A Time To Pay

by David Woods

  The next weekend he returned to the workshop and fitted the hinged flap, securing upright with two bolts, one on either side, and refitted the large cone section above the rotor. He then worked on the top section which directed grass into the swivel spout. It fitted on about seven feet from the ground, was round in shape and about two feet across. He made sure the whole operation would only need one spanner, which he took up to his office and laid it in the bottom of the briefcase. The next evening he touched up odd sections of chipped paint and made sure it did not look as though it had been tampered with. The machine was despatched with others to Belgium in time to join the other machinery to be sent to East Germany.

  Three days before Brian was due to leave Hawkins rang. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, there doesn’t appear to be any reason to meet as you know what to do.”

  “I want to see you, and that document.”

  “You’ve seen it once.”

  “I know, but I want to see it again.”

  “If you must, I’ll call at ten in the morning.”

  Hawkins arrived on time and was shown into the office. “Will the package be ready for me to collect at midnight?”

  “Yes, but it would be a good idea to wait until one before you go.”

  “Why.”

  “Because it’s possible the person leaving it may get delayed.”

  “I see, ok I’ll do that. Now where’s the document?”

  Why do you want to see it?”

  “I want to be certain I’m properly covered in the future.”

  “Of course you’re covered. Read it again.” He handed it over, and Brian read it again, folded it up and put it into his desk drawer.

  Hawkins protested. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t have that until you return.”

  “It stops with me or I don’t go. And you won’t get your precious package back.”

  Hawkins became angry. “Hand it back or I’ll take action to recover it.”

  “What action?”

  Hawkins stood and thought for a moment. “Do I have your word you’ll do the job?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Very well, but it’ll be on my neck if you don’t.” Hawkins left the office looking nervous.

  Brian placed the document in a large envelope, sealed it down and then drove home. He found his father working in the milking parlour. “Dad, got time for a quick chat?”

  “Of course, son.”

  “Let’s sit in the car.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m about to go on a fairly hazardous journey. And I’d like you to hold on to this envelope.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  “I hope not. But in the unlikely event that I don’t return, I want Anna to have it. But allow time for me to be delayed.”

  John Wilkins was shocked. “Where the hell are you going?”

  “Back to East Germany.”

  “Anna will be worried again.”

  “I expect to collect the envelope from you in a few days time.”

  “I sincerely hope so. In the meantime I’ll hide it.”

  After dinner Brian broke the news to Anna, who became very upset. “Brian, why do you have to go back?”

  “Because I have to conclude the business I started last time.”

  “I wish you would tell me the truth. I am sure something funny is going on.”

  “This is the last trip I’ll make, and after we’ll have a holiday together.” She cheered up a little when they discussed where they would go.

  Brian caught the ferry early the next day. Ben was waiting at the factory when he arrived, and the machinery was loaded with the special forage harvester put on first, close to the cab. Brian stayed with Ben that night and during the evening they chatted about business. Caroline quizzed them again, and Brian could tell that Ben had not told her the real reason for the trip.

  They arrived in West Berlin during the early evening the following day. When Anna received a phone call from Brian she sounded cheerful, but still worried. Just before they hung up, they pledged their love for each other, and he felt emotional and guilty at not telling her the truth.

  With the border formalities quickly over, they commenced their slow and uncomfortable journey across flat countryside. They were checked by the police just before arriving at the farm as previously, and the welcome was warm as before. The woman translator with whom Brian had lunch seemed particularly pleased to see them, and introduced herself as Sally. Brian chatted with her as the farm workers unloaded the machinery, but felt uneasy as he looked around the farmyard. She made a point about the forage harvester, and a man in farm overalls stood by a doorway staring at them, looking away when his eyes met Brian’s.

  Lunch was laid out as on their previous visit, with Brian recognising some of the faces who seemed to be in the same positions as before. Ben sat at the other end of the table speaking in German to eager listeners who had ceased eating while he made a point, and when he had finished, they all started talking at once, making a terrific din. The machines were lined up in a large workshop which had tools neatly hung around the walls. Brian explained the maintenance procedures, answering many questions, and when they were satisfied, a tractor was hitched up to a mower and tried out.

  The farm leader, a small middle-aged man, wearing the same drab clothing as the others said. “We are happy with the machines but would like to see the special forage harvester in action.” It was connected up, and they followed it to a nearby field where about thirty workers joined them. Brian felt nervous and hoped his modifications would not prevent the machine from functioning. The tractor was put into gear. The driver revved the engine and as he let the clutch out, a cloud of black smoke came out of the exhaust. The tractor strained as the machine started working, but fortunately the grass crop was thin, and the machine worked to their satisfaction, with all the workers picking up the chopped grass, some measuring its length. Brian quickly explained that because of the amount of cutting actions per minute, a larger tractor would be needed. The farm leader shrugged his shoulders. “This is the largest tractor we have.”

