The Jack in the Green

by Lee, Frazer

  Another man was on the floor, cupping his nose with both hands as it gushed with blood. Behind them all, old Tommy MacGregor was frantically removing broken glasses and beer bottles from the surface of the bar, lest they become makeshift weapons.

  Fearless, Holly marched into the fray. She positioned herself between Dieter and the others, shoving the big man back until he was square with the bar. Holly had Dieter by the lapels as she ordered him, in no uncertain terms, to calm down.

  Tom watched as a couple of the roughnecks seized the moment and rounded on Dieter, intent on inflicting some punishment now that Holly had cleared the floor.

  “Dieter? What the hell?”

  Tom rushed over and waded in, brushing the dreadlocked guy aside. The young man turned and their eyes met. Tom recognized him as the protester who’d gotten his arm trapped in the window of the rental car back at the airport. The kid clearly recognized Tom, too.

  “You,” the kid said. “Should’ve known; corporate suit-job like you. On vacation, are we? Come to chop a few trees down?”

  Tom blanked the kid and turned his attention back to Dieter, but he soon realized he need not worry. Holly stood between Dieter and the two men, daring them to make a move. The look of defiance on her face was enough to disarm the men. They cancelled their assault, throwing Dieter, then Tom, a vindictive look. Bolstered by Holly’s support, the landlord stepped out to face the men.

  “I want all of you out, right now. Police are on their way. If you’re good little boys and girls, you’ll have a head start. If not, you’ll have the Inspector to answer to, and he’s not the kind to discriminate. It’ll be the highlight of his week to lock the whole bloody lot of you up in his cells.”

  “Bill, pay the man, we’re leaving.”

  A wild-eyed woman, dressed in flowing skirts and until now a silent observer at the rear of the chaos, had entered the arena. She looked just as displeased with her foot soldiers as old MacGregor did. Tom noticed a skinny girl standing next to her as she tapped at the screen of her mobile phone then secreted it in her clothing. God help them if she’d been filming the whole sorry scene.

  The bleeding man struggled to his feet and dug a few crumpled twenty pound notes out of his pocket.

  “That should cover the food and drinks. This arsehole can pay for the damage,” he snarled, eyes blazing at Dieter. With that, Bill tossed the cash at MacGregor before he and his cronies filed out of the restaurant.

  Tom strode up to Dieter.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy do you think you’re doing, Dieter?”

  The big man swayed on his feet, still drunk.

  “Just sampling some of the local delicacies, my man. One thing led to another.”

  “Holly, get him some coffee, will you? Strong—very strong.”

  The girl nodded and ducked behind the bar, MacGregor watching her like a hawk. The old man glanced at Tom with those rheumy eyes of his. Tom tried not to give anything away. The last thing he needed was to become part of a marital soap opera. He had one of his own to deal with, after all, on top of Dieter behaving like a maniac.

  “How much did he drink?” Tom asked the landlord.

  MacGregor just shrugged and waved his hand along the row of inverted liquor bottles behind him, indicating at least six different brands of Scotch had been sampled during Dieter’s alcoholic odyssey.

  Tom grabbed Dieter’s arms, steadying him and led him over to an upturned barstool. God and Jesus, he weighed a half ton. Propping his coworker up against the bar, Tom knelt to pick up the stool then sat Dieter down, wincing at the distillery odor on the big man’s breath. Dieter’s upper body curled into the surface of the bar like a Slinky on a stairwell. Tom was mystified that Dieter had seen fit to get so wrecked in the middle of the afternoon.

  “What in hot hell were you thinking, man? I told you to come back here and file a report with the cops, not to go on a drunken rampage.”

  Dieter looked at Tom, bleary eyed, as though he’d just met him at a party—then noticed his torn clothes and scratched face and arms.

  “Hey, Tommy. What happened to you? Look like you went fifteen rounds with Mike Tyson.”

  “You should take a look in the damn mirror.” Tom sighed.

