It Wasn't The Bullet (16) Well, Malcolm The aircraft banked sharply to the left and revealed the small island of Alderney surrounded by white-capped waves and the evening sunlight shimming of the undulating green blue water produced an impressive first sight. They reached terra firma without incident and disembarked the cramped confines of the cabin. Charlie noticed that Samantha was scanning the other passengers, so he inspected further a-field. The little air terminal was quiet apart from the fifty or so holidaymakers winding their way to the coaches and taxis. He could spot no one who seemed out of place, he glanced at Samantha who shrugged her shoulders and then they too made the short walk over the dusty tar-mac to the terminal. Charlie, perhaps a little over cautious, waved off the first taxi that offered his services, preferring to wait for one that he could select. Samantha told him the name of the pub where they had a room reserved and then proceeded to engage the driver in a polite conversation to gently reveal the whereabouts of the various mariners dotted around the island. They arrived at the Queens Arms in time for the last dinner sitting and then sat in the hotel bar chatting with the other tourists and locals. Charlie managed to persuade the innkeeper to part with a half case of Grolsch and two glasses, and then they made their way up the ancient wooden stairs to their room. The overstuffed bed provided more than enough support for the two of them as they lay in each other’s arms. Samantha didn’t appear to want to talk or be sociable so they lay watching a dire black and white film provided by the only television station still transmitting and drank the beer that Charlie had purchased. Before they slept Charlie lent over to kiss her but she gently turned her head, she whispered ‘not tonight Charlie.’ He adjusted his position so he was on his side looking toward the yellow floral patterned curtains. His mind started to wander but he was asleep before he got anywhere. The low summer sun crashed through the thin net curtains and Samantha cursed as the light pulled her from her dreams and into the land of the living. Charlie was already up sitting at the lace covered table across the window and halfway through his second cigarette of the day. Samantha slurred a good morning to him. “Hey darling, did you sleep well? I hope I didn’t wake you.” Charlie looked up from the wicker chair to face her. “Charlie, if you didn’t want to wake me, why are the curtains open?” He grinned, and politely looked away from her exposed nipple. “I figured it was time to get a move on. Do you want to go out to breakfast or shall we stay in the hotel?” She pulled the sheets up over her chest and smiled. “Can’t we just stay here for a week and enjoy ourselves? It seems so pretty and peaceful.” As she said this, her eyes focused on the shoulder holster and gun hanging from the handle of the bathroom door. Charlie said nothing, knowing that she already knew the answer to her question then she pulled herself up modestly and made her way to the bathroom. She picked up the strap of the holster with her thumb and forefinger like it was some kind of dangerous sleeping reptile and placed on the rumpled sheets on Charlie’s side of the bed. The door closed and Charlie heard the shower burst into life, he sighed, disentangled himself from the depths of the well used chair and picked up the weapon. He examined the well-worn brown leather, the indelible creases made from his body. It would feel uncomfortable to anyone else who wore it. Terry had given it to him after an incident in Holland where they had a spot of trouble; it had led to Charlie’s first gunfight. It had a cylindrical pouch on one side that carried a silencer, and a smaller pocket, which contained a square of stained cloth. He removed the Browning, disassembled it and cleaned the weapon with the respect that Terry had taught him. He was returning it to the holster when the bathroom door opened and revealed Samantha, a towel around her hair and one concealing her chest and mid-riff. She told Charlie she would be another fifteen minutes, and when they got to France she had some clothes shopping to do. Charlie agreed and said she could buy whatever she wished and headed into the bathroom for a shower himself. By the time he emerged clean and refreshed; Samantha had packed up the bags and was perched on the edge of the bed smoking a Silk Cut. “I wasn’t sure how much cash we would need, so I just kept out a thousand pounds and put the rest back in the bottom of the holdall.” Charlie said he didn’t know how much it would cost to bribe someone to take them illegally into France either, but he was betting that it would be more rather than less. He threw on his clothes and judging by the slight odour they had, suggested it might be a good idea if he also went clothes shopping as well. As they strolled down the high street in St.Annes, the old buildings that still stood as proud as the day they were constructed captivated them. The sun swept smiles onto their faces. Samantha spotted a café that sported the name, “Ye Olde Tea Shop”, she mustered her best ‘please Charlie grin’ and they entered the restaurant and found a table that gave them a view of the bustling thoroughfare. The menu arrived with a breezy good morning and a smile. The middle-aged waitress filled the empty glasses on the table with water and enquired whether they would prefer coffee or tea. Charlie asked for a pot of tea and their server left with the promise to return shortly. Charlie picked out the tune playing in the background. It was indeed a day for a daydream. He sat back in the high backed wooden chair, checked again that he had a good view of the street outside and then perused the bill of fare. He saw what he wanted almost immediately, bacon, eggs and sausages, which were served with chips and toast. The breakfast of champions. