Milieu Dawn

by Malcolm Franks

Jenna had drifted back into sleep by the time Matt got back to her room. Will had remained at her bedside, cradling her hand between his. There was little to say other than to tell his new friend not to let Jenna out of sight until he returned. Matt evaded answering Will’s questions about the loud commotion outside and hurried to the quayside to fire up the plane.

  As the yellow machine floated over the blue sea, separating the Southern Islands from Vancouver, Matt’s mind was beset by intrigue. He found it difficult to rationalise how anyone could want to go to such extraordinary lengths to ruin his life in Victoria, and then dispose of him. Matt had no enemies he knew of, having studiously avoided any kind of confrontation since he returned to the island. Most worrying of all was the hit squad had been ordered to take out his girl, mistakenly thinking this meant Jenna. Clearly the contractor had another target in mind. Grace was dead. That left Rosa Cain, though to describe Rosa as his girlfriend would have been a breach of the Trade Descriptions Act.

  Matt could only hope his dash to the airport would give him some of the answers he needed. He’d rather sort this problem out without having to talk to Rosa again, given the numbing awkwardness of their all too brief encounter yesterday.

  Matt tore into the airport and headed for the departures board. He dismissed the internal flights and those headed out of North America and focussed only on those destined for the United States. The destinations listed included Seattle, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Denver and Chicago. The remaining US flight leaving in the next three hours was to New Jersey. Matt could only hope he had got to the airport first. How he would know this he wasn’t sure as Matt had no idea what Kendricks looked like.

  Although all departures went out through level three, he decided to stick close to the main entrance. The whole area was busy, people bustling in and out of the terminal at varying speeds. A small number left or were delivered by taxi, others by friends or relatives. Some used the bus service or were deposited in groups by hired coaches.

  Whilst all this activity had the benefit of obscuring him from view, it also made it harder for him to identify the target. The plan was simple enough. After intercepting Kendricks, he would get all the information he could from the man and then turn him over to the Authorities.

  Twenty five minutes later however, he still hadn’t found his target. Neither had the Canadian detectives shown up. The plan may well have been simple but its execution was proving to be nothing like straightforward. He was beginning to think he’d got it all wrong.

  Matt slurped into his second coffee, which was positively disgusting. Every mouthful contorted his face into expressions resembling physical torture. He screwed up his face once more when he spotted a large bulk squeezing out of a small taxi. Matt dialled the number on the mobile he’d taken off the woman, and waited.

  The massive frame reached to an inside pocket to retrieve a mobile. It was the voice he instantly recognised, the southern drawl speaking loudly into the phone now clutched to his ear. Matt pressed the button to end the call. He was not surprised this sheer bulk of a man was the target because of the way he carried himself, filled with an aggressive confidence which bore the hallmarks of someone used to having power at their fingertips.

  Weighing at least twenty stone, probably a lot more, he waddled rather than walked like most people do. His short, thick legs moved the enormous torso with such effort he might have been pulling an open topped bus behind him. The veins in his face were reddened through the excessive use of alcohol, and an ugly roll of fat hung over the collar of his open necked shirt. His eyes, probably once proud and defiant, looked as though they had been swallowed up by the excess flesh on his face. Maybe the man had spent too much time at the dinner table and had his mouth in the trough of plenty too much for his own good.

  The man unwittingly played straight into Matt’s hands. After slipping the phone into his shirt pocket he waddled towards the washroom. Matt waited a minute or two and then followed the bulk inside. Kendricks spotted him through the mirror reflection as soon as he entered, greeting his pursuer with barely concealed surprise in his eyes. Though the place was empty, the man made no attempt at escape.

  “Durham, that’s a real bad habit yer got there, showing up unexpectedly like that. Yer just don’t know when to lie down and die, do yer?”

  “Yeah, I’m awkward like that, Ted.”

  The big man returned to washing his face and then reached for a paper towel.

  “Yer can’t kill me here, Durham. It’s too public.”

  Matt shook his head, walked up behind his foe and slid the serrated edge of the knife between the man’s legs.

  “I haven’t come for that, Ted. I’m tempted into relieving your body of one or two things though.”

