Philian Gregory

by Simon J. Stephens

  “So, is that the end now?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”, Carrington wanted to convince himself of the opposite, “It’s all too clean. Too definitive. There are still too many loose ends, not least of which is the method used. I looked into Reforgin. It’s a complex substance but, at heart, it’s a synthetic virus. Sound familiar? I refuse to believe it, but what if the prison attack was the second one? The helpless dementia sufferers fit neatly into the category of takers rather than givers. I don’t know. We’ll rerun the data when we get back and see what that tells us. I’m worried about the centre of our little clock-face. It still points to ‘Politics’ but I can’t see how. Let’s try and relax a little. See what Bob had for us.”

  That conversation had engrossed them as they walked along an overgrown cycle-path to the high street bistro where they were to meet their friend. Britain was a depressing place to live just now and the events of the previous day had done nothing to lift that mood. The pressures that the two of them were under were also beginning to get them down. They were no more than two individuals in a nation of millions, and yet, they were two people involuntarily empowered to play a greater role against the threat that nation was under. Philian Gregory tried to lighten the mood a little.

  “You sure that lunch is a good idea?”, he asked Carrington, a wry smile playing on his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I was just thinking that a little less food wouldn’t do you any harm.”

  “Ah, a veritable wit you are.”, Carrington stood outside the bistro and held Gregory’s arm, “But, you are absolutely right of course. I’m piling on a lot of weight, aren’t I? Don’t you worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’ve spent too long as the skinny alcoholic and I’m too old now to think I can escape the inevitable changes that happen with enjoying the good things in life. Funny though.”

  “What is?”

  “Here we are, facing danger and death every day, and you’re worried about my figure. I’m touched, but I can cope with the man boobs and the belly handles. I know what I’m doing. Cut me a little slack, yes?”

  They stepped into the bistro and were immediately struck by how empty it was. They’d used the place before and it had always buzzed with activity. Now, there were only a couple of tables occupied. It made sense really. Who would want to be out on the streets just now and who had anything to celebrate? The owner waved them to a corner booth at the rear and they settled down, giving the menu a brief glance but only to confirm that it hadn’t changed and that their mental pre-order could be fulfilled. A bottle of beer apiece helped them pass the time before Dexter was due.

  “Guys.”, Bob Dexter looked a mess, “Sorry, I’m a bit late. It’s chaos out there. Man, what’s the world coming to?”

  “Good to see you, Bob.”, Carrington whispered in his friend’s ear as they hugged, “You okay?”

  “I’m good. I’m good. Philian?”

  “I can see you’re having it tough. It is good to see you though. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

  “You both holding up okay?”, Dexter asked, “You look well enough. You especially Nathan. Filling out a little.”

  “Don’t,”, Gregory laughed, “we’ve already been there. Our friend is giving in to old age.”

  “But, I have to say,”, he continued, “you’re not looking so hot yourself. You okay?”

  “Let’s order,”, Dexter replied without addressing the question, “we’ve got a lot to cover. I’ll share my thoughts with you then. The usual?”

  Dexter waved the owner over and placed the order, adding another round of beer plus a bottle of wine. He downed the first beer as soon as it arrived, caressing the neck of a second as he listened to Gregory and Carrington giving him the outline of their findings. They explained their theory about the metamorphosis of The Circle and they showed him how the names that the nation was now aware of fitted into the clock-face that was boldly displayed on Gregory’s mobile. They speculated about what it meant for the future, concluding that they needed to let the computer guide them in the next steps.

  “So, that’s us.”, Gregory said, “and the information that you fed us was invaluable. We lost the feed from Goodwin after you made that first contact with the club. The last we heard from him was something about ‘the patsies being in place’. Maybe he was referring to the prisoners, or maybe The New Progressives who would take the fall. We’re not sure. Mind you, the photos you chose to send are giving us pause for thought. Nathan’s going to tie them into the algorithm. We can’t cross-refer them ourselves in the time we have. We’re open to where this is going, but we’re not sure we’ve reached the end yet. Tell us what you have.”

