Dead Man Walking

by Simon R. Green

  Starting with Frank Parker. We’d never worked together, never moved in the same circles. Never even been in the same city, as far as I knew. Parker left the weird side of things behind as he moved up in the Organization. From field agent to supervising officer, with responsibility for the more political operations. Because even the Organization has to deal with the realities of the world as well as all the weird things that threaten it. Parker worked all over the world, according to stories I’d been told in strict confidence. Slipping across borders and in and out of countries. Often talked about, but never seen.

  The two of us must have started out in the Organization at much the same time. He’d risen a lot further, but then I never was ambitious. Because ambition gets you noticed. We’d be about the same age; but whereas I still looked like a man in his twenties, just as I had since I first appeared in 1963, Parker would look his age. Plastic surgery can do many things, but it can’t make you look twenty again. We’d both seen the world change a lot; but it seemed the world had changed Parker a lot more than it had ever changed me.

  Of course, Parker was only human.

  I thought hard about what might be waiting for us at Ringstone Lodge. I try to plan for every eventuality, including the ones most people never think of because they’re too extreme. When you work for the Organization, strange shit and weird menace come as standard. If you get caught off guard, you have no one to blame but yourself.

  Proper preparation prevents having your soul stolen, or your aura left in tatters. Or being locked up and interrogated by your own people.

  Some hours later, we arrived at the nearest station to Ringstone Lodge. Penny was fast asleep, not even stirring as the train slowed to a halt. I retrieved my backpack and her suitcase, and shook her shoulder firmly. She came awake with a jolt and looked at me with wide eyes, then sat bolt upright as she realized the train wasn’t moving any more. She erupted out of her seat, crammed her hat on her head, grabbed her suitcase from me, and headed for the carriage door.

  ‘You should have woken me before!’ she said loudly, not looking back. ‘Given me time to prepare …’

  ‘You looked so peaceful,’ I said, ambling unhurriedly after her. ‘I didn’t like to disturb you.’

  ‘You know I hate waking up in a hurry! I’ll be feeling disturbed and upset now for hours.’

  ‘Probably the best frame of mind,’ I said, ‘when it comes to Ringstone Lodge.’

  Evening was fast approaching, and the darkening sky pressed in around the platform’s dull yellow lights. I made a point of volunteering to carry Penny’s suitcase off the train, as well as my backpack, and she walked ahead of me with a satisfied smile on her face. I couldn’t see it from behind, but I had no doubt it was there. She strode down the platform with her head held high, one hand holding her hat in place against the gusting breeze, her high heels clacking loudly in the quiet. I followed after, but thanks to years of long practice I didn’t make a sound.

  Ringstone Halt was just a small local station, consisting of two platforms with old-fashioned grey-stone buildings. The station sign looked to be decades old, and no one had attended to the overgrown flowerbeds for almost as long. No one else got on or off the train, which didn’t hang around. It seemed positively eager to be on its way again, as though it had heard about Ringstone Lodge and wanted nothing to do with it.

  I looked up and down the deserted platform. No sense of welcome, or even an acknowledgement of our presence. There was a complete absence of station staff, and the ticket office was locked up tight. A prominent sign made it almost offensively clear that the office was only open until twelve noon. Penny stopped at the single narrow gate that led to the outside and looked back at me. She wasn’t smiling any more. She might not have my exalted senses, but she can pick up on a bad atmosphere as quickly as anyone. The station had everything short of a large flashing neon sign warning that this was somewhere you would not want to be once it got dark. I moved manfully forward, hauling Penny’s suitcase along with me, and we went outside to see what was waiting for us.

  Nothing particularly interesting, as it turned out. Pleasant if characterless countryside stretched away before us under the lowering dark-grey sky. Open fields and bare hardscrabble ground bounded by low stone walls. No one to meet us and no one around, not even a few grazing sheep or cattle. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, and there wasn’t so much as a breath of moving air. A long narrow road, completely devoid of traffic, plunged off into the distance before disappearing over the brow of a low hill. The view was acceptable but uninvolving, like a really uninspired jigsaw puzzle.

  I dropped Penny’s suitcase down beside her and she immediately sat on it, while glaring at me like this was all my fault.

