Searching For Hope

by Michael Joseph

  A train ticket.

  Sam raised his eyebrows and tucked the ticket into his back pocket.

  Gritting his teeth, he set off again, more in hope now than expectation. He hobbled out of the building and immediately found himself buffeted by a strong wind. He was on the same stretch of land he had visited last night. Today, the scene was deserted.

  Apart from a hooded figure going into the building opposite.

  Jake, slowing down, out of shape and running out of breath.

  Sam grinned in satisfaction. Ignoring the pain in his ankle, he followed in Jake's tracks, relishing the opportunity to catch up with the man who had smashed his window last night. Jake had also lied about knowing Danny, and now Sam had caught him spying on Diego and himself.

  Sam followed Jake into the building, the same one he and Clarence had talked in yesterday. He halted in the first room, a former reception area in the factory's heyday. A lengthy counter ran along the far wall. A defunct clock still hung precariously on the adjoining wall. Two exits ran off from the room. Both had their doors missing.

  Left or right.

  Sam looked down at the dusty floor. Fresh footprints led off to the left. Sam nodded grimly and went that way. Last night, he had followed Clarence through the other doorway into the main factory area. This time, Sam found himself in a small room, windowless and musty. Empty boxes littered the floor. The footprints carried on across the room, ending at a closed fire exit door. Encouraged by the thought Jake was struggling to maintain pace on the other side, Sam headed for it.

  He heard a noise behind him.

  Sam turned, but he was too slow.

  Something struck him hard on the back of the head, sending him crashing to the floor. He hit the ground with force. Pain shot up his leg and the room began to spin. Sam closed his eyes and opened them again. No change. He couldn't get anything into focus. He groaned as fresh pain roared through his skull.

  Someone cackled nearby. An evil sound, harsh and unsympathetic. Sam knew he was in trouble. He had to move.

  With supreme effort, he rolled over onto his back. Through blurred vision, he made out a form standing over him, wielding an object high in the air, preparing to bring it down. Sam tried to get up but it was useless. The energy had been knocked out of him. He couldn't see straight. The combined pain in his leg and skull was excruciating.

  Sam closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable with a strange kind of detachment.

  After all these years.

  All the narrow escapes.

  This was how it was going to end. In a dark, dank room, at the hands of a drunken maniac.

  He thought of his wife.

  His daughter.

  Sam missed them so much.

  He looked forward to seeing them again.

  Chapter 8

  Sam heard a shout.

  He opened his eyes, but his vision was no clearer. The blurred figure above him grunted in dismay and disappeared out of sight. Than a door opened and shut again with a bang.

  'Hey! Are you okay?'

  Diego.

  'I'll be fine,' groaned Sam, watching Diego's form enter the room. 'Where has he gone?'

  'Out the door behind you. I'm going after him.'

  'No,' said Sam, waving an arm uselessly in the air. 'Leave it for now.'

  'But-'

  'Diego, we've got more important things to worry about right now...like the back of my head, for starters. And last time I looked, your eye wasn't looking too clever, either.'

  'Uh?'

  Sam sighed, a small gesture that sent shock waves through his body.

  'Diego, can you drive?'

  'Yes...well, sort of...'

  Sam closed his eyes again. It was turning out to be one of those days.

  'Well, sort of will have to do for now. Here, help me to my feet, will you? Then, we'll go and get my car.'

  'Where are we going?'

  'Hospital.'

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, both men were travelling to the hospital in the back of an ambulance. Sam had been too groggy to get to his feet, let alone walk to his car, leaving Diego no alternative but to call the emergency services. The paramedics had looked wary on arrival. Sam knew how it must have looked to them, two men on the Concrete Jungle with an assortment of injuries. He had instructed Diego to keep his mouth shut, and the younger man had done so, amusingly pretending he spoke no English. That left Sam to fend off the questions. He answered every one vaguely, giving little away. He didn't want the police involved.

