Sweat dribbled into his eyes as he wiped hair from his face, swallowing for the hundredth time, he forced himself on. His slippery palms struggled to grip the handle of the next doors in this surreal twilight zone which used to be his life. With a deep breath he detached himself from his hideous reality and diligently examined the other rooms.
His purpose was still to recover Debbie and Abi, but in his heart he wasn’t expecting to find them. They couldn’t have been allowed to stay and cause a security risk, but he had to check. He couldn’t formulate a new plan until he’d exhausted this one.
Fears confirmed, he walked in a daze to every room and each one had been changed. Every single one. Matthew shook his head in horror, and admiration for the trouble they’d taken. A niggling in the back of his mind—the leprechaun voice of Doctor McEvoy—sliced into his conviction. You haven’t got a wife. You’ve never had a wife. She’s just part of your psychosis… For a Nano-second he gave it credence before shaking it out of his head. They were in on it too.
They were good, though. He had to admit that. They were really good.
Padding down the stairs, Matthew was no longer surprised by the transformed décor of the lounge, nor the new cabinets in the kitchen. There had been no sign of his wife or daughter. The stabbing in his mind fell to his chest and twisted. This nightmare was not over by a long chalk.
Stepping towards the front door, he knew where he was headed next. The boat yard couldn’t be adjusted so easily. Brian would have to tell him what was going on. He owed him that.
Keys!
The unmistakable sound of the front door being unlocked preceded a moment of arm flapping panic before Matthew was confronted by a lady, probably in her mid-sixties, immaculately dressed in a pastel two piece. She put him in mind of Her Majesty, The Queen at any point in her illustrious reign.
The bag of shopping she’d clasped in the crook of her arm as she’d thrust the key into the lock fell to the floor; sticky mess of jams and butter quickly patterned the parquet tiles before she had the presence to scream.
Thoughts of overpowering her and forcing her to tell him what the fuck was going on quickly dissipated at the arrival of her husband: the man he’d last seen on Christmas Night. Who else would he have expected?
It took a beat, but the man recognised him too. “You. Again!” Striding in front of his terrified wife, who was readily recovering in the confident company of her husband, he plucked a sturdy looking umbrella from the stand. It looked pathetic in his bear-grip and he looked tempted to discard it.
Pulling his phone from his trouser pocket, he instructed his wife. “Keep back, Ange. This guy’s a nutter.” Pointing the umbrella at his intruder, he blasted. “Stay where you are, you! I’m calling the police.”
“Who are you?” Matthew demanded. He may as well find out what he could before escaping the police. “What are you doing in my house?”
The accusation stunned the man into open-mouthed silence for a moment before he re-iterated his original point to his wife, “This guy’s completely mad!”
“So everyone keeps telling me. But we all know the truth. You two better than me, because all I know is since Christmas Night, you have been imposters in my house!”
Stepping back in fear of Matthew’s rage their greying pallor told him he’d hit the mark. “Do you know what I’ve lost? Do you?” Matthew slammed the side table. “Of course you do. But did they tell you my little girl had just recovered from leukaemia? That this was our first Christmas; proper Christmas here…” He gesticulated the space of the house. “How much are you told before you take a job like this?”
He’d run out of anger. Seeing the fear in their eyes calmed him and he decided upon a gentler approach. “You look like decent people. You can’t have known, I bet. But you can tell me. I’m not the risk they seem to have decided I am, I promise.” As he calmed, they calmed.
The sound of the police car pulled into the drive. That was quick! “Please! Is there anything you can tell me?” he knew they’d divulge nothing. You didn’t go to this much trouble and put a couple of amateurs front of house.
Matthew bolted for the back door, turning the key, he flung it open and made it to the fence before the police could have arrived at the front door. Keeping an eye out for another officer patrolling the rear, his eyes widened with surprise and gratitude there was no-one.
Vaulting the fence, Matthew ran down the maze of streets. Puffs of exertion combined with a sigh of relief as he felt safer with the distance. Without a dog, they’d have no idea where he was headed.
