Photo and Fiction © Steve Lakey 2015

It was after I glanced at the Obituaries that I saw the black Toyota. A 4×4 with darkened windows, it came from the direction of the short-stay parking lot. The driver was doing his best to catch my attention and not being too discreet about it. Casually putting the paper down, I walked over and leaned through the open window of the passenger door.

A huge bear of a man, dressed in an Armani suit, gave me the once-over before he spoke. “You the English guy lookin’ for work?”
“Yeah that’s me.” I felt a little under-dressed in jeans and t-shirt, but I’d just stepped off the plane after a nine-hour flight. I guessed he wouldn’t mind.

He reached out his hand and crushed mine with a vice-like grip before speaking. “I’m Blake. Throw your gear in the back and climb aboard!”

We drove away from the huge airport at Fort Worth. After about an hour, we swung off the main highway, and soon found ourselves on a dusty track. He glanced at me from time to time, perhaps wondering if he should fill the silence. He took the easy way out and turned on the radio. Country music blasted through the car. He grinned as he shouted above the chorus. “You not a big fan of this music, Mister?” I paused awkwardly before answering. I didn’t want to upset my host just yet. “I’m not really a big fan of Country. But I do like the Eagles.”
“The Eagles ain’t Country!” I felt like I’d just insulted his religion. Maybe I had. His mouth creased into the beginnings of a smile. “Don’t worry about it, son.”

The dirt track snaked its way between sprawling areas of woodland. Despite the air-conditioning, and tinted windows, the fierce sun seemed to seep its way into the car. Occasionally, I felt a small trickle of cold sweat slide down my back. As he drove, Blake continually mopped at his brow. So it wasn’t just me feeling the heat.

After a while, we turned through an old, rusted gateway. A steep gravel track led to the cabin, concealed from view by the rise of the land. Hidden and remote, I could see why he had chosen it.
Blake pulled up close to the building. We walked to the door and he unlocked it.
“Everything you need is here. Plans, maps, photos. I’ve even stocked the fridge. No one even knows this place exists except me. Tomorrow I’ll drop you out of town where you can hire a car from a place that don’t ask too many questions. The job goes down, the day after. And I’ll have a watertight D.C. alibi.” He smiled. “Nice and neat, then you’re away to wherever.”
Blake stepped inside, and I followed. After unlocking a wall safe, he took out an attaché case. “You’ll find the money is all here, in used notes. And of course, here’s the pistol. It’s the model you requested – one hundred percent untraceable.”

He turned to face me and I swear, there were tears in his eyes. “I hope you understand that this is not personal, between me and my wife. It is purely business. My main holdings are losin’ heavily. Her investments are all on the rise. It’s just a matter of economics, son. Pure and simple.”
I nodded and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. “Tomorrow, then Blake.” A poor attempt at male bonding, but under the circumstances it was the best I could do. Watching him drive away, I almost felt a twinge of regret about the whole sorry affair.

I’m also familiar with economics and market forces myself. The same market forces that got me to negotiate with Blake’s wife. Blake was right about her financial position. She could afford to double his asking price. And she did.

A point blank shot to his head, and Blake would be left holding the gun. If anyone ever found him in his cabin, the unfortunate guy’s business accounts would tell their own story. One more boom and bust.

Poor Blake. I never did get to tell him my favourite Eagles’ song.

‘Lyin’ Eyes.’

The photo and fiction were prompted by Word Snap Weekly, 22nd March 2015, hosted by Amanda Lakey at UniqueArtChic.com. 

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Photo and Fiction © Steve Lakey 2015

 

I’ll never forget seeing Spike in the flesh for the last time, as my taxi was being loaded up. Everyone called him ‘Spike’, on account of the way he wore his bleached blond hair. Or maybe it was because his customers spiked the stuff he sold them straight into their veins.

“Hey! Take a look at this.” He waved a wad of notes at me from across the road. Mafeking Terrace was my street – or at least it used to be. The fifty years I’d lived here counted for nothing. He’d only been here a matter of months, but it was like he was running the place. He never missed a chance to remind me.
“You ain’t ever seen so much cash. Buy you some new slippers mate! Want some?” His gold jewellery flashed in the sunshine.
Spike’s Bull Terrier snarled at me and strained at the leash. I could imagine Spike slipping off the collar, and watching with pleasure as it ripped me to pieces.

