North of the Rock

by Ian Jones

  Barlow had barely eaten any breakfast. Fury boiled in his face. Abel, normally excluded from any of the usual ranting, tirades and threats had been worn down already, and they had only been together half an hour. Cane however, was unusually sanguine. He felt good. For once. Because last night, as usual, he had been ignored, which was no surprise and today, almost welcome. It had become his habit to remain silent because nobody ever listened to him anyway. He had been very shocked by what they had done to the girl, he couldn’t imagine anything more appalling. He had tried to reason, tried to warn Barlow, but the man would not listen. So, he ate his breakfast, and drank his coffee, and looked out the window as usual, saying absolutely nothing while Barlow cursed and raged next to him.

  Just as it was becoming painful to the point that Abel was about to walk out Hunter appeared, walking slowly across the room, his usual cockiness gone.

  ‘Finally,’ Barlow growled

  Hunter stood awkwardly, and then moved a chair and sat down on it.

  ‘Look,’ he started but Barlow cut him off.

  ‘No, you look. I asked and asked for this to be resolved. And it just gets fucked up over and over, and you have just fucked up the most. He was at the fucking jail! How the fuck did you not know that! Watertight alibi Carter tells it, and I bet my house that useless fat ass is shitting himself right now.’

  Hunter coughed, and grabbed a cup, pouring coffee in and spilling most of it all over the pristine white tablecloth. He was buying time, and everyone knew it. Barlow just sat staring at him, and in the end he had no choice but to speak.

  ‘Ok, look. We knew the girl was with him. We saw them go to breakfast. He dropped her at the plant, and then he was just fucking around. He went off in his car towards Carline for Christ’s sakes. How were we to know? Once again, I am telling you, I didn’t have the right fucking information. I was told that the jail was still locked down as far as anyone was concerned.’

  He peered hard at Abel, and Barlow did too. Cane turned to look. Normally it was him under the microscope.

  Abel coloured. Barlow stood up and looked around. The young girl hurried over with a fresh pot of coffee.

  ‘This is not my doing. I was given information, you all heard me. The FBI had not been notified the lockdown situation was changed. Hunter is right, we could never have known he would go up to the prison,’ Abel stammered.

  ‘Never have known?’ Barlow mimicked in a high voice. ‘You are supposed to know, that’s how this works goddammit. We’re always in front. Jesus how is this so difficult? It’s one fucking man! And how come we still don’t know anything about this fucking guy?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Abel, on safer ground. He pulled a sheet of paper out of his notebook.

  ‘John Smith. Joined the British army aged eighteen, just as a basic soldier. At nineteen, he goes in front of a selection committee for First Paratroopers, which I understand is like their Green Beret’s. He gets in, and then three years later he is Special Forces. The SAS. He does seven years with them, I can’t get their operational details but he makes captain. Then, he becomes some government super-agent. Again, I can’t get any real information. They call it the department, but it’s real name is F7, External Operations. He is with them ten years, one of his jobs as we know was Anthony Collis. He left, and there is no record of employment since, no trace of him.’

  ‘We know where the hell he is.’ Barlow grumbled.

  ‘Not right now we don’t,’ countered Cane.

  Hunter glared at him but said nothing.

  Barlow sat down again.

  ‘We agreed. He wasn’t to speak to Collis, at least until after we had everything signed. That’s what we all said, and that left only today, as Collis can’t get any visits on the weekend at Howarth anyway.’

  ‘And I said remove Collis from the equation,’ Hunter said, pouring himself more coffee.

  ‘Yes. You did,’ confirmed Barlow, both men now staring at Abel again.

  ‘It was felt that any action would bring attention, bearing in mind what the papers are full of currently, if you recall,’ Abel spoke quietly. He wasn’t accepting all the blame here.

  Hunter changed tack.

  ‘The SAS, those guys are real badass. I should have known about this, I could have been prepared. I’ve been left wide open here, no chance of getting the setup in place that would have avoided all this horseshit.’

  ‘I didn’t have the information at the time,’ Abel replied deliberately.

  ‘Well, you should have,’ Barlow said forcefully. ‘Thomas could have got hold of all that.’

  ‘Thomas? He’s disappeared. Some bullshit about the FBI needing him in Washington. That’s crap. He can’t handle the heat. But yeah, you should have been able to give me more than you did. I can only work with what I have,’ Hunter said, staring fixedly at Abel.