He’d watch first, they’d certainly expect his arrival at Marsden-Morrissey Marine before long, but he’d make sure to find the perfect time. Brian Marsden was going to give him answers.
Chapter Twenty-six
Fury burned his cheeks. The audacity. Marsden-Morrissey Marine no longer displayed its livery on Brunel Quay alongside the magnificent SS Great Britain. No. In its place was flaunted a simpler logo for Marsden Marine. Marsden, with no mention of him.
Bizarrely, it appeared Brian must have been forced to give back a lot of the money paid to the Ministry of Defence, because the premises were half the size; the other side being given over to a railway museum!
It had happened so fast. It was like he’d never been here.
Blending in with the tourists, a cap and sunglasses he’d liberated from outside a touristy shop on the way, helped disguise his features. Even expecting him, anyone would be hard pushed to recognise the dishevelled man he’d become.
Laughing at a joke he hadn’t shared with a family standing nearby, he regretted the move when their incredulous stares burned into him making him more conspicuous than if he’d stayed quiet. But no-one else looked. No-one else seemed to care about his presence at all. And given his ease at getting in and out of his house, he could take a confidence that this would be easy too.
But it was a confidence which upset him, too. Because if they weren’t following him, they had to be pretty secure that what they’d put in place was enough to put paid to any threat he offered.
He’d take one step at a time. Debbie and Abi were somewhere, and someone knew where. If Brian didn’t, he had to know who they were dealing with, and why.
Blending in with different groups, Matthew patrolled the quayside like a prowling cat. He’d never seen the office door remain shut for so long. But it was no surprise business wasn’t booming. Watching it shrink so dramatically would hardly inspire the purchaser of luxury boats with confidence. They wanted prestige, and Marsden Marine lacked what Marsden-Morrissey had enjoyed in abundance.
Unsure of the time, the quality of remaining daylight suggested late afternoon to early evening. He’d be coming out soon. Matthew could wait by Brian’s car, but a survey of the area showed no sign of his partner’s Jaguar. Had he waited here for no reason? Was the office closed?
No. There he was. He looked different; unkempt. He wasn’t just wearing his usual designer suit un-pressed. It looked like an entirely different, cheaper one altogether. Matthew took satisfaction that what he’d been forced to do to him and his family had aged him so. Satisfying because he deserved it, but more that his obvious guilt made him more likely to spill what he knew.
The reason for the Jaguar’s absence was obvious now, but watching his exuberant friend amble towards a ten year old Mazda still shocked him. Closing the gap between them with three giant strides, Matthew was clutching Brian’s arm in an iron grip in half a second.
“What! Get off!”
Matthew held his arm firm. “Don’t make a fuss! I don’t want to hurt you, but after what I’ve been through, I’m not beyond it.”
Brian peered at him. The spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. “Oh my god. Matthew! It’s Matthew, isn’t it?”
Matthew glowered. What did he think had happened to him?
“I’d heard you’d fallen on hard times. That you weren’t… well. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
Matthew couldn
’t believe it. “Let’s just go back inside. Back into your office, shall we?”
“I’m meeting someone.” His face reddened. “It’s a date, actually.”
A date? Sue had left him then. But did he seriously expect him to be pleased? “She can wait. We need to talk.”
“But…”
“Now!” There was no denying the threat in Matthew’s demeanour. Brian nodded and the two of them headed inside.
It was shocking. Nothing of the old firm remained, and it was no wonder this shit-hole wasn’t pulling in the business. Brian knew boats, but he sure as hell didn’t understand their customers. “I like what you’ve done with the place,” Matthew snarled as they entered the foyer.
“Thanks,” Brian grimaced.
Matthew followed him up the familiar stairs to what had been their joint office. As the door creaked open, the disorganised chaos of the one desk was of unfeasible proportions.
“How have you got in such a state in a few short months?”
Brian didn’t answer but offered a quizzical gaze. Slumping behind a pile of papers, he perched on the edge of what had perhaps once been a quality office chair but now looked like it might be time to relinquish it to the local recycling centre. Indicating the shabby chair opposite with a wave, Brian waited for Matthew to take his seat before he spoke.