  Kendricks stopped wiping his brow and glared into the long mirror.

  “I’m telling yer nothing, Durham, put yer pen knife away.”

  Matt pressed the blade against the American’s testicles. He could see beads of sweat appearing under the man’s hairline and smirked at Kendrick’s rising discomfort. Several seconds went by as Matt stood and watched the increasing fear grip the big man’s face. Kendricks was about to speak when another figure entered the stilled atmosphere of the washroom. Matt eased the blade away from open view.

  “Time to go for a walk, Ted,” said Matt. “You can fill me in with the details when we get outside.”

  “Yer seem to forget I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  “There’ll be plenty of time to get your plane, after we’ve talked.”

  Matt nudged him forward with the point of the knife and they stepped out into the passageway and headed back to the main entrance. They broke into daylight at the same time two figures loomed into view to their right. Officers Early and Danbridge were late, but they were here. The two pairs almost joined up when Kendricks violently lurched backwards, like he’d been felled by an imaginary punch. Collapsing to the ground he tried to recover, succeeding only in rolling on to his side before whistling the air from his lungs. Matt dropped to his knees to check for life. A projectile whizzed over his head.

  It was the sight of oozing blood that panicked the crowd. Women screamed while men abandoned their luggage and ran for the safety of the terminal. The two detectives drew their weapons and started to usher stragglers into the building, calling on Matt to follow.

  “Get the people inside,” he yelled to them.

  Matt took refuge by lying on the ground behind Kendricks’ massive frame. He looked into the dead American’s face and saw the bullet hole embedded in the forehead.

  A silence filled the air. Time appeared to stand still. Even the gentle breeze had disappeared. The atmosphere mirrored that of his visits to the cemetery, an eerie calm prevailing over all other natural sounds and noises.

  Instinctively, Matt rummaged through the dead man’s pockets. He retrieved a mobile, something resembling a pocket diary embossed with a large letter S and a credit card wallet. The diary slipped into his inside pocket. He inspected the wallet. There was one credit card. Matt brought the phone into life. It had only been used for one contact number, the mobile of the woman at the hospital.

  He glanced back at the terminal entrance. The two Canadian detectives were searching the area with their eyes, looking for signs of danger. Matt wanted to do the same. He spotted a woman’s handbag resting on the ground a few inches away. Taking a deep breath he lunged with his arm and gripped the handle.

  The bullet narrowly missed his forearm, hitting the cement floor and ricocheting towards the open taxi stand. He reeled the object in and looked inside.

  “Durham, are you okay?” shouted Early, crouching inside the sliding door to the terminal.

  Matt nodded in acknowledgement as he opened the bag. Seconds was all it took to locate the hand mirror. He eased it over the top of Kendricks’ body and used the reflection to scan the surrounding area. Progress was slow. Patience was the key however. Any false move on his part would almost certainly lead to a visit to the
local mortuary.

  Nothing caught his attention. Matt repeated the exercise to make sure. This time he spotted an opening window to a black sedan, parked at an unusual angle some distance ahead of the furthest taxi rank. There was no doubt in his mind the shooter was inside.

  He closed his eyes to build up a mental picture of the area and started to plan. His thought processes had barely got into gear when he heard the voice call out.

  “Durham, I’m going to come over to you,” shouted the male detective.

  “No,” he yelled.

  The tall detective closed to within a few feet when his body shuddered at the violent impact and he fell to the floor, spilling his weapon close to where Matt lay.

  “Dan!” shouted his anxious partner.

  “Stay back,” Matt called in reply.

  The body lay still, immobile and Matt feared the worst. Then he heard the painful groan of the young man.

  “Danbridge,” shouted Matt, “cover the black sedan.”

  She knew instantly, pointing the gun and firing a rush of bullets at the stationary vehicle. Matt sprang from his position, picked up the loose gun and gripped the detective’s collar to haul him to the shelter of Kendricks’ body.