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you completely relaxed in public Charlie. I like it, you look so gentle.” Samantha’s eyes caught a brief reflection of sunlight from a passing car and Charlie breathed out contently. For this brief instant there was no one else in the world, nothing to hide from or fear. Like all renegades he wished this moment would last forever. The waitress broke the spell and after pouring the tea into their cups took the order and cheerily went back to the kitchen. The meal was eaten to the sound of inane conversation, making fun of people’s silly holiday attire and inexplicably giggling. When they emptied the pot of tea twice, smoked the ritual after breakfast cigarettes and received the bill Charlie spoke seriously for the first time in an hour. “I think I’m going to ask these good people if they mind looking after our bags for a couple of hours or so. It might be better if we just make out way to the harbour as holidaymakers rather than baggage handlers.” Samantha leant over the table and almost whispered, “But what about all the money? They could steal it, just walk off and say we were never here.” Charlie smiled and replied, “Not everyone is a criminal, Sam. Have some trust.” With that he got up and walked to the cash register with the bill in his hand. He paid the charge and proffered his request, he explained that he and his fiancée had had to check out of their hotel but they had hours before their plane was due to fly out and could he leave the two small bags with her. She said, “You two love birds go right ahead and enjoy our lovely island. Just remember we close at six dearie, so be back before then. You two look like me and my poor husband when we were courting, bless him, he’s been gone ten years now. We’ll keep your bags safe here, go on, take her for a walk by the sea.” Charlie thanked her and left a fiver as a tip, she pushed back it into his hand explaining that common courtesy is not something you can charge for or buy. He turned and collected the bags and she pointed to a cupboard by the stairs and he placed them by the door. Samantha gushed her thank yous and they walked out into the street. They walked for twenty minutes through the busy side streets enjoying the sunshine and the collective holiday joy that surrounded them. Samantha reminded Charlie of the need for some new clothes and they found a couple of suitable shops. Charlie patiently waited for Samantha to try on and eventually buy a couple of light summery dresses, some t-shirts and a pair of jeans. Charlie was a lot quicker with his purchases and now carrying the shopping bags they went in search of the marina. The signs for the harbour were correct, the couple turned a corner and a panoramic vision of yachts, fishing boats appeared before their eyes. They had discussed a few ideas on how to solicit passage on one of the sea craft but had not really come up with a solution that satisfied. Charlie and Samantha carried on down the slight incline to the water. Charlie scanned the immediate area for some sign of a willing participant and Samantha kept up a running commentary on what she could see. They decided to try one of the ideas that they had come up with. Samantha tugged at Charlie’s arm and pointed to a thirty-five foot yacht, painted white and blue. There were three eighteen to nineteen year old boys lounging on the deck drinking beer from bottles. As they approached the vessel, Charlie picked up the strains of U2 singing about bullets and blue skies. He found that rather appropriate and smiled. Samantha made her way to the edge of the dock, and with a shake of her head threw herself into character. “Ahoy there!”, she flashed a provocative smile and waved at the boys, while arching her back so that her breasts would be pushed tight against her white t-shirt. One of the boys got up from his easy chair and wandered over to the safety rail. His eyes widened at the sight of this blond bombshell with the engaging smile, he hesitated before he spoke, “Hello, were you calling us?” Samantha shook her hair and giggled, “Well I was rather hoping that you would come and see who was calling.” She had adjusted her accent to a plumy Home Counties cadence; the boy took a hurried gulp of his beer, “I was wondering if you and your nice looking friends could help my fiancée and I out. We’ve made a simply terrible faux pas.” The boy turned and said something to one of the other people on the deck that was caught by the wind and Charlie did not hear the question or the response. “What can I do for you miss?” He was staring intently at her tits and it was with a supreme effort that when Samantha spoke he was able to look her in the face. She took a deep breath and said, “Well,” she paused, “it’s all rather silly really. We thought we would just pop over here to see what we could see and now Malcom,” she inclined her head in Charlie’s direction, “has decided he just couldn’t live another day without tasting a ridiculously smelly cheese they only make in Cherbourg area. The thing is,” she giggled and carried on, “We don’t have our passports, and I know it’s frightfully illegal, but I just thought I would ask you and your friends if you could just ferry us across the gap to France. It would stop me having to listen to