“So, Matthew Morrissey, what can I do you for?”
Matthew coughed, waiting for Brian to just come out and say. Did he really have to prompt him? When the silence grew uncomfortable, Brian was forced to speak again. “Come on. You accost me in my car park,” he said with a smile ready to excuse his tone if Matthew took umbrage, “you criticise my décor and my office. I’m missing a date for this. I told you that. So I assumed it was something important, but…” Brian pushed up on the arms of his chair ready to stand, taking Matthew’s stunned silence for impassiveness.
“SIT down!” Matthew ordered. “It is important. You fucking know how important. And you will give me answers or god help me, Brian, I’ll fucking beat them out of you!”
Ashen faced, Brian sat in silence.
“You can probably guess what those questions are, Brian, can’t you? Why you’d expect me to believe this bullshit,” Matthew indicated the room where they sat, “I can’t fathom. So let me make it crystal clear.”
Confident of Brian’s full attention, Matthew cleared his throat. “You were right. I presume that’s what all this is about. We should never have taken the MOD consignment.”
Brian didn’t move, his face regaining none of its colour. “Since I last saw you, I’ve lost everything,” then he corrected, “for now. But don’t you worry. I’m getting it back. Debbie and Abi must be frantic, but I’ll find them. And this place? I’ll deal with that later. Priorities, Brian. Priorities.”
Brian remained stock still.
“Am I speaking a foreign language?”
Reluctant to answer, when he did, fear turned to spite in his weasily eyes and Matthew could just see him happily making a deal with whomever asked. He wouldn’t have given him a second thought before selling him down the river. He could see that now.
“I think you must be, Matthew, because I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I’m sorry things have been hard for you. Divorce can be tough. I know. But what issue you have with me and my boat yard I don’t get.”
“Don’t you, Brian? Well. Call me touchy, but I am a little bit pissed that my whole life has been turned upside down. Everyone wants to convince me I’m crazy, and you… You must be stupidly sure they’ve been successful if you think I haven’t noticed the business we built together now bares only your name, you stupid shit. That is what’s wrong.”
Brian snorted. “Built together? My boat yard? How do you work that one out?”
“Don’t be a prick,” Matthew lunged forwards. “You’re really pissing me off. We grew this business. You and me!” Matthew thumped his chest. “Until I insisted we produce boats for the Ministry; mainly for the millions of pounds it was worth—which you were very happy to spend, if I recall—and the prestige; for our company, and for this fine city,” Matthew gave a general gesture through the window. “But it’s all turned to shit. Just as you warned it would. I should have listened. But now you have to help me. I don’t care about the money, but tell me what they’ve done with Debbie and Abi.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you’re saying you should have listened to me, listen to me now.”
Matthew paused from grinding his fist into his leg.
“This business? We didn’t build it together. And as for a million pound contract. Does it look like I’ve got that sort of money? Cos I can tell you now, things are hard. Bloody hard. Other boat yards are taking my business every day. I’m struggling. My wife, Sue, left me. ‘I couldn’t keep her in the manner in which she’d like to become accustomed.’ And now you’ve turned up making crazy accusations.” He sighed. “I’m sorry things are tough for you. I’d heard a little on the grapevine. I’m sorry about your wife and kid, but I understood you’d never married. That you were in and out of the nut… hospital.”
“Wife and kid? Debbie and Abi, you mean! You’ve been on holiday with us, for Christ’s sake!”
“No! No, I haven’t. I haven’t seen you since school.”
Matthew flew at him, the punch knocking him and his flimsy chair to the floor. Looming over him, Matthew shouted, “Brian! I’m not falling for this. Bravo! You’ve made the place look shit, I’ll give you that. Who would believe that months ago we’d just been paid three million pounds? ‘Tell him he’s crazy.’ That’s what they told you, is it? They must really have their claws into you, but I couldn’t give a shit. Do you hear me? I don’t care what you’ve got to lose.”