  He assessed the wound. The bullet had passed through the soft tissue of the officer’s shoulder and gone out the other side. At worst, the young man had suffered a broken collar bone. He reached for the sanitary towels in the handbag and released them from their packaging. Easing the wounded detective’s arm from his jacket, Matt tore away at the shirt underneath to bring the injury into the open. He pressed a towel against either side of the wound and then slid the elastic hair band up the wounded man’s arm, over his shoulder, and bound the makeshift dressings into place.

  “He’s okay,” Matt shouted back to the female detective, now joined by a number of armed security personnel.

  The sound of a car engine firing told Matt the shooter had decided it was time to leave. He raised the mirror again. A screech of rubber against the concrete surface preceded the vehicle’s lurch forwards. It burst across the central barricade and hurtled up the wrong carriageway. Matt grabbed at the spare ammunition clip on the male detective’s belt and rolled away from his cover onto one knee. With both hands wrapped firmly around the weapon, he pointed it at the accelerating car. Matt fired several rounds at the black mass. He was sure his aim was true, but his efforts failed to prevent the vehicle from weaving between the onrushing traffic. In seconds it was gone.

  He felt a hand tap against his shoulder.

  “Give me the weapon,” said Danbridge.

  “Don’t you have a colleague to look after?”

  “It’s okay, I’m here,” said Early approaching from behind, tottering unsteadily on his feet. “You better do as she says.”

  Matt handed over the gun.

  “Oh well,” he said. “Seemed like some sort of plan at the time. Now we don’t have any leads.”

  He turned to walk away.

  “Not so fast, Durham” said the female detective, sharply. “Hand over the mobile and the wallet I saw you take from the dead man.”

  She hadn’t noticed the diary. Matt surrendered the items slowly, suggesting an apparent reluctance. Danbridge clearly enjoyed the opportunity to force him into compliance, her subsequent smirk bearing all the hallmarks of a person who took pleasure from the privilege of authority. Matt turned his attention to her partner.

  “How’s the shoulder?”

  “The dressing should hold until the medics get here,” said Detective Early. “That was quick thinking, Durham. I’m impressed.”

  Matt glanced at his colleague.

  “It’s alright, you don’t have to thank me for helping your partner,” he quipped.

  Life around the airport had yet to return to normal. Reporters and technicians were everywhere. Fortunately, the local police and airport security had kept them distant. The area around the ambulance where Early was being treated had been cordoned off.

  “Nice job,” said the medic in amusement, peeling away the temporary dressing from the detective’s shoulder.

  “Do you believe us now?” grimaced Early, wincing at the paramedic’s touch.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “Someone means business. The trouble is I don’t know who or why.”

  “Well whoever they were, they were professionals.”

  “Seems like it,” he said.

  “Don’t you have any ideas at all?” asked the blonde haired detective.

  Matt shook his head. He briefly considered giving up the diary. Then he spotted Danbridge hastily approaching and thought better of it.

  “Your girl’s on the way back over, detective. Maybe she can give us some answers.”

  Danbridge strode purposefully to the rear of the ambulance and leaned against the opened door.

  “No ID on the dead man,” she reported. “The credit card is a fake. We’ll try and get a fingerprint match. What’s he got to do with this, Durham?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Matt.

  “No, then how did you find him?” she barked scathingly.

  He tossed over the mobile he’d taken from the woman in the hospital car park.

  “I came across this. According to the voicemail message his name is Ted Kendricks. That’s probably false too. I have no idea why or how he’s connected to all this.”

  “Where did you get this from?” she barked.

  “Found it,” he replied icily.

  She glared into his eyes with the angry look of an agitated headmistress who’d lost patience with an errant pupil.

  “I don’t believe you,” she spat.

  Matt shrugged his shoulders in indifference causing her to glower ever harder at him. She was about to speak again when Early gently touched her arm.

  “Better to do this downtown rather than in public.”

  His words might have halted her verbal assault, but failed to diminish the look of anger in her dark-coloured eyes. She reached behind her back.

  “Hold out your hands,” she hissed.

  “Marcie, we don’t need to use them. Do we, Durham?”

  She didn’t give Matt the chance to respond, reaching over to venomously slap the cold metal cuffs over his wrists.

  “You can’t trust him, Dan. He’s holding something back, lying through his shiny white teeth. Aren’t you, Durham?”

