by Gordon Brown
I spin. I see the door. I grab at the handle, praying it’s not locked. It opens.
Once inside, I slam it shut. The closet is a storeroom racked with shelving units. I grab the nearest one and pull. It comes away from the wall in a waterfall of tins and jars, crashing to the floor in front of the door. Someone reaches the door and tries to open it but the unit stops it travelling more than a few inches.
A fly-screened window sits about four feet off the ground at the back of the closet. A chest freezer sits below it. I jump on to it and push open the window. I stick my head out, expecting to see suits. The window opens onto the side of the mall. The parking lot is on one side and the back of the mall on the other.
There are no suits.
I scramble through the gap, falling to the ground. I land on dusty grass. Up and I’m sprinting into the bushes in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I spot suits, just as they round the corner from the parking lot. A shout goes up. Spotted.
I emerge from the bushes.
I put my head down and run.
The street ahead is bordered with single-story detached homes. Mid-market abodes with two- and three-year-old cars peppered along the sidewalk. I jink to my right, up the first driveway and into the backyard.
An old lady is sitting sipping a glass of something. I throw her a smile as I leap the fence into the next garden. A sun-tanned old man with a deeply wrinkled face and a faded Dodgers sweat is tending a patch of dirt. I give him the same smile, cutting right to jump over a back fence into the alley beyond.
I’m faced with the rear of what looks like a small church. I skirt round it.
I have no plan. I just need to keep running.
A Regal screams into the road ahead. I leap into the yard directly across from the church and enter another backyard. This one is empty.
I hurdle up through the next four yards. At the fifth fence I place my hand on a post for support, launching myself into the air. I come down on a woman lying on a sunbed. She screams and we both roll onto her lawn. I push to get up. She’s wearing a bikini. My hand slips on the grass. I grab at her to stop me falling back to earth. I get a handful of breast and she yelps.
‘What the fuck?’ The man of the house emerges from the back door. He’s wearing boxers and nothing else. I ignore him, heading for the rear and into a back alley.
I can’t keep this speed up for long. I’m not as fit as I need to be. I jump into another yard where a young boy in shorts and a striped shirt is washing a Toyota Hilux. The driver’s door is open. The boy is on the other side waxing the hood. I jog up to the open door and look in. A set of keys dangle from the ignition. I jump in. Slam the door. Turn the key. Select drive and plant my foot.
The pickup jumps forward. I have to stand on the brakes to make the turn into the road. In the rear view mirror the boy is standing – jaw hanging open. I hurtle down the road and hang a left. A sign for the I-10 takes me onto the freeway. I stay on for a couple of junctions, slip off and start to weave my way across town.
I have one destination in mind. The hospital.
Chapter 14
St Vincent’s sits across from me. I’ve parked up the Hilux opposite the main entrance and I’ve already clocked four suits. Another Regal rolls up. I start the engine and cruise away. Circling to the back of the building brings another Regal into view.
I drive round once more. Another SUV has joined the party. Buzz 2 gets out. I drive away. My focus is on Lorraine but getting myself caught won’t help.
I head for Charlie’s place.
*
The pub has boards across the main window. I see Charlie through the glass front door. I keep back into the shade of the bushes that guard the library. I dropped the car a few blocks back, parking it in an office lot. I’ve been watching Charlie’s place for an hour. If there are suits around they are well hidden.
It sums up my life that the only person I can turn to is Charlie – a man who sells oblivion to people. Friends are thin on the ground these days. They peeled away as my time in the hospital stretched. The odd visit was the best I had. Even then it was little more than the army liaison team.
Charlie is tidying up. Amazingly – despite the devastation – he’s still open. A couple of regulars seem to be earning beers by helping out.
I wait until the late afternoon light is gone and circle round to the back alley. There’s no one here. Good news.
I push open the back door and slip in. There’s noise from the bar but, before I enter, I check out both washrooms and Charlie’s office. All are empty.
I stick my head into the bar, checking out the booths. There’s a man in one but he’s all T-shirt and jeans. Two more customers are sitting at the bar enjoying the reward for helping with the clean-up. Apart from the boarded window, Charlie has done a remarkable job on the place. There are fewer tables and chairs than there used to be and the front of the bar has a crack in the woodwork running half the length, but the gantry behind is clean and tidy, the floor is swept and even the jukebox seems to be working – Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep by Middle of the Road.
Charlie spots me. ‘Craig?’
I wave for him to come over. The three customers look up and dismiss me. I point to his office. He nods and we vanish into the cubbyhole.
‘What the heck is going on?’ he says, dropping into a battered leather office chair.
‘I’d like to know the answer to that question too. Has anyone been asking about me?’
‘Two men in suits have been in. Three times so far. Each time I tell them the same thing. I haven’t seen you since last night. Each time they say they’ll be back. Who are they?’
‘I don’t know. Not police that’s for sure. Some agency.’
‘FBI?’
‘No. Not CIA either. Something else.’
‘What do they want with you? Is it to do with Iraq?’
‘Partly. I’m struggling to make sense of it all.’
