Stormfront

by R. S. Sutton

  Startled, the two shot glances as Valerie entered. ‘Pardon?’ said one.

  ‘What you just said. What did you say?’

  ‘Just talking,’ said the other nurse.

  ‘Yes, but you said something. What was it?’

  ‘We were just talking about the girl you’ve been visiting. She came around for a few minutes and started talking. The usual rubbish when someone’s been out for a while, you know.’

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ said Valerie, raising her voice. ‘What did she say?’

  ‘No need to get excited.’ The first nurse put her mug on the side. ‘She was talking a load of gibberish.’

  ‘Yes, but you said something.’ Valerie, wanting to make sure of what she heard, did not attempt any prompt. ‘What did you say? Just before I came in, what was it?’

  ‘Your friend Jane,’ replied the girl calmly, ‘she came around for ten minutes or so, had a drink of water. She was a bit incoherent. Muttered things like not going to work for Vinnie. Something about car insurance. Just silly things, a butterfly and a rose. Things get jumbled up when…’

  The girl’s words hung in the air as Valerie flew into Jane’s side ward and grabbed her jacket.

  ***

  The Beggars Hat was, more or less, what Vinnie used as a headquarters. Valerie burst in demanding to know where he was. The barman looked like he hadn’t moved from the spot since she was last in the place.

  ‘Where’s who?’ he said, rubbing a soiled cloth around a glass.

  ‘Vinnie, who else?’ she said, looking around. ‘Where is the bastard?’

  ‘Oh, Vinnie.’ Holding the glass to the light, he revolved it a couple of times before replacing it on a sticky shelf. ‘He’s away for a few days, er, filming. Down Eastbourne somewhere, I think.’

  Valerie put her hands on the counter and leant across. ‘Where?’ she demanded. ‘Never mind “Eastbourne somewhere”.’ With practised agility, the barman moved away from Valerie’s grabbing hand. She went to the end of the counter and flung open the trap. ‘Where?’ she repeated, cornering him between the bottled beers and a dusty jar of pickled eggs.

  ‘Fanny, Fanny!’ Straining to the side, he shouted through to the back, ‘Where’s Vinnie staying?’

  ‘No bloody idea,’ a woman’s voice barked from the darkness. ‘But he’s back tomorrow.’

  Valerie let go of his grubby collar and pushed him back, before storming out.

  A man on the end bar stool didn’t look up from his Daily Mirror. ‘Guess she’ll be back,’ he said quietly.

  ***

  The colonel was not in the office when Valerie walked in.

  ‘Then it will have to be you,’ she said, telling Dennis of what had happened. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to go onto the back boiler for a couple of days while I get Jane’s problem sorted. There’s a lunatic on the loose out there, and I’m not leaving her in the middle of a bloody war zone.’

  ‘No, of course not, Miss Stone. But as we don’t know what’s happening, we’d better give you some help.’

  ‘Don’t need anyone,’ said Valerie stubbornly. ‘I prefer to be on my own. Then no one’s going to let me down.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, pressing the intercom on his desk, ‘not that kind of help. Besides, I don’t think we’ve anyone on your wavelength.’

  ‘Sir.’ The man’s appearance confirmed that the colonel was not the only military personnel on the payroll.

  ‘Take Miss Stone down to the range please, Sergeant.’ Then, turning to Valerie, he said, ‘Peterson will get you up to speed.’

  ‘Let’s see what we can do for you, Miss,’ said the sergeant, leading the way down another corridor. ‘It’s Johnny, by the way. Just call me Johnny.’

  He had the crown and stripes of a staff sergeant attached to his olive-green shirt, and walked with the confident stride of an experienced soldier. His haircut was the type started each morning with a razor on his chin and didn’t stop until every centimetre of his head was close-cropped.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said, standing to one side of a steel door, ‘my office.’ He ushered her into a glassed gallery of perhaps ten metres that overlooked a deserted indoor shooting range, then took keys to a double-locked, metal cupboard and looked at Valerie before taking three pistols from one of the shelves. ‘Let’s get you sorted. Nothing to worry about, they’re quite safe.’ Valerie nodded as the sergeant went over to a small steel door let into the opposite wall. ‘Keep the shells separate.’

