The Rubicon

by Andrew Heasman

  Suddenly, movement caught his eye.

  Car headlights were queuing to leave the prison car park and a huddle of pedestrians had just exited the main gate heading in his direction. Prison visiting-time was over. Ignoring the cars, Adam focused solely on the pedestrians. Gradually, they filtered out, each person climbing into their respective vehicle and heading home. As he waited, the group thinned. Three left – two – then finally, only one remained – Aaron, walking straight towards him on the opposite side of the road. Silently, Adam slid from the driver’s side of his van, gently pushing the door shut with a metallic click. He hid behind the van’s wing mirror, watching, waiting for Aaron to turn into the darkened side road before he approached on foot.

  Stealthily, he broke cover and crossed the main carriageway, ensuring that he remained out of Aaron’s peripheral vision, in his blind spot to the rear. He moved quickly, but silently, his footsteps unnoticed as he closed to within three meters. Just as Aaron reached his car, Adam noticed him place his right hand into his jacket pocket, presumably to grab the car keys. He stopped, maintaining a safe distance behind him.

  “Aaron Turner?” he asked, in as confident a voice as he could muster.

  Aaron froze to the spot, his back turned towards him. It was only then that it occurred to Adam that a person from that sort of background, that sort of environment, might well be armed.

  “Show me your hands. Nice and slowly. Turn around.”

  Aaron did as instructed, not through fear, but simply because at that particular moment he had no idea who he was dealing with. As he stared at Adam, a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. A grin spread across his lips.

  “It’s you,” he said calmly. “What do you want?”

  “Just to talk.” Aaron made no acknowledgement. “How’s your brother coping inside?”

  “Like you give a fuck. He’s fine, no thanks to you, which is more than you’re gonna be once I’ve finished with you.” Aaron sounded angry, bitter.

  Adam had intended to keep things calm, to talk to him civilly, not to be dragged into a shouting match, but he took an instant dislike to Aaron and his attitude.

  “Look, I know that you’re only looking out for your brother, just like I’m only looking out for my family, but I wanted to ask you, man to man, to leave my family alone. If you’ve got a problem, then deal with me, not them.”

  Aaron smirked, relaxed, and looked at the floor laughing at some private joke.

  “You think it’s that easy, do you? Talk nicely, ask politely, and everything will go back to normal?” His face hardened, the smile gone. “Think again, shithead! You know exactly how to finish this – you withdraw your evidence from Josh’s case and everything will be fine.”

  “It won’t work. I tried already. They’ll call me to court, regardless.”

  “Really? Well, why don’t you do it anyway? Let’s see.”

  “Just call off your thugs. Leave my family in peace.”

  Aaron laughed again. “Just fuck off.”

  Adam had heard enough. He could tell that he was not going to be able to reason with somebody like him. The only thing that he would understand was violence. Catching Aaron unawares, he stepped forward, grabbed him by the throat, and pushed him back against the side of his car. Aaron raised his hands, clawing at Adam’s wrists, but to no effect. He squeezed, tightening his grip on Aaron’s neck. His eyes began to bulge, his breath coming in short gasps, his face reddening.

  “I asked you – politely – to call off your boys. Don’t make things worse for yourself, just do what I ask,” Adam said, through clenched teeth.

  Aaron attempted to reply but was unable to do so due to being half-strangled. It was only then that Adam realised what he was doing. It came as a shock. He was not like that – not normally. What was he doing? Did he really intend to kill his nemesis? He had no idea; he was reacting on instinct, not conscious thought. He released his grip instantly. “S...sorry!” he stammered, looking down in shame.

  Aaron rubbed his neck, red blotches already beginning to form. He coughed and then spat on the pavement, clearing his throat. He felt belittled by Adam’s attack - he was just grateful that his gang had not been witness to it. Regaining some of his composure, he snarled, “You will be,” in a hoarse whisper.

  “Yeah, whatever!”

