Lethal Promise

by Paul Stretton-Stephens

  “Well, that’s crystal clear. And I find those terms highly acceptable. With Hunter out of action, would you liaise with Captain Bennet of the Tactical Resource Group?”

  The other man – tall and rugged-faced, in his mid to late thirties – stepped forward to shake Jago’s hand.

  “Call me Benny, everyone does. And you … is it Jack or …?”

  “Jago, just Jago. Good to meet you, Benny.”

  The nurse rapped on the door and poked her head around it. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but the porters are here to take your friend down to surgery.”

  “That’s fine. We were just wrapping up, unless there was anything else?”

  “Just this,” said Benny, handing Jago his card. “You can contact me to let me know what you need, et cetera, okay?”

  “Thank you, that will be good. But first I need to formally identify Rebecca. Do you think you can either get Hunter transferred to the same hospital as his wife or get her here? Can spouses be admitted to military hospitals?”

  The major answered, “We can arrange for her to be here. They’ll both recover better that way, and it will be easier for Hunter’s parents who are looking after their kids. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of them. You just help us get those bastards.”

  “Don’t you worry, sir; my team is already on the case.” Jago turned to Benny. “You’ll have a preliminary sit-rep within the next hour or so.”

  The three men left the babbling Hunter and parted company.

  Jago approached the ward’s information desk. “Would you be able to give me directions to the mortuary, please?” he asked in a low, solemn voice.

  “Yes, sir. Take the lift over there to the basement and follow the red line on the floor. It’s right at the other end of the building.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Jago turned to head for the lift, Benny reappeared. “I can’t allow someone on my team to do this alone. Mind if I come with you?”

  Jago thought for a moment. He’d almost forgotten that people outside of his team existed, and could care. Jago had met Benny minutes earlier, but because of Jago’s friendship with Hunter and their pursuit together, here was this guy offering to support him, probably when he needed it most. How could he refuse?

  “Sure, why not? We’ve got to take the lift and follow—”

  “Yes, I know. Unfortunately, I know the red line.”

  A single tone announced the lift’s arrival. It was empty, and the pair stepped inside. Jago walked straight past the control panel, and Benny pressed the button for the basement.

  Jago appeared to be in his own world and then asked, without looking at Benny, “Why are mortuaries always in the basement? I mean, why can’t they be on the top floor?”

  Surprised by the question, Benny replied thoughtfully, “I guess they’re trying to protect the rest of the population from the reality of the inevitable. I can see no other reason, to be honest.”

  “I guess you’re right. It seems strange this time; you know, because I know her … well, knew her, and knew her well. We had a good relationship. I’d even submitted the relationship vetting papers and all of that. I’ve never done that before with anyone.”

  “It’s tough, mate. I don’t really know what to say. I wanted to be here for you. Nobody should do this alone, without someone close by.”

  The lift came to an abrupt halt and a computerised voice announced their arrival at the basement. The doors opened, and there it was. The red line. It started at the door and swung a sharp left, along a long, narrow corridor full of trolleys, laundry bags and boxes of supplies. They passed a couple of workers, who lowered their heads and averted their gaze when they saw Jago and Benny were heading to the mortuary. Following the red line, they turned a corner and could hear the din of moving metallic trolleys destined for the laundry and kitchens. And then they were within ten paces of the door. All sound stopped for Jago as he read the sign: ‘Mortuary. Please ring the bell for assistance.’

  Jago waited, facing the sign on the door. He didn’t speak, and Benny remained a couple of paces behind him. Jago was staring down at the red line. What was in reality only thirty seconds must have seemed an eternity to Benny. He stepped forward and touched Jago on the shoulder.

  “Jago, are you all right, mate? Do you want me to ring the bell for you?”

  Jago came back to life. “No, I’m okay, thank you. I was just collecting my thoughts, thinking what to say to her. Thinking how to find the words to say I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect her. Thinking how it could have been me and not her. How can I explain all of that?”

  “You don’t have to explain anything, mate, you just have to be there with her. Take as long as you like. I’ll be out here waiting for you.”

  Jago rang the bell, and moments later a woman in a white coat arrived and asked Jago’s name and the purpose of his visit. She invited both men into a small, sparse waiting room. The magnolia walls were bare – no pictures, no posters, no symbols of any kind. There were just six plastic chairs and a coffee table, upon which was a selection of old magazines. Benny sat and picked up the first magazine from the top of the pile. It was a gardening magazine, something he had no interest in, but it provided an excellent focal point to relieve the awkwardness of the moment. Jago stood tall and erect in the middle of the room. He was watching the door intensely. And then, after a few minutes, the woman returned and asked him to follow her.

  “If you don’t mind, I need to record some personal details first,” she said.

  “Okay, fine.”

  “Mr Jago, were you related to Miss Rebecca Wilson?”

  “Err, no, she’s …” He stopped himself and swallowed, then continued: “She was … my girlfriend.”

  “And you both reside in the UK?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And does she have any relatives here in Australia, or did you travel here with any other blood relatives?”

