watched a group of Japanese tourists excitedly taking pictures of the local flora and fauna, and wondered how they managed to work up such fervour for all things English.
Grady stepped out and handed Jennings a cup of coffee. “Anything interesting?” he said.
“No. I’m just watching the world go by. It’s something us British do very well.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed. Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?”
“What can I do?” said Jennings. “I’m a wanted man. I might not have done anything wrong, but it’ll take a miracle for me to prove it. I just can’t see any way out of this. It’d be handy if I knew what it was all about.”
“Yeah, that would be helpful,” said Grady. “So you’ve not even got the slightest clue.”
“No. I told you last night. All I know is that Appleby had his suspicions about Stone and Davis, and now he’s dead. I’ve just got nowhere to turn.”
“Nowhere?” said Grady.
Jennings shrugged. “Well, I know that Brennan would believe me if I could get through to him. But what good is that? He’d be powerless in the face of the frame-up that Stone will have done on me. And also, I don’t know how far up this goes.”
“And even if he could do something,” Grady interjected. “There’s no way of getting through to him.”
“Exactly,” said Jennings. “They’ll be expecting it. His phone will be bugged; hi
s house will be watched. And that goes for all my known associates. I’m fenced in; up the proverbial creek; fucked.”
“Well, not exactly fucked,” said Grady. “I can get you a US passport. All you need to do is dye your hair, apply a bit of makeup, and you’ll be in the States before you know it.”
“You can still do all that?”
“Of course I can. I might be officially retired but I still know people. I’m a fucking hero remember. If you want to disappear in the States, it won’t be a problem. I’ll sort you out with a cushy little job and a house, and you can see out your days on easy street in the greatest country in the world.”
“I already live in the greatest country in the world,” said Jennings. “But I guess I’m going to have to do something. The thing is, I don’t want to live my life running and looking over my shoulder. I know you’ll sort me out, but this will always be waiting to bite me on the bum at any given moment. And, more to the point, if Stone and Davis are involved in some conspiracy then somebody needs to do something about it. They could have been part of the plot to kill the PM for Christ’s sake! Imagine that: his two closest bodyguards planning to take him out. With me and Appleby out of the way it won’t be long before they succeed.”
“If they wanted him dead, they would have done it by now,” said Grady.
“Not without getting caught. They’re not going to dirty their own hands. They’ll hire someone and stand aside when the bullet comes, just like they did at Cheltenham. Appleby was right, they were acting strangely. It should have been one of them diving into the line of fire, not me.”
“Are you sure you’re not getting just a little bit paranoid, old buddy. Seen a few too many conspiracy movies.”
“No,” said Jennings defiantly. “You’ve been in the game long enough to know that anything’s possible. If something’s going on then I’m going to find out what it is. And if they’re after Jonathan Ayres then I’m going to warn him.”
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