  “That was a BIG mistake!” Aaron stood upright, squared his shoulders, and attempted to regain control of the situation. “You dare to attack me?” He seemed incredulous. “You are seriously going to regret that. If you thought you were being targeted before, then you just wait - this is just the beginning!”

  Adam was in no mood to back down in front of a challenger. Full of bravado, he replied loudly, “Bring it on. But if you threaten, or harm my family, you’ll be the one regretting it.” Aaron noted a previously unseen toughness in Adam’s eyes. He sensed that his words were not just talk - they were a promise. “You really don’t want to cross me. You wouldn’t want to make me angry!”

  It was not what had been said that worried Aaron; it was the manner in which it had been said that sent a chill down his spine. He had not been joking. Aaron tried to laugh it off, but deep down, he was scared. He had never met anybody so focused and determined as him. He was unsure how to deal with it. Never had a victim of his stood up against him. He ought to have cowered in fear of his reputation, but instead, Adam had stood his ground, remained defiant. Aaron was confused by his actions, but he knew one thing for sure; he needed to reassert his dominance.

  Using anger to mask his fear, he screamed, “YOU, and your family are DEAD!” He pointed his finger at Adam. “You should‘ve pulled out when you had the chance. Now it’s personal.”

  “You’re damn right it’s personal. And you’re gonna be the one coming off worst. You don’t have a clue who you’re dealing with, do you?”

  “Fuck off!”

  Both men glared at one another in a stand-off. Who would back down first?

  Suddenly they heard chatter coming from the main road. A group of girls turned the corner eating chips from plastic cartons. Adam and Aaron both glanced towards them, the tension instantly released.

  “I’ll be seeing you around,” said Aaron. Was he making a threat or a promise?

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Adam retraced his steps to the van, and Aaron climbed into his car and drove away with a screech of rubber on tarmac as his tyres fought to maintain grip.

  This was not over - it was just the beginning.

  Chapter 21

  03:00 – Monday 10th December.

  The smell of petrol was a powerful motivator, especially in the dead of night.

  Adam awoke from a deep slumber. He opened his eyes, but strained to see anything in the darkness, his vision requiring a few more seconds to adjust. He looked to his right. Sarah was still in the Land of Nod, tucked under the duvet, her face barely visible. He smiled. He enjoyed watching her sleep. But something did not feel right; he had an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Was it real? Or was it a hangover from some long forgotten dream? His nose twitched. He sniffed the air. What was that aroma - Petrol? He felt confused. He should not be able to smell petrol, not at night, not in his own bedroom. Something was seriously wrong!

  Instantly alert, he leapt from the bed and drew back the curtains expecting to see a car leaking fuel, or something equally mundane. But the street below was deserted. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Adam scratched his head, perplexed. Had he imagined it? Was he still dreaming? He sniffed again. It was definitely petrol, and it seemed stronger nearer to the window.

  He was about to head downstairs when he heard a faint scratching noise. It reminded him a little of a cat clawing at the front door, but he had no cat. It appeared to be coming from below, but was it inside or outside the house? He looked again from the bedroom window, this time closer to the building. Nothing, he could still see nothing unusual.

  All of a sudden, there was a flash of orange light from the area close to
his front door. This was followed by the dull, but rapid, thud of heavy footfalls as two black shadows sprinted down his driveway and up the street to the left.

  “What the fuck!” he exclaimed. “What’s going on?”

  The culprits were long gone, blending into the darkness, but Adam had a more pressing concern; he could now hear crackling sounds down below and black smoke was billowing from the doorway. His house was on fire!

  “SARAH! Sarah, wake up. FIRE!”

  Sarah rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What? What are you shouting about?”

  “There’s a fire downstairs. Get up, QUICKLY. Call the Fire Brigade. Get Jenny and go to the back garden – fire’s at the front.”

