It Wasn't The Bullet (26) “I think I will try and get some rest.” There was an undeniable tension in her voice, but it seemed to carry a great deal of resolve. She left her drink unfinished, and padded off to the hall. Charlie stared at the reflections in the kitchen window, thinking of nothing at all. Chapter Fourteen Eleven The light dew that had fallen during the early hours had made Charlie shiver. He could feel his legs cramping. Dawn was long past, and the time for action was nearly upon them. The field of vision was not as clear as Simon had hoped, but the kill zone was in plain view. Every so often now, Simon would peek very carefully over the low brick wall and report back the situation. It had remained unchanged for the last twenty minutes. Then quite suddenly Samantha appeared above them. She rested her hands on the top bricks and quietly said, “The front door just opened, I’m going ahead.” Her hands disappeared and they heard her shuffling footsteps fade. Simon whispered, “Get ready. Move on my command” Charlie made sure the silencer on the Browning was firmly attached and flicked off the safety. His body was ramping up, butterflies exploded in his stomach. He shut his eyes briefly to be greeted with two faces. He had only killed two men in cold blood, and the freeze frame of the last expression they portrayed lay etched in his subconscious. He felt no remorse, or guilt. That part of his emotional landscape was barren and devoid of all feeling. The pictures remained, and he knew a third was to be added before most of Britain sat down for their morning tea break. Samantha launched her attack; there was no need of lip reading this time. Her voice carried clearly over the fifteen yards between them and the pathway. “Where’s my fucking money? You fuck! Give it to me.” “Oh just fuck off, you old tart” said Toby exasperatedly. “You calling me a tart!! I heard your boyfriend has to ask yer if it’s in!” “Booya!” said Hamilton laughing hard. “Stand by” said Simon calmly. Charlie shifted his weight and was now crouching. “I’ll be on your seven o’clock Charles. I would appreciate you not shooting me.” The row was escalating, Samantha was shrieking and Toby had lost his temper by the sounds that Charlie could hear. Then there was the distinct sound of a hand hitting skin. Samantha went crazy, “Think you’re a big man, yeah, hit a woman. Feel brave now, you fuck, you fairy fuck!” “Come on Toby, let’s go. We’re going to be late.” “Go, go, go” urged Simon. Charlie, full of adrenalin, vaulted the wall. Keeping low to the ground as he landed, he held his gun in a two handed grip at forty five degrees to his body. He took in the whole scene in a millisecond, all three men were turned away from him, his target was twisted in the drivers’ seat, a forearm resting on the back of the chair. The window was open; Charlie reached the car in seconds. He fired twice into the driver’s chest, cursed as he saw one of the bullets erupt into the upholstery of the back seats as it passed all the way through the muscle and bone. He flung open the door; he could hear Samantha screaming now to cover the sounds of his actions. He pulled the lifeless mass out and as the body hit the tarmac he grabbed the hat and slid across to flip open the door latch. Simon was in the front before Charlie realised. He positioned himself almost backwards in the seat, his knees pressed up on the lip on the chair, his body pushed into the middle. He would be invisible until someone actually got into the rear seat. Charlie had pulled on the brightly coloured woollen hat and sat facing forward. His right hand was clasping the gun in his lap. “I’m fucking leaving Toby. Stay or come with me. I don’t give a fuck.” In what seemed like an eternity, Charlie waited for the door to open. The door lock clunked and Charlie felt the weight of the car shift as Hamilton slid into the car. Simon didn’t wait for him to shut the door, Charlie heard the hiss of a silenced round and turned as Hamilton’s knee exploded into a bloody pulp. He shrieked, and tried to get back out of the car. Charlie gunned the powerful engine and the door swung shut with the inertia. “Drive steady Charles.” Charles glanced over quickly at Simon, he had shifted his weapon to his left hand and was leaning out of the window. He heard the compressed gasses escape twice and in the rear view mirror saw a cloud of red mist explode around Toby’s head. He crumpled to the ground and Samantha, .38 in hand, turned and fled. “I cannot stand violence against women” Simon intoned through clenched teeth. It was the most amazing shot Charlie had ever seen. Left handed, in vehicle moving away from the target. “Will you please stop moaning!” Simon directed his ferociousness at Hamilton. He was quiet for a second and then let go his own