A voice shouts from the bar. Charlie tells me he’ll be back in a second. I look up at the battered picture that hangs above Charlie’s desk.
Stripped to a pair of leather briefs, Charlie is in full-pose mode. All oiled up and flexing muscles. A certificate underneath announces his first place in a competition held in San Diego.
Charlie returns with a grimace on his face. ‘Craig McIntyre, you’re an expensive son-of-a-bitch. I had to double up the rounds for free or we wouldn’t get five minutes to talk.’
‘Shit happens.’
‘So what gives?’
I’m not sure what to say to Charlie. I could do with another brain on this one and Charlie is smart. Far smarter than he makes out. Lorraine is also convinced he has a share in a few other places. She overheard him talk about a place in Florida one night. I asked him about it once, but he just laughed.
I need to make a call. I flip a coin in my head. It comes down heads. ‘How much do you want to know?’
‘All of it. I’m a barman remember. Gossip is my trade – or rather keeping gossip quiet is my trade.’
‘I’m being serious. Whoever these guys are this is not a kid’s game. They’ve tortured me and Lorraine already.’
This brings a silence.
‘Lorraine. When?’
‘Thanks for the concern for me.’
‘I can see you’re ok, but isn’t Lorraine in hospital?’
‘Yes, and they pushed a few hundred volts through her while she lay in her sick bed.’
‘Fuck. Really?’
‘I think so. So you see I’m not kidding. I sure could do with some help.’
‘Hang on.’
He’s gone for five minutes and I’m left with the Charles Atlas picture for company. I lean back in the chair. I can’t get Lorraine out of my head. I’m considering whether I should return to the hospital and leave the chat with Charlie until later when he returns. ‘I just closed up. My regulars aren’t too happy but I promised them a free night on the beer and they saw sense.’
The ligh
ts are out in the bar. Charlie pulls the office door shut. He reaches out to the small wire-meshed window that faces onto the alley, yanking a thick strip of material across the glass. ‘That’ll make the place look empty but if someone is listening in the alley they’ll still hear us.’
He’s whispering. ‘OK, Craig. Shoot.’
I give him what I know. Even the bits I missed out for Lorraine. Charlie asks the odd question. When I get to my escape from the park he whistles.
‘Either you have the best imagination since Raymond Chandler or we’re in a whole new land of hurt. Do you want a drink?’
The question catches me by surprise.
I think about it for an eighth of a second. ‘Yes.’
‘So do I.’
That surprises me. Charlie is all but teetotal with the odd exception – his birthday, the odd celebration – like the time he won fifty thousand on the lottery. Once more he vanishes, this time to return with a large pitcher of Coke, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bucket of ice.
He pours two drinks. Mine’s a triple, his a single. I polish off half of mine in one go.
‘So?’ He looks at me while scratching at the side of his head. ‘Three choices. Either all of this ‘stuff’ that went down is just coincidence. Or, someone is out to mix you up in something that makes no sense at the moment. Or…’
‘Or?’ I ask.
‘Or you have something about you that has its rightful place in the Twilight Zone.’
‘And where would your money lie?’
‘The first two if I was being realistic. The latter if I was a betting man.’
‘You think I’m responsible for all this?’
‘I should say no, but look at it. Unless you’ve just made it all up or got the facts way wrong, it sure sounds like it.’
‘How could I be?’
‘Oh don’t be so stupid. Listen to what you’ve just told me. Look at what has happened. Violence, headaches, a ‘blue world’, secret agency, miracle escapes.’
‘I could be delusional.’
‘True, but that wouldn’t explain the bikers last night or Mary sticking a bottle in your wife’s eye or the two suits that keep asking after you.’
‘Do you think that’s what the experiments were about?’
‘Run through what they did and said again.’
I sip at the JD. ‘They tied me down and told me there were two subjects on the other side of the screen. Then they mentioned that I had been asleep or out for the count when Clegg and Johnston and Tom and his girl had been killed. When I woke up they talked about me being stressed. That’s when they wired me up and ran the mains through my dick. Then they talked about me knowing the subjects, ran a spiel on the two down-and-outs, did a Frankenstein on me again. Then they did the same to Lorraine. After that they called it quits.’
‘Sounds like they were trying to trigger whatever it is they think you do.’
‘You figure?’
‘Don’t you?’
I take another slug, finishing the glass. The JD is getting to work nicely but I don’t want it to take over. It would be too easy to take that path. ‘No, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s one explanation.’
Charlie leaves his drink untouched. ‘Did anything ever happen like this outside of the last few days and the two soldiers back in ’03?’
Another slug. I root around in my head for a minute. ‘Not as such but…’
‘But what?’
‘Have you ever felt that there was something else going on around you that you didn’t know about? That things weren’t all they seemed?’
‘All the time. When people are drunk they tell you all sorts of weird crap and sometimes, just sometimes, it rings a bell.’
‘Well every so often I’ve been in places where I feel the world is operating without me. I’m there but I’m not.’
‘Lost you.’