  ‘How frightfully uninviting, darling. It looks like everyone in the vicinity heard tales of this marvellous new thing called civilization and went running off in search of it. Why can’t we ever go anywhere nice?’

  ‘We go where the job takes us,’ I said. ‘You know what they say about the spy game: if you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined.’

  ‘Is that really what they say?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘That’s classified.’

  Penny sniffed loudly and glanced back over her shoulder. ‘I’m surprised such a small station is still operating in this day and age.’

  ‘Probably only kept open to serve the Lodge,’ I said sagely. ‘For people like us.’

  ‘There are no people like us,’ said Penny. She glowered about her. ‘I can’t help noticing a complete lack of taxis, and not even a hint of a bus service. Hell! I’d settle for a pony cart or a rickshaw.’

  ‘Someone from the Lodge will turn up,’ I said.

  Penny gave me a hard look. ‘Did the Colonel tell you that? Did you get it in writing?’

  ‘No. It’s just standard procedure.’

  Penny shook her head. ‘You have faith in the most unlikely things, darling.’

  We waited quietly outside the station, and then we waited some more. The day slowly shut itself down, the shadows lengthening while the air grew uncomfortably cool. Nothing moved, no matter where I looked. It was like the end of the world had sneaked up on us while we weren’t looking. I hate it when that happens. I kept a careful eye on the only road, but no traffic interrupted the grim foreboding of the road to Ringstone Lodge.

  ‘If no one turns up, we could be in for a hell of a long walk,’ said Penny. ‘And I’m not wearing walking shoes. If I’d known a forced route march was on the cards, I would have packed my folding bicycle.’

  ‘Where would that have left me?’ I said.

  ‘Pushing me up that hill, of course. I’m all in favour of healthy exercise, but you can have too much of a good thing.’

  ‘Someone will come,’ I said.

  ‘I blame you,’ said Penny. ‘All that effort you put into staying off everyone’s radar. What if no one knows we’ve arrived? Don’t be stubborn, darling. Get your phone out and tell the Lodge we’re here. Before we die of exposure and end up with small animals gnawing at our bones.’

  ‘A car will be with us in a few minutes,’ I said calmly.

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Is this down to your inhumanly fine senses? Or are you just being extra confident to annoy me?’

  ‘Oh ye of little faith,’ I said. ‘Listen.’

  Her head came up sharply as the sound of a car’s straining motor finally made itself heard on the quiet evening air. Not long after, a car appeared quite suddenly over the crest of the hill and roared down the road to the station. Penny glared at me.

  ‘Show-off!’

  A suitably anonymous vehicle slammed to a halt before us. Not new enough to hold the eye or old enough to attract attention, it had probably started out a fierce crimson. But age and a complete lack of attention had reduced it to a two-tone mix of red and rust. I couldn’t even guess at the make; which was probably just as well, as the maker would only have been embarrassed to acknowledge it. The engine cut off in a grate
ful sort of way, the door opened in a series of jerks, and the driver got out.

  He turned out to be quite a large man for such a small car. He stayed where he was, looking us over unsmilingly. A stiff-backed man in his late fifties, grey-haired and impeccably shaved, handsome enough in a hard-used sort of way. He wore his tweed suit as though it was a uniform, along with sturdy, highly polished boots. Broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, he had large heavy-knuckled hands. Ex-military, and not that long ago. You can always tell. It’s something in the bearing, and the way they look ready to shoot anyone who disagrees with them.

  He looked me over first with his cold grey eyes, taking his time, and then Penny; before removing two photos from inside his jacket and comparing our faces with the ones in his hand. I had to wonder where he got them. There aren’t many photos of me around, I’ve seen to that. He gave the matter some thought, before finally nodding briefly and putting the photos away. He strode forward and crashed to a halt right in front of us, as though in his mind he was still on a parade ground somewhere. I half expected him to fire off a snappy salute, or yell at me for having a button undone. When he finally addressed us, his voice had a surprisingly pleasant Scottish burr.

  ‘Mr Jones, Miss Belcourt, welcome to Ringstone Halt. I am Donald MacKay, head of security at Ringstone Lodge. You’ve come a fair way to be here, I understand.’

