by Paul Rice
After all it was their right to know.
Without a word, the two men gathered the plastic sheeting and then checked to see if they had left anything else behind. Satisfied, they turned and walked towards the car. Once again their passing left not one trace, even the hard gravel underfoot seemed willing to protect their identity. Climbing into the Spear, Ken said: “Let’s go home and get a brew, eh?” There were no other words required. Jane engaged drive, touched the throttle and they sat back as the BMW surged forward with an urgent growl. As they left the village the ‘Mission Complete…’ signal slid onto the screen, Mike touched the panel and then waited for the Shrink-Down button to appear.
“I wonder if this thing works on the move, huh?” Hearing no descent from the others, he pushed the button and sat back in his seat. The horizon suddenly leapt towards them and their world disappeared in a rush of swirling greenness. If you had been watching, the faint green shimmer, which suddenly embraced their vehicle, would have made you blink. Perhaps it was just the light?
Chapter 16 - Goodbye Mister Peters
Part Two
It was Susan who alerted the teachers to the caretaker’s absence. The little girl had been around to his hut with the cakes that she had taken from her mother’s ‘treats only’ tin. Mum hadn’t been looking, and besides, Mr Peters had said she mustn’t tell. “If we are going to be friends then we will need to have some secrets, Susie, my angel?” He had stroked her head and promised her an adventure, one which only his ‘special friends’ could have. “But we must be careful or else everyone else will want to come.” He’d said as he touched her arm. “And then it won’t be an adventure will it, and you won’t be a special friend then will you?” He had smiled down at her and Susan had smiled back. Susan wanted an adventure; she hadn’t had any since Daddy had gone and she missed him and his adventures terribly, Daddy’s adventures were just the best – once they’d spent the whole weekend in a tent at the bottom of the garden and she’d been allowed to eat Heinz-Beans for every meal, just like it said on the telly, and then they’d played hide-and-seek at night – that had been so much fun! Until Mummy got scared and shouted at Daddy for going: “Wooooo…” from behind the rose bushes. Susan had laughed and laughed. Mum got crotchety and had gone inside. Although, she couldn’t have been too cross, because she had soon came back out to the tent with some hot chocolate for Susan. And then Mummy and Daddy sat and drank dirty beer all night long. Mummy had ended up running around the garden with a flower pot on her head… Mummy was really funny when she drank beer… Susan wondered how long it was going to be before her father came back from work, he’d been away for weeks and weeks. “That stupid work – stupid Army!”
She looked up at the door with the shiny ‘Caretaker’ sign neatly painted in red on its varnished face. “But Mr Peters wasn’t here and he said he would be, he was always here, even when he had the door locked, he was here?” She had heard him humming inside, sometimes it sounded like he was moaning, but not in a sad way, he sounded sort of happy. “Mr Peters was such a happy man!” She turned away from the door and ran towards the main building, her tiny grey skirt flicking and bouncing as she raced across the sports pitch. Susan almost flew across the tarmac, long blonde hair flying out behind her as she ran like the wind into the main entrance of the school. Once there, she went and told the duty teacher that the Caretaker wasn’t in his hut, and even though she had bought the cakes he had asked for, she still couldn’t find him. Susan knew it was supposed to be a secret: “But what must I do with the cakes he asked me to bring?” She stood looking up at the teacher with her wide blue eyes beaming.
The teacher’s face suddenly registered the reality. Peters had been interviewed several times, but had always made sure his ducks were in line and no one had ever seen him so much as near the kids who had previously gone missing – the thoughts slammed into the woman: “But Susie! My God, if she had been tricked then, well, goodness knows…” Terrible realisation dawned upon her. “The child was the brightest pupil they had ever had the pleasure of teaching… Oh Lord!” Scooping Susan into her caring arms, the teacher turned and strode towards the Head Master’s office.