  Pointing her to the first range, he put the pistols and ammunition on the back table. ‘Now then, just a few—’

  Valerie cut him short. ‘I was in America for about a year and belonged to a club. They’re Glocks, yes?’

  ‘That’s right, all Glock nine millimetre. The nineteen’s standard military issue. What did you use in the States?’

  ‘Used the thirty-four,’ she said, looking at the table.

  ‘A good competition gun, but a little big for us.’ He picked up a couple of ear defenders and handed a pair to Valerie. Then, checking one of the pistols was empty, he handed it over. Pulling the slider back and forth, Valerie checked the gun again. ‘How did you get on?’ he asked, pushing six bullets into a clip before passing it across. ‘In the States, I mean?’

  ‘Oh, managed to hit what I was aiming at now and again.’

  Pointing the gun to the floor, she nodded down-range. ‘They’ve been our allies since nineteen forty-five.’

  ‘The target?’ queried the sergeant. ‘The charging Nazi hasn’t changed in years. We call that one the figure twelve target. See the one on the other range, the same guy but crawling towards you? That’s the figure eleven.’ He held an open hand down-range and adjusted his ear protection. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘What distance are we at?’

  ‘We’re on the maximum for an indoor range, thirty metres.’

  Unfazed, Valerie cocked the gun and fired into the centre of the target, grouping all six rounds into a circle of about twelve inches.

  ‘Not sure I can teach you much about how to shoot,’ he said, taking the gun and replacing it with another.

  ‘Came second in a couple of competitions.’

  ‘Only second?’

  ‘Yeah, we had a real Annie Oakley in the club. When she stepped onto the range, it was who’s going to be best of the rest. She couldn’t make it to one meeting, but I still came second. Someone else I could usually beat finished top. Over-confident, I guess. Went home and kicked the cat. Figuratively speaking, of course.’

  After watching her using each gun in turn, he dropped his ear defenders onto the bench. ‘You shoot well with all of them, but I think the smaller forty-three is best suited. It’s the same as the others, no safety, as such. So no embarrassing moments. You can drop it and it won’t…’ he stopped for a moment, ‘shouldn’t,’ he stressed, ‘go off. And the slim grip fits well into—’

  Valerie opened her hand and looked at her palm. ‘You think I should have a girlie gun?’

  He stood back a couple of paces and stroked his chin. ‘We have to think how you’re going to carry it unnoticed, and that one’s the smallest. Only six in the mag. You can keep one in the chamber if you want. Still a nine mil, though, plenty of punch.’ He took a plastic package from a cupboard and pulled out a small belt holster. ‘There’s that one that you can attach to your belt and put it over your, um…’

  ‘It’s okay, Johnny, you’re allowed to say bum. What else have you got?’

  ‘Shoulder?’ he said, producing another holster.

  Valerie removed her jacket and stretched the expandable support across her back. Letting the gun pocket nestle under her left arm, she held out a hand. ‘May I?’ Pointing it at the floor and pulling at the slider a couple of times, the sergeant handed over the small Glock and Valerie pushed it home. Then, putting on her jacket,
she looked around. ‘Pity there’s no mirror.’

  ‘Can’t see a thing,’ he said. ‘Feel okay?’

  ‘Sure. Shall I wear it or is it going to cash and wrap? Only kidding, Johnny,’ she said in response to his tight lips and raised eyebrows.

  ‘I’ll find you in the colonel’s office,’ he said, taking the gun and holster back. ‘I’ll get it packed up.’

  Valerie was having a coffee when Johnny came in. He took a plastic card from the top of two packages and handed it over. ‘Licence,’ he said. ‘Make sure you carry it with your other ID.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, putting it away.

  ‘I mean it,’ he said, ‘with your other cards.’ He watched as she opened her wallet and slipped it into the vacant holder next to the security pass.

  ‘Sorry, Johnny, didn’t mean to be flippant. I know it’s serious.’ She put out her hands to take the boxes, but he drew them away.

  ‘I’m coming to your place,’ he said, ‘as you can’t go charging off to draw your weapon anywhere. I’ve got to put a cabinet in for you.’

