It Wasn't The Bullet (24) “He’s safe and sound. He pushed the tapes through the letter box.” “I apologise most vehemently. I was obviously a great deal wearier than I thought. Is there some tea in the pot?” Simon was looking at the mug in Charlie’s hand. “Yes, you might be lucky.” Simon walked off to the kitchen. Charlie sat back down and pressed play. The stairs creaked again, and Samantha entered the living room smelling of bath oils and soap. “How’s it going with the tapes?” she asked. “Oh, I think we’re making progress. I have a couple of ideas, just waiting to run them by Simon.” He saw Samantha about to ask another question but beat her with answer, “He’s in the kitchen looking at an empty teapot” “Well I had better go and make tea and dinner for you two. Lord knows by the time you get round to making something besides crisps sandwiches I’ll be dead of starvation!” With that she twirled out of the room and she heard her say, “Simon you just put that down, you’ll set fire to the kitchen. Go away and I’ll bring you two some tea in a moment.” Simon re-entered the room looking, to Charlie, slightly sheepish. He grinned and said, “I suppose you heard my rather uncalled for dressing down by that woman!” “I did indeed, Captain MacDonald.” “Mmmh, enough of your insubordination young man. You are, in fact, meant to respect your elders, especially when they have just been viciously and unfairly trounced by a member of the fairer sex. Now, tell me what have you spotted?” Charlie explained his theory. He had noticed that every day Hamilton did exactly the same thing at the same time. Terrible security; or a belief that he was immortal. Simon asked Charlie to find and freeze a frame where the car was parked just before Hamilton and his bodyguard entered it. He turned one of the televisions round and then rummaged around in one of the drawers of an old bookcase. He pulled up a threadbare foot stool and sat in front of the screen. Charlie had to sleep, the recent excitement had burned up his last remaining reserves of energy. He was exhausted and could hardly keep his eyes open. He was going to relay this information out loud when Samantha appeared with two plates of bacon and eggs. His hunger out weighed his tiredness and he greedily ate his breakfast before setting out for the bedrooms. He came to in darkness, the bed sheets had hardly moved, an indication that Charlie had slept deeply again. It was obviously night but what hour he could not tell. He fumbled about in the room feeling for the light on the bedside table he half saw when he came to bed. His hand brushed it and seconds later he was blinking in the harsh sixty watt light. Five o’clock the round alarm time piece said. Charlie yawned, and realised he felt like he had a hangover. Ah fuck ‘em, he said to himself, turned the light out a feel immediately back to sleep. He awoke for the second time to the smell of coffee and toast. Samantha was smiling down at him and holding the flowered tray where the aromas were emanating from. “Here you are Charlie. Breakfast in bed! Simon says take your time but hurry. He has a plan.” She left him with his food and he savoured the coffee. When Charlie finally made it downstairs to the front room, Simon was sitting on the sofa next to Samantha. The television that Simon had commandeered was now facing into the room and the screen was covered in black felt pen. The still image shaking slightly like the tape was protesting at being held so long in the same spot. “I think I have a plan of attack. However we have to do a little further surveillance to be sure. You see that garden wall right next to Hamilton’s’ house?” Charlie nodded, still not quite awake from his sleep, but seeing what Simon was talking about, “I think that if we can position ourselves there we can kidnap our target with ease. I have watched the tapes several times on different days and the pattern is always the same. Hamilton, on every occasion enters the car first. The other chap waits until he is inside before he gets into the vehicle. A little distraction and we can be in the car first.” Simon paused, and then carried on, “To implement this operation successfully, we have to find the solution to two critical questions, the first being; what lies behind that wall? By that I mean, we would have to be in position before the occupants of the house leave for work. I don’t think we could stroll over there in daylight without causing at least some suspicion. The second, what kind of diversion should we use? Something as dramatic as an explosion would, of course, gain their attention, but would almost certainly result in Hamilton and friend scurrying back into the house and the driver just simply taking off. I feel it would be the same with any other dynamic distraction.” Simon turned his head and looked at them both in turn with a clear expression of ‘anyone have an idea?’ Samantha shifted in her seat and both men turned to face her. “Well,” she hesitated, and bit her bottom lip. Charlie sensed she was very nervous about stating her first real opinion to the operation. She clasped her hands together as she sat forward and continued, “I have been watching these tapes as well. The one thing neither of you have mentioned is the number of homeless or junkies who wander up and down this street.” She held up her hand to silence Simon who looked like he was going to interrupt her, “I didn’t say it was a constant stream of street people, I said it appears that transients are not unusual in this area and largely go unnoticed. I worked for quite awhile in emergency and dealt with more than my fair share of junkies and tramps. I am sure I could pull off being one. My idea is to set up the diversion tonight. Hamilton comes back to his place at roughly the same time everyday too. I could create a scene with his bodyguard and suss out the wall situation at the same time. Then tomorrow, create a scene that will