by G D Parker
Emily kept checking her watch. An hour had passed and still this guy hadn’t turned up.
‘This is stupid! He’s got five more minutes, then I’m going!’ Emily said.
‘Look, just sit tight. He will be here. He’s probably just vetting us first, checking the area to make sure there’s no undercover police an’ that. Just chill!’
Emily rolled her eyes back at Anderson. She knew he was right, but the anxious anticipation was getting to her.
Another hour later, a scruffy chap walked in. He was short at about five foot four. He wore his baseball cap turned backwards, a denim shirt and black jeans. He clocked the two of them almost straight away, making stern eye contact, looking at Anderson first, then over at Emily. His eyes were noticeably bright blue. He then looked away, walked over to the counter, and ordered himself a coffee.
After collecting his coffee, he walked over and sat on the table next to Anderson and Emily. He started to speak without even looking at them.
‘Don’t look at me, just listen.’ He was well spoken and his pronunciation was clear – his voice did not match his attire.
Emily looked at Anderson and couldn’t help but snigger, finding it hard to take this man seriously.
‘All I need from you is a name and location, so I can carry out what is required,’ the man said. ‘I’ll write down a figure and a contact number on my napkin. When I leave, look at my napkin. If you’re ok to proceed with the required amount, which is non-negotiable, I want you to dial the contact number and say “yes”, followed by the name of who you need dealing with and their location, nothing else.’
Again, Anderson and Emily looked at each other. Anderson then replied, ‘Okay!’
Once Joey had left, they quickly grabbed the napkin. He was asking for twelve grand for the job.
‘Less than what I thought it would be,’ said Emily.
‘Hmm, yeah me too. Seems dodgy, and as if he’s a hitman?’
They both laughed, not taking this seriously at all. Anderson dialled the number. It was answered after three rings without a word.
‘Yeah, it’s errm, ah yes, Tommy McGregor, Swansea Prison.’ He then hung up. ‘That’s it, Em. It’s been sorted. Now, all we have to do is wait.’
‘Okay, but something doesn’t feel right.’ Emily had a bad feeling.
They both left the coffee shop and walked down Queen Street together.
‘So, what shall we do now, Em?’ asked Anderson.
‘I’m going back home. I feel so tired. Need some sleep.’
‘Can I come?’ Anderson couldn’t help but hold a cheeky smile on his face, already knowing the answer.
Emily looked him up and down, as if to say, as if. ‘No chance! We do business together, and that’s it! I’m not mixing the two together, and once all this is over, you and I won’t ever be meeting again.’
‘Why, we’ve been through a lot together. Thought we were friends?’
‘Because I don’t like you! You’re a vile pervert and you disgust me. You might have an amazing brain,’ Emily looked him up and down again, ‘but that’s it!’
She pushed passed him and walked off down the street. Emily’s insolence left Anderson feeling pissed off. He had done a lot for Emily; everything she had asked him to do, he had done. Those words from Emily hit a nerve with him, cut him a little. Who the fuck does she think she is? he thought to himself.
When Anderson arrived back at his apartment, he had made up his mind, and that was to change the plan. It was Emily who wanted Tommy dead, not him. He called the number on the napkin from the coffee shop. This time it was answered instantly.
‘I want to abort the request, please. Sorry to mess you around.’ Anderson then hung up.
Later that night, Anderson awoke with a start, as a hand gripped tightly around his throat. He could hardly breathe. He couldn’t even swallow, the grip was so intense. The blood pressure in his head increased so much that he could feel the blood vessels on his temples expand. He tried to fight off whoever was doing it, but their strength was too much.
Seconds before Anderson was about to pass out, they released their grip. Anderson took a life-saving gasp for breath, so deep it sounded like a fog horn.
‘Do you think this is a game?’ asked the person, in a deep male voice with a posh twang.
Anderson was still gasping for his breath. He tried to reply, but there wasn’t enough air in his lungs.
‘I’ll ask you again. Do you think this is a game?’