infuriated tirade, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you know who you fucking with? You are both dead men.” “Be quiet, until I ask you a question.” The statement was delivered with such malice that Hamilton, who was about to speak, cut off his own words and remained silent, apart from the soft moans that he could not choke off. Charlie was following the directions that he had memorised; he took a right turn and was faced with a zebra crossing. He stopped the car to let an elderly couple weighed down with their shopping from Tesco’s to cross. He slipped the car back into first as they cleared the road. “Good man Charles. Nice to see your manners haven’t escaped you.” They rode in relative silence until Charlie saw the turn he was looking for and they pulled into the laneway and the archway work shop was exactly where it was supposed to be. He parked the car next to the escape vehicle and got out and closed the battered paint peeled wooden doors. He then checked the other car for ignition keys, all was fine. He turned his attention back to Hamilton and Simon. Simon was now kneeling in the passenger seat. His left hand rested on the top of the seat, the grip on his gun appeared lazy, but Charlie and Hamilton knew it was not. “I said, do you recognise me?” To Charlie it sounded like Simon had asked this question more than once. “Fuck you!” came the reply, Simon’s right fist had split Hamilton’s lips before Charlie really had a chance to realise what had happened. Suddenly Hamilton’s mouth was pouring with blood. “Now. Do. You. Recognise. Me?” Charlie opened the rear door and squatted down looking at Hamilton intensely. His own weapon rested on his thigh. Hamilton turned his head to look back at Charlie. He spat some blood out of his mouth. “I guess this is where we’re all going to end up, eh? Looking at two strangers, knowing these are the last people you’re ever going to see.” “Oh, spare me the melodrama, Hamilton.” Spat Simon in a different way. Hamilton’s accent had been softened by his years in Britain, but he still had the cadence of one who had been born in the sun. He turned again to Simon, then let his head fall back on the rich upholstery of the Jaguar and then moved his gaze to Charlie. “You got a cigarette, mon?” Charlie examined the features before him. Hamilton’s eyelids were half open and Charlie understood that he had come to his conclusion. He was going to die here, there was no escape, no rescue, this was real life. Charlie had to make a decision. If he gave him the smoke, would he capitulate, or if he didn’t would he just clam up and say the proverbial ‘fuck you’. He fished out his Marlboro and put two in his mouth. Lit them both then holding one between his thumb and fore finger, reached inside the car and Hamilton gently took it from his grasp. He took a deep drag of the cigarette and exhaled mightily into Simons face. He nodded in Simons direction before turning back to Charlie. “Dis guy, MacDonald. De white death, my brother in law he calls him. White Death. They come into our country and kill.” He turned back to Simon and spat more blood out over the back of the seat. “I got two million pounds” he drew out the syllables on the two and the million, “to take care of his soldier boy friends. We got them all except for that guy Milligan. Big red x’s on the photographs in my living room. You though,” he returned his attention to Simon, “We were told to kidnap you and take you back to the island. My brother wanted you personally. He wanted you to watch your friends die one by one and then starve you to death in a cage like the rabid animal you are. That Milligan bloodclot didn’t have to kill my sister in her bedroom. She was wrong place. He didn’t have to do dat. Four men took that contract, none came back. Still we fucked you up, eh, MacDonald. Fucked you up good.” He took another long pull on the tobacco and exhaled like he was smoking a spliff. He turned his head back to Charlie. “You in de army wid him?” Charlie did not move a muscle, just stared back into the resigned brown eyes. “You never completed the contract on Sergeant Terrence Milligan?” There was so much menace in Simon’s voice that Charlie could almost see the venom. He shifted his weight and position so he could actually see Simon. His face was taut and his grey eyes seemed to have changed to a dark foreboding steel. Hamilton looked away from his executioner and back to Charlie. “Like I said, never got it done. No one collected the bounty. He must have got them all.” The bare wires in Charlie’s brain began to arc and spark. It left only one viable alternative now. He could feel the rage creep into his soul. He was going to speak when the rear window of the car exploded a nano second after the back of Hamilton’s skull. He had flinched