  ‘Okay, soldier,’ she said, getting up, ‘let’s go. Anything I can carry?’

  ‘My box of tools,’ he nodded towards the door, ‘in the corridor.’

  ***

  Valerie shouted from the galley, ‘Milk, sugar?’

  ‘Yeah, both, three sugars.’

  She walked through to where the sergeant was bolting the cabinet into a secluded corner and slid the mug towards him.

  ‘Bad for you, too much sugar.’ She leant on the doorjamb, cradling her own mug.

  ‘You’re kidding.’ He stopped drilling and took a sip of the coffee. ‘I run five miles every morning. Burn it off in the first few hundred yards.’

  ‘Don’t just work for the colonel then? You’re a regular as well?’

  ‘Special attachment, official secrets and all that.’ He finished the holes then slid bolts into each one. ‘What about you?’ he asked, taking a spanner to each fixing in turn.

  ‘Fell into it. I was minding my own bloody business when they descended and stitched me up good and proper.’

  ‘That sounds about right.’ The sergeant got up and opened the box.

  ‘Blimey, Johnny, it’s got a nickel top. You got me a girlie gun.’

  ‘Thought you’d like it.’ He put a choice of two holsters into the cabinet before holding up the Glock. ‘One thing, Miss. You point this at someone and pull the trigger, you’ll kill them. Respect it at all times. There might come a day when you have someone’s life in your hands. Don’t abuse it… But,’ he added slowly, ‘when the chips are down and you’re up against it, don’t mess about… Empty it into his chest.’

  He put the gun away, locked the door and handed her the keys. ‘Well, it’s yours now.’ He took a slip of paper from a folder and handed it over with a pen. ‘You just need to sign for it.’ He gave her a small box of ammunition and told her to hide it somewhere separate from the gun. With a deliberate flourish, Valerie put her name to the receipt.

  ‘Here’s hoping it stays where it is,’ she said, handing the chit back. ‘Johnny, can I ask you something?’

  ‘I think I can guess what,’ he said. ‘It’s amazing how many people ask when they find out what I do. I was just old enough for the Gulf. Second time around, of course.’ He stopped and sat on a nearby stool. ‘It’s a job. You and the rest of the country ask me to do it. It’s not just my job but duty, if you like. I swore allegiance to the Queen and that includes you, too. It’s funny when you think of some other countries, a lot of them in fact. The army for them seems to be some sort of gangster alliance. If you don’t like the ones running the country and fancy having a go yourself, then…’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Goes for money too. They can’t grasp that they are there to guard the country, not take it for every bloody bean they can lay their thieving hands on. We’re not like that. Like I said, we swear allegiance. Difference is we mean it. And if you, that is the government, say go, we go. We don’t argue, don’t even think about it, we go.’

  Shifting around on the stool, he stretched his back. ‘I did a count up when we crossed into Iraq. I was just eighteen and was the thirteenth British soldier across the border. There was an encampment-cum-convoy on the other side, Iraqi soldiers, you know. We wiped out sixty transports and killed a hundred and twenty men. And all in the first two or three hours. Talk about a baptism of fire. And no, before you ask, not scared, too full of adrenalin for that. Before you go, yes, frightened as hell, but not during.’

  He looked out the window towards the bridge, where the streetlights reflected yellow on the river. ‘Read quite a bit about conflicts, old ones, Second World War. Apparently they gave the guys uppers, you know, speed, on D-Day, keep them going. If they wanted it, of course. If I’d have been on speed, I think I’d have carried on to Baghdad, with all the extra I was generating myself. Captured Saddam all on me own.’

  ‘Think I’m starting to look on working for the department in a different light,’ said Valerie, swilling the last of her coffee.

  ‘If it’s really not for you, go and tell them. They might have applied pressure to join, but they don’t see it through.’

  ‘You sure?’ she said, thinking of the customs visit. ‘Anyway, about what you were saying.’

  ‘Not going to let me go with only half a story,’ he said.

  ‘No, sorry, if you don’t want to tell me, I understand. It can be very private.’

  ‘That’s okay. Me dad calls me abnormally normal. I can put it in a box when we come home. I’m lucky. Some of the guys go off-centre in a big way. The only people I take it out on are idiot bloody motorists.’