  ‘Like I keep saying. I didn’t have the information. And you told us you would deal with it.’ Abel could feel himself getting all the blame if he wasn’t careful about what was said.

  ‘I would have. I’ve done the best I can.’

  ‘Interesting you should say that. Carter also said that there were no guns found in the room, no weapons at all. So where are the Berettas he took? I was told just last night that would be the icing on the cake, it would sign and seal everything. But once again, it was crap.’ Barlow hissed, now completely fixed on Hunter.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean we can’t get involved. He must have stashed them somewhere, probably in his car.’

  ‘No, they searched that too. On Carter’s insistence. So, wrong. Again.’

  ‘If I had been told everything from the start this would have been different,’ Hunter insisted.

  Abel said nothing, just sighed.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ asked Cane, which was a very good question.

  ‘What did Carter actually say about his release?’ asked Hunter.

  ‘Not much, just that the PD threw it out. John Smith is innocent. Unbreakable alibi, and they have been speaking to the plant. They got security tapes, and they tracked the van down quickly as we know. So they will be coming back here, that’s for sure,’ Cane replied.

  ‘And how in hell did they find that van so quickly? It was at the airport, along with Christ knows how many others up there,’ Barlow rasped.

  ‘People are starting to talk,’ replied Cane.

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘It means what I said. People are starting to wonder. It’s not as if we’ve been very low-key. And once the police show up, the real police that is and they start asking questions it’s no surprise if there are some of them who will want to say something,’ Cane told Barlow, sticking to the point.

  ‘These people, whoever they are, have no loyalty. We should find out who they are,’ Barlow replied.

  ‘Now that would be a bad idea,’ Abel said drily.

  ‘The police knew they were looking for a van because one was seen at the motel. Somebody must have tipped them off to look at the airport,’ Hunter explained.

  ‘This is becoming a mess,’ for once Abel was unhappy.

  ‘It may be necessary for one of your guys to take a fall,’ Barlow told Hunter.

  ‘No way, I can’t spare anyone,’ Hunter replied.

  ‘I don’t want any names but they should have considered that before they decided to fucking rape her.’

  ‘I have spoken to them about that. It seems like there is some history there. Rita Geller had not been very respectful.’

  Barlow grunted. He didn’t care. He shifted his attention back to Cane.

  ‘Where did Carter say Smith went to?’

  ‘He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know much actually. Apparently Smith got driven away, but Carter’s contact at Fort Stockton wouldn’t give anything more than the bare details.’

  ‘Well that’s bullshit. He ain’t got any contacts. They must know what a fat fool he is,’ Hunter said.

  ‘So what I am hearing is, we don’t have any idea
where he is,’ Barlow stated.

  ‘Anywhere but here would be my guess,’ Abel said confidently.

  ‘Why not here?’ asked Cane.

  ‘Yes, why not here?’ repeated Barlow.

  ‘Because, well, because, why would he? The girl is dead. It could well be him. And where the hell would he go, he can’t stay in the motel. He knows we are watching for him. He won’t come here.’ Abel spoke deliberately.

  ‘What about the Radisson?’ asked Cane.

  ‘What about it? We’re right next door to it, he knows that.’

  ‘Not that we’re there very much,’ Cane pointed out.

  ‘Alright, alright.’ Barlow raised his hand, long bony fingers straight up in the air. ‘Hunter, make sure your people have their eyes open, in fact that goes for all of us. And check the Radisson, just in case. I must admit it seems unlikely he would come back here, but we can’t rule it out. Tonight is the night, we cannot make any more mistakes. Dinner here, we have other guests to make the numbers look good, all the tables will be full. And of course, entertainment later. Plant and site visits tomorrow plus dinner later. Sunday will be plans review and general inspection and dinner again, then on Monday back here for breakfast 8am sharp for signature. Nothing can stop us.’

  He paused and looked down at the cold food on his plate. He picked up a fork and savagely speared a sausage, took a bite then continued.

  ‘Mr Abel, I need you make sure all the arrangements are complete for this evening. And you better speak to Tiffany, she needs to be certain she has everybody she needs. Mr Hunter, take care of everything from your side. Mr Cane, as you know we will be visiting the plant tomorrow. I want you to go and make sure that they are aware of the importance of the visit. And one more thing Mr Abel, Plan A is back in play. Mr Hunter was right all along. Speak to your man at Howarth. Anthony Collis is to be removed from this equation.’

