by Brian Cain
CHAPTER SIX
Robert Stanton burst into Anthony's office and there was his father right in front of him, a perfect clone of his brother; after all they were twins. He ran to his father and embraced him. Janine followed and closed the door. "God I've missed you Dad."
"You should have seen it from my side boy." Robert let go of his father and looked in his face.
"Have you seen Mum?"
"I've always wanted to see you but your mother was so protective." Anthony interrupted.
"Mum confided in Lola and she would tell us about you. Mum never knew or she would have told Lola nothing any more, she pressured her for information recently." Stanton looked down with a sad look.
"Last time I saw your sister she was throwing things at me, anything. Bottles, phones, vases, plates, and furniture you name it. She must hate me." Robert looked stunned and spoke.
"Dad you had just broken her boyfriend’s arm, she didn’t know it was you."
"He was selling smack to schoolkids."
"She knows that now but she didn't at the time."
Stanton looked back up with a stern face. "I will not allow things like that if I can possibly do something about it."
Anthony looked at Robert and raised his eyebrows with a smile. "We don't like it either Dad. Mum’s the one who has kept us in line. Robert is a bit like her but not of late. The more we find out of some people the less we like them."
"Your Mum, I need to talk to you. Could you leave us Janine?"
"I’ll be outside if you want me." Janine closed the door.
"Your mother should be touching down in London in a couple of hours." The twins looked at each other with stern resolve, then back at their father. "Do you know what your father does?"
Anthony spoke. "You work for the governments of most western nations advising on security matters. You also train people in the same thing. Apparently you're the best around. We’re very proud of you Dad no matter what you think."
"What you say is partly true, but nowhere near the truth. I work for anyone who has western democracy at heart. You do the same thing; I just do it a little different to you. I'm a mercenary and assassin. I have the blood of countless people on my hands directly and indirectly." Stanton could see the twins showed no emotion, he continued. "Sanctions are something that has been done for a long time, the eradication of a friend or foe who does not stick to the creed. A kind of unwritten law we have to follow. How am I going so far?"
Anthony encouraged him, "Great, as long as the right people get killed."
Stanton continued, "I receive sanctions by a coded mail service from mainly the AFP in Australia. They have a photo so there can be no mistakes. Information I will need on locations, habits, fears, and weakness of the person have to be decoded. It's very time consuming but works well. Yesterday morning I received one on your mother."
"From our own government?” asked Robert.
"From whom?" added Anthony.
"I haven't found exactly who, but I will. I found the start of the trail this morning. That's why I'm in Sydney. You will hear on the news a man found dead in Kirribilli this morning; I killed him. Someone made a mistake as your mother insists on using her maiden name. She stumbled on some information about some missing weapons and ammo in Afghanistan that just happened to go missing a couple of weeks ago. She asked some questions in Canberra and they sent the sanction to me by mistake not realising the connection. She will be in good hands shortly, the best. Now I'm here for you and Lola, you'll have to come with me. They will come after you too."
"Good, then we won't have to flush them out, best thing we can do is sit tight and pass you any information we get and we get plenty," said Robert.
Anthony nodded at his father in support. "We have known what you are all along Dad. Anthony has always made things clear; he's a lot like you. It took him years to convince me but I've got too many absolute bastards off the hook but not any more. What a shit system but it’s all we have." Stanton looked out the window to the bustling street below, paused, then turned back to the twins.
"Plan, I have to go to Lola and talk to her. I have to tell her about her mother."
"We keep Lola in cotton wool dad, she's like Mum," said Anthony.
"If they’re going to get to us it will be your mother or Lola they use, I’m sending her to London to join your mother."
"Dad we know Mum has never told you about your grandchildren." Stanton's face went super serious.
"Grandchildren?"
"We all have one child, you have three grandchildren."
Stanton sat down in front of the twins. "What have I done? You’re all in danger."
Robert shook his head. "No, for now we are three. Our houses are like a fortresses dad, we read all your books and manuals. There's not much we don't know about looking after ourselves. We can shoot the eye out of someone's dick at two thousand metres without even trying; Lola can too. Wonder where we get that from?"
"I taught you from when you were little tackers right up till you went to school when your mother shut me out. She detested me taking you out and teaching you such things but I was a soldier and that's all I knew."
"We remember Dad," said Robert with a warm smile. Stanton rose from his seat.
