by Mark Leigh
From Dick’s position the umbrellas suddenly appearing ten floors below resembled spring flowers bursting into bloom under the downpour. He watched more and more umbrellas open and that’s when a thought hit Dick as suddenly and as powerfully as the bolt of lightning that arced down from the clouds. This was the time when the visual processing, memory and reasoning functions of Dick’s brain all worked together for the common good. Usually these parts of Dick’s brain functioned like the Three Stooges. This time they acted like the Three Musketeers.
With the second clap of thunder Dick rested his hands on the cold glass of the window. He closed his eyes and thought himself back in the resistance library, being confronted by Taylor after the episode with Alice. Closing his eyes even tighter Dick tried to retrieve all the details of that awkward and embarrassing night from the depths of his memory. Another clap of thunder. There was Taylor framed in the open doorway. He and Alice quickly and ashamedly dressing. Then Dick, not knowing what to do, scooping a few things back into Alice’s bag after he’d swiped it on to the floor in the heat of the moment. What were they? Dick concentrated like he’d never concentrated before and the objects slowly came into focus. Her tortoiseshell hairbrush. A small bottle of rose-scented perfume. A railway ticket and a plastic laminated card. He saw himself putting everything back in the bag and handing it to her. Wait! He remembered glancing at the card as he’d put it back. At the time he was so shocked by events that he didn’t register the information but now he could see it; her ID badge for work. Closing his eyes as tightly as he could without making them haemorrhage Dick willed himself with every ounce of strength he possessed to remember the details on the card. A company name gradually took form: ‘Liberty Parasols and Umbrellas’. Then a photograph of Alice and her name. Her real name. Margaret Tomkinson.
Another lightning bolt and a crash of thunder, the loudest yet, shook the building. Dick suddenly opened his eyes. Standing here, looking at the foreboding sky while the torrential rain continued outside, Dick experienced a brand new feeling; an epiphany. Some would call it his ‘Road to Damascus’ moment but Dick wouldn’t have understood this reference, thinking it was the title of an old Bob Hope / Bing Crosby movie. This was the moment, the first time in Dick’s life, when he thought of others before himself, and he knew exactly what needed to be done. He reached for his phone, called directory services to obtain the number of Alice’s company, and then rang her.
‘Margaret, it’s me Jeremy Brunel. I need to see you right away’.
To say that Alice was surprised would be like saying that Dick was relieved. Not wanting to give anything away in case their phone calls were being monitored, Dick arranged to meet her at the Pelican Café, the scene of their first rendezvous. The overcast sky made the corner in which they were sitting even darker, perfect for their discrete meeting and the conversation that played out. Over glasses of tonic water Dick told Alice everything he knew and the immense danger that was imminent. Alice took it all in then sat back in her seat, looking at Dick through narrowed, suspicious eyes.
‘I don’t believe you’.
‘What?!’, Dick exclaimed, absentmindedly raising his voice and attracting unwanted attention from two elderly well-to-do women sitting nearby.
‘I think you’re saying this because you’re still jealous of this Mr. Parnell and because you want to make a fool of me and Taylor for what happened between us’, Alice explained, crossing her arms across her chest, making her generous bosom even more prominent. There was a time and a place for this sort of pleasant diversion, thought Dick, and this was neither.
‘Alice! You have to trust me! I’m telling you this so you can all take steps to protect yourselves. I’m doing this because I don’t want any of you to be hurt. Parnell is a trained killer. He’s carrying a new type of gun that can avoid detection and he’s planning to use it!’.
Alice had the sort of expression that was halfway between someone who was very bored and someone who didn’t care.
‘You’ve got no proof at all, have you?’, she asked.
‘Actually I have’, Dick told her. He fumbled around in both of his inside jacket pockets. ‘I know it’s here somewhere… where did I put it… it’s a signed confession from David Parnell…’ Alice’s eyes registered astonishment.