  As she leapt from the bed, she grabbed her dressing gown from the hook on the back of the bedroom door and then rushed into Jenny’s room at the rear of the house. Adam descended the stairs in three leaps. The front door was at the foot of the staircase and he could see through the glass panels that flames were outside, climbing up the surface, engulfing the Christmas Wreath that hung from the door knocker. He could feel the heat radiating through the door, hear the roaring of the flames as they fought to take hold. Thankfully the noxious smoke was restricted to the outside. Sarah climbed down the stairs behind him, Jenny cradled in her arms, her face pressed against her body.

  “You OK?” Adam cried above the noise of the fire. Sarah nodded. “And Jen? She OK?” Again, she nodded, but there was fear in her eyes. “Out back, NOW! Go, go, go...”

  Sarah ran as fast as she could down the hallway, through the kitchen, and out into the freezing cold, but fresh-tasting air of the back garden. Adam was a fraction of a second behind her, shielding her from the heat, protecting his family as best he could.

  “Sarah, keep away from the house. Call the Fire Brigade on your mobile – have you got it on you?” Luckily, she had picked it up off the worktop in transit through the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Where are you going?” she cried, despair sounding in her voice.

  “I’ve gotta try and put it out.”

  He sprinted down the driveway at the side of the house. Halfway along, there was an outside tap with a garden hose permanently attached to it. Grabbing the nozzle, he ran around to the front door which was totally engulfed in flames, but which was doing a sterling job at preventing the fire from entering the house’s interior. Thank God for fire doors! Turning on the tap, he directed the water from the hose, drenching the entire doorway until the fire had been doused. It had only taken a matter of minutes to extinguish the flames, but it had felt like hours. Adam slumped to his knees, exhausted and smoke-blackened. He coughed as he surveyed the damage. What had once been a brilliant white UPVC security door was now a charred, melted mess. Thankfully, its solid construction had prevented the fire from spreading any further. It was only after the fire had been extinguished that Adam was able to appreciate how lucky he had been, how lucky they had ALL been. He said a silent prayer of thanks.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw a barefoot Sarah standing by the garage, adjacent to the back door. She was trembling, partly from the cold, but mostly from shock. Jenny was still clutched to her like a limpet, not fully comprehending what had just happened, still partially asleep.

  “It’s OK, it’s out,” he called to her.

  She walked slowly towards the front of the house, keen to see what damage had been caused, but equally dreading the reality of it all – up until now, it had seemed more of a bad dream, a nightmare, than real life. She began to sob, her tears falling onto Jenny’s hair.

  “What’s happening? Why us?” she wailed.

  Adam nodded towards Jenny and said calmly, “Not now, not in front of Jen. We can discuss it later.” Sarah nodded her agreement, realising that to see her parents stressed, arguing, and shouting at one another would only add to Jenny’s already confused and anxious state of mind.

  “She can come and stay with me if you’d like.” It was the elderly neighbour from number 77, next door. “Can I get you a coffee, or maybe something stronger?” She had been woken by all of the commotion.

  “That’d be lovely, Ruth,” said Adam, smiling. “Maybe Sarah can come and sit in your living room with Jenny. It’s only a few hours until she’s gotta be at school anyway. I’ll wait and deal with the Fire Brigade when they arrive.”

  “Oh, she’ll not be going to school today, surely? Not after all of this.”

  “It might be the best thing for her, you know, sticking to a routine. Besides, it’d be best if she didn’t have to see the Fire Brigade or the police; it’d only upset her more.”

  “Mmm, maybe.” Ruth was not convinced. “Anyway, you two come with me and we’ll put the kettle on, eh?” She smiled warmly at Sarah. “I might even have a biscuit in the cupboard.” She winked at Jenny.

  A few minutes later, Sarah returned carrying a mug of steaming coffee. Her eyes were red raw and there were streaks down both cheeks from her tears.

  “You’ve GOT to get this sorted,” she said calmly to Adam. “You have to get the police to stop whoever is doing it.”

  “I will - it’s all in hand.”

  She looked at the fire-damaged door. “Does it look like it’s all in hand?” She walked away in disgust.