  Dexter took his time as he finished off the last of the fries that had accompanied his burger, wiping his mouth carefully with a napkin and draining another bottle of beer to wash it all down.

  “You know a lot of it.”, he told them, “It’s in the files I sent. All I can tell you, is that The Haven is a part of it. I don’t have more than that.”

  All the time he was speaking he was glancing around nervously.

  “You okay?”, Carrington asked.

  “No, I’m not.”, the weary replied, “Look at me. I’m a nervous wreck. I’m not sleeping, I feel like I’m being watched everywhere I go, and I’m scared. It was all okay up until the club. I had reservations, sure, but I was prepared to help. It seemed like the right thing to do. But now, the club, guys, it’s like I’ve opened up a hornet’s nest. It’s a step too far for me. I can’t live like this any longer.”

  “You want to call it a day?”, Gregory asked gently, laying his hand on Dexter’s only to feel it trembling.

  “I’ve got no choice.”, he replied, “I can’t live like this. If I stay and monitor the club, I know I’ll slip up and suffer for it. Or else, if I stick around that place too much, I worry that I might go native. That would be worse than any punishment. The pressure’s too much and I think you should think about stopping too. Is it really worth it now? Nathan, you’ve had your revenge. Philian, would Amanda really want to see you hurt? You’ve done enough. Why not just let it drop?”

  They finished the remains of their lunch in silence. The owner cleared the table and left the bill as he walked away. Gregory was silent, simply because he didn’t know what to say. Dexter, because he’d said all he wanted to. Which left Nathan Carrington to speak.

  “You sure about this?”, he asked, “We could certainly do with your help. But it has to be your decision.”

  “I’m sure.”, Dexter replied, “And I’m sorry to let you down. Look, you guys take care out there. I’ll never forget you.”

  Without waiting for anything else to be said, Dexter rose and shook their hands, removed a few notes from his wallet to cover the check, dropping them on the table as he walked away. The stress and the strain and the weariness were not just evident on his face. He walked like a broken and defeated man.

  “What about us then?”, Gregory asked, “Is it time we bowed out?”

  “Your choice, as always. Not mine though. I can’t let it go just now. There’s more to this than we’ve discovered so far.”

  Gregory was about to reply when he noticed how things had changed in the bistro. They were the only diners there and even the owner seemed to have disappeared from his station behind the espresso machine. It was eerily silent in the empty building. That troubled him. He had a bad feeling about this. A feeling that wasn’t helped when two armed police officers entered the bistro, closing and locking the door behind them. All he could do was nod to Carrington.

  “Maybe that decision’s been made for us.”, his friend whispered back as the police drew their weapons and left them under no illusion who they had come for.

  “Philian Gregory and Nathan Carrington, I believe.”, a third man joined the two officers, having entered through the kitchen, “It’s been a
long journey to track you down. May I sit?”

  They said nothing, merely watching as the third man answered his own question and sat where Dexter had been sitting only minutes before. He was a stocky man, dressed in an off-the-peg suit that might come back into fashion one day and reeking of cigarette smoke.

  “I’m afraid.”, he told them, “That this is game over. You want to tell me anything now, or should we leave the fun until later?”

  “Sir,”, Nathan Carrington’s voice was strong and clear, “I have no idea who you think we are but I can’t help feeling you are very much mistaken. I understand that we have a right to retain our privacy in such a situation so I will not humour you with our real names. I can assure you though, we are not, who was it? Philip someone and a Mr Carrington. For what it’s worth, my friend is George Evans and I am John Martin. I’d offer to show you ID, but you’ve caught us without any today.”

  “That’s how you want it?”, the other man sighed.

  “It’s how it has to be.”, Gregory spoke now, “You’ve got the wrong people. I understand that everyone’s a bit twitchy with all that’s going on, but armed police? Please, accept that you may be mistaken.”