I decide a refill won’t do any harm and pour a small one. ‘I’ll give you an example. I was witness to a car crash a year after I left the army. I was on day release and an RV broadsided a battered old Camaro. The RV shot a red. The Camaro had no chance. I went over to help but the passenger and driver in the Camaro were at each other’s throats, as were the two in the RV. Neither were in the slightest interested in the crash. I tried to intervene but it was as if I wasn’t there. Every so often stuff like that happens, but nothing like the last few days.’
‘Have you talked to Lorraine about it?’
‘No way. She has to deal with the fact I was once an extra from the Mad Hatter’s tea party. She married me and thinks I’m OK now.’
Charlie smiles.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘Lorraine knows you’re not OK. She’s not stupid. Five years in the loony farm and you’re going to flip to Mr Alright? No way.’
‘It wasn’t a loony farm.’
‘Sorry. Anyway how long has this stuff been going on?’
‘Since Iraq the first time.’
Charlie takes a sip of his drink, licks his lips and drains the glass. ‘You know you can’t go back to Lorraine.’
I drop air from my lungs in one lump. ‘What?’
‘If these guys really want you they’ll stop at nothing to get you. You need to vanish.’
‘And what if they use Lorraine to get to me?’
‘Leave that to me.’
‘Look, I’m going to get Lorraine and that’s it.’ I fiddle with my drink.
‘And then what? You can’t move her. She’ll be in need of care for a good few weeks. Didn’t you also say they have the hospital staked out? They know you’ll go for her. Come on, Craig, these guys want you and want you bad. You try and get her and you’re a dead man walking. Leave Lorraine to me.’
‘You? How?’
‘Well for a start I’m going to tell the police that the men in suits have been sniffing around. I’ll mention they’ve threatened me and told me to tell you that if I see you they’ll harm Lorraine.’
‘I don’t think the police will bother these guys.’
‘Maybe not, but it might make them think twice about hurting Lorraine. I’ll drop a note to the local paper. Men in black suits, vague threats, bikers ripping up my bar – they’ll love it.’
‘And the fact your brother is the editor doesn’t do any harm.’
‘That as well.’
‘Then?’
He pushes his glass to one side. ‘Then I set up shop at the hospital and when Lorraine is on the mend we get the hell out of there.’
‘Hell, Charlie, they’ll come after you. After both of you.’
‘And they won’t come after you?’
‘Maybe, but she’s my wife. I’m not running.’
‘And what if Mary was just the start of the pain you bring to her life?’
‘What else can I do?’ I lean back in the chair and stare at a picture of Gary Cooper on Charlie’s wall. Charlie loves High Noon.
‘Hide.’
‘And just leave Lorraine?’
‘Hanging around for the men in black suits to pick you up isn’t the best idea on the planet.’
‘Hiding isn’t going to solve anything.’
‘Might give you some space to figure a solution. If the men in black suits catch you and you’re to blame for all this, then I can think of a hundred uses for a ticking time bomb. But then again maybe it’s not you making people flip out. Maybe, even if it is, it can be fixed.’
‘Who by?’
‘Try Ripley’s Believe It or Not! website – they have a phone number.’
‘Funny. Where do I go? I can’t just hit the road. I need to have a plan – somewhere to stay – an objective.’
‘You also need to act quickly.’
‘No shit.’
‘No I mean it. Listen.’
The sound of a single footstep bounces off the wire-meshed window.
Chapter 15
Charlie throws the light switch, plunging us into near-perfect darkness.
A second step. Soft.
Not someone out for a stroll. Someone trying not to be there.
A voice, so low it’s a murmur. No words. Too indistinct. Then a second voice.
Charlie whispers, ‘Time to go, Craig. We can finish this later.’
‘How do I get out?’
‘Female washroom. I’ll draw them in and then you go.’
I stand up and feel my way round the wall to the door. It opens with a soft squeak and I wince at the sound as I cross the corridor. A shape blocks out the light in the doorway to the alley. I duck, pushing into the ladies’ washroom.
It smells far fresher than the gents. The light from the alley casts shadows. There are two cubicles and a single bowl, with a hand dryer pinned to one wall.
The voices are talking again. Still too low to make out the words. The cold faucet on the sink is dripping. A single drop every four or five seconds. The extractor fan, built into the window, turns as a gust of air flows through the alley. I move behind the entrance door. Unless someone slams it open I’ll be hidden if they do a quick check.
Someone is trying the back door. It clicks as the handle lowers. I can feel the change in air pressure as the door opens and the outside air slides in. I stiffen.
Light spills under the door and Charlie’s voice booms out, ‘I have a gun.’
The door clicks shut again. Charlie has changed plans on me. No one is going to come in with a gun waiting for them. The sound of retreating footsteps suggests they’re leaving. Then the washroom door opens. Did one of them make it in? My eyes burn as light floods the room. I try to keep still but the door opens wide and catches my toes.
‘Craig?’ Charlie’s voice.
‘Are they gone?’ I’m whispering.
‘No. I had a peak through the drapes. There were four of them. All suited and booted. I figured that inviting them in might not be the best idea. If there are four out back, there will be more out front. We need a plan B.’
‘Like what?’
‘This way and keep low.’
I follow him out of the washroom.
He grabs my hand. ‘Keep your head down.’