  ‘All the way from London,’ said Penny. ‘I was beginning to worry we’d have to spend the night here.’

  ‘My apologies, miss. We were only alerted you were coming a short time ago.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we have code words, or recognition phrases?’ Penny said brightly. ‘Like “the snows are particularly bad in Moscow this year”?’

  MacKay indulged himself with a thin smile, just for her. ‘We do not burden ourselves with such things, miss.’

  ‘Then why the photos?’ I said.

  ‘Electronic information can be hacked or subverted, Mr Jones,’ MacKay said sternly. ‘As well you know. I favour the old school, less to go wrong. And we are being especially cautious just at present, now that Mr Parker is a guest at the Lodge.’

  ‘Would I be right in thinking you’re late of a Highland Regiment, Mr MacKay?’ I said.

  He inclined his head, just a little. ‘Indeed, sir. I had the honour to be Regimental Sergeant Major; until I was forced to retire because of my years. I was not ready to sit around the house and do nothing, so I made a new life for myself in security. There is always a place in the Security Services for an old soldier. They value experience. The Ministry of Defence put me in charge of Ringstone Lodge some three years back. And I am proud to say there has not been a single unfortunate incident on the premises since I took charge of things.’

  ‘But you are … part of the Organization?’ said Penny, dropping her voice conspiratorially even though we couldn’t have been more alone on the surface of the moon.

  ‘I have Organization clearance, miss,’ MacKay said carefully. ‘So I can remain in charge on those occasions when the Organization finds it necessary to take over the Lodge from the Ministry.’

  ‘Does that happen often?’ said Penny.

  ‘Often enough, miss.’

  ‘And would I be right in thinking you’ve seen your share of strange and unusual things?’ I said. ‘Enough for the Organization to take notice of you?’

  He shot me a quick glance. ‘Aye, sir. I have seen my share, and some. There is not much that can throw me.’

  ‘What have you seen, Mr MacKay?’ Penny said winningly.

  ‘Those are stories for another time, miss,’ MacKay said firmly. ‘For now, we must needs be on our way. The others are waiting.’

  ‘Others?’ I said.

  ‘Not in public, Mr Jones.’

  I thought that was pushing it a bit, under the circumstances, but I nodded and went along. MacKay picked up Penny’s suitcase and carried it over to the car, with no visible signs of effort. He loaded it into the boot and then looked back at me and my backpack. I shook my head. He nodded, and gestured for us to get in the car. I beat Penny to the shotgun seat by just a few moments and settled smugly into place with my backpack on my lap, while Penny dropped scowling into the back seat. MacKay ignored all of this, as though such childishness was beneath him. He took his time arranging his long legs carefully behind the steering wheel, fired up the engine, and sent the car roaring back up the hill.

  Heading for Ringstone Lodge, and everything that lay waiting there.

  The road remained entirely untroubled by any other traffic, but MacKay still drove with the exaggerated care of a chauffeur, studying the way ahead with an unwavering gaze as though half expecting something untoward to be lying in wait around every bend in the road. We drove in silence for some time. MacKay didn’t seem to feel the need to make conversation. The open countryside passed us by, grim and contemplative under the darkening sky, with no obvious landmarks or features of interest.

  ‘Fill me in, Mr MacKay,’ I said finally. ‘What’s the situation?’

  ‘Much as you’d expect, Mr Jones.’ MacKay’s gaze didn’t waver from the road ahead for a moment and his voice was entirely calm. ‘Everything at the Lodge is secure, including Mr Parker. All is in order. We’ve merely been waiting on your arrival.’

  ‘Is Parker behaving himself?’ I said.

  ‘He has been most cooperative,’ said MacKay. ‘Though he has not as yet had much to say for himself. Nothing of importance or substance. He is perhaps a little more at his ease than one might expect, given his present circumstances.’

  ‘What sort of a man is Parker?’ I said. ‘How does he strike you?’

  MacKay gave the matter some thought before answering. ‘A man who knows things. The kind of things most men are better off not knowing. A man with secrets, his own as well as other people’s. And most definitely a man who hoards such things to himself, like a miser, for when he might need to make use of them.’

  ‘But what’s he like?’ said Penny. ‘Funny, dour, argumentative? Charming?’