at the sudden noise and had to stand up to regain his balance. Simon, also, exited the car. The two men were caught in an unspoken conversation. They regarded each other for what seemed minutes, until Charlie walked over to their secondary car and spoke, “You know I have to finish this.” It was statement, not a question. He had the drivers door open to the dark blue TR6. He paused as Simon said, “Let’s sit down, come on.” Simon walked over to a Formica cover table, littered with the tea rings of a hundred mugs. He pulled out one of the battered chairs and sat down. Charlie’s rage was overcoming him. He wanted to move now, not sit down and fucking talk, but there was an underlying tone in the voice, almost calming. “Sit down Charles.” The invitation was intoned in such a way that he had no real choice but to comply. It was a simple announcement, but had behind it such a degree of compassion, he had no real alternative. He sat opposite Simon and they both instinctively lit cigarettes. “Where are you Charles? Do you know who you are? Deep down, do you know yourself?” Charlie was taken aback. He was not prepared for the question at all. He was confused, why ask a question like that at a time like this. His mental disarray must have become visible on his face because Simon spoke once more. “My point is this, Charlie,” Charlie realised the significance of the abbreviation of his name, “Will you be able to follow this through with a degree of reason? If not, I’ll shoot you right now and save on the petrol.” Charlie’s memory whisked him away, he was standing by out side the door of the flat where they first came across Clay. It was the first time that he had been on an attack scenario. They had no idea what was on the other side of the door. Clear as morning sunlight light on a dewy autumn morning, he heard Terry’s voice. ‘You feel that power? It’s so powerful it’s making you fucking shake. Harness it Charlie, me old mate. Let the fear take you and then use its force. You can feel and see everything, slow it down, breathe deep and slow. Yer feel it? You feel the power, you can almost see behind yourself, can’t you. Hear every little sound. Keep it there, we’re supermen now. Control the fear Charlie. Control the fear.’ Terry kicked the door in and when they entered the flat everything was in slow motion, he felt the texture of the carpet beneath his feet, saw the dim outlines of the men they had come for before he saw actually a face. He could see how they were standing from the shadows. He was empowered. A superman. Charlie came back to the arched workshop, he could smell the motor oil embedded in the white painted brick. His eyes met Simon’s, “ I am myself. I am comfortable with myself. I feel mortal.” Simon threw him an inquiring look. Charlie was not certain he could explain his reason. Then another random pulse of electricity produced his answer, “Every single day the people living above the poverty line in UK, Europe and most of North America feel intrinsically safe. When something bad happens the by line in the news is, ‘I never expected this’ or ‘Why did this happen to me or my spouse or whom ever’. It’s because most of the population are brought up to feel immortal. Bad things don’t happen to people who obey the rules of their society. Well, the world that you and I live in isn’t like that. Is it? Every waking second is spent being observant, examining every tiny detail because we don’t know when someone is going to leap up from behind a wall and spirit us away to that dark place we will never return from. I like that. I like feeling alive, my being isn’t guaranteed. It’s fragile and precious.” Charlie had to pause, he unconsciously looked in the direction of the Jaguar, his thought’s were tumbling together too quickly for him to gather them up and relay the information back. Simon leant back in his seat, his cigarette burnt down to the filter. He flicked it away, not caring where it landed. “Charles.” He stopped himself, and appeared to be searching for the correct words to begin his sentence. He tipped his head to one side and then the other. “You would have made an excellent soldier. Terrence has schooled you well. Harness that power, use it wisely. I want you to survive, I feel we have a lot of adventures ahead of us. I need a partner, that is my weakness. So many years as a leader of men, but I can’t function to my full capacity on my own.” He stopped his train of thought abruptly, as if afraid of revealing too much to a person he had only known a short while. He sighed and turned his attention to the smoke stained ceiling. Charlie was drawn to the soft tattoo of Simons fingers tapping on the table top. His eyes wandered from the hand and rested on his companions face.
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