  “No, we came here together to be with friends.”

  “In that case, can I ask if you feel able to conduct an official identification for us, please?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  She offered him a form on a clipboard. “Can you sign here and then follow me, please. Oh, and here is a report which outlines the process and release dates, et cetera,” said the woman, handing him a single sheet of paper.

  Jago signed the document and followed the woman through a blue door. It squeaked a little upon opening, and he thought about that. Then he focused his attention on the red line on the floor again. They followed it to another door.

  The woman stopped and said to Jago, “Here we are. Are you ready?”

  There was a pause, and Jago drew a breath before nodding. “Yes, I’m ready. Can I stay with her for a while after the identification?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “How long do I have?”

  The woman placed her hand on his shoulder and politely replied, “Most people come out after about ten minutes. You can say a great deal in ten minutes, you know.”

  She opened the door for him. He immediately noticed that the red line disappeared at the threshold and he stepped forward with trepidation. His heart was pounding, the blood coursing through his veins.

  There she was, dressed in a white gown, lying on a bed and covered by a single white sheet. Someone had arranged her hair on one side of her face to conceal the wound. He knew very well where the wound was and what the devastating impact of a gunshot wound was like. He’d seen too many in his life, but none as cruel as this one. He carefully observed her expressionless face and traced a finger, at first on the outline and then around the eyes, nose, her lips, and then down to the soft white skin on her neck. He stared intently at her face.

  “May I ask if you can identify this woman as being Rebecca Wilson?”

  Jago kept looking at Rebecca and hesitated, before replying, “Yes, this is Rebecca Wilson.”

  “Thank you, Mr Jago. I shall be outside if you need me,”
stated the attendant, before leaving and closing the door.

  Jago was absorbed by Rebeca’s face. “Rebecca, I miss you already. I’m at a loss for words … which you would probably say was a first.”

  He shuffled and sat beside her, running his fingers gently through her hair. “I had so many plans in mind for us and I didn’t get the chance to discuss them with you. You see, nobody has ever made me feel how you have.”

  He placed his hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry that I’ve not been able to tell you huge amounts about my job. Everything is confidential, and I’m legally bound not to disclose anything.”

  He moved as if to look her in the eye. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you. For the first time in my life I know what love is – and now I’ve lost it. If only I hadn’t brought you here.”

  He moved his hand away from her, stood and rubbed both hands over his face and through his hair, pausing at the crown of his head. He spun around to face away from her, but then turned back just as quickly.

  “You would have said it was all worth it. I know that you would. You would have said it was worth meeting Hunter, Linda and the kids, worth going to Mark’s funeral in the US. You’d have been so positive in this mess. I don’t know how you maintain that level of optimism in this world of death and destruction. And I know that until now you’ve not been directly involved in anything like this. AND IT’S JUST PLAIN WRONG YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE NOW.”

  The door opened, and the attendant asked, “Are you all right, sir? Can I help? Can I get you anything?”

  Jago composed himself. “No. No, thank you. I was just …”

  “Don’t worry, I’m on hand if need be. These are difficult times, even for the most hardened of us.”

  She closed the door, leaving Jago alone with Rebecca again. He leaned forward, kissed her forehead and whispered, “I will always love you and hold you in my heart. I promise that I will hunt down those responsible for taking you from me; for tearing us apart when we were just getting going. I need to do this to remain sane. I’m sure you wouldn’t approve and I ask you to forgive me in advance. It’s what I know and can do, and if I’m not able to love you or hold you in my arms again, I must do what I can. I can’t bring you back, but I can prevent the same thing happening to others. I hope that you understand?”

  He looked at her for a moment, half-expecting an answer.

  “I love you, Rebecca. I’m going now. Goodbye.”

  Jago kissed her on the forehead and turned to leave the room. As he opened the door, he took one last look at her, and then closed the door behind him.

  The attendant led him back to the waiting room, where Jago stood with his back to the door and took a huge breath. Benny placed the magazine he was supposedly reading on the table in front of him and rose from his seat.

  “How are you, Jago?”

  Jago turned and looked Benny in the eye. “That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.”

  “Where do you go from here then?”

  Jago lifted his arms and shrugged. “I guess I’ve got to work. I can’t think of anything else to do. As I said to her, it’s what I do best.”

  Jago glanced down at the red line and walked along it, out of the room, with Benny bringing up the rear.

  At the entrance to the hospital, Benny said, “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know. And I mean anything. You’re a guest in our country, and you’re helping us right a wrong. You name it, and if it’s within our powers, you’ll have it.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” said Jago as they shook hands before parting ways.

  Jago left the hospital on foot and walked in the sunlit street until he came upon a large imposing white-coloured church with two spires. He walked closer and read the board which revealed it to be St Mary’s Cathedral. He’d never thought himself a religious man but felt the need to enter the grounds. The car park to the left was full and in the shadow of the hospital. Jago walked to the right on the grass-lined path towards the main entrance. He hesitated before passing through the open door. He stood in the cavernous space listening, taking in the silence, and found himself absorbing the details of its structure – the pillared arches and numerous stained-glass windows. He found a seat at the back of the cathedral. He was alone in more ways than one and tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d cried and it didn’t matter, he needed the release. He curled up into a ball on the bench where he cried himself to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  Jago awoke in the early hours and realised that he was still in the cathedral. He composed himself and made to leave.