  Matt gazed into the woman’s stern face. The side of his lip curled ever so slightly, into a mock sneer.

  “You don’t like people much, do you?” he said.

  She jerked on the restraints to make sure they were secure, harder than she would normally do. Matt’s clear discomfort made her smile. He was about to make a smart ass comment when a melody sounded, causing the male detective to reach into his pocket. Matt stood quietly while the blonde haired policeman answered the phone.

  “Yes, Chief,” said Early, listening intently to the incoming voice. Seconds later and a disappointed expression appeared on his face. Early confirmed he had understood the contents of the call and then returned the mobile to his pocket. His eyes darted towards his partner before returning their attention to Matt.

  “You‘re free to go, Durham,” he said, with a degree of resignation.

  “Dan! You’re not serious!”

  Offering the female detective a false smile, Matt held out his arms. Danbridge roughly freed the cold metal object from her suspect’s wrists, unable to conceal her frustration.

  “You will keep me informed, won’t you?” Matt quipped, before turning away.

  “Durham,” said Early, causing Matt to return his attention. “Thanks,” the detective added, nodding towards his shoulder.

  Matt smiled, turned and searched for an available taxi. The two detectives believed he was out of earshot.

  “What was that all about?” snapped Danbridge.

  “We have to let him go.”

  “He walks free, without questioning, just like that?”

  “According to the
Chief he does.”

  “Why, what is so special about this guy?”

  “The mystery deepens. You remember the call I put in on our way over here, to try and get some more info on him?”

  “Yes,”

  “It appears our Mr Durham is a Brit who settled here about nine months ago; except he’s a man without any history. Now there’s a conundrum.”

  Danbridge’s eyes hardened with surprise at this new information.

  “Witness Protection?” she asked.

  “It’s a possibility,” he replied. “That doesn’t explain why no-one on this side of the Atlantic seems to know a goddamn thing about the man, or how he knows about firearms. One thing is certain, he’s used to gunfire. This thing just gets odder and odder.”

  The conversation descended into a temporary lull, as both became wrapped up in their individual thoughts.

  “Christ, it’s time I had a vacation,” said Danbridge.

  “Yeah, me too,” he replied with a sigh. “Durham was right about one thing though.”

  “Oh yeah, and what was that?”

  “You really don’t like people very much, Marcie.”

  The last comment brought a smile to Matt’s face.

  Matt sank back into the comfort of the taxi and examined the diary. He ran his fingers over the embossed letter S, very distinct. The opening pages, where the owner was supposed to record personal details, were blank. So was the main body of the tightly bound booklet. Even in death it looked as though Kendricks was refusing to give anything away. The addresses pages were last in line. He could see handwritten notes. Listed were a series of coded entries, mini paragraphs comprising a jumble of text and numbers. All of the text was set out in three letter words. Ham was followed in the next paragraph by Bus. Then Cog, Pam and Pus occupied the next three. There was no obvious connection between them. The numbers made little sense either, appearing entirely random.

  On closer inspection Matt noticed a row of letters at the bottom of the last page, VVRSSX. He had always prided himself on an ability to solve logic problems quicker than most. But these entries made for a very curious puzzle, of a like he hadn’t come across before. And why were they written in the addresses section of the diary?

  His mind drifted onto events at the airport. Matt wondered if he’d done the right thing by withholding this information. Then again, even if he had surrendered it up, he would still be a target for whoever these people were. For all Matt knew he could be under observation this very minute. Kendricks surely had to report to someone. When he failed these people would respond. The American had told him there were plenty of others to be called on, so staying in Victoria would only provide them with a standing target. What could he do?

  Matt returned his attention to the diary. In the margin, to the right hand side of the first of the mini puzzles was the word Germ. Something made him bend the spine of the diary to flatten both sides of the booklet. On the opposite page, to the left hand side, was the word any.

  What could it mean? For some unknown reason he decided to speak the words out loud.

  “Germ and any,” he said.

  “You’re from Germany?” asked the driver.

  Of course, the full word was Germany. Matt concluded his only choice was to get some professional help, from someone with expertise in intelligence. There was only one person with those sorts of skills, and she lived in Austria. That person was Rosa Cain.