Malcom being a grumpy puss all the rest of the day.” Charlie could not see her face anymore but he imagined that the young man was in the grip of Samantha’s most alluring and provocative visage. The boy turned to his friends and the other two boys got up and made their way to where Samantha was standing. The tallest one of the three, lean and tanned wearing nothing but a pair of cut off Levis, also did a double take when he saw Samantha. “Oh hello, Jeffery just told me what you wanted but I’m not sure we can help. Would you like to come on board for a drink and we can talk about it?” Samantha didn’t miss a beat, “That would be yummy but we must get to Frog land or Malcom will explode.” Charlie took a deep breath and hoped that he could carry off his part; he summoned up the voices of some of his cliental and spoke, “I say, we could pay you jolly well for such a short trip. I mean it would only take a jiffy to pop over there. I don’t have much time for the French but they do make rather good cheese not to mention some splendid wine. I’ve just been to the bank and I could let you have five hundred pounds for you trouble.” The boys turned to each other and had a short discussion, more about the chances of getting Samantha naked than the money Charlie mused. The taller one spoke again, “We’d love to help, if only you’d come sooner. My parents are going to be back in a couple of hours and we wouldn’t have enough time to get there and back before they returned. But why don’t you come on board for a drink anyway. I think my father has some fancy French wine and,” he turned his head toward Samantha, “I’m sure that we have something for you.” Samantha turned to Charlie and with an imperceptible shake of his head, he said no. “Oh well, never mind. I guess that’s what you call hard cheese.” She laughed at her own terrible joke and waved goodbye to the lusting youths. As they left them to wonder what could have been, she said to Charlie, “Don’t ever try and do that accent again, you sounded like a cross between John Cleese and Edward Heath.” Charlie was going to say that he didn’t think it was all that bad when he looked at Samantha’s face and realised that there was no point in arguing. For the next three hours they tried various schemes and explanations to get someone to take them to the continent, all ended in failure or suspicion. They began to get a bit disheartened and Charlie suggested they stop at a pub they were passing and see if they could come up with a different plan. He explained his fear that they may start attracting attention if they kept up asking people to break the law, however innocuous it was. Samantha agreed and they found a table on the patio and Samantha said she had to use the facilities and she would buy them their drinks on her way back. She carried on into the bar and Charlie sat and lit a cigarette. The Ray-ban sunglasses he had bought for an extortionate price in Southampton airport were pinching his nose, he was hot and things weren’t going to plan. His mind kept on rereading Terry’s brief message to him. He couldn’t or wouldn’t form a conclusion as to what was happening in the background. Charlie was never one to feel truly afraid, his ego always kept his fear in check with the knowledge that he was the better anything or anyone that could hurt him. Terry always cautioned him that being afraid was healthy and it just a matter of controlling the terror and using it to one’s own advantage. Still, in the deep recesses of his mind was the nagging doubt that this could all turn out very badly. Maybe not today or tomorrow but in time. The people, real or imagined, that Terry thought might be responsible for his death did not give up. It was a matter of pride and regulation; it would send a message to others, ‘Don’t fuck with us, ever’. He and Terry had done much the same thing a dozen times; one viscous physical message sent was worth a thousand words. His thoughts meandered along, touching on Samantha and how she was taking to this adventure so easily, it was almost like she was born to live this life. He made a mental note to find some kind of literature on the subject of destiny, and immediately missed his books. He fell months back in time to his couch, laying down, his head propped up with what he called his ‘reading pillow’, a joint, cool tunes playing nonchalantly in the background and a good book. A shadow cut out the light from the sun and he looked up to see a man standing over him. He tensed, ‘Stupid, stupid cunt.’ he said to himself. He kept his body language relaxed and stared up and the tanned dark haired person in front of him. “Hi, my names Todd. I’ve seen you and your fiancée taking a tour round the boats in the harbour. I hear you’re looking for a ride over the water. May I sit down?” Charlie held out his hand palm up and gestured to the third chair that was at the table. Fortunately Samantha arrived back with their drinks and was enough distraction to give him time to think. “Hello there,” said Samantha, “Where did you spring from?” “I was just saying to your man here that I’ve heard you are looking for a ride.” Samantha turned to Charlie inviting him to speak, thinking that she had not heard any previous conversation. He obliged, “That’s true. My names Malcom and this is Cindy. Cindy this is Todd.” While Samantha and Todd exchanged greetings Charlie mind went into overdrive. Dismissing all thoughts that led from paranoia, he concentrated on the here and now. The man was around five feet ten and had short close cropped hair. He looked like a seasoned sailor. He had that deep burnt tan that