"I heard Janine mention Hanlon and murder, would that be the same Hanlon who dodged murder and rape charges two years ago?"
"Yes. We just made bail for him on fresh charges of rape and murder of a twelve year old a year ago."
"Why did you get him bail? I can guarantee he’s guilty of far more. When people are about to die they spill all kinds of things. I ran into one of his cell mates and learned a lot. He’s also guilty of the Braun girl murder; she was six; I struggled listening to the details."
"If he was on remand Dad we can't get at him."
"Huh, I have to realise you are of me, how stupid of me."
"The Formula One motel in Parramatta. He's there to be near his mother."
"What room?"
"Ten, right at the end."
"Right I'm off to see Lola via Parramatta. Exchange contact numbers and remember, pay phones on..."
"Yeah we know Dad, pay phones to mobiles not in our names only."
"I’ll call you as soon as I know your mother is in London. Arrange to be away this weekend. I want you to meet someone, the Cadiche man."
"The part aboriginal fella you treat like family; we know all about him," said Robert.
"I was hoping you would both understand."
"We had to wait for Mum to come around; we've pulled her out of the shit so many times with this kind of stuff but she's done it this time. She's lucky you’ve tolerated her for so long."
"Boys I never ever stopped loving your mother. It's my fault I lost her. I was blinded by my own destiny; she can come home tomorrow. I would hold nothing against her. Globe trotting - I thought it was over. Here we go again. If they go near her or you I know what they understand."
"You can't take on everyone Dad."
"Terrorists - I learnt a lot from them. I don't mean how to win friends and influence people. I’ve seen them turn the most militant opinion against themselves. They go around laying to waste masses of their own innocent people believing they are right. Militarily their tactics are merely a nuisance. Blowing themselves and their mates up, you have to strike at the heart of the opposition’s power and might until they can no longer operate. Put the power of stealth along with it and you just may get somewhere. You will have in your possession the biggest deterrent known to man. Your mother gave you my will and you have it safe somewhere. If anything happens to me there are detailed instructions on how to distribute the information I’ve amassed. No one except you will be able to get to it and then only after a complex set of guidelines to make sure it gets into the right hands. They thought I’d die long ago and take all the facts with me, but I'm still here. I made sure they knew what I had, that's why they keep me alive. They have overstepped the mark; someone's an idiot or made this mistake on p
urpose, I'm not sure yet. By now they should really be considering the consequences. Anything else you want to ask me?”
"You going to be alright Dad?"
"Every day without you and your mother I tried to die a hero. Now I'm getting you back I'm not so keen. We need to use this while we can and drop it when they leave us alone. It'll work if we play our cards right. I’ve had a long time to prepare for this. At the weekend we’ll go to a place no one can get us, even with a nuclear warhead. I want you at my place Saturday morning. Hide your families."
"What about Hanlon? He's supposed to be in court again tomorrow."
"I'm just about to pay Mr Hanlon a visit." Stanton looked out the window; it had started to rain heavily. "Perfect conditions, the rain cleans everything away."
Anthony walked up to Stanton and looked outside next to him.
"Hanlon is a civilian with no government or military ties. You don't work like that; you usually pass the information on to the police and let them do the rest. Do you think this is wise?" Stanton looked Anthony in the face.
"The Braun girl was a British migrant. She was the daughter of a deceased member of MI6. I've been looking for him for ages; I want to take care of this myself, then I can make sure his widow gets the information she’s been waiting for."
Stanton stopped and parked clear of the Formula One motel in Parramatta. Mid-afternoon the traffic was heavy. It was raining steadily. He found the power box for the motel was inside the lobby and could not be accessed without being in sight of the surveillance system. He screwed the silencer on his automatic Barretta pistol under his jacket in an adjacent shop doorway. He moved to the alleyway behind the motel between an adjacent shop running directly off the footpath and surveyed the power lines to the motel. As he looked he heard the cry of a cat behind him down the end of the alley, he looked round and could just see a scruffy wet cat on the tin roof covering the air-conditioning unit on the base of the motel. The cat continued wailing at something on the ground. Stanton moved into the shadow of the alley way closer to the cat; he could see something on the ground in the alley. The cat’s gaze was fixed on whatever it was. Stanton put his pistol in his coat pocket as he walked to the end of the alley to see what the fuss was about. He found a small kitten on the ground below the cat. Its eyes had not yet opened. It appeared the cat was moving its kittens for some reason, maybe the rain and this one she had lost. The roof was too high for the cat to access her kitten about four metres from the ground. Stanton picked up the kitten; it was still alive.