  All three men nodded. Barlow ate the remains of the sausage and surveyed the uneaten breakfast on his plate. His appetite had returned.

  John woke up with a start. He hadn’t drawn the curtains last night. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time, just after eight. He needed to find Gilbey, he had to talk to him.

  He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He caught sight of his naked body in the mirror and immediately thought of Rita. Sadness washed through him, quickly replaced by anger. They were going to pay.

  He showered and cleaned his teeth, then dressed. He was running out of clean clothes, he hadn’t anticipated being in Gray Rock more than a couple of days. He had only bought some extra as he had planned on going to New York straight after to see his daughter.

  He picked up his room key, walked out and into the lift. It wasn’t a big hotel; the sixth floor was the top and there weren’t that many rooms to each one. The lift doors slid open at the bottom and he stepped out, scanning everywhere. There were three Oriental men and another couple eating breakfast in the restaurant, a single waiter present, carrying a coffee pot. A man sitting on a sofa in the lobby reading a newspaper. A woman behind the counter talking to a man.

  A man he recognised.

  He slipped back into the entrance to the restaurant and pretended to look at the menu. From where he was standing he could see right through the lobby to the front door. If the man turned his way, it was likely he would be spotted but there was nowhere else to hide if he wanted to look out.

  The man had a closely shaved head and was wearing a green bomber jacket. John had definitely seen him before somewhere. The woman was tapping on her keyboard and talking. The man straightened and drummed his fingers on the counter, then nodded his thanks and walked out without looking around. John continued to look at the menu, then a woman come out the lift and walked over to the counter and started talking, so he used this distraction to move past quickly and out into the street.

  There was no sign of the man in the green jacket. The door to the three wise men’s office was just down the street, closed.

  It was a grey, cool day. The street was wet with puddles everywhere, it wasn’t raining now but it must have been for most of the night.

  Hide in plain sight. John turned and walked casually along, one thing he was good at was being anonymous.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He safely travelled the entire length of the street and walked across the road into the diner. There was no reaction from anyone inside. Gilbey would normally be in around now. He sat in a booth by the window and ordered bacon and eggs and a milky coffee. Carrie was over on the other side, she hadn’t noticed him. He rubbed his head and stared out the window. His coffee arrived and he took a grateful sip, remembering being here with Rita, and her entertaining the entire restaurant. He smiled sadly, and then there was the familiar rumble and Gilbey swung into the car park avoiding the puddles, killing the engine, kicking down the side stand and taking off his helmet in one smooth action. He walked up to the door and spotted John. He paused, then went inside.

  He walked over and sat down opposite.

  ‘I’m really sorry Gilbey,’ John told him simply, there was nothing else to say.

  Gilbey eased himself out of his jacket.

  ‘What do you know?’ he asked.

  John told him everything that Slater had said. Gilbey nodded.

  ‘They fucked up. They can’t have known you was at the prison.’

  ‘I know. The lockdown was all bullshit, the guard up there had no idea what I was talking about. So they set it up, must have someone inside up there, someone who could legitimately pass it onto the FBI. My guess is they were following me, but I did suspect that anyway. I drove down to look at the base, they would have seen me drive off in the other direction. Must have lost interest.’

  ‘Tell me straight John. What happened to Rita?’

  ‘Head trauma, died sometime between two and five yesterday.’

  John didn’t mention the rape, it would get out anyway and he didn’t want to make it any worse than it was right now.

  ‘Who did it?’

  ‘Well, I don’t the person, but we both know who’s behind it. Detective Slater told me he saw some security footage at the plant, a van pulled in, two men in it. I wondered if you knew anyone up there. I would like to look at the tapes myself.’

  Gilbey thought for a while. Carrie walked over and gave him a kiss, and patted John on the arm, which he was grateful for.

  ‘You know, I think I can do something with that,’ Gilbey said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, the security manager is ex-military. Army. He helps out with the National Guard, he’s a good man. I don’t know him real well, but I’ve met him on occasion. Seems like a smart enough guy. I reckon he would help.’

  ‘Right, so let’s start there. You may even recognise someone.’

  Gilbey shrugged.