can only the come from the salt from the sea and unobstructed rays of the sun. He didn’t appear nervous or apprehensive, and this is what made Charlie wary. He decided to deflect the next few moments of conversation to give him time to assess the sudden turn of events more closely. For some reason he felt that it could be the difference between life and or death. There was an awkward silence beginning at the table, Charlie stopped it, “Well we’re kind of in a little jam. We were going to get married and, erm, a situation has arisen.” Charlie desperately hoped that Samantha would take hold of the reins and fill in the blanks. They had formulated a story that had them about to be wed and Charlie getting arrested and skipping bail. They had decided to escape to France so they could have at least some time together before Charlie was caught and had to go to prison. Samantha did not falter and charged in with the appropriate tale and embellishments. Charlie had a flash of paranoia that Samantha herself may not be what she seemed judging from the ease at which she spun her story so convincingly. He forced himself back into thinking about Todd. His immediate assessment was that Todd was not a good Samaritan, he definitely had another agenda going on, and this much Charlie trusted his instincts on. Never try to kid a kidder, words to live by. He watched Todd as he listened patiently to Samantha’s story of woe, he was too ready with his interjections of sympathy like he already knew he was being told a lie and was prepared to hear her out to further his own strategy. When she had finished the fairy-tale Todd sat back in his chair, now finished with the ‘listening intently’ stance. “Well, I think I could help you out. You say you’ve got some money to cover the cost of the fuel?” Charlie nodded, “I don’t see why I can’t help further the path of true love. It’s not like it’s difficult to sail over there and drop you off on a beach away from the prying eyes of the authorities. However we will have to leave soon if we are going to make the tide. Where are your bags? I can give you a lift to your hotel if you want.” While Samantha was saying thank you and accepting his offer of a ride to collect the luggage, Charlie was thinking that Todd didn’t want the two of them out of his sight. It was either a rip off or something more sinister. He was prepared and unafraid of the near future. Once on the boat they had a chance at escape… as long as Samantha knew how to sail he thought dryly. Todd was as good as his offer and after they had drank a brace of beers together, Todd walked them to his car, they retrieved the bags from the cafe and then returned to the harbour and Todd’s boat. He owned a shabby looking yacht. It was probably forty feet long and ocean capable. Once on board, Charlie began to see that the outside appearance belied the real nature of the craft. The deck was neat, ropes coiled and tidy, the bridge was packed with electronic equipment, next to the wheel was a hatchway that led down to the aft cabin. Inside was a lounge and small galley. Todd had kept up a long narrative explaining that he took tourists out fishing in the European summer and then headed down to the Caribbean in the winter and did much the same down there. Samantha kept him talking sensing that Charlie was not ready to deal with Todd in a face-to-face situation. Todd installed them in the aft cabin and said he would be back in a jiffy after he cast off the mooring lines and got them navigated out of the busy marina. He climbed up the stairs with a passing comment to Charlie about it being alright to smoke below decks. When he was out of earshot Charlie told Samantha to follow him and feign interest in the casting off procedure and on no account to let him near the radio or be able to make a signal to anyone else of his intentions. She agreed and after a giving Charlie a puzzled look to which Charlie answered with an ‘everything will be alright’; she too, clambered up the steep ladder to the deck above. After he had watched Samantha’s shapely legs disappear up the ladder he took stock of the small cabin. There was a round bench seat contoured to fit within the confines of the hull and it probably doubled as a bed when the need arose. It faced the hatchway. On one side was a stove on which sat an old fashioned kettle, and scattered on the tiny working surface that surrounded the sink were various cooking utensils and a book of matches for lighting the, what Charlie assumed to be, the propane cooker. Squeezed in on the other wall was a three sided table, it had a two person bench on two of the ends and a chair that was fastened to the deck on the stove side. Todd had been so gregarious in his approach that Charlie thought it odd that he had not offered them a brief tour of his boat before they set out. He determined that their saviour was perhaps the opposite and they were going to find out exactly what that entailed in the ensuing hours. He took the two short strides required to get to the padded bench seat and sat down. The cushions where of the removable kind, the upright ones secured to the wooden backing with strips of Velcro. If Todd was who he thought he was had he noticed the gun hanging underneath his shoulder? He thought not, it was hand made to fit his body and very difficult to spot when he was wearing a loose fitting jacket. He their footsteps over his head and Charlie made a snap decision, he pulled the weapon from it’s holster and stuffed it, butt up, behind the end cushion to his right. The Velcro held the gun there, and in a moment of fore thought, he