A “Captain Scarlet
& the Mysterons” story
PART 1
From the
passenger seat of the Spectrum Saloon Car, Captain Magenta gazed out into the
dazzling sunlight; the sun was just about to set over the mountains, just right
of the road, and the light was just too annoying for Magenta’s eyes. Reaching forward, he picked up a pair of
sunglasses from the dashboard and with a quick flick of his wrist, opened them
up. Sliding them on, he pushed them slowly up the bridge of his nose and
grinned at Scarlet, seated next to him.
"You know they're
supposed to be for communication," commented Scarlet, almost rolling his eyes
at Magenta's seemingly irrepressible enthusiasm.
"So talk
to me," the Irish captain replied, glancing at him over the top of the
dark glasses.
Scarlet
smiled. Magenta had been like this all
day long. Scarlet had been impressed that
day, more than once, by his friend's ingenuity. Magenta had spent a great deal of his spare time over the last
few months working on a project for the Maximum Security Buildings. He had been remarkably secretive about it,
dropping only the occasional hint, raising an eyebrow or offering a
conspiratorial grin. Nobody had insisted that he explain what he was
preparing. Knowing how much of a
perfectionist Magenta was, they were certain that he would do so ONLY when he
was sure that everything was working to his satisfaction. He always gave the impression that he had
something to prove; even though nobody felt anymore that he had to.
Now his project was
complete, the new systems installed, and it was time to test it. In a rush of enthusiasm and confidence,
Magenta had challenged Scarlet to break into the building as the ultimate test
of the security arrangements he had made.
Scarlet had scoffed at the idea but rose to the challenge. He thought he
knew enough of Magenta’s security devices and how they would be put to use with
the already existent system of a Maximum Security Building. Plus, the British captain was supremely
confident that his own commando training would easily help him get through all
the levels of security, with no major problem.
A walk in the park, he had
told Magenta.
The first Maximum
Security Building to be updated with the new security system was in
Vermont. Which was, in effect, to
Scarlet’s advantage. Just the previous month, the Governor of Vermont had
received a threat of a potential terrorist attack against his life, and Scarlet
had taken him to the Maximum Security Building for protection. The threat had been a hoax but as a result,
Scarlet knew the interior, systems and routines of the Vermont facility
extremely well. Colonel White,
intrigued by Magenta's seeming over-confidence in his new system, agreed to the
challenge. He had arranged for the
security trial to take place in the strictest secrecy. To all intents and purposes, it would be a
typical day for the guards at the Maximum Security Building. If the additional arrangements that Magenta
had put in place could prevent Scarlet entering on a day when they were not on
an alert, then the building could truly be considered impregnable.
Scarlet's challenge was
to simply steal a data disc from the Communications Room - any one would
do. It would be the least demanding and
the lowest risk task he could possibly have hoped for. Scarlet had indeed managed to enter, but
within a mere three minutes he was under arrest. Part of Magenta's safety procedures turned out to be a series of
steel doors, like a ship's bulkheads, which could slide into place when an
electronic eye was tripped. Scarlet had managed to avoid two of the electronic
eyes, but by trying to evade a third – which in reality was a bogus one –
stumbled into the path of the real one, and finally found himself trapped in a
corridor with no exit. Magenta had been
vindicated and his ideas proved a resounding success.
"Okay,
Pat, I can admit when I'm wrong. And
even though I thought it would be straightforward, I wasn't careless. You've done a great job there!"
"Thanks," Magenta
replied, grinning, returning his gaze to the scenic view around them. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Scarlet nodded
appreciatively. The car was following
an up-and-down curving road, into a snow-covered mountain-like country of high
snow-covered pines. As far as the eye
could see, there were blue-grey snow-capped mountains rising majestically to the
sky, their peaks shrouded by clouds. To the left of the road, a large frozen
lake, with white spots of snow glittering in places.
"Beautiful, but
potentially treacherous," Scarlet agreed.
"The clear night is causing the temperature to drop considerably.
The road’s fairly slippery. Fresh ice forming,
I guess. I'm keeping the speed down,
but..."
Scarlet never
got to complete his sentence as, ahead of them, an oncoming grey saloon car
skidded suddenly on a bend in the road ahead.
Sliding out of control, the saloon caught the Spectrum vehicle a
glancing blow, forcing both off the road.
Magenta caught sight of the fear on the face of a young woman in her
mid-twenties driving the saloon as it careered past them.
Struggling to
maintain control on the uneven surface of the embankment, Scarlet couldn’t
prevent the car rolling as it hit a ridge.
Flipping over lengthways, the Spectrum car slid several hundred yards
upside down before hitting a boulder of hard snow, and then rolling once more,
this time repeatedly. The Spectrum car
finally came to a complete stop, upright and only inches from the edge of the
lake.