  He realized he wouldn’t get any sense out of Dieter until he’d sobered up. Holly returned with a steaming pot of black coffee and, Tom was thankful, two mugs. She poured them both a drink before starting to tidy up the restaurant. A couple of chairs had been broken in the fray, and Tom watched as she stacked them in the corner. He then became aware that Dieter was watching him, watching Holly.

  “Sly dog, McCrae,” Dieter cackled. “So that’s what took you so long, eh? Always knew you had some Scottish in you, with your name and all. She got some in her too, huh?”

  Tom looked up and saw old man MacGregor, Holly’s husband, back in his regular spot behind the bar not four feet away from them both. Caught off guard, the raw look on Tom’s face must have told the old man everything he needed to know.

  Great. First Dieter goes Frankenstein’s monster on everybody’s ass, now I’m a cuckold too. Old bastard will probably smother me with my pillow while I sleep tonight…if I can sleep tonight…

  “Come on, Dieter, let’s get some fresh air, yeah?”

  Tom looked apologetically at the landlord, who glared back at him with open contempt. Pulling Dieter’s arm around his neck, Tom heaved the hulking fool out of the restaurant. He avoided all eye contact with Holly as he passed her on the way out. He got as far as the Reception when Dieter heaved and vomited all over the carpet. Holly emerged from the restaurant, carrying broken furniture, and looked at the steaming mess Dieter had left on the rug with dismay. Legs buckling under Dieter’s dead weight, Tom struggled outside, cursing under his breath and wondering if his day could possibly get any worse.

  Dropping Dieter onto the edge of a large planter containing a weather-beaten spruce, Tom paced the parking lot in an attempt to contain his growing anger. It did not work.

  “Listen up, Dieter. You cost us today, big time. Picking a fight with a bunch of protesters? Idiot.”

  “They started it,” Dieter slurred. “Right after I accused them of cutting our brakes.”

  “After you what? As far as I know they only arrived here today, which would rule them out. We’d sure as hell remember seeing their bus, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I’m sorry, Tommy, really I am. I had to say something about the brakes; I mean it must have been them. They followed us up here, you saw the guy with the braids…”

  Dieter’s voice was loaded with the kind of paranoia that came with putting away a half bottle of single malt. Tom had reached boiling point. Time to tell it like it was.

  “First, my name is not ‘Tommy’. Second, go sleep it off. Third, pack your things. I want you out of Douglass first thing tomorrow. I’ll do what I can to pick up the pieces here, but if you have fucked our deal, I will make sure Mathers knows every last gory detail about what you achieved here today, you hear me, you drunken asshole?”

  Without waiting for Dieter’s answer, Tom marched back inside the pub. He could do with a stiff drink himself.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jupiter stumbled on through the trees, his anger and bile overriding the fatigue in his calf muscles, which were crying out for stasis. Denny rushed on ahead of him, apparently intent on ignoring him for the entire walk back to the broken-down camper. Amber scurried along at her boyfriend’s side, the two of them as thick as thieves.

  How apt, thought Jupiter, that’s what they are, after all—bloody thieves.

  Jupiter could not let go of the fact that Denny had sold them out to Bill and his head frothed with indignation.

  “After everything I’ve done for you, Denny, all the free rides, all the free meals; a crash pad for you and your girl. Hey, arsehole! Answer me, man! What did I do to you?”

  Charlotte, struggling along with Kegger as they both tried to keep up with Jupiter, shouted at hi
m to stop as he bolted through the trees and rugby tackled Denny to the ground. Winded, Denny coughed and spluttered on a mouthful of dead leaves. Amber tried to pull Jupiter away from her boyfriend, but Jupiter shoved her off of him. She careered back into Charlotte and they both took a tumble onto the forest floor.

  “Answer me, bitch,” Jupiter growled.

  He had Denny pinioned, his knees digging into the wriggling man’s arms, preventing him from defending himself.

  Amber got to her feet again, intent on retaliating, but Kegger held her back.

  “This is between them,” he said, holding her by the collar of her jacket.

  “You sold me out, bastard,” Jupiter demanded. “You’ve been nothing but a user these past few weeks. Well, this is the last time, Denny.”

  “No!” Charlotte cried, as Jupiter rained blows down on Denny’s face.