Bill, the taxi driver, caught my eye and tried to give me a reassuring look. He opened the door and gestured for me to get into the car. “Come on Tom, ignore him.”
I had chosen to give up the fight. It was a war I couldn’t win. Someone would take Spike’s place, and I hoped someone would take mine. Things are more confusing now. These days, you don’t know who your enemy is.

Spike stood grinning at me, a gold-toothed smirk that lacked any trace of humanity. His face quickly turned to a frown. “Don’t worry about your house Pops. I’ve got some people who’ll keep an eye on it. Can’t be too careful these days, there’s some dodgy people about!”
I should have got straight into the car, but my anger had been building up for a long time. I could feel the vein in my forehead starting to throb, a herald to yet another migraine. But I’d seen worse than him in Burma. This wasn’t a heroic defence from me, more of a parting shot.

“Listen! My name isn’t ‘Pops’, it’s Tom! Thomas Briggs, Royal Marine Commando. I’ve fought for this country. I lost a lot of friends in jungles you’ve never even heard of. I might be broken now, but in my day, I could have knocked your on your back without a second thought. You and your kind make me sick!”

Spike looked around to see who else was watching. I expected him to stride across the street to me and I regretted my outburst. Apart from the three of us, there didn’t appear to be anyone in sight. Maybe a few behind the lace curtains, but I’ve learned not to count on their type.

Spike didn’t move from outside his gate, but pointed a gold-ringed forefinger at me. “You’re a sad old boy. You’ve been telling lies, writing stuff you can’t prove. There’s things here you don’t know. My lawyer will have your wrinkly butt thrown in jail. So think on that! In the Army, eh? What was it like at Waterloo?” He spun away with a chuckle.

His good humour didn’t last. Spike’s hand reached for the latch on his gate. He shouted in pain as the concealed nail bit into his finger. Just far enough in to draw blood. I wanted to be there when he did it, just to make sure. To anyone else watching it would have just seemed like an accident, not a jungle booby trap. Now it was time for me to go.

As he drove me to the airport, Bill looked at me with genuine concern. He’d been driving me around for so long, we’d become friends. I would miss him and I think the feeling was mutual.
“Are you sure this is what you want, Tom? Moving ‘Down Under’ is a big step.”
“It’s the right time, Bill. Alice, my eldest, has been asking me to go and live with them for years. To be honest, things haven’t been the same since Maureen died. And it’ll be nice to see the grandkids again. Just picture me, Bill. Perth, Western Australia – I’ll be sat on their back porch, a hundred yards from the Indian Ocean. Not too bad a way to end my days.”
“So, you’re not coming back then? It won’t be the same around here.” Bill looked really upset, bless him.
“Tom, you can be proud. You did your best to stop the druggies getting a foothold. If someone had backed you, who knows? It’s funny – I didn’t know you fought in the Far East. When you said you were ex-Marines, I assumed your War was in Europe.”
“It’s not something I talk about much. We were taught to live rough and fight dirty. Funny thing is, that’s how I got interested in exotic plants. We learned which foliage has sap that can keep you alive, and which ones, if they get into your bloodstream, will kill you. You don’t want to get them mixed up!”
“So what about the plants in your greenhouse?”
“You can eat the tomatoes, but be very careful with the rest. Bio toxins aren’t good for the health! Rob from next door is having them. Said he’ll take care of my ‘babies’. They aren’t easy to import, you know, I don’t want them to be left to die.”

* * *

That was three weeks ago. I’m on that porch overlooking the Indian Ocean. After receiving an e-mail from Bill today, I was starting to feel homesick. That was until I clicked on the link from our, or rather his, local paper. Dated a couple of weeks ago, it told of how the body of an undercover policeman was found in Mafeking Terrace. He had been attempting to infiltrate a major drugs ring. The cause of death appeared to be some sort of extreme toxic reaction. Then I saw his photograph. He looked different in the picture – perhaps it was the uniform. But the spiky blond hair gave him away.

Maybe it’s a chill wind off the ocean, but I think I’ll go inside now. I’m starting to feel very cold.

 

The photo and fiction were prompted by Word Snap Weekly, 15th March 2015, hosted by Amanda Lakey at UniqueArtChic.com. 

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Photo and Fiction © Steve Lakey 2015

 

It was the sort of shabby place you automatically overlook, unless you can’t afford to. The lazy rain drifting down only added to the gloom.

I know now that something drew me to that classic MK IV Cortina. There’s not a day goes by that I wish I hadn’t passed Christie’s Used Car forecourt and just kept on walking. But when I saw that car shining like a bright yellow beacon, I just had to go for a closer look.