At approximately the same time, Gladstone Police Station received a telephone call from the local Forestry Commission. Apparently they had just started a new project in Windy Woods …
Chapter 17 - Sting in the Tail
Part One
They received a message on the Communicator three days later, in it George had said they should take a break for a few days and that he would inform them of any new missions – if and when they arose. Mike had decided to head off for London to see his latest girlfriend. “I’ll be surprised if she’s still talking to me,” he said, with a wicked grin. “I haven’t answered her calls for nearly a week now…” Hefting his bag onto his shoulder, he headed for the door where Ken and Jane waited for him.
“Yeah well, you can hardly tell her what you’ve been doing can you. ‘Hold the line love, I’ve just gotta use the Shrink Down’… can you imagine it?” Ken winked at Mike and opened the door. Together they stepped out into the bright sunshine, which had been gracing the Highlands for more than two days now. Its warmth bolstered their spirits and had helped in dispelling some of the doom that seemed to have settled upon them. Ken fully expected George to have had a hand in the improved weather conditions, too. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if ‘that lot up there’ didn’t control a whole lot more than they owned up to. And so, after some fond farewells, they had seen Mike off, standing and listening to the howling reverberations of the Porsche’s engine echoing of the hills around them as Mike raced away. “He’s a mad bastard!” Ken said, putting his arm around Jane and turning back into the house.
Two weeks later Ken had received a text from the Australian: ‘Be with you tomorrow. Put the kettle on.’ Mike had returned to the Lodge the next day, rolling onto the drive at about three in the afternoon. They could still hear engine ticking and pinging with heat as they wandered across to help Mike with his bags. Ken laughed and said, “Still taking part in the ‘safe driver of the year award’ I see, eh Mikey?” Mike smiled and handed him his bag.
“Just shaddup and show me to my room, bellboy!” He looked a lot happier and his demeanour immediately rubbed off on the other two. Grabbing his things they all went inside with a spring in their step, it was good to have him back and Jane didn’t hesitate in quizzing Mike about his lady friend down in London.
“How’s she coping with you being away, did you make your excuses for not keeping in touch?” She gave him a knowing look, which proved to be well founded, as usual.
Mike shook his head sheepishly. “Ahh, I didn’t have to, when I got back the flat was empty, so I guess that’s another one who’s flown the coop!” He laughed and then said, “So I went down South and saw Carol, it’s been a while and we had lots to catch up on?” He winked at Jane and then pretended to cringe in anticipation of the berating he knew would be delivered.
Jane gladly obliged him. “Honestly, Mikey… one of these days you will make a commitment to some poor girl! You can’t just keep leaving people in your wake, you know?” It was their standing joke and the argument continued as they made their way into the sitting room.
An hour later, sitting crouched around Mike’s machine, they learned the details of George’s next little task. After Mike had flicked the lid open and tapped in a set of numbers, the Communicator, with its usual glow of green lights, had summoned their master to appear once more.
Taking a brief moment to ask if they had enjoyed their break, George paused and then started his latest tale. “There is a child, one who will be taken by a man, but not in the way Peters took the others. No, this child will be taken by the substances that a certain person sells, this man is responsible for the deaths and misery of many people, young and old, willing and unwilling alike. He has changed some of them forever and it has come to our attention that he will shortly have an influence over this particu
lar child, an influence we cannot allow to perpetuate!” George fiddled with something on his desk. The face of a young boy floated onto the Communicator’s ghostly screen. The child sat before a bank of computer screens, as they watched his fingers flashing across the keyboards like a demented organ-player, they also saw the ‘Bad News’ information box, as it glowed menacingly beneath his figure.
‘Phillip John Rogers. Ultra Physician – at twenty-three years of age he will single-handedly develop the world’s first Reactive-Synapse-Computer. His design will reshape the way in which the entire globe operates. Rogers’ future work is crucially important to the advancement of Hydro-Technologies.’