  The grass was wet and stuck to the machine, some of it falling out as they turned at the end of the field. Brian realised that his modifications had trapped the grass, stopping it from going up the spout. If they carried on much longer it would block up, and the machine would have to be stripped down, which would reveal what he had done. He became panic stricken.

  He watched as the tractor strained again and walked up to the farm leader. “I think we should stop now in case we ruin the tractor.”

  The man frowned as the black smoke belched out of the upright exhaust pipe. “I agree, we will stop now.”

  Brian heaved a sigh of relief when the tractor came to a halt, as the forage harvester was nearly blocked solid and grass fell out as they followed it back to the farmyard. Some of the workers picked up handfuls and there was a discussion. The leader said. “Why did the grass not come out of the top spout?”

  “The tractor did not turn the rotor fast enough.”

  This seemed to satisfy them and they talked among themselves. The leader again spoke. “We think the machine is good, and cuts grass into very small lengths. But our tractor is not big enough.”

  Brian nodded. “It’s no good having a machine if you can’t drive it properly.”

  Their spokesman said how grateful they all were and walked back to the farm buildings accompanied by the other workers. The forage harvester was unhitched and packed into the large workshop ready for loading in the morning. One of the workers lay on his back and quickly looked up inside the machine, pulling his head out as grass fell into his eyes. Brian’s heart thumped, and he was relieved when the man shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

  Ben walked in and said
cheerfully. “How did it go?”

  “Badly, the tractor wasn’t up to the job.”

  “Shame, do we take it back.”

  “Yes, we’ll load it early tomorrow morning before breakfast.”

  After dinner the two men answered various questions, mainly about farming. Sally talked so much she was hoarse by the time they broke up for bed.

  That night Brian paced up and down his small room and then sat on the bed, looking at his watch every five minutes. In an effort to relieve the tension he tried to think about Anna and the business, it had become cold but as he pulled the bedspread up around him, the lights went out.

  He looked out of the window but could see nothing, it was quiet with no sounds coming from the air base, and all the time tension built up inside him. He checked his torch once again and looked at his watch, it was ten to one and he could wait no longer. He crept along the passage, listening carefully before slowly opening the outside door and walking out into bright moonlight, but at first he remained in the shadows. It was deadly quiet as he moved as silently as possible, keeping close to the buildings, and some of the tension lifted from his body although he was ready to react swiftly if necessary. Eventually the building came into view, he stopped and listened before moving across to the door which opened with a familiar creak, and shut it carefully before turning on his torch to find the meal bin still in the same place. He lifted the steel lid and groped inside until he found the package, which he lifted out brushing off the chicken meal. Just as he put the lid back down the door bust open and a figure ran in. Brian was taken completely by surprise, and felt a blow to the back of his head resulting in a flash before his eyes.

  As he regained consciousness, the first sounds he heard were two people talking. He lay still on the floor with his eyes half open, he saw two men with a torch staring at the package, and then one of them stuffed it inside his coat. He closed his eyes again as the men stooped down and lifted him up by his limp arms, and he felt himself being dragged out of the building and across the yard. His head was bent forward and out of the corner of his eye he could see a large building ahead, which they entered passing through a wide door which clanged shut behind them.

  Brian was dumped on a pile of sacks which smelt musty and damp, and a dim light was switched on as the two men peered at him lying there as if dead. His head throbbed but he could see clearly, and suddenly he twisted around, grabbed the two men’s collars and pulled them down towards him, banging their heads together. They yelled as Brian jumped to his feet. The nearest man recovered quickly and spun round to face him, but Brian delivered a heavy punch to his jaw making him stagger backwards. The other man rushed at Brian, landing a blow to his chest and then fell on top of him. Both rolled on the floor, grunting and straining, but the man was no match for Brian, who was soon on top of him and delivered a blow to his jaw. The other man dived on Brian, winding him, but he soon recovered and got up punching his opponent on the nose. Blood spurted out but he fought on. Both men attacked and gradually wore Brian down. His lips were cut but he still managed to land affective punches, until he was hit on the side of the head with a wooden cudgel. He collapsed as the two men staggered away bleeding and sat down, only to be confronted by a third person dressed in farm overalls and carrying a gun with a silencer. The gun popped twice and the two men fell mortally wounded. Brian recovered to find a woman bending over him. “Sally, what are you doing here?”

  “Trying to save your skin.”

  “What about these two?”

  “They are dead.”

  Brian staggered to his feet, his head throbbing and aching, and the rest of his body felt as if it had been run over by a truck. He looked down at the two bodies, which made him feel sick, and then at Sally. “Did you shoot them?”

  “Yes. You must be the person who left the package.”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Now sit down, while I figure out what to do next.”

  Brian was pleased to sit on a full sack of corn. He looked around him at the large building half full of corn sacks stacked two high.

  Sally frowned. “We must hide these bodies.”