  Adam knew that the police needed to be informed – they were probably already en route – but he also knew that it was pointless. He had not seen the arsonists. He knew that Aaron Turner was responsible for the fire, in retaliation for their chat the other day, but he could hardly let the police know that. It would look like he had brought it upon himself. Maybe he had? Maybe this was all his fault? Maybe he would have been better keeping out of it, not getting involved in helping PC Johnston, and certainly not trying to sort things out on his own? The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he was the guilty party.

  Ten minutes later, the serenity of the street was interrupted by blue flashing lights. A huge Volvo FL8 fire tender came to a stop mid-carriageway and its crew leapt from the cab, opened the equipment cabinets, and began reeling out a fire hose. Although the flames were already extinguished, they began damping down, regardless.

  The senior fire officer, the one in the white helmet, walked up to Adam.

  “I see you’ve been doing our job for us,” he said, attempting to bring some levity to the situation. Adam was in no mood for jokes. “What happened?”

  “Dunno. I saw two blokes running away just before it went up in flames.”

  The officer approached the door for a closer inspection. He knelt down, took off his glove, and rubbed his fingertips in the oily residue where the doormat had once been. He sniffed.

  “Hmm, smells like petrol.”

  Adam looked at him and thought, Well done, Sherlock; I could’ve told you that myself.

  “You were lucky - it could have been a whole lot worse.”

  “You don’t say?” Adam was becoming increasingly frustrated at being told the obvious.

  “No, I mean, you were lucky that they used petrol. Any other accelerant might have had a firmer hold on the door’s surface, but set light to petrol, and it’s the fumes that burn first rather than the door.”

  Adam felt a little embarrassed for being sarcastic towards him. “I see what you mean.”

  “It’s definitely arson, so what we have to do is report it as such to the police. Expect a visit a little later this morning. It’s just routine, sir.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Adam was back to his sarcasm again.

  The fire crew tidied up as best they could, loaded their vehicle and prepared to leave the scene. The officer in charge leaned out of the cab’s window.

  “There’s no chance that the fire will reignite, so you’re safe enough now. I’d avoid using the front though - stick to the back - but the front door will be secure enough until you can arrange to have it replaced.”

  “Thanks for that,” Adam replied. “Won’t be a problem, I’m a locksmith, I’ll get it fixed ASAP
. Thanks again, lads.” He raised a hand and waved as they departed.

  ...

  By seven thirty, Sarah and Jenny had returned from the neighbour’s house and were sat around the dining table eating breakfast with Adam. Nobody was particularly hungry. They played with the cereal in their bowls, occasionally taking a mouthful or sipping from their mugs of tea. Conversation was minimal. Everyone was exhausted. And there was a distinct tension in the air between Adam and Sarah.

  Adam looked at the clock on the wall. “The police ought to be here pretty soon. It’s just gone shift changeover so they’ll probably turn up in the next hour or so.” Nobody replied. “Jen, how do you feel about going to school today? Think you’ll be OK?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Daddy, I’ll be fine.” She paused. “What’s that funny smell?”

  “It’s just the smoke from the fire. It didn’t really get inside the house too much. It’ll be gone by the time you get home, love.” He smiled at her, reassuringly.

  “You’ll be lucky,” Sarah mumbled under her breath. She was still in a foul mood and was beginning to appreciate just how lucky they had all been. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for Jenny to go to school today?”

  “Of course. It’ll be better for her to see her friends than to hang around here waiting for the police. Who knows how long that’ll take anyway?”

  “Shall I come back here or go to work? I guess I should hear what you have to say to the police really.”

  “Why? Don’t you trust me?” She stared at him, her silence speaking volumes.

  “Well, I’d better go to work then. No point in me interrupting your chat with your old work colleagues, is there? Be nice if they’d stop being your mates and concentrate on dealing with those who are threatening us, eh?”

  “Come on, love, you know it’s not like that, they’re doing their best.”

  “If you say so. Anyway, I’ll take Jenny to Breakfast Club on the way to work. Come on Jen, let’s get you in your uniform, then we can go.”