  Hours on, Sam and Diego left hospital having been given the all clear. Sam had suffered no worse than concussion and a sprained ankle. Diego, severe bruising to the eye. The pair returned to the Concrete Jungle in a taxi. Neither man said a word during the journey, each lost in their own thoughts. As the cab pulled up outside the derelict buildings, Diego jumped out and went to retrieve his holdall, forgotten in all the commotion of going to hospital. Sam paid the cab driver and followed inside. He found Diego staring into space, a despondent look on his face.

  'It has gone,' he told Sam. 'Everything I owned was in that bag.'

  Yet another reason to catch up with Jake Dawkins. Sam was growing tired of the man.

  'You can buy another one...get some new clothes...'

  Diego shook his head in despair.

  'I had special things in there...things that money cannot buy...reminders of my mother...'

  Sam was struck by a sense of guilt. It was his arrival here today that had left Diego with a black eye and his belongings stolen.

  'Come on, you're not staying here any longer.'

  Diego shrugged.

  'And go where?'

  'I'm going to help you find somewhere. Your own place...away from this dump.'

  Diego furrowed his brow.

  'I told you, Sam. I do not have enough money saved up yet.'

  Sam nodded.

  'But I do...so let's go.'

  Sam went to leave, keen to get back to his car. However, Diego wasn't going anywhere. He remained unmoved, a bemused look on his face.

  'Why would you help me?'

  Sam let out a sigh. He could understand Diego's reluctance to trust him. He had lost his mother, then his friend, and now the precious reminders of his past life had been cruelly snatched from him.

  'You saved my life, Diego. I owe you.'

  Sam wasn't being over-dramatic. The simple fact was Jake would have finished him off had Diego not turned up in the nick of time. That had got Sam thinking. Diego deserved a break. The man was trying hard to make a life for himself despite the obstacles being put in his way.

  Diego hesitated, considering the offer. Then he gave Sam the slightest smile.

  'I will pay you back...every single penny.'

  Sam nodded.

  'I wouldn't expect anything else.'

  ***

  'What do you think?'

  Sam already knew the answer. Diego was gazing around the tidy one-bedroom flat with something akin to awe. He was just too embarrassed to reply, still troubled by the fact Sam was helping him out.

  Sam turned to the landlord.

  'He'll take it,' he told the suited man.

  'Mr Albiol?'

  Diego beamed despite himself.

  'Yes, I will take it.'

  'Good!' announced the landlord. 'I'm sure you'll be very happy here.'

  Sam paid the deposit to secure the property for Diego. With the landlord gone, the two men settled into the worn armchairs in the living-room. The flat was on the second floor of a modest apartment block, only a mile or so from Sam's own place, far enough from the Jungle to ensure Jake wouldn't bother Diego again after today's events. The minimal furnishings would provide Diego with a start. However, there was still the matter of replacing his lost belongings.

  'Diego, you're going to need some stuff. I'll give you a lift into town. You can use the money you've saved so far...then start paying me back when you're on your feet.'

  'No, Sam. Th
at is very kind of you, but you have done enough for me.'

  Sam wasn't taking no for an answer.

  'Look, Diego. I'm not intending to put myself in your debt for ever, but let's face it, you need some basics right now. Clothes...food...'

  'Okay,' sighed Diego, unable to argue with the facts. 'Point taken, as you English say.'

  Sam nodded in satisfaction.

  'Before we go,' he said, reaching into his back pocket. 'Take a look at this.'

  Sam handed him the train ticket he had found earlier.

  Diego studied it.

  'What am I looking for?'

  'I was hoping the name of the place on it might mean something. It's a return ticket from some months ago to somewhere called Morehampton. I found it in the building you were staying in.'

  Diego shook his head.

  'I have never heard of this place.'

  'No problem,' said Sam, taking the ticket back off Diego. 'By the way, I never asked you what the man you chased off looked like. I wasn't able to see straight at the time.'

  'I cannot tell you much,' replied Diego instantly. 'He had his back to me and his hood up. All I know is he was about to hit you with an iron bar.'

