The Lifeboat

by Keith Fenwick

  Bruce glanced across at Myfair who had not said a word since Bruce turned the television off. “Are you OK?” he asked.

  Myfair nodded glumly and grunted. “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry about anything,” Bruce said to the two of them, imagining the Feds had just been biding their time and taken the opportunity to snatch them on the way to the reception by staging some kind of accident. It would be a tragic end to their lives. Bruce’s imagination started to get the better of him, and a million scenarios competed for ascendency in his mind, each one more outlandish than the last. In his own way he was almost as bad as Sue in that respect. However, something niggled at him. Something was out of whack here and failed to pass the sniff test.

  In fact, unbeknownst to Bruce, the road block was an opportunist affair and had nothing to do with either him or Sue. The operation had been hastily put together after an analyst identified Myfair from some security footage, after he had been spotted at the public viewing area at the local domestic airport where he had been watching planes take off and land.

  It was Myfair the security team who had stopped the limousine were interested in – and desperately so. As far as the team watching them was concerned, Bruce and Sue were just about to become collateral damage in a desperate mission to save the planet and all mankind. If they were lucky they would be allowed to get on their way and go about their business in a few hours. Otherwise, they were expendable in the pursuit of an outcome that was for the greater good.

  “I know that offworlder, that man over there,” Myfair pointed vaguely out the window at nobody in particular.

  Bruce pushed forward to have a look himself.

  “He is from your security apparatus.”

  “What do we do now?” Sue wailed and started to sob.

  “How the fuck should I know?” Bruce demanded. It struck him that marrying Sue might not have been the greatest idea in the world. The impact of this realisation was almost physical, the sudden awareness he had made a huge mistake, and he felt for a moment he was on an uncontrollable journey to his doom. He shook the thought off, but it would stay with him as events unravelled around them over the next few days.

  He quickly concluded they were no longer living in the dark ages – the two of them did not owe each other anything just because they had a child together – and getting married was more an artifice to keep her on side with her family than anything else. Except, that is, for the moral duty to see her right and take an active role in the parenting of their child. They had been joined at the hip for a period of time. But this was mostly because they were two against teeming millions and a culture totally alien to their own. Although Bruce was now beginning to realise that culturally the societies the two of them came from were almost as diverse as these cultures were from the Skidian version.

  Suddenly the fact they were surrounded by cops with guns seemed trivial, and perhaps subconsciously Bruce realised it, despite the firepower aimed in their direction. (There even looked to be a tank tied down on the back of a truck swinging its long gun in their general direction.) The police or soldiers outside were an irrelevance, and Bruce did not even flinch when he found himself looking down the tank’s long gun barrel.

  An asteroid? Bruce remembered what the voice had told him.

  Don’t worry, I won’t let you come to any physical harm, the voice started up again.

  Bruce noticed the phone icon had changed to green. Green meant he was in communication with whatever entity had invaded his mind, then.

  “What did you say, Myfair?” Bruce asked.

  “I know him,” Myfair repeated. He hadn’t said a word since recognising his brother firing at the president as he stood on the podium at the UN General Assembly and then being overwhelmed by a platoon of security guards.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That offworlder over there is called Wisneski.”

  “Do you mean the guy without armour, and a gun?” Bruce asked, leaning across Sue and Myfair to peer at a man who seemed to be motioning them to wind down the window. Then someone called over a loudspeaker for them to do just that, presumably so they could start some kind of dialogue.

  Instead Bruce pressed the button to retract the sunroof and stood up so his head and upper body poked out like he was standing in a tank’s turret. “What the fuck is going on?” He gulped and hoped this new voice in his head was telling him the truth, that it would protect him, as he saw the barrels of twenty or thirty automatic rifles swing upwards in his direction.

  “Point those guns down,” an authoritative voice commanded.

  The man Myfair had identified as Wisneski turned his back on Bruce and made a downwards gesture with both hands towards the gunmen. “Point them down,” he repeated.

  “Oi, I’m trying to get to my wedding reception.”

  Wisneski and just about everyone else were taken completely aback by Bruce’s clear statement of intent and were at a temporary loss how to deal with him. This wasn’t the kind of response they had been expecting. Wisneski turned back to face Bruce with his mouth half open. To his credit he recovered quickly. “We’ll let you get about your business shortly.”

  A likely story, Bruce thought. Who are they trying to kid?

  “Boss?” Another voice distracted him for a moment.

  Cop was sending him a visual image of a convoy of vehicles roaring down the winding, narrow metal road leading to the Harwood family farm, trailing a huge dust cloud behind them. Shit, the place is a bit drier than I realised, he thought, looking at the dust cloud.

  Bruce had no idea who they were or what authority they represented. He categorised them with a vague title of the authorities. ‘They’ could be from anywhere. Local or with an international flavour, or both.

  “OK, Cop.”

  Bruce was at a loss as to what anyone thought they could expect to find there that would incriminate him, but it was another indication the game was up.