  “Are you alright?” asked a gentle male voice.

  Jago turned to see a young priest by the door. “Err, yes. I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

  The priest cut him short. “I saw you late last night and thought that you could do with the rest, so I left you in your slumber. Would you like breakfast?”

  Jago felt awkward and headed towards the door. “Thank you but I have things to do.”

  “Perhaps another time then?”

  “Perhaps.”

  The priest extended his arm and offered his hand. “By the way, I’m Father Michael. And you are?”

  Jago looked at the hand. It was very pale and looked soft. He grasped it and shook hands. “Jago, I’m Jago. Look, I’d best go, but thanks for everything.”

  “You’re welcome anytime, especially if you want someone to talk to about those nightmares of yours. I mean that most sincerely, Jago. Don’t be a stranger.”

  Jago released his grip. “Thank you, Father Michael, I appreciate your kind words.”

  ***

  Jago entered the huge bungalow where he’d been staying with Rebecca. It was Hunter and Linda’s house. It was quiet with them both in the hospital and the two kids with their grandparents. He went to switch the radio on and then changed his mind, preferring the silence. He made his way to the guest bedroom and changed into some shorts and a vest, and delved into his rucksack, from which he fished out a pair of well-worn running shoes.

  It was just coming up to 6 a.m. and getting lighter outside. Jago took advantage of Hunter’s air-conditioned home gymnasium complete with a treadmill. He adopted his usual routine of stretching before running, and then walked at a brisk pace for a couple of minutes before running at a slow pace. He gradually increased his speed and maintained the cadence for about an hour, causing him to be soaked in sweat. He kept going, reliving in his mind the events of the previous day and flashbacks of time spent with Rebecca.

  Jago ran and ran until he could run no more, and then slowed to a halt and stepped off the machine. He had just started his warm-down when the phone rang.

  “Hi, Boss, this is Abi,” said Jago’s operations manager tentatively. She heard his heavy breathing and asked, “What is it? Is it a bad time? I can call back.”

  “No, I’ve just been on a run and was warming down. What have you got for me?” answered Jago as he reached for a towel.

  “Fi is due to touch down in about four hours; that’s 1015 hours your time, Boss. Will you be there to meet her? Can you find your own way?”

  “I’ll meet her. Can you send me through her flight number, et cetera? And have you got anything yet on the information I sent over to you?”

  “Right, Fi’s flight details are coming over to you right now. As for the other information, we have a positive ID on the dead man in the warehouse. One Liam Harper. Harper was separated, pending a divorce, and had two young children. The knapsack you found on the floor had the logo of the mine he used to work at in Kalgoorlie. Word is that he got sacked from one of the mines for being drunk on site. You know, miners fly in, fly out and stay away from home for a couple of weeks at a time. I guess that it took its toll on everyone concerned.

  “He’s got a few convictions, mainly for drunk and disorderly and a couple for assault, but only that. So far, there is no history of serious violence, nor any connection with weapons, or anti-gov
ernment, or his having been involved in protests or anything. The WA police are doing a thorough job, and I will let you know what I get.”

  “How long ago did he get sacked?”

  “Wait one … I have that here somewhere. Ah, here it is. The mine sacked Harper twelve months ago and he’s been on the drink ever since. Boss, an all-out massacre is just not this guy’s style. I mean he didn’t seem to have much experience of computers; he doesn’t have any computer games consoles in his house nor in the house of his kids. To find him at the remote-control station for a machine gun doesn’t fit his profile at all. There’s a lot more to this than meets the eye; maybe he’s just been roped in and was the fall guy?”

  “Yes, I have to agree. Have they informed his wife and children yet?”

  “No, there’s been a complete news blackout since the incident. I guess that the authorities are being understandably cautious.”

  “What about the food and drink receipt?”

  “Ah, there we have two possible outlets in an out-of-town shopping centre. We’re trying to get copies of the camera footage for the area at around the time of the receipt.”

  “Fine, let me know when you have more. Have we any information regarding the weapon and the van?”

  “No, the Aussie police are keeping that close to their chests at the moment.”

  “I see, so there are several issues outstanding. I take it they’re not saying anything about the Seabreacher either?”

  “No, not a thing. They won’t release anything to us.”

  “Okay, leave it to me. I’ll make a few calls to see what I can do. Is there anything else at the moment?”

  “Yes, there is one thing. How are you holding up, Boss – you know, what with losing Rebecca and all? We’re all thinking of you here. Is there anything any of us can do?”

  Jago stumbled on his words: “N-n-no, I’ll be fine. I need to focus and get to grips with what happened, that’s all.”

  “I don’t want to pry or anything, but how is Rebecca getting home? Are her family going out to collect her? Do you know when they will release her body?”