  “Yes. And I can see the best place for that.”

  “Where?”

  “Under those sacks of corn.”

  “Are you fit enough to work?”

  “I think so. He got up, his knees weak and shaky, and he grabbed the top sack, carrying it unsteadily to one side. They worked solidly for an hour, sweat pouring off both of them. The bodies were then dragged to stand upright, as sacks were piled against them. After another hour they were buried, the pile looking almost the same as when they first entered. Brian grabbed the package and was about to leave when the door opened and a man entered. “Don’t worry” said Sally. “He’s a friend.” The man, who looked extremely worried, walked up to Sally and they embraced, and a rapid conversation in German followed. Sally turned to Brian. “The two men suspected me, and I was followed with the package.”

  “That’s why I got clobbered.”

  “Yes. And now the security men are looking for me.”

  “How are you going to escape?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Just then a door banged shut a short distance away. Sally turned off the light and they listened as footsteps passed close by.

  Brian turned on his small torch. “We must get out of here.” They crept out into a small courtyard, and dawn was breaking as they silently walked beside a wall, entering a small low building and listening as running footsteps went by followed by shouting.

  “They’re going to search the buildings for me” said Sally.

  “Let’s try to reach the workshop” said Brian. It took an hour moving stealthily through a maze of sheds, some full of chicken, when at last they arrived at the workshop. “You hide behind that pile of tarpaulins and I’ll whistle when I’m ready” said Brian. It was a bright morning as he retrieved a spanner from the lorry cab parked outside, and just as he started work on the harvester a group of men ran in. They looked all around but took no notice of Brian, who just pretended to clean the outside until they had disappeared into another shed. He then undid the bolts holding the top cone, took it off and undid the two bolts holding the steel flap. It fell down with a dull thud on to the grass covered rotor. He looked out of the workshop, found it was all clear and whistled. Sally and her friend appeared and ran inside.

  “What have you been doing?” She said, looking at Brian.

  He smiled. “Getting your carriage ready. Just kiss your friend goodbye and climb in.” He pointed to the open forage harvester top.

  “But you’re taking a terrible risk.”

  “Don’t argue. If you stay here, you’ll go to prison.”

  “Or worse.” She grimaced.

  “So, hurry up then.”

  She kissed her companion briefly and climbed on to the machine, Brian helping her slide down inside. He passed the package down to her and turned to her friend who was watching. “Go away quickly.”

  He understood and walked out. Brian’s heart thumped and his hands shook as he re-fixed the top cone, and he was just tightening the last bolts when yet another team of searchers ran in carrying cudgels but dressed in overalls. Brian got down and stood by the side of the machine, hoping he was hiding one of the bolt holes. The men all looked angry and talked rapidly to each other as they searched in all the possible hiding places, but fortunately they soon left. As Brian fixed in the last two bolts on the side he whispered “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’ll be ok.”

  He stood back and looked at the machine as the farm leader entered. “You’re up early, Mr. Wilkins.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get ready to move.”

  “I’m sorry about all the noise, but we’re trying to find some cattle.”

  “No problem. But I’d appreciate some assistance to push t
he machine on to the lorry.”

  “Yes of course.”

  Just as the leader was looking for some helpers, Ben walked in and took one look at Brian. “You look terrible. Did you have a bad night?”

  “You could say that.”

  He came close and whispered, “I made your bed look as if you slept in it.”

  “Thanks.”

  A few minutes later four men entered and they all pushed the machine up the ramp. Ben joined in and Brian stood back watching, feeling exhausted and apprehensive. Ben lashed the machine carefully, and then tried the ropes for tightness. He turned to Brian, who sat on the edge of the ramp. “Let’s go and get some breakfast.”

  “Right, but I must have a wash first.” They walked back to the hostel and Brian looked at himself in the mirror. His lips were puffy, and a swelling had appeared under his left eye, so he washed carefully and then changed.

  Ben knocked on his door. “Are you coming?”

  “No. I’d better wait here for you.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  As Brian sat on his bed his whole body ached, his stomach felt weak and then suddenly the door burst open. Four men rushed in, the first one pulled Brian to his feet and searched him whilst the others searched the room, tipping the bed over and emptying his suitcase. Brian just stood feeling numb, and watched as they tipped all the paper out of the briefcase, peered inside and then threw it to one side. One of the men grabbed Brian and twisted his arm behind his back whilst the others looked on. He was pushed towards the door as another man entered, who shouted at the four and they left the room quickly. Brian looked up and saw Sally’s friend, who winked at him and disappeared.

  Ben returned and helped Brian pack. They were both silent as they walked nervously towards the lorry to discover that someone had searched the cab and left maps strewn on the floor. Brian looked nervously at the forage harvester and quickly stowed the maps away. They drove away without a single farewell and Ben looked across at Brian. “Did you have a fight?”

  “Yes. Two blokes tried to lay me out.”

  “Where are they now?”