I remember running my hands over the warm bonnet. It was the strangest feeling – like I was touching something alive. Why it was warm, I don’t know. Other vehicles, front and rear boxed it in. Maybe they had turned the engine over for a previous punter.

“Go on, take a look inside. Feel free!” The voice, so close to my ear made me jump. It belonged to ‘James Christie’, according to his lapel badge. He had an uncanny resemblance to a young Paul Newman – complete with those clear blue eyes. I got the feeling that the shirtsleeves image was deliberate attempt to look casual. It certainly wasn’t the weather for it.

I opened the door and sat behind the wheel. James’ non-stop chatter soon became irritating. “First car, is it? You look the student type to me. No offence if you’re not, though. Of course, it’s an ideal car if you’re on a budget. I took it out myself last night. It goes like a dream…” After a couple of minutes, I had taken enough. I leaned over and closed the driver’s door shutting him out of my world, if only for a few precious moments. It closed with a reassuring thud. Goodbye!

The black leather interior looked in excellent condition, but something felt wrong. There was something strange about the air in the car – it was thick and heavy and reminded me of somewhere mysterious. A thick, sweet smell of incense. Or maybe something a little more little exotic.

I couldn’t seem to get my breath. I reached for the door handle but it wouldn’t open. Panic quickly set in. I banged on the window with my fist and shouted for James, but he wasn’t there. How I needed him now.

I was losing the struggle. My eyes were like lead and my head was spinning faster and faster. I knew I was going under. The last thing I remember was the sound of my own voice. It followed me into the void.

**

I opened my eyes, blinked twice, and then screwed them tightly shut again. I thought that if I opened them slowly everything would return to normal. But this wasn’t normality.

I was still sitting behind the wheel, but outside the light was fading, and I seemed to be surrounded by trees. What was happening? Where was I? Cautiously, I tried the door handle and thankfully it opened first time. I slowly climbed out and took a walk around. The car was parked in a clearing – hemmed in on three sides by dense woodland.

I had only walked on for a few steps when there was a sharp crack of a twig behind me. Instinctively, I turned and ducked down. I could see the outline of a man walking towards the car – I wasn’t alone! This didn’t feel good.

I quietly lowered myself to the ground and crawled up to the bonnet, eventually overcoming my fear enough to peek round the side of the car. I only saw it in outline, but the man was clearly struggling to lift a bulky object from the boot. I strained my eyes against the gloom. My God! He was lifting out the body of a woman! I choked back a scream, and pulled myself lower to the ground.

After what seemed like an age, he pulled her over his shoulder – her lifeless head and arms swaying like a rag doll. He staggered into the woods – coughing as he went. A deep rattling cough that went right down to his boots. It thankfully faded as he moved further away. Then he was lost from sight.

I didn’t wait for him to come back. I ran, blindly, in the opposite direction. Trees and bushes pulled at my arms and face, desperate to hold me back. Time and again, I broke free, to continue my desperate flight.

I never saw what brought me down. It may have been a low-lying branch or a small hole. I felt the ground rush up to meet me, and again my world turned to black.

And then I was back. Sat in the car, in the rain, and back on the forecourt – far away from that horrible scene. But that feeling of fear still gripped me tight and had me fighting for air. The door opened easily and I almost jumped out of the car. I wanted to run but James was standing there with a curious look on his face. He was probably waiting for me to say, “I’ll take it – it’s just what I’m looking for.”

I didn’t want any part of it. To think I had been attracted to this thing! I just needed to get away from there – put as much distance between me and that car as possible. Mumbling something towards James I shook my head and turned away. I half-walked, half ran to the safe haven of the street – a few steps, but a whole world away. I wanted to hide in the traffic, the smells and the noise. I knew that He was watching me all the way, his bright blue laser eyes burning two neat holes in the back of my head.

Once I had reached safety, I had to turn back for one last look. The Cortina no longer stood out. That’s when the doubts, the logical thoughts, started to creep in. Thinking it over…maybe I was just stressed out and had a panic attack. Yes, that’s it. Or too many late night horror movies…

Then I saw him. And what I heard cut through me more than those laser eyes ever could. James was slowly walking back to his office, coughing, his chest rattling right down to his highly polished shoes.

 

The photo and fiction were prompted by Word Snap Weekly, 8th March 2015, hosted by Amanda Lakey at UniqueArtChic.com. 

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