Cherry Picking

by Tim Heath

  The battle lines had been drawn, however faintly, right from the beginning and as time went on some were just too stubborn to admit he was doing a good job.

  What remained of this group now was just a core of four players, though they were main team players and real characters within the dressing room. Their attitudes, more worryingly, had started going onto the pitch with the team, making them play in a way other than that suggested by Tommy and this was not to their benefit. To the average eye it was just the same old inconsistent team and the bad results were put down to the fact that so much had changed but at heart it was the same under-performing side. But Tommy could see something deeper at work and he knew it was time to tackle it because if things continued to slide like this he’d have a real problem undoing it all.

  In Tommy’s mind the solution was clear — to ship out these problematic players and start afresh. The difficulty was that they formed the core of the team as it had been for a long time. They were all experienced players as well and would leave a real hole in the middle of the side.

  Tommy had only had a few weeks with the new lads and was still getting to know them, he had no way of knowing what they were capable of. But in a moment of decision the previous day he’d decided to take his chances and had discreetly made inquiries through certain agents as to which clubs might be interested in taking these players.

  Finding a home for them shouldn’t be hard, he’d thought, as they were in themselves good experienced players but with Tommy’s ambitions and the financial backing of the club’s owner he also knew that they wouldn’t make it at the very top anyway and this was where Tommy was aiming.

  So when he checked his email he was pleased to see that the indication from several agents was that there were quite a few clubs interested and they awaited his instruction.

  Tommy smiled and jumped up out of his seat suddenly in need of a good morning coffee and left his office, locking the door behind him, in search of one.

  On the way to the canteen he paused at the window overlooking the training fields and stood to watch as three of the newer lads were already out there practising, one taking free kicks and the others shooting at goal, alternating between feet each time. Within a couple of minutes another two lads trotted over and they all greeted each other warmly and got into things again. Tommy was grinning happily. These were all the new lads, eager to start, much earlier for training than they needed to be but they were hungry, and that’s what Tommy liked most. Clearly they were starting to become good friends and Tommy knew the signs were good.

  Having watched them for about five minutes he went and got that coffee from a new machine they had just had fitted, it was too early for the canteen staff to be in yet. Besides, the machine coffee used real beans and it tasted rather good.

  Tommy picked up the large cardboard cup and walked slowly back to his office, briefly pausing again at the window as he spotted that another two of the younger lads had arrived and were deep into training. Getting back to his office he felt the last ten minutes, if anything, had reinforced his intentions. Out there on the field now was a group of young, promising players. They weren’t lazy teenagers but eager to improve, turning up early to just practise more. Where were the older guys? Where were these troublesome four? No, his mind was clear now.

  Tommy scanned through the brief details again of the email messages from the agents and selecting a couple of suitable clubs for each of the players, he typed back replies requesting that trials and meetings be arranged later that day for each of them.

  If he was going to do this, he wanted it done quickly and with as little time wasted as possible. He wanted to head them off even as they arrived so that they couldn’t mix another day with any of the other players, especially those kids he’d just seen outside. No, this had to be done that afternoon. Tommy picked up the phone and called the lady in reception, giving her the four players’ names and asking that they be requested to wait in the room next to the reception as soon as they arrived and that when all four were in, to call him and he’d see them.

  He put the phone down, stood up and walked over to his window that overlooked the car park at the front of the building. A light rain was beginning to fall, small puddles forming on the ground. Starting today, he thought to himself, things were going to be different.

  **********

  Jessica Ponter had gone into work the next day early and happier than she had ever felt in her entire life. It was almost that the nearer she got to work the further she felt from Tommy and that thought bothered her. She felt safe with him, more so than she had ever felt with anyone before.

  Opening up the office and turning on the lights, Jessica put her things down at her desk and fired up her computer. She walked off to the kitchen while it loaded everything so that she could make herself a drink.

  When she came back from the kitchen she saw a man tapping at the locked front door quietly. It was a homeless guy that she’d seen a few times before, he had asked to use the toilet on previous occasions but always spent far too long in there just to be doing that, not that she was too bothered, at least she was allowing him to be a little cleaner, though you wouldn’t know it through the stench of his dirty and tatty clothes.

  Previously he’d come during the day and there had been other people around, but now the place wasn’t yet open. She paused there for a moment as his tapping increased into a louder knocking as he saw her. Outside the rain started to increase and with his other hand he tried to pull his coat over himself to protect his head but clearly the coat was a size or two too small and she could see it wasn’t really doing much.

  She paused but then went over to the doors and let him in, the man coming in without a word and walking off to the toilet. She put the keys on top of her desk while she waited for him to emerge again, trying to make herself busy but not really quite succeeding.