  Careless of his wounded arm, Jupiter kept slapping and punching, turning Denny’s skin the color of chopped liver. Unable to protect himself, Denny kicked and struggled, but he was rooted to the spot by Jupiter’s knees.

  And then Denny stopped struggling, and began laughing. It was a crazed sound, like someone had opened the stopper on a two-liter bottle of madness.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at, Denny? I’m not laughing.”

  This only made Denny laugh even harder. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, his face red with mirth, and from the sting of Jupiter’s blows.

  “You sap, Brian,” Denny chuckled through his tears. “I’ve been using you for longer than that.”

  Jupiter was mystified by Denny’s statement. How could the guy have this much front? He’d kill him, so help him, he’d kill him right there on the spot.

  “My name isn’t Denny as much as yours is Jupiter.”

  Denny glanced over at Amber.

  “Sorry, babe.”

  “What the actual fuck?” Amber stopped straining against the leash of Kegger’s hand.

  “We were real, if it’s any consolation,” Denny went on.

  Amber renewed her attempts to reach Jupiter and Denny, but now appeared intent on wounding the latter. Kegger almost toppled over, holding her back this time; such was the ferocity of her anger.

  “You’re a copper?” Jupiter asked.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the others, incredulous.

  “He’s a fucking undercover policeman!”

  Denny’s eyes narrowed.

  “Much worse than that I’m afraid. Undercover? Yes. Police? No.”

  “He’s a frigging journalist,” Charlotte sighed.

  “Bingo,” Denny said. “Smart girl.”

  Jupiter snarled. “So you’ve been spying on me the whole time?”

  Denny had been hiding his secret for months. It was a clear relief to be getting it off his chest.

  “It’s not about you, you dick. It’s about Bill,” he laughed. “My brief was to profile him and find out how he works. Whenever there’s violence at a protest, he’s there. Ask yourself why it kicked off at the airport. It was a peaceful protest until the big red bus turned up…”

  Jupiter’s mind raced. Denny, or whatever he was really called, was right. Whenever violence kicked off at a protest, Bill was there at the epicenter. He’d given Jupiter a beating when he was listening in at the motorway services car park. And Denny was driving Jupiter’s train of thought.

  “Why did he give you a good kicking that night? Ever asked yourself that? Maybe because he didn’t want you hearing what he was really up to? What him and Mama Cath have been up to for months now?”

  Denny grinned at Jupiter’s ignorance. The journalist was enjoying this.

  “My investigation took on a new aspect when I dug a bit deeper into the Freak Network Bill has so carefully constructed. I followed my lines of inquiry all the way back to the constabulary. And guess what I discovered?”

  Jupiter tried to process what he was being told.

  “Bill and his cronies are taking backhanders from corrupt policemen, who in turn take backhanders from corrupt politicians.”

  “What are you telling me, man? That Bill works for the pigs?”

  “If you must put it that way, yes. The government wants to build a runway, the government wants to bulldoze the forests. Peaceful protests garner public support. They can’t have that. But if the protests turn violent? Public and political favor can so easily swing the other way. Bills have been passed in the Houses of Parliament on the back of righteous indignation about riots, looting and carnage. And at the center of it all, corrupt cops…”

  “And Bill,” Jupiter said.

  The penny had finally dropped. He felt as hollow as a jack-o’-lantern, and sick to his stomach, like his insides had been scooped out.

  “Exactly,” Denny said. “Now do you mind letting me up, I think the circulation is stopping in my arms.”

  Jupiter stood up, his mind a daze. He looked at Amber, crying now in Kegger’s arms, then at Charlotte, who looked horrified.

  “So why are you telling me this now?” Jupiter asked.

  “Simple,” Denny replied. “We can help each other. We have a common goal, you and I. Out of all the protestors I’ve met on this shitty detail, you are the only one who really believes in what he’s doing. We can put that to good use, do an expose on Bill and promote your cause as viable peaceful protest. You’ll be the hero of your movement. I get my front page by-line and an appearance on Newsnight. Trust me. What do you say, Brian, do we have a deal?”

  “Trust you?”

