Chapter 28
In the comfortable green leather wing chair of his study John Morton was reading the local paper with intensity. There were two items that were causing this unusual degree of study. The first was an item about the death of one Ali Khan from the rock band Metal Heaven. The tabloid told in its usual style of lip smacking enjoyment how the young man had been a keyboard player with the group that had just broken into the big time, making his suicide all the more difficult to understand. Drugs and various other dark things were hinted at without actually being mentioned clearly enough to give his family grounds for legal action. Morton had not known anything about the members of the band, just its name. However, he thought that Ali Khan's suicide was evidence enough that Khorta had kept his contract with Martin Jenson. He felt a slight sadness for the young man whose picture stared up at him from the page, but it soon passed. He read on, but the rest was only quotes from the rest of the band about what a great bloke Ali had been and how they would miss him and what a great musician their new keyboard player was.
The second item was much more interesting. It gave full details of the discovery of the body of one Mitael Khorta and gave all the gruesome details of his fatal injuries. Morton read it for a second time, particularly the part where it told of some of the money from the Swindon bank raid being found in a sports bag discovered on the passenger seat next to the dead man. There was some speculation about where the rest of it had gone and lots of speculation that this death was probably the result of thieves falling out. Eventually Morton put the paper down and sitting back in the chair picked up his glass of malt whiskey from the table alongside. He raised it to the warmth of the fire.
“Here's to you, John MacAllister. I hope you spend our money wisely and safely.”
It was the first day of January and the giant Air New Zealand Boeing 747B stood on the Heathrow tarmac like a grounded eagle, looking ungainly and out of place out of its natural environment. The cabin crew were greeting the first class passengers with the usual smiles and good mornings and occasional Happy New Year as they came aboard the aircraft from the collapsible corridor joining it to the airport buildings like a giant umbilical. The stocky man with the curly dark blonde hair, blue eyes and the soft Scottish accent made his way to the first class compartment where one of the prettier stewardesses was on duty and showed him to his allocated seat. He allowed her to fold his Macintosh and place it in the overhead luggage compartment, but would not give up the bulky briefcase he carried. She explained it was only for take off and that he could reclaim once they were airborne, but he looked at her like some fierce bird of prey and they compromised by placing it under his seat. She gave him a glass of champagne to mark the first day of the year and went to assist the next passenger who was having trouble finding her seat. Boarding of the lesser classes was then allowed to commence and some thirty minutes later the giant aircraft was released from its earthly ties and allowed to taxi out. At the next to final waiting point before the main runway it pulled up and sat waiting. Five minutes went slowly by before it moved on again and shortly after that they were hurtling down the runway and into the air at over two hundred miles an hour.
It wasn't until the big plane was an hour out from Wellington, New Zealand that MacAllister relaxed. His thoughts turned to the surprise his sister would have when she saw him. He really should have let her know he was coming so she could have met him, but he would find their place somehow. Then he would have to find somewhere he could invest the money that was currently stashed away under his seat in the brief case. He felt backwards with the heel of his shoe until it made reassuring contact with the brief case. Then he gave a great big sigh and relaxed a little for the first time in more than four months. It was strange that now it was finished he could hardly believe what he had done. If you had asked him before he would of told you he was not capable of such actions. Well he had been capable and he had done it. He felt no remorse, but knew that while he was engaged in those activities the balance of his mind had been less than normal and that realisation shocked him somewhat. Then he shrugged mentally. It was done and if he was to pick up the pieces of his life he had better start looking to the future.
What he hoped was his future was sitting three rows behind him staring out of the window eagerly trying to catch her first glimpse New Zealand. Janet Ward smiled as she looked at her watch and working out the time differences reckoned that any moment now Commander Bill Reid would be reading her letter of resignation and reflecting on what an ungrateful bitch she had turned out to be. She looked up to where MacAllister sat and wondered what had made her do it. “Boss fixation.” said a small voice inside her head and she laughed causing the elderly woman next to her to look at her strangely.
Chapter 29
Outside the Watershed Exhibition Centre down by the Bristol docks, computer programmer Gerald Bonner slowed his Nissan Primera down to a stop as it approached and drew level with the young girl leaning back against the wall of the Exhibition Hall smoking a cigarette. Her long hair was down past her shoulders; her sheer blouse was open almost to her navel while her short skirt almost showed her panties. He smiled out at the ripe young figure who stared levelly back at him.
“Are you waiting for someone, then?”
Alison Jenson threw the cigarette down into the gutter and walked over to get a good look at him. He seemed OK and she switched on a big smile.
“I was waiting for some one that could afford me actually.” She looked at the ring on his wedding finger. “Do you have fifty pounds that your wife doesn't know about?”
Gerald Bonner looked at the long legs beneath the tight skirt, the firm breasts less than eighteen inches from his nose, and decided he had.
Copyright © Don Phillips 2005
Footnote:
If you have enjoyed this book you might like to have a look at the other book available by this author, Vengeance
Vengeance Page 27