  Sam nodded ruefully.

  'Right, let's go and get you sorted. I've got somewhere to be soon.'

  It didn't take Diego long to get what he needed. Sam dropped him back outside the flats and watched him hurry in with a renewed spring in his step, no doubt eager to experience warmth and relative comfort again. Satisfied, Sam put his car into gear. He had a party to attend.

  His phone rang before he could pull away.

  'Richie!' he answered heartily. 'It's been a while.'

  Richie Humphreys laughed down the line.

  'It certainly has, Sam. How's Newgate's top private detective doing?'

  As always, Richie's broad Midlands accent transported Sam back in time. Richie was his oldest friend, his one remaining link with the past. A former colleague in the force who had stuck by Sam through thick and thin. In recent months, Richie had suffered turbulent times of his own. A broken leg endured on duty had caused unseen complications, affecting his mobility, leaving him desk-bound for the foreseeable future. Sam knew it had been a bitter pill for his friend, a highly competent officer who thrived on the cut and thrust of undercover work.

  'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

  'Try me,' replied Richie, intrigued.

  Sam relayed everything from the night he found Danny to his reason for being outside Diego's flat right now.

  'You're working this case off your own back?' asked Richie, curiosity replaced by wonder. 'Without being asked?'

  Richie's question caused Sam to reflect on what he was doing. Then he recalled Danny's dying words and dismissed the doubts.

  'It was one of those, Rich. You had to be there.'

  Richie grunted.

  'I'm not criticising, mate. Anyway, since when have you let anyone talk you out of anything.'

  Both men laughed easily.

  'Seriously though, Sam. If there's anything I can do to help...'

  Richie was using his ongoing absence from undercover work to enhance his knowledge of the force's new computer system. Sam thought it typical of the man, throwing himself whole-heartedly into a new challenge.

  'All I've got is a first name and description, Rich. I'm going to be way behind the local coppers down here if they've managed to match up prints or DNA on the database.'

  'Leave it with me, Sam. I'll see what I can find out.'

  Sam smiled. Richie didn't do things by halves. He would be up all night ploughing through computer files.

  'By the way, Rich, have you ever heard of a place called Morehampton?'

  The line went silent while Richie considered it.

  'Morehampton?' he said eventually. 'Ah, yes, I thought the name rang a bell. I went there years ago on a training course. It's only a small place...little more than a village, really...but there's a top notch assault course on the outskirts.'

  'Where is it?'

  'I'd say about sixty miles up the coast from you.'

  North of Newgate. Sam recalled how Gloria had described Danny's accent as more northern.

  'In fact, that's where I was the night you met Elizabeth-'

  Silence.

  The mention of Sam's late wife brought a sudden heaviness to his heart. It was a subject he still shied away from discussing. Even with Richie.

  'Hey, I'm sorry, mate,' said Richie quietly. 'I didn't mean to-'

  'Forget it, Rich. Maybe it's time I started talking about her again. I don't know...'

  'Have you been okay recently?'

  Sam hadn't long dragged himself back from the brink. It was still early days.

  'I'm getting there,' he replied non-committally.

  'And the drinking?'

  Richie had earned the right to ask that question. He had held Sam together on too many drunken nights.

  'The same. Mainly on a social basis now. Talking of which, there's a party I should be at right now.'

  The two men bade each other farewell. Sam threw his phone onto the passenger seat and drove off, consumed by a variety of emotions. Anticipation at Alice's birthday party. Sadness as memories of his wife and daughter flooded back. Then there was the incessant ache at the back of his head from his earlier whack.

  Sam gripped the steering wheel.

  He needed a drink.

  Chapter 9

  Celebrations were well under way by the time Sam arrived at the Barton Arms. Archie had set aside the function room upstairs exclusively for Alice's birthday party. Sam thought the packed room, adorned with bunting and balloons, a fitting testament to her. Alice had garnered an abundance of friends during her short time in Newgate. Plenty of male admirers, too.