Magenta slowly,
painfully, opened his eyes. For the
first few moments, he almost didn't dare move, mentally checking himself for
injury. He could see a darker spot of
blood on his lighter-coloured tunic, but not where it came from. A trickling sensation on his cheek and neck
made him groan. Lifting his hand, he
felt, with some trepidation, the gash above his ear. From the damp sensation of
blood on his sweater, he realised he may very well have been unconscious for a
few minutes. Turning his head, he saw
to his horror that he was alone in the car; the driver's side door having
apparently been wrenched off its hinges.
"Scarlet?" he
croaked, reaching to release the harness that had undoubtedly saved his life.
He tried to open the
door. It was jammed – stiff and buckled at the front. With a grunt of effort, Magenta finally managed to shove the door
open. Climbing out, gingerly, testing
for broken bones and pain, Magenta scanned the area with anxious eyes. His heart missed a beat as he saw the grey
saloon not far from his own car, resting half submerged, having broken through
the ice on the edge of the lake. A
brief glance to the right told him that the occupant, the young woman he had caught
a glimpse of earlier, had somehow been thrown clear before the car plunged
through the ice. She was now lying on the shore of the lake, on a thick layer
of snow. Magenta approached her. She seemed to be unconscious, and a cursory
examination told him that there was probably nothing broken. The snow she had
landed on had probably prevented her from being hurt. She had been very lucky, he reflected as he draped his coat over
her for additional warmth. Now, he
thought, rubbing his arms in the chill wind, where was Scarlet?
"Oh no!"
Magenta cried. His heart leapt once
more into his mouth at the sight of a red tunic floating some ten to fifteen
feet out into the icy waters.
"Scarlet!"
he yelled.
There was no reply and
in truth, Magenta didn’t think he would receive one. Removing his tunic and
boots, he lowered himself slowly into the water.
As he sank to
waist-deep, Magenta's breathing became rapid and shallow, pulling in air in
short, sharp gasps. The cold
penetrating to his very bones, numbing yet painful, Magenta found that even the
smallest movement seemed almost impossible.
His mind was gradually fogging, partly due to the blow he had taken
during the crash, partly due to the bitter cold. Fighting the urge to succumb to the bitingly chill waters,
Magenta pushed forward. As the water
rose to his chest and neck, he gasped as his lungs seemed almost to shrink in
response. Fighting to breathe and to
remain conscious, Magenta edged towards Scarlet, aware only of the need to keep
his head out of the water. He swam
closer to his colleague’s half sunken torso, feeling his muscles numbing
quickly. He could feel tiny crystals of
ice forming on his skin, clinging to his clothes, weighing him down. His
swimming capabilities were severely diminished, and Magenta was aware that even
Grey or Blue, with all their vaunted skills in that field, would struggle in
the same conditions.
To his
despair, Magenta realised that, very slowly, but significantly, Scarlet was
drifting further and further away from him. Using all his diminishing strength,
the Irish captain pressed on as fast as his aching muscles would allow. With Scarlet almost within his grasp, he
realised just how far he had had to swim out to reach him and how low in the
water he had dropped on the way.
Pulling Scarlet over and onto his back took a supreme effort on
Magenta's part; whilst successful, the operation had the unfortunate effect of
temporarily pushing him lower still.
Magenta gasped with shock at the sheer icy coldness of the water as it
rose above the nape of his neck. As it
washed over the gash above his ear, the pain that tore through his head almost
overwhelmed him. He felt himself go
limp; his fingers momentarily released their grip on Scarlet as he was drained
of all energy. At first, due to the loss of sensation, he was unable to
register what had happened; it was only as Scarlet started once more to drift
away that Magenta realised it. Once
more, he took hold of his friend’s limp body and despite the pain and
difficulty in coordinating his movements, he kicked back towards the
shoreline.
He wasn't
even sure how he had managed it, but Magenta soon found himself pushing
Scarlet's unconscious form up onto the bank.
Hauling himself out of the freezing waters, Magenta pulled his colleague
further up the bank, clearing him of the lake entirely.
Collapsing alongside
Scarlet, Magenta gasped with pain and exhaustion. He was forcing himself to remain conscious, knowing he still had
to radio for help and to try to prevent them both suffering from exposure.
Pulling in short sharp breaths with a clouded mind, Magenta was at first
oblivious to the woman's voice coming from nearby. As it penetrated the mist shrouding his thoughts, he became aware
of the voice and the urgency behind it.
"Please! My baby! You've got to help my baby!"
Magenta opened his eyes
and tried with difficulty to focus. The
woman from the grey saloon, now awake, was standing over him.