  Now it was Jupiter’s turn to laugh, albeit bitterly.

  “After deceiving us all like you did?”

  Jupiter walked over to the others and stood with them, putting on a united front.

  “You’re a gutter hack, working for The Man. Do you really think the likes of us would work with the likes of you? Newspapers are just as corrupt as Bill, the police or any of them. The name’s not Brian, it’s Jupiter Crash, and no we do not have a deal. Fuck off, you’re on your own, mate.”

  Denny glanced at the others. Seeing the same fury and disappointment in their eyes, he shrugged and sloped off into the trees.

  “You’re letting him go? That’s it?” Amber protested through a mask of snot and tears. She stormed off in the direction of the camper, followed by Kegger.

  “Guys? Where are you going? Guys?”

  To Jupiter’s dismay, Charlotte was leaving too. He grabbed her arm as she passed by.

  “What?” she demanded. “You don’t expect me to stand with you after what you just did, do you?”

  Jupiter was perplexed. “What did I do?”

  “Beating on Denny, how can you claim to be any different than Bill and his lot?”

  “He’s an undercover fucking journo! What would you suggest I do? Tell him my life story?!”

  “I doubt your life story is that interesting.”

  She pulled away from his grabbing hand and jolt of pain shot up his arm.

  “It’s over for us before it’s started, I’m afraid. You’re just a thug like the rest of them, despite what you’d have everybody else believe.”

  He tried to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving him like the others. She held her hands up as a barrier and backed away.

  “Leave me alone,” she said, and ran away.

  Jupiter ran after her, calling her name, but she had a head start on him and reached the road before he did. Seeing the familiar shape of Mama Cath’s bus parked up at the roadside, he stopped short within the cover of the trees.

  Peering out from behind the trunk of a fir tree, he watched as Bill and his crew helped get the camper started again via two jump leads connecting the engines of both vehicles. A few minutes later, Bill and Kegger exchanged quiet words. Kegger pointed in the direction of the trees where they had abandoned Jupiter. Bill would be looking for him, for sure. Amber and Charlotte joined Kegger on board the camper and drove away under the watchful eyes of Bill and his mates. Jupiter was desperate to make a run for it and try
to hop aboard the camper before Bill and the others knew what was happening. But to do so would be folly and Jupiter knew it.

  His following had abandoned him to his fate, the turncoats.

  Jupiter stood, alone, beneath the canopy of trees. He clenched his eyes shut in fury and dismay. Everything was falling to pieces, all because of Denny, that bastard, and Bill, and Mama Cath and the whole sorry lot of them. Gritting his teeth, he sloped off back through the undergrowth in the direction Denny had slithered. He didn’t know what he would do when he found him, but he suspected it would confirm the accusations Charlotte had made against him. If she thought him a thug, then fine, he could live with that. Maybe Denny wouldn’t, by the time he was done with him. Hell, he could even offer him up to Bill; tell him all about what the hack had been up to. A peace stone for Bill and Mama Cath, they’d have to show him some respect then.

  Spurred on by this new plan, Jupiter careered between the tall, thick trunks of ancient firs, crushing twigs and branches beneath his feet as he ran. Violent fantasies of what he might do to Denny when he found him drove him on, into a gully and up a steep bank that did little to slow his pace.

  Ascending the slope, he leaped over its lip and smashed into a tree. Catching his breath, he looked around, hoping for a glimpse of his quarry. Instead of Denny, he saw a dark shape between the trees, which were so crowded together they forced him to slow to a jogging pace, then to a stroll.

  The shape was a structure, embedded deep in the woods on flatter ground in a tree-lined clearing just a short walk away. Maybe Denny had taken refuge there; perhaps it was a safe house provided for sly pigs just like him. Sneaking up on the building, Jupiter had a better look at it. It was in a poor state of repair, but the roof was more or less on, the front door was intact and it still had some glass in its window frames. Peering into the windows as he passed them, Jupiter saw only empty rooms, filled with leaf litter and bracken from the surrounding forest. If Denny was here, maybe he was round back where the ramshackle house met the trees; it would seem logical to hide out in the place with the most cover.