  ‘Well, maybe. But like I said, these Regulators are like a myth. But yeah, it’s worth a try.’

  Carrie brought their food over, and a coffee for Gilbey. He thanked her and they started to eat.

  ‘They didn’t need to kill Rita,’ John said quietly.

  ‘No, they sure didn’t. And I’m gonna fucking well make sure they regret it.’

  ‘I am sorry Gilbey. This is my fault. I knew they were following me. I got back to the motel and she was waiting for me. I should have been smarter. She was a good kid, well, young woman. I really liked her.’

  Gilbey shook his vehemently.

  ‘Bullshit. This ain’t your doing. Hell, look, we’re all adults here. She rang me you know? She called, told me she was a big girl, and she liked you, and if I was going to whup anybody’s ass it better not be yours. But we know who did this. No point blaming yourself. She’d be real upset about that.’

  John’s throat thickened, he didn’t trust himself to speak.

  Gilbey chuckled mournfully.

  ‘Jeez I told her I wasn’t about to start any shit with you. I wouldn’t dare.’

  John smiled, and finished eating. He drank his
coffee and looked around. As usual for the time of day, the diner was pretty busy. But mostly white folks. There was young black couple close to the door, and that was it. He had used this same diner eleven years before, and it had been a mix of everyone. A happy place. It was most likely nothing to do with the actual restaurant, the division had been set in place a long time ago. It was all so pointless. He looked up at Gilbey and cleared his throat.

  ‘Listen Gilbey. I know you have been watching and you’ve been waiting, and now I come along out the blue stirring up the hornet’s nest and you are happy about that. At last somebody feels the same way that you do and now it’s causing problems. But we don’t need to be making a stand. It’s gonna unravel from the inside. I spoke to Collis, he is broken. He is ready to talk and although he never had any face to face dealings with Barlow I reckon he knows a lot. He turned up at Howarth all those years ago, all righteous, believing he was going in one door and straight out another. They told him he was special, he would be protected, he would be out in no time. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. And look at him, eleven years later and nobody has even been to see him. I spoke to Patrick at the FBI straight after, they are getting him out and on the record. It was a long drive back from the prison and I had a lot of time to think. I figured a lot of it out. Barlow, and Abel, they have been rich a long time. And they got buddies all over the country who are also rich right? So they get their heads together and come up with One Race, a supreme society, the white man is king, and they believe in it and bang their drums but nobody takes any notice. Which pisses them off. But then, look what happened. The financial crisis. Everything went bust, all over the world. Massive unemployment, everyone broke. So suddenly out of the blue, people start listening. They want someone to blame. And it takes off. That’s how I got into this in the first place all those years ago, hanging out in a crappy pub on a Tuesday night listening to a bunch of losers complain how terrible their lives are and how it’s all the immigrants fault. On and on and on. I hated that job, but I was told to do it, so I got on with it. Thing is, those people weren’t rich. These were just pissed off, broke people at the end of their tethers and looking to lash out. And this happened everywhere, all over the world, it even got to the point where One Race were trying to get elected for parliament in Britain, and also elsewhere. But the reality is, the world recovered reasonably quickly, and as suddenly as it became popular One Race is disappearing again. Fast. So Barlow and his friends come up with the idea of raising the profile, and lucky old Anthony Collis is picked. I suspect it was because Gray Rock was already in the works and where they wanted to be or I suppose it could be a coincidence. But he gets given a shiny new gun and some plane tickets and gets told to bump a few people off, anyone that has a negative on One Race and at the same time raise the profile. Meanwhile, Barlow and Abel are already well on their way with their masterplan, to create Utopia, right here in Texas, a town for the white man. Yeah, there’s space for others, but on the other side, away from the nice folks, and they can do all the shit jobs that nobody else wants for half the pay. But the wheels come off, like they invariably do, and Collis is stuck there in Howarth, forgotten, but never speaks a word. He heard about this grand announcement all about his impending release after one of the warders read it in the paper. Nobody ever contacted him before or after. An attorney went to see him once, got him to sign some nonsense papers about him being refused legal access, and nothing since. He knows he is not getting out. He says this is just a distraction, a smokescreen. Something else is happening and they are using this to distract away from it. And Collis is prepared to tell everything, in fact he wants to, and he will be naming names. He believed in One Race but knows it is all but forgotten and not just by him.’