  ‘He can be,’ said MacKay. ‘He is well trained, after all. But you can never trust a man like that, in anything he says or does. He will always have his own reason for everything.’

  ‘Any sign of outside interest in the Lodge?’ I said.

  ‘No, sir. No one is supposed to know we have Mr Parker as our guest, though how long that will last …’

  ‘Especially if he’s right and there are traitors inside the Organization.’

  ‘Do you think that is likely, Mr Jones?’ said MacKay. He still didn’t turn his head to look at me.

  ‘Anyone can be turned,’ I said. ‘All it takes is enough pressure. Or temptation. But I don’t know enough about the Organization, or its personnel, to know how likely that is.’

  ‘Not many do, sir,’ said MacKay.

  ‘Who am I going to be meeting at the Lodge?’ I asked, tacitly agreeing to change the subject.

  ‘Only Organization-appointed personnel are in residence at the moment, sir. The bare minimum necessary to debrief Mr Parker properly.’

  ‘I’m surprised you haven’t got an army surrounding the Lodge,’ I said. ‘A lot of really bad people have really good reasons to want our man silenced before he can spill whatever beans he has.’

  ‘An army would only attract undue attention, sir,’ said MacKay. Just a little condescendingly. ‘We have the very best security measures in place, backed up by all manner of hidden unpleasantness. An army would have trouble getting in.’

  Penny could tell I was getting impatient at having to dig answers out of MacKay and turned on the charm. She smiled winningly into the rear-view mirror, and leaned forward so she could breathe her words right into his ear.

  ‘Who exactly have you got working for you at the Lodge, Mr MacKay?’

  ‘Two guards, miss. Both supplied by the Organization. Alan Baxter and Karl Redd.’

  ‘Have you worked with them before?’ I said.

  ‘No sir, I have not. But they have proved
themselves to be most efficient.’

  ‘What did they do before they came to the Lodge?’ said Penny.

  ‘One does not ask such questions, miss,’ MacKay said firmly. ‘We all know what we need to know, and only what we need to know.’

  ‘But were they civilian security or military?’ I said. ‘You’d know, Sergeant Major.’

  He nodded solemnly. ‘Indeed I would, sir. And I would say not military. Though there is no doubt in my mind that they have both seen action in their time. Then there are the two interrogators, Doctor Alice Hayley and Doctor Robert Doyle. Again new to me and the Lodge, but both Organization people. Very highly qualified and experienced, I am given to understand. She is a fierce little body, the gentleman is more the academic soul.’

  I couldn’t help frowning. ‘I can’t believe the Organization would send you two entirely new people, not when there must be so many who’ve worked at the Lodge before.’

  ‘If Mr Parker is right about rotten apples within,’ MacKay said seriously, ‘they would have to be very careful about who they chose.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like the term interrogators,’ said Penny, settling back in her seat again. ‘Sounds too much like the Spanish Inquisition.’

  ‘The Organization has access to techniques the Inquisition never even dreamed of,’ I said. ‘Given how steeped in secrecy they are, the Organization has always shown an unwavering dedication to getting the truth out of others.’

  ‘You’re really not selling me on this,’ said Penny. ‘No wonder you were so reluctant to come here.’

  I shot her a warning glance. ‘Trust me, nothing is going to happen at the Lodge that I don’t approve of.’

  ‘But how much ground does that cover?’ said Penny. And she stared out her window, rather than look at me or MacKay.

  ‘You should not feel sympathy for Mr Parker, Miss Belcourt,’ MacKay said sternly. ‘Given the kind of people he worked for, and the kind of things he did for them.’

  Penny remained silent.

  ‘Anyone else at the Lodge?’ I said.

  ‘Just our resident technician,’ said MacKay. ‘Philip Martin. He looks after our surveillance systems. He is MoD, but has been granted Organization clearance for this particular debriefing because bringing a newcomer up to speed on the Lodge’s specialized equipment would take too long. Mr Martin has worked well for me these last three years, and I have no doubt as to his capabilities. I have been assured another qualified technician is on his way to spell Mr Martin, so he doesn’t have to watch his screens twenty-four-seven. But it will be a while before the new man arrives.’