by Toni Parks
From what he could see of their faces in the diminishing twilight neither confirmed or denied either question. This being the result Francesco favoured from his subordinates. A sometimes democratic, but more often than not autocratic subservience. “Well now’s the time to seek at least some form of recompense and retribution. We’ll continue the fight right here in our heartland and take back what’s rightfully ours and fuck the consequences.”
Not feeling the need to argue with that either, the two associates patiently waited for Francesco’s next move. He did not keep them waiting long as he punched out a text to one of his other henchmen waiting at ground level. Within moments a pulley wheel squealed into life and as one weight began to descend another one rose. Whilst waiting Francesco tossed Hew and Jimmy a pair of surgical gloves each and then arranged them both around the wire cage so that they could secure the rising platform of the brick hoist into position and take hold of its contents. If shock never crossed their faces puzzlement certainly did as they manhandled a body bound hand and foot onto the scaffolding boards. The incoming body was the result of covert surveillance executed to perfection. The jury, chaired by Alonzo, Francesco’s father, had taken time out, a sentence had been passed and now the necessary execution was being carried out. Francesco had to admit that he enjoyed this element of his work far more than any other. Sitting around prevaricating over decisions was not his forte when more direct action was on offer. And he knew that his meticulous preparations would achieve the required result of at least planting the seedlings of destruction.
The body, Joey Donaldson, was still breathing and more to the point still conscious. Conscious enough to recognise that the scaffolding lift he had just taken was attached to the side of a building of which he, himself, was a silent partner. In fact he had been so silent that Francesco initially thought that his father was employing him until he discovered the man’s duplicity. Hunter-Bell Construction was in the process of throwing up this building and two others, before upcoming council elections and changes to legislation deemed otherwise. And if it was not the council on their company’s back then it would certainly be their archrival, Alonzo Lucisano Build and Real Estate. Over the years they had feuded and carved up Aberdeen piece by piece and now events were about to get even more ugly. Francesco knew that this was the first strike and when Joey Donaldson faced up to him he knew it was to be his last. Both held each other eyes as if their lives depended on it and Joey’s certainly did.
Francesco became bored and practicality set in as he broke the gaze saying, “Now Joey I could take the easy way out for both of us and just shoot you in the head so leaving your Omerta or honour intact. But you know I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if I was just going to do that, would I?” No answer expected or given. “ No, of course not. What I actually want to do is break your will and squeeze out every last name involved in this charade, particularly anyone still undercover on our side of the building, if you get my meaning? I could get the technos at SpiyWeb to trawl through all the texts, voice mails and social network whatnot but I’m not that patient a man.”
Joey understood but did not feel compelled to acknowledge the fact. Francesco’s associates shuck him up straight to create a more deferential response but Francesco continued with, “No leave him be, boys. I’m sure he’ll talk in his own good time, when he’s in a more comfortable position, not!”
The four silhouettes walked gingerly along the narrow boards with Francesco leading the way. They stopped around the opposite side of the soon to be completed building, its elevation exposed to the vagaries of the North Sea. A lovely view at sunrise, but not quite so appealing on a very cool, and now almost cloudless night. The two lieutenants still had a tight hold of their quarry, giving an impression not dissimilar to three drunken friends helping each other home after a heavy night’s socialising. Francesco brought them to a halt in front of unrecognisible scaffolding which neither looked at home nor pertinent to its surroundings. Not for the first time puzzlement traversed their faces and all three hungered for the penny to drop.
“Ah, the look of surprise. Do not fret Joey, all will be revealed. Keep a tight hold boys, I don’t want him going over the edge before I can explain the mechanics of my contraption. And Joey I’ve just lied, you do need to fret, as you are about to take your last ride in this world. Although you should be flattered that I have devoted so much time and energy to your demise, but then again I’ve had plenty of time to play with, whilst awaiting the verdict of what even you must admit was a fair hearing. Well, you know me I couldn’t sit on my arse through hours and hours of jawing. You know it just makes me sleepy. So what do I do? I stay awake and dream up things, then design things and then actually make things and I can’t wait to explain to you the result of my efforts.”
Joey struggled for freedom as he wrestled his way towards the open end of the scaffolding but stronger men than him held him firm. His bid for death was literally three feet away but that yard may as well have been a mile. “Do not let him go,” shouted Francesco, “or by God, you’ll be racing him to the bottom,” he barked. With shock, the two guardians reacted to the edge in his voice and renewed their grips pulling their prisoner as far back from the precipice as the narrow boards would allow.
Francesco addressed Joey again, “How long have we known each other Joey? Twenty, twenty-two years? Must be at least that. We were like brothers. All that talk about me being top dog once papa stepped down and you being my number two. Then you go and do this and break my heart. You will never know what pain you’ve caused not only to me by your actions but the whole of our organisation and now my remit is one: to find out how much you’ve leaked about us and two: to kill you. There I’ve said it; there will be no easy way out, excepting death. Now you know a lot about me and how my mind works, in fact wasn’t it on the same college course that we first met, both doing Mechanical Engineering? Well you might find this little contraption of interest.” Here Francesco gesticulated at the contraption sitting at an angle to the horizontal and vertical scaffolding poles.