‘Wwwwhat? No!’ Anderson managed to get his words out this time, shaking his head at the same time.
The assailant then shone a bright light into Anderson’s face, making him feel extremely vulnerable, exposed and scared of whoever this person was. They were completely invisible, as Anderson was blinded by the sudden light.
‘So, why do you FUCK about?’ There was absolute emphasis on the word fuck.
Anderson realised who this was. ‘I’m not, I’m sorry! I don’t want him dead. It’s Emily.’
‘You will still pay me the money, okay! If not, I will kill you and the girl, got me?’ His words pierced like a needle.
He then turned the light off but didn’t leave the room. Anderson moved out of his bed, then felt a heavy blow straight to his face that knocked him back.
‘I’m not done with you yet!’ exclaimed the attacker. 'I saw you both laughing at me. I might not look like a killer, but I can ensure you, I am, and I could make you disappear like that.’ He clicked his fingers.
‘I know, I’m sorry for what we did.’ Anderson wiped the warm blood from the cut on his face. ‘Can you turn the light on, please?’
‘No lights. Now listen, I want that money by noon tomorrow. There will be a black taxi outside this block at 11.30 tomorrow morning. You will get in, the driver will drive you to a location, you will pay him ALL the money and then leave.’
Joey then left the room without a sound, not quite sure whether Anderson was completely clear on the instructions.
Anderson wanted to follow him to make sure he left but decided to sit tight and wait a few minutes, just in case – he didn’t want another blow.
‘Yes?’ Emily’s voice sounded irritated by Anderson’s call in the middle of the night.
‘Emily, it’s me, Anderson. We have a problem. We need to pay the twelve K by noon tomorrow!’
‘Why tomorrow? I thought we were to pay him after the job?’ Emily asked.
Anderson paused whilst thinking, not wanting to fess up to the unexpected incident.
‘He’s changed his mind and wants the money first.’
There was a huff from Emily. ‘Why?’
Anderson paused again, thinking quickly on his feet. ‘Because Tommy’s in prison!’ There was slight exaggeration in his tone.
‘Fuck sake!’
Anderson was slowly starting to dislike Emily. Her attitude had changed. She used to be such a lovely girl, but now she walked around with a massive chip on her shoulder, like the world owed her a favour.
Becoming increasingly pissed off with her, he gave her some attitude back. ‘It is what it is! I don’t have the cash, so you need to come up with it!’
Emily then hung up the phone, leaving Anderson in limbo. What does hanging up mean? I’ll bring it over or fuck off? he questioned.
He couldn’t get back to sleep. It was now 4.00am, so he decided to log into the system he used on Tommy. The system worked by sending out a signal that attached itself to any mobile phone network, and would bounce around the entire network within a selected postcode area until it found a host – an individual with the IPEA implant. The system could also find a particular host with a search of the IMEI number specific to that chosen person. The implant had constant communication with the user’s mobile phone, therefore the phone acted as a conduit into the individual’s brain, with a direct feed back to the system. This then allowed Anderson to take control of the individual, giving him ultimate control.
Anderson had designed th
is system. He was once employed at Medi Corps, working on the initial start-up for the project Sovereignty, which was the project name for the IPEA. He had been sacked due to gross misconduct for hacking into the company’s personnel system in order to obtain an employee’s home address. He had then turned up at her home with a bunch of flowers. This had freaked out that particular member of staff, and she had reported him for harassment. Medi Corps had taken a zero-tolerance stance, and had ultimately sacked Anderson, despite all the knowledge he had.
So, Anderson sat in his room, allowing the system to search for anyone with the IPEA implant, and it didn’t take long to find a host. He did this sometimes for pure amusement. He called it his real GTA. He would find a host and toy with them. It gave him the feeling of power and ultimate control.
The next morning, the black taxi was outside, as Joey had stated. Anderson didn’t have the money and he panicked. He gave Emily another call.
‘A taxi is here to pick me up! It’s the driver - I need to pay him!’
‘What taxi?’ Emily asked.
