by Ted Tayler
Colin was in position. He could watch for Donald’s arrival without attracting attention to himself. He had a picture of the policeman’s car and its registration number. The school turned out in less than half an hour; Donald never missed that. Colin eased the rucksack from his shoulder and removed a few items, putting them into his coat pockets for a speedy retrieval.
It was fast approaching three o’clock when Colin spotted him. Donald MacDonald’s car turned into the tree-lined road and headed for the next junction. He executed a sharp right turn across a line of cars arriving on the school run and just avoided colliding with one lady in a people carrier. She sounded her horn and if Colin’s lip-reading was accurate at that distance with a small pair of field glasses, she questioned his parentage.
Donald’s progress was unsteady as he stuttered and weaved his way into a parking space on the far side of the green in front of the school gates. Colin studied the man. Donald was already drinking from a hip flask.
Colin moved quickly and quietly, approaching the car from the rear. Donald was preoccupied with what was happening over by the school gates as children came spilling out. He was drunk as usual and this made him careless. His doors were unlocked.
“Makes my job even easier.” thought Colin, who was inside the car in a second. He wrapped his hand around the nose and mouth of the former policeman and let the chloroform-soaked cloth do its work. Donald was in no condition to struggle. The whisky all but incapacitated him before Colin arrived and being slumped in the seat to avoid people seeing him was just asking for trouble.
Donald’s vision and hearing began to fail; he was unconscious within seconds. Colin knew that he needed to keep the cloth in place so that Donald didn’t wake up for a while. It was a fine balance. If Donald stayed under for too long, he might die from heart or respiratory failure. Colin wanted the coroner to be in no doubt that this death was self-inflicted.
The clock moved ever forwards. Some children picked up by their loving parents; many scampering to their homes alone. Others lingered in the nearby roads chatting with friends.
Meanwhile, in the car, Colin patiently waited for the most comforting safety of the night. He checked that Donald was still under and got out of the car. He started the completion of the final stages of his plan and took two envelopes from his rucksack. These he placed on the dashboard. His final task was to switch on the car’s engine. Donald was still away with the fairies when Colin removed the cloth from his face.
Colin closed the car door, slipped his rucksack back over his shoulder and returned to the spot he had chosen to watch from at the outset. He watched and waited. Deep in the Honda Jazz, nothing stirred.
At six o’clock he decided enough was enough; time to leave Dunfermline. As pleasant as his stay had been he was now on holiday. The sooner he got hundreds of miles south, where it might be warmer, the better. He began the walk back to the station.
The parked car was unattended, but to the police who arrived at eight o’clock, something looked amiss. They were alerted by a dog walker who heard a car engine as they passed by and strolled over to take a peek. A dryer vent hose connected to the car’s exhaust pipe had been wedged in the rear passenger door. Inside the vehicle, they found a middle-aged man. He was dishevelled, smelled of booze and was almost lying in the driver’s seat. They discovered two letters. one addressed to John MacDonald of Braeside Home for the Elderly and one to ‘Whoever finds me’.
The police read this letter and the driver’s intentions were explicit: -
To whoever finds this note I hope I have committed suicide. I take complete and sole responsibility for my present situation. I have done things of which I am ashamed; If I continue to live, then I will offend again and commit more serious crimes.
Colin had congratulated the team at Larcombe before he travelled north on the excellence of the handwriting and the overall tenor of the note.
The team had to thank the quick-thinking agent who scanned examples of Donald MacDonald’s handwriting. It gave him something to do while he waited for the downloaded files to transfer to his memory stick.
In time, the police delivered Donald’s unopened letter to his father and later a verdict of suicide was duly recorded. As Erebus and the others back at Larcombe Manor suspected; after the police visit to the MacDonald household, they uncovered the same incriminating files on Donald’s computer. The carpet was metaphorically raised so that the evidence could be neatly brushed away.
As the mortal remains of Donald MacDonald were removed from his Honda, Colin Bailey headed south towards England and a well-earned rest. Everything changed when they pulled into Manchester Piccadilly. He was wide awake now. Someone on the platform straight in front of his carriage window stared at him. The look on her face was one of incredulity. It was Therese Slater.
It was obvious she had returned from Europe. How long did she wait before she gave up on him and got back to her northern roots Colin wondered? He could tell that she was still confused and uncertain who she had seen.
The minor facial modifications he underwent at Larcombe Manor plus the blue contact lenses and frames fooled the vast majority. Therese had been up close and personal with Colin Bailey and he saw she now convinced herself it was him. She found it hard to accept he was alive when the world thought him dead.
Therese didn’t appear to be catching this train, but Colin still had to decide what she might do with the knowledge she now possessed. Was it possible she’d go to the police? He wasn’t convinced she’d do that to him. It was more likely she’d sell her story to the newspapers to set herself up for a comfortable life. Colin needed to find out even if it meant he had to get off the train here in Manchester and catch a later one south. He had to talk to Therese.
Colin gathered up his things and rushed to the door. Just in time, he got it open and jumped onto the platform. Therese walked tentatively towards him.
“Is it you?” she said, “I thought you died.”