only involve the bodyguard and hopefully make the driver turn round also. It would just be a gamble whether Hamilton gets pissed off enough just to get into the car.” Charlie let out an internal, wow, and was impressed with Samantha’s forethought. She had very obviously followed her train of thought through. It was viable, there were variables beyond their control, but with such a small amount time to implement and execute the operation it might just work. He said, “Works for me. Do you have a plan of attack in mind?” “I am going to use the oldest female gambit in the world. Not sex, I said the oldest. I’m going to attack his machismo. A man like that is almost certainly going to have no respect for women, and I will point that out.” “I agree also. You are going to put yourself in harms way, are you prepared for that?” “I don’t know.” “If you had given me any other answer I would have nixed the idea completely. No one is prepared to risk his or her physical safety until it happens. Well, it’s just before midday, I will assume you have to get yourself into character, Hamilton will return between six and six thirty. I would suggest that you have five hours to complete your transformation.” Simon sat back in his chair; he also had been leaning forward to catch every word of Samantha’s plan. Samantha got up and with a deep breath walked toward the stairs. She paused, and stooping down removed her black flat shoes, “Would one of you scuff these up for me? Make them look like they’ve walked a thousand miles.” She didn’t wait for a reply as she headed upstairs. Simon and Charlie watched her exit and both reached for their cigarettes. They smoked in silence until Charlie remarked, “She can do it. One way or another.” “I concur. It’s just that it all has to fall together in such a particular order. However, it is better than any solution that I could come up with. I should make a couple of calls.” With that he got up abruptly and headed for the hall where the black telephone sat on a round Formica table. Charlie stared at the curtains until the floral patterns began to morph into a myriad of different forms. In the background he could hear Simon talking to his people. Charlie was still not convinced that Hamilton was the man behind Terry’s death but he had to be sure. There was a gap in his memory. It bothered him immensely; he just could not recall what had triggered his decision to hunt down Justin and Mikey. Or whether he even did. He remembered spiralling into a drug fuelled reality, he had fragments of driving in the rain, it was like trying to piece together the fragments of a broken mirror. Every time he concentrated on the irregular shapes all he saw were a hundred images of himself. The only constant was the pager number. Could Terry have given that up to someone else? Was it written down somewhere? He watched the dancing shapes on the drapes, the sun light was oscillating as clouds passed in front of it, causing the outlines to move in a three dimensional way. He tried to grasp at the images buried in his subconscious, they floated tantalisingly close, but as reached for them, they jumped away leaving him gazing at the space where they left a hazy outline. “Right then, I have arranged a car, a place for the interrogation and the back door to be left open on our lucky winner’s house.” The sound of Simons voice brought Charlie abruptly back into the living room. It took him a moment to refocus his thoughts. “Good.” Charlie decided to ask the question that he was positive Simon had been expecting him to ask. Simon had picked up the discarded black shoes and was looking at them intently. “All these people you have working for you. Are they part of your organisation?” Simon stopped his ruminations on the shoes and looked at him. “I should answer that question, shouldn’t I. Let me get a few things for these shoes and we’ll talk as I work.” With that he went to the kitchen, Charlie heard the sound of drawers being open and closed, the rattle of things metallic and then Simon reappeared in the room clutching the a cheese grater, a corkscrew and some brillo pads. Before he sat himself down, he tutted in annoyance, “Charlie will you get me a bowl of water?” Charlie replied in the affirmative. He watched Simon work on the Samantha’s shoes. He soaked them in the bowl of water, and then gently used the grater to rough up the leather. Then he used the Brillo pad to soften the edges of the torn up surface. He began to talk, “It’s not a cohesive band of men, Charlie. These are people I’ve met on my travels and have proved trustworthy and competent. Some of them are ex army, some of them just criminals. And indeed some just ordinary folk in positions of, shall I say, usefulness who are not above bribery. When we were unceremoniously dumped back onto civilian life, we, as I have explained, formed this very small organisation. It really served no purpose except to give us an unfair advantage. None of the people aiding us have any idea why or how, in fact none of them know each other. Just another large collection of smoke and mirrors. Misdirection of misdirection.” Charlie watched in fascination and the shoes began to evolve into the footwear of a person who walked the streets of London day after day, year after year. He used the corkscrew to form a small hole in each sole above where the ball of a foot would sit. He then smoothed the round hole into an irregular shape. “What will you do when this paragraph of your life comes to its conclusion? I ask because I too have been pondering the same question. There is no one left now, and I confess I feel rather alone.” Charlie was taken aback at the forthrightness of the query, he thought he was beginning to get to know Simon, but had not expected such an honest statement. “I don’t know. I have money, but not enough to last forever. I like the excitement of dealing, but after this, I’m really not sure if it is a viable