“Whilst you were pleading for your life in front of the tribunal I was creating a masterpiece, a ‘machine of perpetual motion’. But as we learnt at college back then there’s no such thing, it’s all just smoke and mirrors. Be it kinetic energy, a chemical reaction, a hidden pump or an electric current, we’re gullible and easily fooled. Suffice it to say though; on a night like this it definitely won’t be solar power! If anything it’s more likely to be ‘posterity’ motion but that’s still my little secret.” Francesco knowingly tapped his nose as if imagining that Joey was in the least bit interested in his clandestine activity. “Anyway this is my interpretation, so climb aboard and let me explain as we go along.” At this Francesco nodded for his two sidekicks to steer Joey into position so that he was lying on a backboard with his head pointing up towards the night sky but not quite vertically. Once strapped in, Francesco threaded a thin wire through Joey’s jacket and pinned a microphone to his lapel. “Now you need to look after this Joey, it could be your ticket to the other side without all the trauma of long, suffering pain and discomfort.”
Joey shrugged in confusion. Too much information and then again not really enough, left him with a blank expression on his blanched fear-ridden face. “Sorry, I’m not explaining myself, now am I?” Francesco chided himself for his lack of manners, “OK, what we have here is the first ‘drinking human’, modelled on the theory of the ‘drinking bird’ but with a little help from today’s technology.” Francesco asked his colleagues to stand to the side, enabling him to disengage the cog mechanism and rotate the structure downwards in a 140 degrees sweep. The occupant immediately let out a cry as his equilibrium was disrupted so abruptly. The structure came to a halt with Joey’s head approximately a half-metre off the walk boards. Francesco adjusted several nuts and bolts, making allowances for the occupant’s weight, repeated the exercise and nodded his satisfaction at the outcome. Joey was taken back to near vertical but
still remained dizzy and now had the added desire to relieve himself of the evening meal which he had been given and had consumed not more than an hour ago. “Right, let’s give this a test drive.” Hew and Jimmy were directed as to their bit-parts in the production and soon enough the set was complete and ready for its debut. Francesco being a stickler for precision checked all the connections, working parts and positioning of props and then gave a directorial speech to the two onlookers and more importantly to the lone lead actor.
“As I flick this switch the current from the remote battery power supply will drive the shaft enabling the cogs to turn. They will slowly rotate the structure in an anti-clockwise rotation, as per the test, and it will lower you towards the boards. The only difference this time is that, just like the drinking bird, there is now a reservoir bowl of water, into which your head will be submerged. It’s self replenishing, siphoning down through the tube from the container above so that the bowl always remains at a constant depth. Now if I have calculated correctly the cogs will reverse after twenty seconds. That’s presuming I’ve made the correct adjustments based on your actual weight and I’ve even factored in for the additional weight of your soon to be drenched head. But you must understand that this is a prototype so things could go wrong, but I do not accept any liability for that just as you haven’t been prepared to accept liability for all the harm your treachery may still do to us.”
At this Francesco asked Jimmy to do the honours. The switch kicked the mechanism into life and on cue the movements previously explained to the bound participator played themselves out. Francesco always knew that mechanical engineering was his forte and that even though he was a thug he liked to think he was an educated thug. As the contraption completed its first cycle Joey spluttered and fought against his bindings for freedom. “Joey, don’t struggle. Think of the hours this took to build, embrace your death. Oh, by the way I forgot to mention. The Bluetooth microphone is instantly connected to an untraceable mobile phone and has several purposes: primarily it is for you to grass on whomsoever you feel should be in your place right now; secondly you could use it as your last will and testament and thirdly, it may enable you to vent your anger at the world for you making the wrong choice, which in turn has funnelled you down this wrong path, to your death. But I promise you the quicker you talk the less pain and discomfort you’ll have to experience.”
The three spectators watched as the ‘bird’ drank. Hew and Jimmy in fascination at the marvel of the construction, whilst Francesco looked on critically, inspecting its working parts so as to feel confident that no mishaps would take place due to stress or friction and that nothing had been left to chance. Eventually he said, “OK. Our work is done. Let’s leave Joey to make peace with his God. I don’t want to be up here too much longer. It’s getting colder by the minute. I couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried, what with the earlier cloudy sky obscuring our actions and now it clearing up to guide us safely back down. But before you go make sure we’ve not left anything incriminating behind.”
On the way down Hew was heard saying to Jimmy, “Well, at least this way we didn’t have to expend too much effort and didn’t even get our hands dirty.” Whilst Francesco admitted that he had no intention of ending Joey’s suffering, whether he sang like a canary or not.