  “I’m here to take over the driving; we’ll have you at your reception in no time. We just have a few questions to ask of your passenger,” Wisneski said, approaching the limousine with his hands out in front of him to show he was unarmed. “We need your help; well, your passenger’s help, really,” Wisneski explained as he got to the driver’s door.

  Bruce shrugged his shoulders and dropped back into the limousine proper. Funny sort of coincidence that two people wanted his assistance at the same time.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked Myfair and Sue.

  Sue pressed her face against his shoulder and sobbed. He wasn’t going to get any sense out of her anytime soon. Not that she ever really made much sense at the best of times, Bruce realised, taken aback by his sudden feeling of bitterness toward her.

  Bruce glanced across at Myfair, but he clearly wasn’t going to be much help either.

  “Are you still there?” Wisneski asked in a worried tone. He sounded as though he half expected them to have teleported away. Bruce wondered if Myfair could arrange this to happen, or could call his ship to pick them up and blow these pesky cops – or whoever they were – to bits. Or maybe just stun them or something so they could get away.

  But Myfair did nothing, he just sat there like a big extremely unhappy looking lump.

  “Fuck!” Bruce glared angrily at him.

  Myfair liked to pretend he was in control and had access to limitless firepower he could use if he needed to. Now when push came to shove he was about as much use as tits to a bull.

  Bruce opened the door and prepared to step out.

  “Stay in the vehicle! Stay in the vehicle! Stay in the vehicle or we will shoot to kill,” the voice on the loudspeaker demanded, almost hysterically.

  Wisneski turned again and held up his hand to silence the voice.

  “Please stay where you are, Mr Harwood; it might save us a bit of trouble,” Wisneski remarked. “These guys are pretty trigger happy.”

  “I thought I might jump in the front passenger seat, mate.”

 
“OK, gently does it please, Mr Harwood. Any excuse and they will open fire, and neither of us want that, do we?”

  Bruce gulped and felt his mouth go dry. Suddenly he didn’t feel half as cocky as he had a moment or so ago.

  “All right, guys, Mr Harwood is going to walk past me and go around the front of the limousine, and then get back in the front passenger side,” Wisneski called out, and everyone with a gun in their hand seemed to let out a sigh of relief and relax a little.

  Bruce walked a little shakily around the front of the limousine and got into the front passenger’s seat. He found to his surprise he still had a beer in his hand and emptied what was left of it in one gulp and dropped the bottle on the floor at his feet.

  “Mike Wisneski,” Wisneski said, offering his outstretched hand to Bruce, while slipping in behind the wheel.

  "Bruce Harwood. My wife Sue and …”

  “Good afternoon, Mrs Harwood, and hello again, Myfair.” Wisneski turned toward the rear of the limousine and responded pleasantly enough, confirming at the same time he had met Myfair sometime previously.

  Wisneski turned back to the front and made to drive away. Bruce watched the security cordon dissipate as quickly as it had surrounded them, and the limousine was left by itself in the middle of the road in front of a group of gawking onlookers who were probably more stunned than the three of them at the scene they had just witnessed.

  “OK, now what?” Bruce asked

  “Sorry about this,” Wisneski began. “But we have a problem your new friend in the back can hopefully help us with.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Bruce replied, trying to sound irate and playing up being an outraged groom. “I have my wedding reception to get to and my, our, lives won’t be worth living if we’re late.”

  “You have a very interesting friend in the back.” Wisneski gestured towards Myfair, pretending to ignore Bruce.

  “What do you mean?” Bruce asked carefully. The next thing this guy Wisneski might ask is where they had met.

  “Myfair and I have met before under very different circumstances, haven’t we, Myfair?”

  Myfair nodded in Wisneski’s direction but didn’t offer anything else.

  “I’m not sure how you met Myfair, Mr and Mrs Harwood,” Wisneski continued, “but Myfair is not the man you think he might be.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “What does he mean, Bruce?” Sue asked while Bruce thought: Fuck, this guy doesn’t know half the story!

  “I’m not sure I follow,” Bruce responded vaguely.

  “Do you have any idea why I’m sitting here and why the posse that stopped the limousine have departed the scene as fast as their little legs can carry them?”

  When neither Bruce nor Sue responded, Wisneski continued. “No, well I’ll tell you. Your friend here carries a real wallop with the weapons he carries around with him. Don’t you, Myfair?”

  Myfair nodded.

  Sue was about to chime in and make a comment would probably implicate them somehow but Bruce cut her off before she let all the cats out of the bag.

  Maybe, just maybe, this guy is only after Myfair, Bruce thought. It is just possible we don’t register on his radar at all.

  “We don’t actually know Myfair all that well,” Bruce lied. “We met for the first time at my mate’s bar a few weeks ago,” Bruce added, fabricating an answer more than a little sparse with the truth. “And he invited himself to our wedding,” Bruce added, trying to deflect any attention away from himself or Sue.

  “Look,” continued Wisneski. “We just want to have a quick chat to Myfair, then you guys can be on your way to your wedding reception. He isn’t who he seems to be.”