‘Of course I don’t have proof!’, Dick was raising his voice again and one of the elderly women tutted. He held Alice’s hands and looked her straight in the eyes. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you this but I’m warning you, not just so you can save your skin, but because…’ Dick hesitated and lowered his voice. ‘I love you!’. Ignoring Alice’s look of shock Dick continued. ‘I’m not going to come between you and Taylor at all but you should know that I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you, or any of the Resistance!’
Alice was stunned into silence.
‘Listen to me carefully. This is what you must do…’
Dick outlined a detailed plan that she had to convey to Taylor. Throughout the instructions Alice remained wide-eyed, When Dick had finished she shook her head.
‘Taylor will not agree to that’, she told him.
‘He has to!’, Dick explained. ‘You have to appreciate what needs to be done and convince him!’. Dick stole another glance at his watch. It was ten to eight and he barely had time to join his colleagues at the restaurant. ‘Now I really do have to be going’. He leant forward and kissed Alice gently on each cheek, lingering so he could whisper, ‘Remember, this is the only solution. Desperate times require desperate measures’.
Dick left the café, turning round one last time as he left to see an emotional, confused and apprehensive Alice. After momentarily collecting her thoughts, she too departed.
- - o O o - -
Dick attended the dinner with his colleagues knowing there was nothing more he could do, apart from waiting. Well, apart from waiting and worrying. And suffering a series of anxiety attacks. The fate of his resistance colleagues lay in the hands of a mechanical woman who probably didn’t believe him, and her very possessive and jealous lover who probably didn’t trust him. Dick tried to relax but even the pre-dinner drinks failed to reduce his stress-levels while small-talk during the hors d’oeuvres similarly failed to take his mind off events. Dick was lost in his thoughts as a very smartly-dressed waiter wheeled a large silver tureen up to the table. With a theatrical flourish he removed the cover to reveal crispy duck in orange brandy source. Unknown to Dick, at the exact same moment in the resistance lounge, Susan was also removing something with an equally melodramatic gesture; David Parnell’s blindfold. He was surrounded by fifteen or so resistance members, a good turn out for a wet Wednesday.
Once the loud applause had died down Taylor gave a short speech welcoming Mr. Parnell, commenting that he was pleased his recruitment process was now over and how it was an outstanding coup having him as a fully-fledged member of the Resistance. His turn to speak, David thanked everyone for making him feel at home and said he couldn’t wait to use his inside knowledge of the Party against it. This was the cue for more clapping. As this petered out, Taylor announced a slight change to the order of the evening’s proceedings. With his arm on David’s shoulder Taylor spoke. ‘The first part of our evenings traditionally deals with training, intelligence sharing, mission planning, those sort of things, while the second half is dedicated to some well-earned rest and relaxation. Well, partly in celebration of David becoming a full resistance member, and partly because I feel so bloody horny tonight, we’re going to swap the evening around’. Everyone in the audience was surprised at this change in plans, but pleasantly so.
Addressing David, Taylor said, ‘You know we practice free sex here, well I’ve arranged a sort of initiation as a way of thanking you for joining us. That way you can appreciate first-hand what loyal Party supporters are missing out on!’
When the whoops of delight from the audience subsided David said that while he was grateful for the offer, he really wanted to start work right away. Tayl
or would have none of it, however and while other members paired-up, he showed David into the main bedroom which had been illuminated by scented candlelight.
‘One of the female members will be in shortly’, Taylor said, ‘to give you a lesson in love’. With that he gave David a wink and a friendly slap on the back. David shrugged, thinking he might as well enjoy himself before the killing spree began. He undressed, carefully hiding the small ceramic pistol that had escaped detection in the middle of his folded clothes, and got into the soft bed. A few minutes later the door opened again. An attractive woman entered and walked over to him, dropping her silk robe to reveal her complete nakedness. David sighed and lay back with his hands clasped behind his head thinking that as sacrifices on behalf of the Party went, this was one of the least arduous. The woman pulled back the covers and climbed on to the bed, straddling him. David smiled some more. A woman taking control of the situation? This was a totally new experience and one that he was already beginning to enjoy. Lovemaking with his wife was predictable and boring, with all the sensuality of making love to a mackerel. He’d heard stories about different positions and sexual experimentation but had dismissed these as the most preposterous fiction or Resistance propaganda. Now it seemed, he was going to discover the truth.