  The door was slightly ajar when he arrived at the hospital room. Matt was about to push it fully open when something made him stop and listen to the conversation inside. Will was talking in soft and tender tones, recounting tales of humour to the patient. Jenna was responding with ever so gentle and warm giggles.

  Peering round the door Matt noticed how comfortable she appeared in his company. Her eyes were fixed upon his and her smile towards him was bright, sunny and welcoming. Will had her left hand clasped between his own and, every now and again, he would reach out and gently rub at the skin of her forearm. Each touch widened her smile, cementing the newly emerging rapport between the two. The pair were lost in their own company; oblivious to all else around, in their own world.

  Matt’s first instinct was to breathe a huge sigh of relief at the signs of improvement in both her physical and mental condition. Surprisingly though, the initial reaction was rapidly tempered with a mild and growing resentment towards the young man. Will had done nothing wrong, only what had been asked of him. But he was doing it too well, attending to her need for human comfort far better than Matt had managed to provide over the last few hours.

  He knew he had no right to feel this way. Matt had only ever wished for Jenna to find a good person to share her life, someone who would look after and care for her. Matt had no doubt Will bore all the makings of being a very good man, from what he had learned about the stranger thus far, so he should be happy for her.

  Even so, he could feel the uncomfortable pangs of envy creeping out from the shadows of his mind. They wrapped their tentacles around his emotions and began to tighten their suffocating grip. Momentarily, he lowered his head so his eyes would not witness the scene.

  “Matt,” said Jenna’s voice, “Where have you been?”

  He looked up at her sweet face as he entered. Will turned and Matt acknowledged his presence. He could see in Will’s eyes the younger man was unprepared to surrender the seat at her bedside.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked. “You’re looking much, much better.”

  Jenna raised an arm and beckoned him forward. He took her free hand between his and leant forward to lightly kiss it.

  “Have you managed to sort everything?” she asked. “Can you spend some time with me now?”

  The furrow appearing on his brow brought an immediate expression of irritation to her face.

  “Oh Matt, there can’t be anything else you have to do.”

  “I have to go abroad for a few days,” he said defensively.

  Jenna withdrew her hand and turned her head away. Whilst he understood her reaction it did little for his mood.

  “This is important, Jenna,” he said.

  “And I’m not important?” she complained, turning back to face him.

  “Of course you are,” he said quietly.

  He couldn’t tell Jenna why he had to leave, but his attempt to placate her with soothing platitudes did nothing to alter her dark mood. The display of anger surprised him. He’d never seen Jenna like this before. He supposed there was a first time for everything.

  “Where are you going exactly?”

  “Germany to start with,” he said.

  “A world tour is it? You’ll be gone for weeks, probably months, just like the last time.”

  Her anger had converted to upset, moistness beginning to gradually fill her almond shaped eyes. Matt hated himself for having to leave.

  “And when you’ve returned, will that be the end of it all?”

  He took a deep breath.

  “There might be others I’ll need to see. Depending on how I get on in Germany.”

  Jenna looked to the sky.

  “Whatever,” she said dismissively, turning her face away to look back at Will.

  Matt really wasn’t enjoying this. He sighed in resignation at the circumstance, though it might have appeared more as if he disapproved of Jenna’s curt dismissal. He glanced to Will. At least Matt could put him to good use.

  “Will is going to look after you while I’m gone.”

  “You make it sound like an order,” quipped Will.

  “It is,” said Matt. “You wanted a job in Victoria. Well now you’ve got one. It’s your job to look after Jenna while I’m gone. I’ll sort the details out with Donna in the morning.”

  Matt wasn’t in the mood for any more talking, which was as well given Jenna chose to ignore his continued presence. He turned and headed for the door. Once outside, he heard the conversation re-start.

  “All seems very mysterious,” said Will.

&nbs
p; “It’s typical of him, a man of complete and utter mystery.”

  “Don’t worry Jenna. I’m sure he’ll get back here as soon as he can.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, he can stay away as long as he likes.”

  Chapter Nine

  Yes, Mother