by Phil Cocker
replied, and slowly raised himself up, amidst many winces and intakes of breath.
“Stay still you idiot.” Mr.Higson said as he climbed the stairs at the side of the hall. “You could be seriously injured you fool, and you’ll only do much worse damage.” He crouched down at the side of Eric, feeling a mixture of anger and concern at the state of his favourite pupil as he gently squeezed Eric’s arms and legs. “Nothing too sore? Can you move everything?”
“Fine sir.” Eric replied. “They were just trying to frighten me.”
“Come on, let’s go and get you a brew and patched up before we let your mother see you.” Mr.Higson added. “Good thing Tom came back and asked where you where, or it could have been a lot worse.”
They both smiled at Tom, although it hurt Eric as his lip was split.
He didn’t care, he was just pleased he had such a good friend, and hoped he’d be one for a long while to come.
Go.
“Ah Major, excellent, thank you for coming in and please take a seat.” Colonel Gordon Kelsall ushered in his second in command, and prized asset.
“Thank you Sir.” Major Jackson replied.
Colonel Kelsall watched the commanding figure sit in the chair across from him. He knew he had a born leader within the Major, a career soldier who could easily have been set for the top, apart from a couple of little flaws. He had an uncanny ability to sniff out a problem, or an opportunity where no-one else would. This in itself was a great skill, and one that Gordon used within his Major, at every chance. The second flaw was partly based upon the first. There had been times within the Major’s career when he’d been given an order and he disobeyed it. The British Army was proud of its traditions, and one of complete discipline and following the chain of command was paramount to the Army’s ability to be renowned as the best in the world.
Major Jackson would see a problem, and change the orders himself. This was mainly based around the need to keep his team intact and alive, or if it was an opportunity, to gain a better advantage in an assault, or increase the prize they were looking for. Some of his commanders hated the lack of discipline shown, and moved him on. Others saw the skill for what it was, and pushed him as high as they could.
Gordon looked that the Major, and could easily see a Brigadier, or maybe even a General across from him. Alas, those positions would be given their all by the man, who would lead the British Army into a far better shape. Yet, the Army would lose something far more valuable, a man for whom the words Military Intelligence were created. His abilities on a mission were legendary, not just within the confines of the Nether Kellet base for MI9’s operations, but throughout the world. As part of the collaboration with other countries, under the G8 committee, the base would host many dignitaries and workshare with soldiers from around the world. For a lot of these, the draw was Major Jackson. Going on a mission with him was what they wanted.
“I've read and re-read this report,” The Colonel patted the manilla folder on his desk, emblazoned with a huge red stamp stating Top Secret, MI9 Eyes Only. He sighed. “And until yesterday would have said that for now you would have to stick to the original orders.”
“But..”
“Let me finish.” The Colonel held his hand up to stop the Major. “I've received intelligence from our guys at the Meteorological Society has just found some amazing anomolies.” He continued. “They've passed their data to Sergeant Cockburn to use, and he'd got some interesting coincidences appearing.”
“Coincidences?” The Major was intrigued.
“There have been some Meterological patterns that they've only recently been able to monitor, and the locations have been to coincidental to be an accident.”
“So you are not talking about fate.”
“Fate, destiny, mere coincidence.” The Colonel sat back into his large leather chair. “You and I know that those sorts of things do not exist.”
“Yet the Hawcon have a 1000 year old prediction, destiny if you want to re-name it, about a Man-boy who will come from a distant world to save everyone.”
The Colonel sighed. “And at the moment, that is just a fable to be told to children to keep some hope in their lives.”
“Yet the one who told me was not telling a child a story. He believes in this fate, this destiny, and the coincidences that are in every day life.”
“And do you?” The Colonel steepled his finger together.
“My mind is open to all options, especially after all I've seen here in the last 3 years.” Major Jackson replied.
“And that's why I'm giving you a go.”
The Major was confused. “After all you've just said, you're now agreeing with my report?”
“Yes, an incident occurred and I need you inside the situation.”