Matthew kicked viciously at Brian’s torso. Wincing, Brian rolled away but Matthew stooped down, grabbed his thinning hair, and dragged his head round to face him.
“Brian. I’ve been nice. I haven’t ripped your head off. But if you don’t tell me where Abi and Debbie are, I’m gonna take my frustration out on your face. Do you understand?”
A whimper fell from Brian’s mouth.
“What’s it to be, old pal? Hmm?”
“I can’t…”
Smack! Matthew hit him hard. Hurting his hand, he thought he’d best find something else to use if this was going to take more strikes. He’d never hit anyone before. The sound as it reverberated around the room, and the undoubted pain it caused, sickened him. But he’d have to man up. Brian had to believe he was capable of hurting him. They’d got him scared. Matthew had to make him more scared, so he threw his all into this performance. Brian had to believe he was in more danger from Matthew than from them. Then he’d talk. He’d have to.
Shoving his compassion aside, he had to force the truth. This wasn’t a mugging, or indulgence in bullying; this was life and death for the most important people in his life. Grabbing around for the first hard thing he could find on the desk, when he saw it was just a stapler he discarded it in favour of a bronze statue of Brunel sporting his regular top hat and cigar.
“This is going to hurt, Brian, so I’ll ask you again. Where are Debbie and Abi?”
Brian stared up at him, terror pouring from him in salty tears. “Matthew. I don’t know. You’re unwell. You need help.”
Crash!
Isambard Kingdom Brunel sliced into Brian’s neck and shoulder, and he grimaced in agony. “Matthew. No! I’d tell you if I knew anything.”
“That’s right, Brian. You will tell me, because I know you know. It’s not possible that you don’t know. Where have they taken them? Have a guess. You can have a guess, can’t you, Brian?”
“Relocated. Somewhere in London.”
“More. I need more, Brian.”
Brian wailed. “I don’t know. I only said that because you said ‘guess!’”
Matthew brought the statuette down hard on Brian’s arm. “Don’t, Brian. Just tell me, or I’m gonna fucking kill you
!”
The police would probably do better if they didn’t announce their arrival with flashing blue lights. “Shit, Brian. Did you call the police?”
“No! Honest. You’ve been with me the whole time.”
Still holding Brunel, Matthew waved it, rage pulsing through his arm until he threw it down at Brian’s legs. His partner’s whimpering echoed whilst Matthew busily made his escape through the back door and onto the tow path. Within seconds, he was back mingling in crowds outside bars and cafes before disappearing into the swanky new apartment blocks of Spike Island.
“I’ll be back, Brian,” he hissed under his breath. “And you will tell me. I promise you.”
Chapter twenty-seven
It was a half an hour walk along the river and over the bridge to Matthew’s next port of call. The impressive Harbourside Apartments all enjoyed wonderful views, but the penthouse boasted the best.
Matthew was cautious as he walked. His unusual attire might attract attention, but the charity duffel coat had been quality in its day making him not so different from the early evening dog-walkers and boat-tinkerers who were a friendly lot, and of course, he shared an affinity. In less pressing times, he’d be tempted to hop on board; perhaps offer some expertise and even secure a lead for a new customer.
But tonight, his sister’s home was his only focus. What could he expect there? It seemed doubtful, with all that had gone on, that she’d be happy at home. They’d never been incredibly close. More resentful of one another, really. But there was love. And there was loyalty. She wouldn’t rest while her brother was missing for half a year!
He’d paid the deposit; or rather Marsden-Morrissey Marine had paid it when a penthouse apartment overlooking their own impressive office seemed a good idea for accommodating clientele from further afield. But Mandy’s firm of interior decorators (which he’d helped to fund but she’d taken from success to success) had worked its magic and she was now the live-in caretaker.
Would she have continued paying the rent in his absence? Or, more likely, would it have been acquired by his unseen foe in its battle to wipe memory of him from the face of the city?
Blurred Lines: A box-set of reality bending supernatural fiction (Paranormal Tales from Wales Book 9) Page 15