As candlelight flickered over the full breasts of his lover she inched her way down David’s body. Within moments he was fully aroused. Skilfully manoeuvring herself up and forwards, she gently lowered herself on to David who entered her with ease. He gasped and thrust his hips in time with the slow, rhythmic lovemaking which gradually picked up pace. The speed increased, slightly faster than David would have liked, but he wasn’t going to complain. He did, however, think of saying something when what had started as a feeling of rapture changed into one of discomfort. Protests, gentle at first but then increasingly more vocal, fell on deaf ears as his lover ground her hips faster and faster like a woman possessed.
The more David complained, the more she increased her tempo until what was taking place on the bed was not so much lovemaking as something you’d witness at a rodeo. Soon David was awash with sweat. Despite his superior strength, pinned down by her weight and shaken by her constant thrusts, he couldn’t dislodge the woman who was now grinding away, seemingly oblivious to his distress. A minute later and pleasure had all but changed into pain. Her speed had increased to such a degree that David was having difficulty breathing and he began to feel slightly nauseous. The friction between their groins became so severe that pubic hair started smouldering, giving off a very unpleasant singed odour. That alone would usually be enough to destroy any amorous mood but in David’s case there was something else which spoiled the moment — the onset of blurred vision and the sudden tightening of his chest. The last thing he saw before his cardiac arrest was the face of his lover staring down at him. The cold, emotionless face of Alice. The face of someone who’d just shagged a man to death.
Taylor entered the room and hugged a sobbing Alice, comforting her after her ordeal. As she dressed he went through David’s clothes, found the gun, then called Edward in to help him remove the body. They planned to dump it a long way away in woodland so it would be days or even weeks before it was discovered.
- - o O o - -
When Dick returned home after his dinner he couldn’t sleep, partly as a result of the very rich meal he’d eaten but mainly because of apprehension. He awoke in a sweat at about five, went for a walk to clear his head, and arrived at the office by half past seven. He was just sorting through his paperwork for the day when the phone rang.
‘Jeremy?’, a familiar female voice asked. ‘It’s Margaret’.
Dick hesitated. He didn’t know anyone called Margaret. Then he remembered. ‘Margaret!’ he replied in amazement. She was still alive!
‘I know I shouldn’t call you at work but I wanted to say it was good meeting you yesterday evening. I passed your best wishes to my boss as well’.
‘I see’. Dick said, being very economical with his comments in case Party agents were eavesdropping on the conversation. ‘And how about your new colleague? How is he?’
‘Not very well’, Alice said. ‘Not very well at all’.
Dick smiled. ‘I’m sorry to hear that Margaret. Anyway, I’d better go as I have a full work schedule ahead of me today. I’ll see you shortly’.
The call set the tone for the rest of the day. Dick had a spring in his step. He was happy wading through interminable telephone conversation transcripts. He was pleased to spend his lunch hour with Stanley who regaled him with tales about his latest brass-rubbings exploits. He even remained cheery during a three hour meeting in a small stuffy office with Enid discussing a possible curfew for the under sixteens in inner city areas. Dick was on such a high after the morning’s good news that he knew it was only a matter of time before he found himself returning to earth with a bump. This did happen but the sensation was less ‘coming back to earth with a bump’ and more like being thrown out of an aircraft attached to an anvil, with another even bigger anvil attached to the first one. It happened at seven o’clock. Dick, who had been working late to finish the transcripts, yawned and stretched. He rose from his chair to put a file back on a shelf when someone called his name.
‘Dick S. Longg’.