CHAPTER TWO Jessica wanted to move things along quickly. So she shrugged off her travel lethargy, commanded Emma to collect up her luggage and they both set off briskly down the concourse towards the terminal exit and the awaiting bank of taxis. Jessica kept her own thoughts to herself but Emma was not as controlled.
“Jess, don’t you think Terry looked a little peaky? I’m sure he’s lost weight too.”
“Well, he looks a darn sight healthier to me than the last time we saw him, you know after you’d stabbed him with the syringe.”
“Oh, Jess,” Emma whispered back. “Don’t be awful. I knew I couldn’t kill anybody but you do have a point. Where’s he come from? How’s he got here? Why doesn’t he know who I am?”
“Emma, give up, will you? We thought he was history so be grateful that at least he’s got no history to fall back on or we’d both be in a cell right now. My advice to you girl is to keep well away from that snake in the grass, as far away as you can. He didn’t stay where we put him the last time and there’s a good chance he’ll come back to bite us in the future too. So right now the best thing we can do is to keep off his radar and then he won’t start remembering and piecing bits of the story together. And that starts from now!”
“But what if he wants to get in touch with me?”
“Emma, I said it starts now. He doesn’t even know you, so why would he be getting in touch? Anyway, I don’t want to hear anymore. We’ve enough on our plate with that busybody DC Blister to worry about. Look here’s a taxi. Now not another word.”
The journey home was undertaken in silence with Emma falling asleep and so leaving Jessica to contemplate. She made a mental note to speak to the silver haired woman who owned the driveway in London where she had parked her car but whose name she could not recall. She should be able to supply Jessica with a police file number on her stolen vehicle that would then enable instigation of an insurance claim. This led her stream of consciousness onto the tasks of: checking her paperwork; finding the lady’s number; buying another car. She then deliberated over her job, whether she would be able to go back to it or not. Not meaning that she would be sacked or made redundant but whether she could face returning to an office where one of her colleagues used to work. A colleague whom she knew she had recently killed. Then there was all the money stashed away in a safe deposit box in Zurich. Money that up to three weeks ago she never knew she had, but then again six or so weeks ago she never knew she had a sister either, let alone a twin. She had to admit that she’d had funny feelings before, a bit like déjà vu but she had figured that lots of people had that phenomenon, without having a twin or any other siblings. Then there was the bundle of dollars Emma was carrying around; that had to be considered. Boy, was she glad when the taxi entered St Boswells; her first words during the whole journey were to direct the driver to her home, correction their home as Emma was now living there too.
The taxi stopped and Emma immediately awoke with both a smile and shock on her face. Jessica was already in the process of counting out the fare when Emma reminded her that she had money. “Keep it where it is Emma, we’ll have to take it to the bank and exchange it. It’s either that or take a holiday in the States.”
“Even I think the bank option. I’m exhausted from all this travelling lark, and now I’ve got someone to think about I don’t want to be going too far,” replied Emma starry eyed as she heaved her bag out of the boot and headed towards the front door.
“I’ll give you ‘going too far’. What did I say about that man?”
“Yes, I hear what you say but is it my fault if I dreamt about him in the taxi. And do you know what he was just about to do to me?”
“Emma, I don’t want to know anything further, thank you. And next time get a room rather than the back of a taxi for your fantasies.” With that Jessica put an end to the conversation, dug the key out of her bag and opened her door for what seemed like the first time in years, rather than just weeks. After an imperceptible shiver as she crossed the threshold she left Emma to warm up the flat whilst she took a walk to the local Co-op and purchased the basics to get them through the night.
After a good night’s rest with both girls sleeping in until nearly noon, Emma grabbed a shower and Jessica grabbed her running gear. She knew it would be painful having missed several weeks’ serious training but one had to start somewhere or so she told herself. And if nothing else it gave her time to think clearly and so begin the process of compartmentalising her problems, converting them to solutions and then processing opportunities. By the end of forty minutes she was sweating profusely and breathing heavily but at least having the satisfaction of knowing the direction that she needed to follow, whether
or not that meant carrying Emma along willingly or kicking and screaming. As it was understood at work that Jessica was still taking a sabbatical she felt in no rush to set her plans in motion. However, she was concerned about Emma’s inactivity and her inability to amuse herself. She reckoned that there were three roads her sister could take: one, mooning over Terry Barnham now that the DI had returned from the dead; two, going back on the streets to return to her old job; three, picking up where she left off with her drug habit; or a mixture of all three.
But surprisingly Emma came up with a fourth option by saying, “Hi Jess, forgot to tell you that I had another dream about Terry last night. So I’m happy on that score for the moment, if you get my drift. Although, now I’m up and showered I must admit I don’t feel brilliant in myself, must be something I ate on the plane. So I’m just going to crash out and have a girlie day watching DVD’s. That way I can be near the bathroom if I need it.”