“That’s what everyone is supposed to believe,” said Colin.
“You look different; that’s what threw me. When your carriage stopped right by me, I saw you and couldn’t believe my eyes. Two whole months I waited for news. I kept waiting to hear your body had been found at last. I wanted to move on with my life. I never expected to see you alive again. When the bar work dried up and my money ran out, I came back to my sister’s. I’m still looking for work, but I found a place of my own to rent a few weeks back. It’s at Runcorn near my sister. It’s not in a great neighbourhood but when you’re on benefits, you have to do the best you can.”
Colin only half-listened to Therese’s wittering. He tried to work out what to do next.
“Look,” Colin said, “I’ve got a few days off due; why don’t we spend it together?”
“Do you mean it this time?” said Therese.
“It wasn’t my fault we didn’t get away to the Netherlands in July,” said Colin. “Blame that copper Hounsell.”
“My number is still the same Owen, or Colin, whatever you call yourself. Why didn’t you call me before, you know I’d drop everything to be with you?”
“That’s my girl,” smiled Colin. “I’ve never forgotten what you looked like when you dropped everything last time.”
“I’ve never forgotten how you made me feel either. Are you sure we can’t just do it here somewhere in the station?”
Colin was tempted, but he knew his priority was to get off this platform and away from the crowds. He’d spent too long in Manchester earlier in the year. Somebody might remember seeing him and Therese together. He drew Therese to him and kissed her hard.
“When is your train?” he asked Therese.
“No more than five minutes,” she replied.
“Okay if I come back to Runcorn with you?” asked Colin. Therese nodded. Colin dashed to get a ticket, and they soon sat in a compartment on their way to Runcorn. It was midnight when they arrived by taxi at Therese’s first-floor flat. They crept in and made it
upstairs to her room without disturbing anyone.
Colin woke up at five o’clock. With Therese snoring beside him, he spent the next three hours wrestling with his conscience. Colin’s conscience didn’t trouble him in the past. He had no problem crossing people off his list in the most decisive way. They deserved it. He was just rectifying other people’s mistakes.
As soon as they closed the door behind them last night and rid themselves of their clothes, Therese had reminded him how fiery and exciting the sex had been between them. He was knackered.
A few days in bed with Therese wouldn’t help to recharge the batteries, which was what Erebus intended, but it remained an enticing prospect.
Then there was Athena. Was he guilty of having cheated on her? They hadn’t shared more than a few kisses. Who was he kidding? She was way out of his league.
Athena was a beautiful, intelligent woman with a great body who would in time be his boss when Erebus took his place in the celestial navy. Her partner Simon dying in the London bombings must have wrecked her emotionally for a while, but despite what Erebus thought, Athena was no shrinking violet.
Colin asked himself whether Athena needed him for one night of passion just to get back in the saddle again. After that, he might be yesterday’s newspapers.
“Bloody hell,” he thought. “This relationship lark is complicated, isn’t it.”
What the hell. Just this once why couldn’t he have his cake and eat it.
One thing he understood for definite. Therese wouldn’t be handing him over to the police. Based on the energy she’d put into their lovemaking earlier and the fact she couldn’t wait for them to get off on holiday together somewhere. It was after those few days’ holiday that concerned Colin. What did she expect from him then?
This could get messy. If he ended it after the holiday she might turn nasty and threaten to expose him. Perhaps if he kept her sweet by promising to be a frequent visitor to Runcorn? If he avoided her discovering where he was based and wanting to follow him south, he might get two helpings for a while?
As morning broke over the shabby street Therese called home, Colin realised their ‘brief encounter’ at Manchester Piccadilly could lead to Therese putting too much significance on their relationship. She might get ‘clingy’.
If she asked him for commitment, he might have to find a permanent solution to the problem.
Although he had only been with Olympus for a few months, Colin ‘The Phoenix’ Bailey was aware of the importance of the integrity of the organisation. Nothing must jeopardise that.
CHAPTER 23
At Larcombe Manor, Erebus prepared to bring the morning meeting to order. Athena sat on his right-hand side reading the overnight reports. Thanatos and Minos sat on his left deep in conversation over the terrorists still in the ice-house.
Alastor was a late arrival. The door burst open and there he stood, out of breath with a copy of the Daily Record under his arm.
“Sorry for the delay Erebus, but I had to pop into the city to get a copy of this regional newspaper. Phoenix has played a blinder on the Dunfermline job, judging by the report in here.”
“He hasn’t been in touch yet has he?” asked Athena in as casual a manner as she could.
“Phoenix is on holiday my dear,” scolded Erebus. “I’m sure you’ll get a postcard in due course. ‘Wish you were here’ or something along those lines.”
The old man winked at her. Athena looked flustered for a change. Their banter passed straight over the heads of the other three men around the table.
“Phoenix is a good addition to our organisation,” said Thanatos, “efficient and single-minded.”