Dick’s blood turned to ice. In fact it turned colder than ice. It turned to liquid nitrogen. No one outside of the Resistance had called him by his real name since he’d first arrived in this future. And the fact it was a statement rather than a question indicated that the speaker had no doubt whom he was addressing. In the nano-second before he turned around Dick thought of the person he’d least like to see standing behind him. Surprisingly it wasn’t the circus clown holding an axe, or a giant ghostly lobster called Jaques, both particular and irrational fears from his childhood. No. The person Dick least wanted to see standing there in his office saying his real name was, unfortunately, the person who was actually standing there. And he was holding a gun.
‘I can’t believe it’s really you’, said the Leader.
CHAPTER 28
A million thoughts went through Dick’s head. Well OK, not a million of them. More like five. How? Why? Where? When? What?
‘I thought you looked familiar the first time I met you’. The Leader gently shut the office door behind him and closed the blinds fully. Dick stood totally still, thinking back to their first meeting. He recalled the slightly surprised look on the Leader’s face when they stared at each other and shook hands.
‘Of course, I knew it couldn’t be you. I mean, how could it?’ The Leader was a few feet from Dick, the gun aimed squarely at his chest.
Dick listened in silence.
‘But there was something not quite right about you. Something that didn’t add up. I felt, well… a disturbance in the Fabric’.
Dick frowned.
The Leader continued. ‘You wouldn’t understand’.
‘Is the fabric like ‘The Force’?’, Dick asked.
‘Shhhhhhhh’, hissed the Leader, looking furtively all around him before continuing. ‘But the annoying thing was, although I had doubts about you I couldn’t find anything to substantiate them. Whoever gave you your new identity is very clever. Very clever indeed. You stood up to the most robust security checks. We studied your background and the backgrounds of friends and colleagues. Again, there was nothing at all to arouse our suspicions. From time to time you seemed to disappear when we tried to track you, but again, that in itself didn’t alert me to who you really are. I decided my instinct must be wrong which is why I invited you on to the Ruling Council’.
Dick decided he had to act fast. He looked at the Leader facing him, still holding the gun. He judged the distance between the two of them and looked down at the heavy hole-punch on his desk. Then he looked up once more at The Leader, staring him straight in the face. The Leader went to say something but just as he opened his mouth, Dick let fly.
‘I think you’re mistaken’, he spluttered. ‘My name i
s Jeremy Brunel!’.
Dick, along with most Party members, had never heard the Leader really laugh. It wasn’t really in keeping with his personality as a ruthless politician or brutal leader. This time though, he let out a loud chuckle.
‘Is that the best you can do, Dick?’, the Leader smiled. ‘I was expecting you to have least thrown that hole-punch at me’.
Doing that, Dick thought, would have just been admitting his identity and therefore his guilt. No, he was sure he could bluff his way out of this mess. After all, many of his co-stars had complimented him on his smooth tongue.
‘I think you’re mistaking me for someone else’, Dick said with as much conviction as he could muster. ‘I’m Jeremy Brunel. I’ve never heard of this Dick S. Longg. Maybe I look like him, whoever he is, but I am most definitely not him’.
The Leader stroked his chin. ‘Hmmmmmm’, he said aloud. Stepping forward he lifted his gun and slowly ran the end of the barrel up Dick’s left cheek then along his forehead, wiping away a large bead of sweat that had formed there. The Leader then used the weapon to trace the profile of Dick’s nose and chin, studying his features intently. A second large bead of sweat formed. The gun moved slowly down Dick’s chest. ‘Well, you do definitely look like Dick Longg. And you sort of sound like him’. Dick didn’t like where this conversation was going. And he definitely didn’t like where the gun was going. It was now heading south of the equator, towards the inevitable destination of the Tropic of Penis.
‘There’s one way to settle the confusion once and for all’, said the Leader as the gun reached Dick’s fly.
Dick gulped. He then realised what was happening in the trouser department and gulped again. The Leader looked down and saw it too. Dick tried to prevent his erection from going any further but no matter how hard he tried, both the thought of sodomisation by Hulk Hogan and the truly frightening real-life threat of a shot to his penis failed to cool his ardour. The rubbing motion of the gun against the cloth of Dick’s trousers turned a mere swelling into a prominent lump into an enormous bulge. The Leader took the gun away and smiled.