  “Yeah, OK, well just hurry up will you. Hey, luv, can you pass me another beer please?” Bruce asked Sue.

  “I’m just going to pull into the basement car park of the building up there on the left.” Wisneski motioned up ahead. “I’ll park there and then we need to go to the first floor conference room. OK?” It sounded like Wisneski was asking permission, but it was not clear to Bruce who he was actually asking.

  Bruce thought the guy sounded a bit uncertain about the whole situation really, so he said, “Sounds OK to me.” Because that’s what he thought Wisneski probably wanted to hear.

  “Eh? I was speaking to Myfair not to you, Mr Harwood.”

  Myfair nodded his head. However, by the way he looked at his feet and gave a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, Bruce thought something was up – he was also put out that as far as Wisneski was concerned, for the moment, he and Sue were superfluous to the main event, forgetting the last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves.

  “Once Myfair and I have got out of the car, you are free to go. We have a driver arranged to take you to your wedding reception but we will need to interview you tomorrow.”

  “But …” Sue began.

  “She’s right, mate. Myfair will probably need some kind of support person.” Bruce interrupted Sue before she could say anything further to incriminate them. “How is that beer coming along, luv?”

  “We were going to leave this meeting until tomorrow but it has suddenly become urgent we speak to Myfair. Every moment counts,” Wisneski continued, completely oblivious to the outraged looks Sue was firing at Bruce.

  Wisneski didn’t know as much as he thought he did, Bruce realised, and he decided to have a little fun with him as Sue handed him his beer.

  “Don’t drink it all at once or you’ll end up making a spectacle of yourself.”

  “I bet you’re going to tell me Myfair is an alien from outer space and has a real-life flying saucer that he travels through space in,” Bruce remarked as Wisneski drove into the basement.

  Wisneski frowned. “How did you know? We know you two are who you say you are, so we just assumed …”

  “Don’t let appearances fool you, mate,” Bruce replied self-importantly. He didn’t like anyone to get the better of him at the best of times, whatever the audience. With a few beers on board he believed he was the most important man in the world. Depending on which world he was on at the time, there was some recent justification for this ‘world view’.

  “Thanks, Bruce; thanks for bringing all that to the attention of the authorities, Bruce! We could have been on our way by now but you had to open your big mouth. What are my parents going to say when we don’t turn up to the wedding reception? What are yours going to say for that matter?”

  She’s right, Bruce thought guiltily. He still had a sinking, nagging feeling in his stomach that tended to indicate that not only had it been a mistake to marry Sue, he should also have kept his trap shut and left Myfair to his fate. Too late now, he thought. Sue was right about opening his mouth when he should have kept it closed. On the other hand, it wasn’t the right thing to do to leave Myfair to his fate. He was unsure how he was going to get out of this one, and escaping from this Wisneski guy was in some ways the least of his worries.

  The phone icon at the corner of his vision turned green again.

  Go with Myfair and keep an eye on him; you will be quite safe. None of the local security services are on standby, and there are only a few armed guards in the building.

  “OK,” Bruce replied and chuckled to himself. Myfair was the one Skidian Bruce was sure he could not control or influence much.

  And just remember that because Wisneski’s mission is very secretive and the team he is reporting to is so small, hardly anyone knows about you. I have also successfully infiltrated most of their network infrastructure so there is nothing saved electronically to indicate any interest in or to incriminate you.

  “I really think we had better come along as well,” Bruce decided out loud as the phone icon blinked off.

  “I really don’t think it is appropriate at this stage, Mr Harwood,” Wisneski responded. He was still convinced Myfair was the individual they needed to talk to.

  “Well I don’t think it is appropriate you have a bunch of peo
ple just about to enter my farm either. Call them off now or I might have to make a little demonstration of my own,” Bruce remarked casually – but it had the desired effect.

  “Did you hear Mr Harwood?” Wisneski asked nobody in particular.

  Bruce assumed Wisneski was in contact with someone senior, the people keen to meet Myfair. He sounded worried, perhaps feeling that the introduction of the Harwood’s was a new dynamic escalating the situation out of control.

  “How did you know?” he asked. “They’re only there as a precaution; we couldn’t see how you could be involved and didn’t expect to find anything there,” Wisneski added, maybe already preparing for his defence in front of a court of enquiry, or worse a court martial, and was suddenly sounding very unsure of himself.

  “I understand,” Bruce said with a complete lack of concern, throwing the normally super confident Wisneski off balance even further.

  “Do we need to tell anyone where we are?” Sue asked. “They’ll be worried about us if we don’t turn up soon.”

  “We only need to speak to Myfair for an hour or so and then you can be on your way. Besides, I don’t think we can stop you if you want to leave,” Wisneski muttered under his breath. He had witnessed first-hand demonstrations of the weapons Myfair had at his disposal and his apparent immunity to anything any human could throw at him.

  “We know we can’t contain Myfair,” he added for Bruce and Sue’s benefit. “And I guess this goes for you two as well now.”