  He looked back out at the light dancing on the water. ‘They flew us into Cyprus afterwards. For forty-eight hours, you know, to calm down. And get pissed. Most of us flew back with a bloody hangover, then had to put our bags over our shoulders and smile. But it don’t help some of them. Back at camp, my mate lost it, caused all kinds of trouble. One night he got hold of one of those BB guns and ran around shouting his head off. Trouble is the gun looked like a real one. They had the MPs out, civvie cops, the bloody lot. He’s out the army now. Eighteen stone and no bloody job, just sits and stares at the TV all day. Enough to make you weep.’

  ‘Christ, what happened?’

  ‘Happened to both of us. We were the same age and halfway across the desert when we come across this village. Some kids had been playing with unexploded ordinance. We were given black bin liners and told to go and clean it up. Me mate was never the same again. I wake up screaming about it sometimes.

  ‘Anyway, we got to the Tigress Valley when it finished. We were on a peacekeeping watch, playing football with the natives, generally having a good time. We had this young lad, he’d have been around ten years old, used to run errands for us and generally hang around. Kind of a mascot. Well, some of the villagers were real old school and weren’t going to put up with that. We found him hanging in a tree one morning.

  ‘My mate went absolutely bloody apeshit. Grabbed an SA 80 and charged into the village, bayonet and all. We got to him just in time. Hostilities had only been over a week and he was about to singlehandedly kick it off all over again.’ Looking at Valerie he patted his chest pockets. ‘Need to get outside for a smoke.’

  ‘Here.’ She threw her Zippo across. ‘Don’t know what you’d call it, but you’ve landed in the opposite of a smoke-free zone.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Putting a cigarette between his lips, he offered the open pack.

  Valerie shook her head and headed into the main cabin. ‘Drink? There’s Scotch or Southern Comfort. If you want a mixer it’s in the tap.’

  ‘Scotch,’ he said, watching her light up a Disque Bleu. ‘Ice?’

  ‘In the kitchen. Fridge on the left.’ She slid down into an easy chair and held out her glass. ‘Thanks,’ she said as the ice splas
hed into the aromatic bourbon. ‘Wife and kids?’

  ‘Kids and ex-wife. She couldn’t stick the tours.’ He took a couple of sips from the heavy tumbler. ‘Did five in seven years. She just snapped.’

  ‘Wanted a nine-to-fiver, did she?’

  ‘Not her fault; she didn’t go off with another man. Just couldn’t stand the strain. Six months at a time wondering if the father of your kids is coming back. Some just can’t take it. I’d go on tour and she would weigh nine and a half stone. Come back, she was seven and a half. Lives with her parents, children and all. Still no other man as far as I know. The stupid thing is, the position I’m in now, I won’t get deployed again.’

  ‘Well, get back together,’ said Valerie. ‘The reason for breaking up has gone.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said wearily. ‘But the spark has gone. You’ve got to have the spark.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Valerie, vacantly staring into a lifeless television. ‘Or get rid of it.’

  They drank on for another hour before the sergeant said, ‘Have to get a taxi, neither of us can drive now.’

  Valerie got up and pointed to the guest cabin. ‘In there. Sheets not been changed since my secretary used it, but I think you’ll survive.’

  ‘What happened to you?’ Johnny said, getting to his feet.

  ‘Shows, does it?’

  ‘Takes one to know one.’

  ‘Maybe tell you another time,’ she said, shutting her bedroom door.

  Eighteen

  The anger had been suppressed for the last twenty-four hours but now, on her way back to the Beggars Hat, it began surging around her brain like burning coals. Revenge is best served cold, but when Valerie walked through the door it had turned into spitting hot fat.

  Men made up the majority of maybe twenty customers in the bar, but they all faded into a fuzzy haze as the figure of Vinnie, bent over a young blonde, came sharply into focus.

  ‘You bastard!’ Valerie howled, launching herself at his hunched back. Pulling him around by his hair, she started beating him about the face before bringing her knee abruptly into his groin. Then, grabbing his collar, she savagely punched his nose. There were many abuses running through her head, but all that screamed around the room was, ‘You bastard,’ over and over.