“OK, then.”
The Colonel smiled. “You can go now, get what you need, and go undercover.”
Arrangements.
“That’s mean doing that.” Tom said. “Giving you a kicking for no reason is one thing, he is a bully after all, and that’s all part of their m.o.”
“M.O.?” Eric questioned.
“Yeah, that modum opper-end-day thing.” Tom twisted the words out.
Eric stifled the grin. He loved the way Tom could get it so close, but also so far away. “Modus operandi, it’s Latin, it means method of operation, how they work usually. ”
“OooooH, hear you missus, It’s Latin for method of operation.” Tom used a posh voice to mimic his friend. “Nobody likes a know-it-all, well, except me.” He grinned. “Anyway, as I was saying before being rudely interrupted,” He cleared his throat. “Beating up is the usual m.o. of a bully, but using that memory, and to go to such lengths in locking you up all day, then with the lights and noise…”
Eric took a long slow breath as he remembered it all once more.
“Well, doing all of that is just pure evil.” Tom shook his head despondently, wondering how low someone would go to hurt another person.
“He’s just like that though.” Eric replied. “He probably thought it was a good laugh.”
“I bet Trev Miller isn’t laughing too well, seeing as we found two of his front teeth that you elbowed out of his mouth lying all alone on the stage.” They both laughed at the thought of what Eric had done in defending himself from the thugs. They were both in Eric’s garage, playing pool. The usual British summer was well under way, and along with it came the usual weather. Rain, rain, and then when you thought it had finished, it rained even heavier.
Emma Peterson, Eric’s mum, could hear the laughter from the kitchen, as she had the back door open to let the heat out and a cool breeze in. She busied herself around the house, baking cookies for later, preparing tomorrow’s chilli, and cooking tonight’s evening meal of chips, egg and beans. Something simple, nourishing and what she called “GMF” – “good mood food”. She’d been distraught at hearing what had happened when Mr.Higson dropped the two boys off, with Tom insisting he came along too. “How could anyone do such a thing?” Mrs. Peterson asked nobody in particular, knowing many people from pupils through teachers to therapists had tried to answer that one, and none had a true succinct answer. “How come no-one took register to see where Eric was?” This one brought a shameful drop of the head to Mr.Higson, as he regularly didn’t bother with a register, as the pupils would be off doing other curricular activities, which meant they could quite easily be missing for a whole lesson.
Once he’d left, she let them dash out to the garage to play pool while disappearing to the sanctuary of the kitchen to compose herself, and make herself as busy as possible to ease the anger she felt and help cheer the moment up. Another burst of laughing and gentle banter drifted into through the opened kitchen door and she smiled, hoping that such a traumatic time hadn’t set Eric back. Another tear rolled down her face, but she was too busy to wipe it away. It rolled down her cheek, round the side of her jaw before dropping onto her top. The
gentle impact made her take a very deep breath, summing all her internal strength up to face whatever else might come. Emma. Peterson knew Eric would be fine, but she was his mother, and worried simply because of that.
“Tea’s ready.” Emma popped her head around the door. Her call was greeted by a scuffling noise from the garage as both boys dropped their cues onto the table, scattering the pool balls off the cushions without a second thought to where their game was.
“Drinks?” She asked as they burst into the kitchen diner and planked themselves across from each other on the farmhouse-styled pine chairs.
“Vimto please mum.” Eric replied first.
“Same here Mrs.P, thanks.” Tom added instantly.
She made them their drinks, remembering to take the chilled water jug out of the fridge for once, not just running the tap as she’d always done. “So Eric.” She started whilst placing their drinks on the table. “I’ve been invited out on Saturday night with the other girls, but I’m a little concerned about leaving you now.” Emma Peterson leant back against the kitchen sink and watched them devour their meals, looking for any possible reactions from her son.
“No worries Mrs.P.” Tom replied through a half full mouth. “Eric had said about this sat and my Mum and Dad already agreed I can sleep over.” He added before realising it wasn’t his decision. “But, only if that’s OK with you