“He chose well on this mission,” said Alastor, “there doesn’t appear to be any doubt they will rule it as suicide. ‘The body of Donald MacDonald was found in his car yesterday evening. It’s thought he died from carbon monoxide poisoning’. The press reported the basic details of charges brought against him earlier. They’ve mentioned ‘additional evidence discovered at his home supporting the note left in his car for the police’. The Fife regional police chief gave a statement to the Record in which he said, ‘Donald MacDonald was a troubled soul, whose actions had destroyed his long and conspicuous career. We pass on our condolences to his family and hope that Donald is now at peace.’ A neat package presented to the authorities, leaving them to tick the boxes on their interminable paperwork and move on to pasture’s new.”
“Excellent,” said Erebus. “And he’ll be here at Larcombe Manor with us for the foreseeable future as Athena informed us on Saturday morning,” he added cheerily.
Athena picked up one of the overnight reports and changed the subject. She sensed several pairs of eyes had turned her way. She knew Erebus suspected a growing connection between her and Phoenix. She didn’t want the others to have too much time to think about what might lie behind the old man’s comment.
“This report from Level Three of the ice-house is disturbing,” she said. “We don’t want to keep these men here for too long, do we? It’s been a while since our last snap inspection from the charity commissioners. Although they’ve suspected nothing amiss with our set up, having four people under interrogation at the same time could be a problem. I hope we can clear things up soon.”
Erebus nodded.
“I share your concern Athena, but we need to tread with care. Although we carry out our operations in secret, we have always tried to maintain the highest standards. Our interrogation techniques get the information we wish, any method forbidden by international law is out of the question. We must trust Henry Case and his team to persuade our guests to give us the answers we need to hear.”
Athena appreciated Henry Case had a formidable reputation; he was undoubtedly good at his job. Athena couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the job they performed than Henry. She was the only person around this table aware of the fact that among the staff in the ice-house, the chief interrogator was referred to as ‘Head’ Case.
“If we don’t make significant progress today, then we might invite Henry to report to us here at our morning meeting?” she suggested.
“That sounds reasonable Athena; so be it,” replied Erebus. “Let’s move on to the next item on our official agenda.”
Up north in Runcorn Therese stirred beside him. Colin slid out from under the covers and headed for the bathroom. He needed a pee and a shower, in that order. He wanted to leave Runcorn this morning to find a more interesting place to spend the next couple of days relaxing.
After he had eased the load on his bladder Colin opened the shower door just a touch and tested the water. The steam rolled out of the stall, creeping over the mirror. That’s what he needed, an invigorating hot shower. He stepped into the cubicle. Just as he leant his head back and soaking his hair it occurred to him he hadn’t got a towel. He slid the door open to get one from the towel rack.
Therese’s smiling face appeared next to the open shower door with a towel wrapped around her.
“Looking for this?” she asked.
Therese dropped the towel and stepped in with him. Colin groaned. His body failed him again. The sight of her incredible, dark athletic body made him react straight away.
Therese leant into him and kissed him beneath his ear. Colin reached for her lips, giving up any ideas of non-cooperation and kissed her, trapping her tongue with his. He reached one hand under her thigh and lifted it up higher, opening her up and pressed his swollen member against her. He continued to kiss her and slipped inside her.
They continued to pleasure one another as the hot water pummelled their bodies. Therese slid up and down, grinding against him, and using her legs as leverage. She worked him hard. She gripped his back with her fingernails, her legs quivered, and her sighs escaped in one massive wave of ecstasy.
They paused for a moment, to catch their breath and then Colin began once more to thrust into her. They both panted and gasped now as her hips pressed back to meet him. He continued to thrust until he w
as completely drained, and then he grabbed the soft towel she had brought with her and wrapped it around them.
“I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?” Colin asked.
“Wasn’t I enough?” said Therese pouting.
“More than enough,” said Colin, “but sex always gives me an appetite.”
“I can see I’ll have to keep making you hungry then,” said Therese.
The rest of the morning drifted away. Spent while they found something to eat and then decide where to go for their short break.
“Blackpool’s a great place to visit,” enthused Therese, “any time of the year.”
Colin was unconvinced. He remembered the looks on the faces of the guys from Maiden’s Hair when they turned up at the next venue after being given a few days off from the grind of their tour. Blackpool is the most deprived of England’s larger seaside towns and suffers far more poverty and crime than the national average.
Life is a struggle with high unemployment and the worst death rate of any place in Britain; alcoholism is rife and drug-taking common. On the Grange Park estate, one of the largest in Lancashire, residents talk of dealers operating in full view on the streets. Colin had listened to Vincent Gagnon and the rest comparing the seaside resort with many of the worst parts of the cities back in their native Canada.
“Man,” Vincent had said, “you can keep your stick of rock and kiss me quick hats. And what the hell is it with you Brits with donkeys on the beach?”
Colin listened to Therese wax lyrical over the miles of beach and promenade and its attractions. While she chatted away, he thought he ought to ask Erebus if there were any direct actions in Blackpool that justified a visit for business rather than ‘pleasure’.
At long last he got Therese to pack a bag and phone for a taxi so they could set off to the station. It was early afternoon and no matter how efficient Virgin Trains were, it took three hours via Liverpool Lime Street to get to the seaside.