He put the kitten in the opposite pocket to his pistol, then scaled the gutter downpipe that ran from the roof; the cat protested and hissed, raising the hair on its back. Stanton held himself steady with one hand at the roof level and carefully got the kitten from his pocket with the other. The cat gingerly approached and gently took the kitten from Stanton's hand. Stanton smiled at the cat as it bolted through a gap in the iron flashing along the edge of the roof and Stanton dropped back to the ground. He returned to survey the street from the end of the alley.
The rain had intensified; lightning struck nearby and heavy thunder followed. Stanton fired three quick shots from his pistol at hip level from the cover of his ankle length jacket. The bullets severed the main power wire at the insulator atop the corner of the motel building, sending it to the ground and cutting power to the area as soon as it met the street. Confusion was immediate with no traffic lights and heavy rain. Staff from the motel and other businesses were in the street surveying the problem with mobile phones to their ears. Stanton walked directly down the access driveway to the lower floor rooms with his jacket pulled over his head. He got to the end room, number ten. He had checked Hanlon's mobile was in the area from his car before initiating the plan and knew he must be in his room. He knocked on the door, dropping his coat from around his head in the cover of the veranda. He stood confidently in front of the door’s peep hole so he could be clearly seen with his hands in his pockets to hide his rubber gloves. Hanlon looked through the peep hole and said loudly, "Who is it?"
"Branigan." Hanlon was puzzled and cocked his revolver.
"Branigan, who sent you?"
"I'm a mate of Whistler, your old cell mate in Pentridge." Hanlon thought a little, running his hand through his shoulder length black hair.
"How is Whistler these days?" Stanton shook his head and dropped the edges of his mouth.
"What, haven't you heard he’s long dead?" Hanlon was silent for a few seconds.
"If he’s dead how do you know I'm here?”
"His missus, she's in the car. I’ve been rooting her for a while and she wants to catch up with you. Can you let me in? I don't want the cops to see me I'm on bail." Stanton used all the information he could and was aware Whistler’s wife had previous sessions with Hanlon. "Come on man, she's got her pigtails in, she's busting for a session. You know what she's like." Hanlon uncocked his revolver, only Whistler would know such a thing. He unbolted the door and opened it a couple of inches. As soon as the door moved Stanton kicked it in sending Hanlon to the floor, loosing his weapon as he fell, Hanlon coming to rest against the bed end directly in front of the door. Stanton burst in slamming the door behind him and kicking Hanlon in the left side at kidney level. Hanlon groaned as Stanton knelt grabbing Hanlon by the hair and looking him in the face with his knee in his chest. "You don't know me," said Stanton. "It's not important, who I'm here for is. You remember the little Braun girl?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Stanton cocked his pistol and thrust the barrel in Hanlon's mouth.
"Now do you remember?" Hanlon's eyes were the size of dinner plates as he nodded.
"My name’s John Stanton and I'm here for the little Braun girl and all the other little girls you've buried. Yes I know where you buried her, that's why they found her." Stanton drove a syringe into Hanlon's hide pulling his hair back as he squealed with the pain of the needle. "She was still alive wasn't she, when you buried her? Her little arms and hands were found pointing upwards when they found her just like you’d told Whistler. Begging for you to let her live." Hanlon began to cough and shake. "It's a drug; you will lose control of your entire muscular system as it begins to spasm out of control, contorting your body beyond recognition. I know you have asthma so it’ll look like you’ve died of a seizure. You’ll die of the most unimaginable pain and suffering just like her. I won't laugh when I tell anyone about it like you did, because I'm the only one who’ll ever know." Stanton dropped Hanlon's head to the floor as he began to thrash around uncontrollably, unable to scream as he could not draw breath.
Stanton put his weapon away in his deep jacket pocket next to the three spent cartridges he had picked up when cutting the power. Stanton walked out of the motel through the chaos in the street and walked calmly to his car. He posted a plain envelope to an address in the UK using a printer in his car. A single page with a message inside in plain print read: Hanlon to the Devil. It was addressed to the Braun family.
Stanton knew he needed rest and felt drained. Tomorrow he would go to his daughter’s house in Newcastle. He headed for the Marie Celeste to eat, shower, sleep and consider what he would say to his daughter in the morning.