‘Joey told me I had to get in a taxi and pay the driver all the money.’
‘So, do it!’ Emily was blunt with an I-don’t-care attitude.
‘I don’t have the money, do I?!’
‘Not my problem!’ Emily hung up, leaving Anderson feeling completely helpless.
He did have the money, but he didn’t want to part with his cash. However, he now felt that he had no option.
The taxi smelt fresh and clean, like how you’d expect a brand-new car to smell.
‘Morning mate,’ said Anderson, but there was silence. ‘Excuse me, please?’
Again, there was no answer. The driver didn’t even look in the rear-view mirror. He drove around for a little while and then parked up in a disused industrial estate. This was when the exchange was meant to happen.
Without a word, the driver got out of the car, walked to the rear door and opened it. Anderson sat in the back like a rabbit in headlights. The driver stood over him. He was old, around 70ish, and very broad with a tired and tough leathery face.
‘Get out!’ the driver ordered in a German accent.
The driver stood tall with a mean look on his face as Anderson climbed out of the car. Anderson was intimidated. The driver then leaned forward, and in the blink of an eye pulled out a taser, pressing it against Anderson’s neck, causing him to furiously convulse until he passed out.
Anderson awoke some time later. The roof above him was made of corrugated tile with the odd Perspex tile allowing a little sunlight through. He laid on a hard, cold surface, and the air smelt dusty and old. It took seconds for Anderson to realise he was tied to a table, with his arms and legs immobilised. He could only move his head. He tried to look around, but his body ached from the stun-gun. His view was limited, but he noticed he had pissed himself.
Suddenly, someone spoke. ‘Not so much of a joke now, am I?’
Anderson tensed up. ‘Nnno, I’m sorry!’
‘Sorry ain’t gonna cut it, fella. I told you what would happen. I would have been more lenient if you and your girlfriend hadn’t laughed at me, but cancelling wasn’t an option, so do you have the money?’ Joey looked over to his driver, who nodded, indicating he had searched Anderson and had retrieved the money.
Anderson became distressed. ‘We didn’t mean anything by it, I promise.’
‘Too late, fella.’ He then stood in Anderson’s view. He was suited, his hair was combed over to the side and he was clean shaven. ‘I have to deal with wannabes all the fucking time. You and your girlfriend are the FIRST to ever fucking disrespect me. Who the fuck do you think you are?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m really sorry! I will never do it again!’ Tears streamed down his cheeks and around his head as he laid on the table unable to move. Death stared him in the eyes.
‘Haha! I know that fella. Ooh and what do I have here?’ Joey waved a white bottle of liquid in Anderson’s face.
‘I, I, don’t know?’ said Anderson with a stutter.
‘Sulphuric acid, and this shit can cause extreme pain and life-long side effects.’ He removed the cap and held the bottle above Anderson’s face.
‘No, please,’ Anderson pleaded and begged, ‘please don’t do that, please, I’ll do anything!’
‘Too late!’ Joey poured the liquid all over Anderson’s face, causing him to scream.
‘Ahh stop, please stop, it’s burning!!’
Joey couldn’t help but laugh, then clicked his fingers. ‘Calm down, it’s only water! Let this be a lesson to you, little man. Never ever judge a book by its cover.’
Anderson came to the realisation that it was indeed only water, and his face was fine.
‘It’s amazing how something can have such a psychological effect,’ said Joey smugly.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Anderson, still catching his breath.
‘Let this be a lesson to you, son,’ said the driver, leaning down into Anderson’s face, then setting him free from the restraints.
‘I’m sorry.’ Anderson stood cautiously. ‘Where am I?’
‘Find your own way back!’ Joey and the driver turned and walked out, leaving Anderson alone in the warehouse, still shaken from the threat.
13
The grey cloud that once hovered over Tommy had blackened since he failed at suicide, pushing him into a deeper, darker place. His mind was in turmoil and he was on a set path to self-destruction. Word got out about Tommy’s state of mind. The other inmates knew that he was weak and vulnerable, which some used to their own advantage. They took his food at meal times, taunted him, did what they could to push him over the edge. The stakes were high for the one who managed to get him to finally perish in his depression and leave the prison in a body bag. They pushed him hard.