  They agreed, reluctantly, to a search of their clothing but that yielded no clues as to their real identity. They’d got into the habit of being over-cautious, even though they were comfortable in the new identities that they lived under. Thankfully, they’d opted to carry only cash that day. Cash and Gregory’s untraceable phone, one that was password protected and one which, even if it was hacked into, would reveal very little useful evidence.

  “You understand that conventional police constraints have been relaxed a little?”, the man asked them, “And that we have greater authority than ever?”

  “I wasn’t aware that martial law was in force yet.”, Carrington stared directly at the man as he replied.

  “Oh, it will be. Let’s not wait around for it to happen. I’m going to take you in. You can stay as silent as you want but we’ll get the proof one way or the other. You see, the two men we are after are wanted on some very serious charges. Nathan Carrington, well, he’s a bad ‘un. Multiple murders are just the tip of the iceberg. A seasoned offender too. And Gregory, well, he’s more of the patsy. But he killed his girlfriend. Lovely girl, called Amanda. Fingerprints, DNA, the usual stuff. You know we’ll make a match. In time.”

  The taunting failed to have its desired effect and the man rose, ordering the two police officers to cuff the pair and take them away.

  “I have to say, Carrington,”, the man in the brown suit tried one last dig, “your new life seems to doing you some good. The description I had of you was one of a gaunt and skinny wreck. Then again, I guess prison and booze do that to a man. Now look at you! That’s some belly.”

  “Please,”, Carrington forced a smile, “don’t add insults to your ignorance. Maybe you could learn something here. If Carrington was skinny and I’m carrying a few extra pounds, maybe that confirms the mistaken identity?”

  “I’ll see you at the station.”, the unnamed man told them, “We’ll see how cocky you are then.”

  At gunpoint, Gregory and Carrington had their hands pulled behind them where they were cuffed. One of the police officers opened the bistro door and checked the street which was surprisingly empty, before nodding to his colleague. They were encouraged to leave the place quietly and further encouraged to sit without protest in the back of the marked police car whose blue lights continued to flash.

  “Not quite the afternoon we expected.”, Carrington whispered to his friend, “But, we’ve been through worse. You trust me?”

  “You know I do.”, Gregory sighed, leaning back as the car sped away, “Besides, I’m all out of ideas just now.”

  Had he chosen to look out of the window instead of settling back with his eyes closed, Gregory might have caught a glimpse of the silver van that was parked in the alleyway behind the bistro. And had he known what was in that van, he might have been able to better understand why they were where they now were.

  The key to the van had been passed to Dexter by the man in the brown suit as he entered the bistro’s kitchen. His hands trembling, Dexter had opened the side door cautiously, part dreading what he might see inside. He wasn’t to be disappointed though. They’d kept their side of the bargain. The twins, although bound and gagged, were safe in the back of that van and he felt tears begin to run down his cheeks as he untied them.

  “I’m so sorry.”, he whispered, “You should never have been mixed up in this. You’re okay?”

  “We’re fine.”, the twins replied simultaneously.

  “And don’t blame yourself.”, Zoe Summers added, “We knew the risks. We should have been better prepared.”

  Dexter continued to weep as they sat silently in the back of the van. They were tears of joy at having retrieved the twins, and they were tears of sadness that he had put them through so much. Mixed with the tears was a heart-rending anguish about the price that he’d had to pay for their release. Gregory and Carrington were dear friends but they weren’t innocent. The twins were. He’d had to choose and he knew now that he’d made the right choice. Ever since leaving the club, he’d known this was how it would have to be. They’d said that he could trust them and they had been true to their word.

  His mind flashed back to the final part of the meeting he’d had with the membership committee of The Haven. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the moment that it had all seems to turn, but that was irrelevant. They’d known all along.