The screen flashed once, and there before them they saw PJ Rogers in the future he was not currently destined to have. The tall, bespectacled young man stood before a row of shining metal objects, they were obviously machines of some sort, computers perhaps, but like none Ken and his fellow onlookers had ever seen. A huge screen hovered above the bank of machines, it flashed and shimmered as a stream of technical diagrams pulsed and twisted across its face. Three-dimensional objects, which seemingly formed themselves, whirled onto the screen. Numbers and letters flashed incessantly across the display, one by one each piece of information flashed with the word ‘Complete’ and slid into the ever growing line of similar equations that lay in perfect symmetry on the left side of the floating screen. Instantly another line of data would be fed into the calculations. Phillip Rogers stood before the screen with a remote control in his hand. Any time there was a pause from the machine he would immediately flash the remote at the screen and then, using the laser, drag the numbers and lines into the correct place. He seemed to be able to calculate faster than the machine. “And you think I’ve got the ‘Magic’ huh, Jesus Christ, look at this kid!” Mike breathed the words out in awe.
PJ’s actions were indeed mesmerising, he looked like a conductor in full flow, almost as though he was dancing, the numbers and symbols of his electronic orchestra skipped effortlessly into their immaculate symphony. The tiny earpiece he was wearing glowed in rhythm to his hand movements. It looked as though whatever he was thinking was being instantly transmitted to the machine via the remote control device held in his waving hand. By any standards it was an impressive sight, however, the little digital box glowing on the screen beneath his flowing figure, totally ruined the moment.
‘Breaking News’ Bad News…
‘Phillip John Rogers. Aged eleven-years; enticed by one Steven O’Hara and introduced to addictive substances. Rogers will be using Crack Cocaine by age fifteen and will die from a drug induced heart-attack at seventeen-years and three-months of age.’
The scene changed once again and this time they were shown Steven O’Hara in all his glory. A long list of names rolled under the images of O’Hara and his friends, names of people who had become customers of the blonde headed dealer. There were a lot of them, too, probably in their hundreds, Ken guessed. Their names were interspersed with several scenes of the police and also numerous funeral corteges, with the distraught faces of relatives appearing briefly on some TV show or another. All the time the grinning face of the skinny blonde man would be shown as he and his friends went about their daily business.
“They’ve got a lot of guns these bastards, haven’t they?” Mike said, and shot a quick glance across at Ken just as O’Hara was shown to be shoving a machine-pistol into the bottom of a cupboard.
“Yeah I reckon so, that’s a bloody MAC-10, isn’t it? I just can’t believe these idiots have access to gear like that!” Ken shook his head and looked across at Jane in disbelief.
Finally the briefing, as it were, came to an end. All of the information began its transfer onto the disc, and whilst they waited, George summed up. “So, there you have it, a rather nasty little man, I would say. Fortunately his wellbeing is of no concern to us whatsoever, but his influence over young Master Rogers is of critical importance! We actually thought for a while we would be clear of this, Rogers was scheduled to move away but those plans seem to have faltered for now. We cannot allow O’Hara to influence this young man, not at all!” They nodded in agreement. George spoke again. “I know this is difficult for you and you should be aware that we are eternally grateful for the way in which you have all conducted yourselves. Many of these people are going to be doing great things in the future, some of the results neither you nor I will ever see, unfortunately. Time passes for us all I am afraid.” Turning away from them, he reached across and they heard the tapping of a keypad before he looked back up at the screen. “I have transmitted further instructions for you to read. All we need for you to do is use to the aerosol on him, and then take O’Hara to the warehouse. There are others involved in this and we cannot be sure as to how they will behave? Just take him to the location as per the briefing and then observe the Scanner from a safe distance.” He paused and then said, “One other thing: be careful with this person, he is very wily and has managed to survive on his wits thus far. I doubt very much if you will simply be able to barge in on him? This may call for some ‘special tactics’.” He looked pointedly a Jane, said his goodbyes, and with a flick of some hidden switch, disappeared from the screen.