  About five minutes later she heard the familiar sound of the toilet door opening, the hinges lacking enough oil so that they gave off a squeak each time they opened. The guy trudged back towards her, his bag in one hand and his other just inside his coat, probably with one of their toilet rolls or maybe some soap. She had long since recognised that he felt happy to help himself and she didn’t know what to do about it really, not wanting to leave him outside on his own, and besides, when the place was open, it still was a public building open to all so there was little she could do about it anyway. He paused when he got near to her and she started for the door, only going three steps before remembering the keys were on her desk, and she turned around to pick them up.

  As she reached them, the guy suddenly turned grabbing for her hair and pulled what felt like some type of knife from within his coat.

  She could feel him breathing at her neck and could smell his breath, such was the odour, a mixture of alcohol and rotting teeth. He ran a hand crudely onto her bottom.

  “You know, you are really quite beautiful,” he said.

  She froze, a sudden feeling of revulsion overcoming her body and disgust as he grabbed her backside. Sitting on her desk was a large metal stapler, the kind used for really large documents and in a moment, without thinking about the danger, she reached for it while he pressed his groin into her. She spun around suddenly and struck him on the head with as much force and venom as she could.

  The blow sent him stumbling back and half turning. She looked down at the stapler, as blood ran down onto her fingers, to see bits of hair and skin plastered to the rough, jagged metal edge. The man fell to the hard floor with a mighty crash, clearly knocked completely unconscious by that first blow. Blood started to trickle across the floor in a small channel and the sight of it made her panic for a moment. She ran over to the man, suddenly worried by what she had done, and turned his head slightly, before pulling away at what she saw.

  She came over all hot and needed some air, but more than that she needed to call someone. She started to feel sick, only now the thought of what might have happened rushing over her. For
what she’d seen made it clear that he was dead, the man’s eyes staring blankly into nowhere, a horrifying sight for anyone to see, let alone after what she’d just nearly gone through.

  She reached for her phone and without thinking about it called Brendan, who once he’d got her calm and breathing normally had been shocked at what might have been. He said he’d send someone right round, that she should keep the place shut and not allow anyone else in and that he’d get it all cleared up and would see her later.

  Thirty minutes later the body was gone, and the floor clean. A team of three men had come, without saying a word to Jessica and just worked away. Jessica had waited outside, smoking her way through a whole packet of cheap cigarettes, something she never really did. She had called her other colleagues who were due in that morning, giving them some reason to leave it for a while. She’d put a notice on the door stating that it was closed for technical reasons, but that morning, with the rain now quite heavy, no one had come at all.

  So when the three men walked out with what just as easily could have been a roll of unused carpet, no one would have thought anything of it. The bag which the guy had with him, as well as the stapler were also taken away, all to be destroyed, along with the body, as per Brendan’s instructions.

  Their van pulled away without any more fuss and suddenly she was by herself again, tears now pouring from her eyes like the torrents of rain that were falling all around her, and she felt very alone. A car pulled up at the side of the road and Brendan Charles got out, large golfing umbrella in hand, and she ran to him like a daughter to a father and embraced him. Jessica buried her head into his chest and cried uncontrollably, her whole body shaking. She cried like she hadn’t done since her father’s death.

  Brendan helped her into the car to keep her dry but she was already dripping wet having just been sitting outside on a wooden bench. Brendan put his jacket onto her and she rested her head on his left shoulder. Strange how safe she felt with Brendan, how he was always in the right place and how she knew to call him in such times. He really was like a dad to her and because of this she was understandably nervous to mention about seeing Tommy last night, not knowing how he’d react.

  The car pulled away and she didn’t care where they were going, but she knew she couldn’t go back to that place. Not now, not ever. She’d made up her mind that she didn’t want to be alone any more, that she didn’t want to work in that place and especially after what just happened...the thought was too horrible to think about. And deep down it was not the fact that she was upset for striking a man and accidentally killing him after he’d tried to attack her but that seeing his dead body just lying there, those eyes being empty and hollow, it reminded her of that terrible day when she’d found her father hanging in their garden, swinging freely from the tree, rope around his neck, eyes looking into the distance — those haunting, terrible eyes that lacked life.

  They drove around in silence for a while before it all came out in a flood of emotion and Jessica told Brendan everything, all that she was feeling, how she’d had a wonderful time with Tommy, all that had happened that morning and how she couldn’t go back there, wouldn’t go back. She said she wanted to be with Tommy, to move in, live with him, spend each moment with him. Brendan listened really well the whole way through, which is what she’d so liked about him, the fact he was a great listener. Brendan kept quiet in his thoughts for the moment, deciding instead to listen and process them later. He was a little surprised to hear about her meeting with Tommy but kind of understood it now, remembering back to his University days when he first dated his wife-to-be, those impulsive moments where you just want to spend time together. Jessica wept as she talked about the memories of her father’s own death, struggling to even say the words and never once calling it a suicide, too painful was the whole situation.