option anymore. It’s not very productive to have a high profile in that business.” They were quiet, comfortable in the silence with each other. Simon went back to his transformation work, and Charlie returned to his hypnotic curtains. The pair of them remained in their separate yet parallel worlds until Samantha’s padded footsteps softly brought them back to the here and now. She stood framed by the doorway. One of the people that lived in this house must have been female, because Samantha had found some old clothes and adapted them for her look. Her blond her was matted and tangled, she wore a tattered plaid shirt, with matching blue jeans. Both of which had grease stains, her make up was gone and revealed the classic lines of her natural face. One thing Charlie couldn’t help noticing was a large stain in the front of her Levis. Samantha must have noticed both of there eyes on her, “Listen, for this to be effective I have to smell like a street person, I peed myself. Ok? End of discussion. I need some of those old tea bags and some dirt from the garden.” Charlie moved first and did as he was asked. Samantha took the cheap mirror down off the wall from it’s place above the gas fire and propped it up on the table. She rubbed the tea bags on her face and the tannin stained her skin brown, like a weather beaten tan, she did the same with her hands. She then took the garden mud and rubbed it into her skin, it gave her the appearance of not having bathed for quite some time. Simon glanced at his watch and said it was time to go. Samantha said, “Just a moment, I haven’t quite finished. Here, help me Charlie.” She picked up the black marker left by Simon and handed it to Charlie. “Black out a couple of my teeth.” Charlie once again did as was bidden. They all turned to the curtained window at the sound of a car pulling up outside. “Ah that will be our conveyance. You really do look the part my dear. Outstanding.” They traffic had not yet turned into the London crush and they arrived in Brixton in good time. Simon decided to drive down Hamilton’s road explaining it was worth the risk to see if there were any road works or unexpected problems. Charlie and Samantha crouched down below the windows as they turned onto the street. It took less than a minute to travel its length. “All seems well.” voiced Simon. He manoeuvred the vehicle around the block; the side streets made even more hazardous by the cars parked next both kerbs. He turned into a narrow laneway that ran in between the two streets, and stopped at a non descript gate that had the number 32 painted sloppily midway up on the wooden door. “Quickly, let’s go.” Simon left the engine running, Samantha and Charlie followed him through the gate and along the short path to the back entrance of the house. As Simon turned the handle of the entrance, they heard the car door open and shut and the car pulling away. Charlie remarked to himself, Simon was not a man to miss much. Samantha shut the door behind her and the three of them stood in what appeared to be a freshly renovated kitchen. “Ok chaps, a few words of warning. The curtains are not closed in the living room, this,” he said pointing at the stripped pine door which had been left ajar, “leads out into the hall way, the front door is one of those full length frosted glass jobs. We must be careful not to reveal our presence here. A lot of the houses in this street have those ‘Neighbourhood Watch’ decals displayed. I am sure the owners of this dwelling alerted at least one neighbour they were going away. So I suggest we get comfortable here and wait for, say, seventeen forty-five. Then, Samantha, you should embark upon your sortie.” Charlie couldn’t help but notice Simon’s use of military time. Terry was the same when they were doing something serious. They sat smoking and making small talk until it was time for Samantha to begin. “Oh shit! I forgot to take a bottle of Scotch or something from the other house.” said Samantha. “Fuck. Can we take one from here, do you think?” Simon moved from the kitchen table and, keeping his body low, crept into the hallway. He returned holding a bottle half full of Smirnoff vodka. Whilst Simon was getting the drink, Samantha had found a brown paper shopping bag from under the sink. She took a big swig from the bottle from and then emptied most of the liquid out and then refilled it with water. She placed the red-labelled container inside the bag and scrunched the opening around the neck and removed the cap. “Are you ready?” inquired Charlie, his hand on Samantha’s shoulder. He felt nervous inside. It had suddenly occurred to him the amount of things that could go wrong. He wanted to say that they should think of something else, but he knew that the plan was in motion and it would conclude the way it was meant to, and there was not a damn thing anyone could do about it. “A kiss for luck?” She leant forward between the two of them, and they kissed her tenderly on each proffered cheek. Albeit a bit warily as they both got close to her aroma. “Do I look alright?” She smiled and it was odd to see her features so changed by the felt tip pen on her teeth. “You look like a no good meth drinking tramp.” replied Charlie with a grin of his own. She seemed to take a moment to compose her self and then let herself out and walked to the back gate, it opened easily and then she was gone. Charlie had managed to ease open one of the double glazed windows in the front room. The ambient sounds of the quiet road filtered into the living room. The jarring noise of a lawn mower in full battle and the muffled hum of everyday life were largely ignored by the both of them. They were crouched down and peering over the white faux wood windowsill. The net curtains had caught the breeze from the open window and moved gently to and fro. They waited for Samantha to come into their line of vision.
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