For two days they studied the information George had sent them. O’Hara was indeed a slippery character, and one who never seemed to be in the same place for very long. The views of his terraced council house never gave much away, either. The dirty net curtains were always closed and even the advanced methods, which George had used to gather information on him, they only ever caught fleeting glimpses of the man as he slunk to-and-fro between his various haunts. However, with a lot of close study it wasn’t too long before they began to establish patterns in his behaviour, the main one being on Thursdays. It was on this day when O’Hara seemed to be less careful and they guessed it was the lure of the betting shop and his social payments, which, unluckily for him, lowered his guard on this day.
“This guy is nearly always pissed or stoned, I mean, how the hell does he get away with it – he’s dealing like nobody’s business, up to his neck in all sorts of shit, and yet the cops have never lifted him?” Ken shook his head and then reached over for the pad of A4 paper. They had used it several times before and always burnt the top three sheets afterwards. Grabbing the pencil, he sketched out all of the routes O’Hara used with some regularity. “We need to go down there and have a quick look, just to see how it feels on the ground… I think that if we can get him in the underpass, well, then we should be able to lift him without too much grief.” He murmured as he did a quick sketch of the old tunnel.
The Australian said, “Yeah, it looks good, but as you say: we should definitely get down there first?” Looking at them, Mike then asked if they were doing anything that evening… Without a word they rose to their feet and went to get the suits on.
If the pair of drunken teenagers had been two minutes later they probably would have given up on alcohol for ever. The swirling dervish of green light, accompanied by the sound of ripping fluid, would have made sure of that. The intoxicated youths had just left the old underpass when the Spear jumped into its proper size behind them. Only minutes before, the three occupants, of a much smaller Spear, had sat in miniature silence as the stumbling duo unexpectedly wobbled through the underpass. The giant training shoe, belonging to the kid on the right, slammed down inches away from Jane’s side window, the tremor of its impact shuddering through the suspension. Mike frantically looked at the Scanner. “Where in the hell did they come from?” He pushed some buttons and the machine showed them nothing. Only the two forms of the giants, whom had so recently passed by, glowed on its surface
“Fuck! We very nearly got trodden on there…” Ken exclaimed in surprise as he leaned forward and stared at his partners sitting imprisoned within the darkness of the cab.
“Do you think we could be crushed by something like that?” Jane asked, as she turned and looked at the men in horror.
Mike said: “Well… I’m not
sure really, it’s not something I asked George to be honest, Shit… sorry guys, I only had the Scanner on front view – what a bloody idiot!” He looked at them aghast, knowing full well that his mistake could have cost them dearly.
Ken tried to reassure them. “Relax Mikey, it’s not a drama, at the end of the day we didn’t get stepped on, and you know what, I reckon it wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Just remember when Red shot at me with the grenade launcher – it never even scratched that wagon did it, and George says these new ones are even better…” He grinned at them. “Right, now then Mister Wyppen, can we get back to the real world please, let’s just put that one down to experience, huh?” He leaned forward and patted Mike reassuringly on the shoulder.
Mike nodded and then rechecked the Scanner, this time it was on three sixty and showing no life forms. He hit the lever and they whirled their way back into reality. With stomachs lurching, they sat in the dark underpass and waited until the dust, dizziness, and drunken youths, had disappeared. Ken told them to sit tight and watch the Scanner whilst he got out and had a quick check of their intended rendezvous with O’Hara. He was only gone for five minutes before he climbed back into the rear of the vehicle and shut the door behind him. “OK, it looks good, let’s get out of here, I reckon this motor is a bit too conspicuous around here, let’s take a drive past the betting shop and then the guy’s house – don’t stop outside. We’ll just have a good look at where he hangs out and what the area looks like. I also want to have a cruise down to the warehouse as well, yeah?” Mike nodded and began putting the data into the Navigator. Jane moved off and drove them up the sloping road towards the new bypass. Mike checked the notes and watched the Navigator as they drove through the night. The sodium lamps above them bathed the streets with their orange light. Even with this disguise the rundown condition of the neighbourhood was obvious. Her words were the only sound they made. “It’s hard to imagine that someone who is going to be so important is being raised around here?” She said as they looked at the shell of a burnt out car lying in the centre of the park to their left