  'Sam!'

  Alice spotted him enter the room. She left her group of friends, bounded over to him and flung her arms enthusiastically around his neck. He held on to her as she swayed unsteadily in his arms.

  'Happy birthday, Alice. Again.'

  They both laughed. Sam caught sight of Moira watching them with an approving smile.

  'Thanks for coming, Sam.'

  She released herself, took a backwards step and gave him a wide smile.

  'You look nice tonight,' said Sam. He meant it, too. She was wearing a blue dress and heels, set off by an elegant necklace and earrings. Sam could see others in the room were thinking the same. A number were casting envious glances in her direction.

  'Oh, stop embarrassing me,' giggled Alice, fluttering her eyelashes mischievously at Sam.

  Then she was off again, cajoling Archie onto the tiny dance floor. In an instant, the mid-tempo pop song morphed into a dance tune, the relentless type that drove Sam to boredom. He grinned at the confused look on Archie's face as the ageing landlord tried to fathom out how to dance to the repetitive beats pulsating from the speakers. A number of Alice's female friends suddenly swamped the dance floor, turning the centre of the room into a heaving mass of writhing bodies. Sam headed for the bar, catching one final glimpse of Archie, sheer panic written all over his face.

  At the bar, Sam's nostrils were struck by a familiar scent.

  Salt water.

  'It's a good turnout for the young lady, isn't it?'

  Sam turned to find Denny Berner at his elbow, dressed as usual in his sailor's jacket, peaked cap and irrepressible long black beard. Denny owned a boat docked on Newgate's quayside. The small vessel was where he called home.

  'Blimey, Denny, this is the second time in a week I've seen you on dry land.'

  The wizened sea dog ignored Sam's jesting. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, staring at something across the room.

  'Denny, how much rum have you had?'

  The older man still didn't respond. He looked perplexed.

  'Sam, what is our friend doing over there?'

  Sam followed Denny's gaze. Archie was still on the dance floor, arms in the air now, waving them wildly fro
m side to side, totally out of sync with the ever-quickening dance beat. Those around him were cheering on wildly.

  'It appears he's re-living his youth.'

  Denny screwed up his face.

  'Well, I hope he isn't going to spoil Alice's night by giving himself a heart attack.'

  Both men shook their heads. Sam ordered a whisky for himself and a rum for Denny.

  'Denny, that club we went to the other night...'

  'The one where you found that man?'

  'Hmmm. What was it called again?'

  'Jaspers.'

  'That's right. Do you know who owns the place?'

  Denny gave him a hard look.

  'A bloke called Kenny Swain. He took it over about a year ago. Why do you ask?'

  Denny had no idea Sam was investigating the fall-out from that night. Sam wasn't up to going through it all again. The ache in his head hadn't receded.

  'Just curious. Kenny Swain? Why does that name sound familiar?'

  Denny sipped from his glass, his eyes never leaving Sam.

  'Probably because he comes from the same part of the country as you...born and bred in the Midlands, apparently.'

  'Ah, that Kenny Swain.'

  'You sound like you know him, after all.'

  Sam shook his head and regretted it immediately.

  'Our paths never crossed, but his name was well known back home. He was quite a successful businessman back in the day...had his fingers in all sorts of pies. Then he suddenly dropped off the radar. Sold everything and disappeared, by all accounts. I wonder what brought him down here.'

  'Who knows?' said Denny, draining his drink. 'The quiet life, perhaps.'

  Sam didn't believe it for one minute. Taking on a rough hole like Jaspers was nobody's idea of a quiet life.

  Denny edged closer to Sam, suddenly serious.

  'I don't mean to be nosy, Sam, but-'

  Archie burst in between them, slumping gratefully against the bar, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

  'Evening, gentlemen,' he said breathlessly. 'Are you having a good time?'

  'Not as good as you, by the look of it,' retorted Denny, giving Sam a wicked smile.

  Sam felt his phone go off.