Tommy would just take it and wouldn’t even fight back or show any sign of emotion. He didn’t want to show them that they affected him. All he cared about was trying to take his own life again, but being under constant watch twenty-four seven made it almost impossible – suicide watch was a bastard.
To Tommy he was in hell physically and emotionally. His life had been turned upside down, swallowed up and shat out. To the world he felt like scum, having been charged for murder; murders he felt he hadn’t committed. The concept of it boiled his brain. He had no comprehension – it was like confusion on steroids. He’d spent hours, days, even weeks trying to piece things together, and it hurt like hell. The pain of what had happened fried his very soul to the devil.
Tommy wanted to talk, but he couldn’t speak out to the psychologist provided by HMP. Having a cell to himself was becoming increasingly difficult. His mind was being eaten from the inside out by the negative thoughts and energy. His heart craved communication, but his body would not allow the words to come out. Being left alone was the worst thing for him. He needed a friend; just someone to listen to him when he could finally find the strength to voice his thoughts.
There was no distraction. Watching TV or reading was impossible. His mind would not allow him to focus, to take himself away from the darkness just for a little while by losing himself in a book or a film. The HMP services were becoming increasingly worried and concerned. Even the experts didn’t know how to deal with Tommy’s state of mind.
Tommy felt as though his parents had disowned him. No one ever came to see him apart from Valentina. To Tommy it was like he had evaporated from the outside world.
One night, he laid awake in his cell. He stared up at the metal slats that supported the mattress on the bunk above, and once again the darkness took hold of his thoughts, like heroin to an addict. His mind surfed the dark waves of hell. His subconscious became a thick darkness, taking him away from the prison cell for a moment.
He looked back at himself as a little boy when he had lived on the farm with his parents. He could see himself laying in bed, tossing and turning, trying to sleep. His mum had come to check up on him, and as the handle on the door to his bedroom mov
ed, he had turned and pretended to sleep. She sat on the end of his bed and started talking to him. ‘No matter what you do with your life, I will always be there for you. I love you with all my heart, and so does your daddy. We will always protect you, listen to you and try to understand. You can always talk to us, my angel, always.’ She had kissed his cheek and left the room. Tommy didn’t know why he had pretended to be asleep. Maybe he thought he’d get into trouble if he was still awake. He would never know.
The words from his mum had been fake, unreal, lies, deep lies - where is my mum now? He then had an image of himself hanging, his neck stretched, a bone had pierced through the side of his skin, dark dried blood created a line down his neck and had soaked into his t-shirt. His eyes were open, bloodshot and strained. His lips were dark purple, ready to burst. There was a light above him, flickering as a moth flicked off the bulb. He hovered towards himself, looking into his own bloodshot eyes. His dead mouth started to twitch, turning into a smile. ‘Do it Tommy; it only hurts for a second.’ With a start, Tommy jumped from his bunk with a terrorised scream, and the guards ran in.
‘It was a dream, McGregor! Get back in your pit!’ shouted the guard.
These thoughts and dreams became a nightly occurrence. They hurt and tormented Tommy. They were somehow a reminder of how he couldn’t even rely on his own family. The one person who he thought he would have stood by him his whole life had let him down - his mother. She wouldn’t visit, even though he had put in various requests. Neither his mother or father ever came or even tried to make contact.
That night, the black mist in Tommy’s mind came back as he drifted off to sleep. He was hurt by old memories. At that point, he wished he had no memories, wished to forget everything – he needed something to get rid of the black agonising thoughts.
The next morning, he was awoken on doctor’s orders - a lovely dose of Diazepam, 2.5mg twice a day to keep him drowsy, weak and pretty much not with it. It only masked the issues Tommy was facing, but it was better than the terrors that swam through his mind and pounced at any given time.