  Brendan felt that knot in his stomach tighten again as he remembered back. He looked away as she spoke, pretending to notice something outside, desperate not to give something away in his face or eyes, longing for her to change the subject, to move on. After a few minutes she did, calming down a lot more as she just rested there by his side, head on his shoulder again and he stroked her hair gently, like a father to a daughter. Brendan sat thinking things through himself as they got to Jessica’s flat and he woke her from her sleep. The driver came round to the side and together they helped her out and Brendan walked her to the door slowly, checking she’d be all right and promising to call her later before walking back to the car once she’d gone inside.

  With the partition between the front of the car and the back still up, Brendan made a quick call to Robert Sandle, wanting to meet him at last. Robert was short with him, saying very little and telling him that he’d send him a text message straight back and he was to do as it said. Brendan hung up confused but content. Seeing Jessica like that, being reminded of all the past and all the things he’d done in the name of ‘service’ to his boss, made him resent himself even more for the fake he often felt he was, and he resolved to do something about it finally, to meet Robert, to work with him, if it meant breaking this whole dirty business open and getting rid of Nigel Gamble once and for all.

  **********

  Robert Sandle had had an uneventful morning, he had done some more research, scanning through many pages of information and not really thinking he was getting anywhere before he’d gone out for a walk.

  The rain that was covering most of the country had yet to work its way down to the village and he walked in semi-clear skies though there was a breeze picking up, pushing those greying clouds on the horizon ever closer.

  Robert was in long before it started raining, which it did around eleven, great torrents now pouring down every side of the house, the old roof taking a pelting and making a lot of noise in the process.

  It was around then that Brendan called Robert, quite out of the blue and very different from how he had been when they had last spoken, his whole attitude seemingly changed. Robert would have to watch what he said, knowing that the call would be listened to. It was when Brendan said he wanted to meet that Robert knew things had changed, and he cut in, knowing that too much had already been said but saying he’d text him. Robert knew that, as he had sent the text from his phone, they wouldn’t be able to see what it said, unless they actually read the message on either handset.

  Robert hung up and quickly tapped away at the computer, trying to find somewhere they could chat that would offer the least chance of being listened to.

  Certainly, Robert was aware all their personal phones were clearly being monitored by Nigel’s team, so it made sense for a pay phone somewhere to be used to speak to Brendan, at least initially. Robert needed to know what Brendan wanted, and if indeed he was genuine. Knowing it was unlikely that Brendan would have physically been bugged with some tracking device, all he needed was five minutes to talk on a pay phone making sure Brendan left all mobiles and electronic gadgets at the office. The tracking used was not on every single line that existed — that would have involved a massive amount of work — but instead it was on satellites listening down for certain key words. Therefore what Robert was looking for was a telephone booth located near to somewhere that had a lot of continuous outside noise making it impossible to listen in on the call and thereby track which line was being used in order to record the conversation.

  It only took Robert five minutes to find a suitable location, not far from the airport but with major demolition work going on as well as road repairs being done. He remembered how the area had been such a mess the last time he’d seen it and confirming that the building project still had several months to run via the company’s website, Robert was sure that there was enough outside noise from several sources to make it a perfect spot to speak to him.

  Robert typed a text message to him quickly, telling him where to go, when, and what to leave behind. He pressed send and checked his watch. It gave him four hours before he needed to call the number.

  Outside the
wind was picking up, trees at the far side of the next-door field swayed heavily from side to side. The old house groaned as wind rushed through the window frames and down the two chimneys. Robert got up and went to the bathroom to freshen up a little. In the lounge the main house phone started ringing and he walked slowly over to it and picked it up.

  “Hello, Robert, it’s Katie Taylor.”

  She’d called. A small excited buzz ran through him as his pulse went up a notch.

  “Hello. Not out walking the dog then?” he said, an obvious joke. She laughed deliberately but it sounded genuine as well.

  “I had some time to kill and was wondering…,” she trailed off a little before continuing, “if I could come over this afternoon?”

  She spoke so softly, so gently. Everything in him knew this was a bad idea, knew she probably did this with lots of men, but something in him didn’t want to say no.

  “Come over any time now, if you can brave the weather.”

  “I’ll bring a bottle and we can have some lunch. Let me get dressed and I’ll see you in half an hour.”

  She said her goodbye and put the phone down.

  Chapter 22

  Tommy had been ruthless in his dealing with the four members of his team when they had arrived that day, leaving them sitting together by themselves for thirty minutes, deliberately letting them sweat a bit before going in there, telling them what they would be doing and sending them on their way to the club of their choice, having given them each two options to choose from. It had been short and sweet and they were all going their separate ways before lunchtime, so fast that none of the other players knew of anything until after they were gone. And Tommy was to make sure that whatever their choices were, they wouldn’t be back at the club; he gave them no option to turn down a move away to another team.