reached in and thumbed off the safety catch and cocked the hammer. The mere action of the gun being one mechanical action away from firing was a millisecond, the time it took for a bullet to travel from the hatchway to him. Charlie smiled, it was an evil grin, a grin of satisfaction, knowing that whoever Todd was and whatever he had planned, he had already failed, he just didn’t know it yet. The boat’s engines had been gently throbbing for a while and now the boat started to sway. Charlie assumed that they had reached open water and were now heading toward France. Charlie heard voices and footsteps as they entered the wheelhouse; he placed his arms on the tops of the cushions, his right hand inches away from the butt of the Browning. As Samantha reappeared on the small ladder he crossed his legs calf over shin and asked her how life on the high seas was going. Todd followed her down and sat in the chair next to the table, Samantha sat to Charlie’s left. His legs being in her way to the seat on his right. “So Todd, how much is the fuel going to cost?” Charlie came right out with the question, hoping the lack of preamble might throw Todd off a bit. He covered his surprise at the directness of the question well, but not fast enough that Charlie didn’t catch it. “Well, Malcom,” he said, and to Charlie it seemed that he managed to inject a small amount of sneer into the word Malcom, “I’m thinking that I am taking a bit of a risk smuggling two people into France, so to make the consequences worth I thought two thousand pounds would be a reasonable figure.” Charlie answered at once so as not to give Todd the initiative. “Hang on; I’m not one of the great train robbers. I have a thousand pounds and that’s it.” The bet was now Todd’s. He paused for a moment and as he looked up at Charlie, Charlie picked that precise moment to remove his sunglasses so Todd now looked directly into his eyes for the first time. He shied away instantly and stared at the floor. “I guess a grand will do it.” Todd’s mind looked as if had wandered elsewhere for a brief moment and then he looked up at Charlie, “Hey call it my good deed of the day.” He got up from the chair and headed toward the ladder. “I’ll be back in second folks. I just have to check the horizon, we are out of the shipping lanes but it’s better to be cautious. Samantha why don’t you put the kettle on and I’ll make us a cup of tea when I get back.” He turned his back and climbed the five rungs into the wheelhouse, Charlie motioned to Samantha to follow him but she was already on her feet and halfway across the small room and did not see him do it. Charlie could hear the two of them talking and it seemed that Samantha was asking Todd questions about what he was doing and how this and that worked. He figured that Todd was hoping that they would get relaxed and then when he thought Charlie and Samantha were at their most vulnerable he would go for the rip off. He wondered how certain people could completely misread a situation. He tried to imagine what impression he must have given Todd. Charlie was quite a big guy, six feet, not obviously muscular, but certainly not a man to be taken lightly. Samantha had spun the yarn of jumping bail, and never fully explained why. Charlie could have killed ten people with a can of peaches for all he knew. Therefore Todd must assume that he has some kind of advantage. A gun of some sort presumably. In the world he was used to living in you did not wait, you acted immediately, fuck surprise and stealth. The only reason Charlie had not taken possession of the boat was that he hoped Todd would just drop them off on some beach and all would be equal. Todd not being able to tell anyone what had occurred until it was too late, and still he would have to incriminate himself into the bargain. So if all went well Todd would try and steal their money, and Charlie would be holding a powerful handgun pointed at some vital area of Todd’s body, then, after a brief but intense conversation, they could then reach some mutually beneficial agreement and that would be that. His hand felt behind the cushion once more for the comforting grip of his gun. He rummaged through his jacket pocket for his cigarettes, lit one and waited to see what the future had in store. The pair returned to the cabin and Todd made a pot of tea, not mentioning the fact that Charlie, in Samantha’s absence, had not started the water boiling. He explained that he had the boat on automatic pilot and this was tied into his radar and should there be another vessel in dangerous proximity, an alarm would sound giving him plenty of time to execute the various manoeuvres necessary to avoid a collision. They talked about nothing in particular for the next hour, drank the tea, and Todd had to leave the confines of the cabin only once when the warning beeper sounded. Samantha feigned interest in the steering of the yacht and for the first time Todd showed a little bit of annoyance at being constantly shadowed. While they were small talking Charlie’s mind wandered until he thought he had nailed down an unspecific alarm bell of his own. He had been musing why Todd had not flown any of the sails on his craft. Then it occurred to him in a blinding flash of light that he must have some very powerful engines in the depths of the hull, and the only reason for making a yacht into a powerboat was to smuggle. Charlie was now satisfied that he had Todd down, and all he had to do was to be patient and wait for the action to start.
Go to part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30
Copyright © 2012 Iain Young |