  “Honesty,”, Andrew Hill had whispered after detailing some of the horrific acts that he was proud to attribute to members of The Haven, “and openness. That’s what defines our mind-set. But I must confess, we don’t usually share our deeper secrets with outsiders. We made an exception for you. Why? Well, simply because we know you won’t share our secrets with anyone else. Will you, Mr Dexter?”

  The use of his real name had thrown him but he had little time to register what was happening before Hill had continued.

  “Yes, Mr Bob Dexter, no less. Last heard of leaving the country in unusual circumstances having previously been loosely affiliated with a couple of felons called Gregory and Carrington. We presume that you are working with them. But really, you don’t seem to be up to their standard in the subterfuge department. We had your prints from your first visit. A discrete enquiry and it all came tumbling out. Why you want to know about us, we can only speculate, although Nathan Carrington is not somebody who many members of The Haven are unfamiliar with. In fact, he’s been a thorn in our side for many years. Gregory is more of an enigma to us. Is he really just helping a friend?”

  Refusing to answer, Dexter had pulled himself together and prepared for the worst.

  “What do you want from me?”, he’d asked.

  “Oh, that’s simple, dear boy,”, the reply, “we want Carrington and Gregory delivered to us. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “And if I don’t.”

  “Well, then the trade can’t happen.”

  “What trade?”

  “Oh, a very fair one. Two for two, if you like. You give us Carrington and Gregory and we give you the twins. Lovely pair, aren’t they?”

  They’d shown him photographs to confirm that they had the twins and they’d let him talk to them on the phone. He’d left the club shaken and defeated. He had no choice. He only hoped that whilst he and the twins disappeared, his two friends would understand what he’d had to do and forgive him. He doubted that they could.

  Chapter Fifty

  The police car carrying Philian Gregory and Nathan Carrington joined the M6 Motorway and sped North. Aside from the rumble of tyres and the sound of the straining engine, it was strangely silent in the vehicle. Carrington determined to change that.

  “So,”, he asked the officers in the front seats, “you worried about this martial law thin
g? Losing your authority to the army? Maybe even, losing your jobs? Man, with no prisons, you can’t go arresting people, can you?”

  “Just be quiet back there.”, the driver called back to him, “This isn’t a social journey. We don’t need to hear your rambling.”

  “Hey,”, Carrington objected, “no need to bite my head off. I was just making conversation. Passing the time of day. But, honestly, you’ve got to be worried.”

  “Not that it’s any concern of yours,”, the second officer turned to address him, “but you’ve got it all wrong. Things have moved on a little since you last checked up and we’re not going anywhere. In fact, we’re going to have more power than ever. You’re right, no prisons to hold prisoners does pose a problem, but we’ve already been tipped off about the solution. Instant Justice, they’re going to call it. On-the-spot punishment. Catch a thief, kill a thief. We’ll be busier than ever.”

  “Seems a bit drastic.”, Gregory decided to join the conversation.

  “Not for us to say.”, the officer replied, “We just do our job. And no, we’re not going to be out of a job either. They’re in the process of shifting all the prison officers onto the beat. More police than ever and more power than ever. In fact, the future looks pretty good.”

  “The world’s gone mad.”, Carrington tutted, “You wouldn’t credit what’s happened recently, would you? Still, I’m pleased for you. You can’t have had much call to use those weapons in the past. Nice pieces, by the way. Heckler and Koch?”

  “For what it’s worth, yes.”, the driver replied, “Now, can we please have some quiet.”

  “You know much about us?”, Carrington was enjoying the disobedience, knowing that there was nothing that the two men in the front could do to silence him, “Or, should I say, do you know much about the men that you think we are?”

  “We know enough.”

  “Oh, okay. Hence the weapons, I suppose. Seemed a bit heavy handed. I mean, we weren’t armed, offered no threat. Even if we were as nasty as they think we are, it seems to be an over-reaction. A sledgehammer to crack a nut. We might even have been shot.”