"Please, Captain,
my baby! My little Davey! You’ve got to
save him!" she begged again.
Magenta pushed himself
up on his elbows.
“Where?” he
asked with urgency, as he peered back down to the lake. “In the car?” he added with the horror of
realisation.
Furious with himself
for failing to check inside the car in his single-minded attempts to rescue
Scarlet, Magenta rose slowly and awkwardly to his feet. The bitter, chill wind that had seemed
almost pleasant earlier in the day whipped around his soaking wet, clinging clothes.
His hands and feet, almost numb, yet somehow burning with the cold, were making
it difficult even to walk back down to the lake.
His mind reeled at the
shock of climbing once more into the icy lake. His now blurred vision and
disorientation made it almost impossible to remain focused on his task. The car rested on the very edge of the lake;
swimming to it was unnecessary, but at the angle that it lay, the doors were
only accessible from the water. He
could see the child, in the back of the vehicle, installed in a car seat, and
still out of reach of the water. But
for how long?
Magenta reached for the rear passenger side
door but his hands refused to cooperate.
Unable to close his fingers, Magenta struggled to open the car door. It refused to budge. Whether it was due to
the pressure of the water against it or simply because it was locked, he wasn’t
sure but he was left with no other option than to break the window. The car
suddenly slid further down into the water, followed by a scream of horror
coming from the woman on the bank. The
resulting wash from the jerky movement sent a wave of icy water over
Magenta.
Gathering his waning
senses once more, Magenta raised his elbow and brought it down heavily on the
glass. Pain coursed up his arm as he
made impact. It had no effect. One
more try, he thought as he smashed his elbow down once more. This time he was more successful. Clearing the broken glass, Magenta reached
in and unlocked the door. Water now
started to flood in from the breach he had made, equalizing the pressure on
both sides of the door, and finally permitting Magenta to open it. He knew he
had very little time to act. But the
car was so close to the bank that all he had to do was quite literally pick up
the car seat and hand it to the woman. The child was now crying. Unbuckling the seat proved difficult for the
captain, his fingers aching with cold and his clouded mind refusing to
concentrate. Within a few moments,
however, he had released the seat, but to him, chest-deep in the unbearable
cold, it felt like a lifetime. Turning,
Magenta handed the car seat to the woman who took it gratefully with tears in
her eyes. Magenta nodded his
understanding as he reached for the bank once more to haul himself out. Trying
desperately to hold onto the bank, Magenta could feel the energy draining from
him and doubted he had enough left to pull himself out. Extending his hand, he
looked upwards at the woman.
"Help me,
please."
Magenta was incoherent;
the cold had affected him to the point that the words emerged as a confusing
jumble of sounds. His actions, however,
spoke volumes and the woman bent down to take his hand. Behind him, the car shifted once more and
Magenta felt it grazing his legs. He realised with dread that he had to get out
fast. He tried to grasp a handhold on the grass beneath the snow with useless,
unresponsive fingers. The car shifted
again and started to slide under.
Magenta felt it bumping even harder on his legs, forcing him off his
precarious position; he was pulled back into the lake. The last thing he heard
before being dragged beneath the surface was the shout of panic from the young
woman who had tried to help him, as, with horror, she saw him being pulled out
of her grasp.
The cold
water washed over Magenta; it was pure instinct that had driven him to take a
gulp of air before going under. He
could just feel something looped around his ankle, and pulling him down with
the car, which soon made contact with the bottom of the lake. Magenta looked up. He could see the ice-covered surface, not that far away, maybe
only a couple of yards. He turned his
attention to his trapped ankle; what could possibly be keeping him down? He saw
a seat belt. Probably the one he had
released earlier to get the baby seat out of the car. Frantically, using what little was left of his energy, Magenta
struggled to free his ankle. But he was
to find even this seemingly simple task impossible. His fingers were simply
refusing to work. Panic made him lose
precious air that went bubbling out towards the surface. A surface so near, and yet out of his reach.
His entire body numb
with the bitter cold, he could feel nothing but despair. His final thoughts were of his family as the
darkness closed around him.
* * *
It was an insistent
nudge that made Scarlet wake up with a start and stare wide-open into the
star-spangled sky over him. He coughed
loudly, and shivered, as the cold night wind came blustering against his skin. It was as if ice needles were piercing him,
all over his body, causing him to feel nauseous. He had a pounding headache.
A headache that was being made even more painful by the screams and
cries of the person who was frenetically pulling on his sleeve, apparently
desperate to wake him up.
“Get up, get
up, please! He’s gonna drown! You have to help him! Get up!”
Scarlet
blinked and groaned, that simple act sending a blinding pain into his head. He
was confused, disorientated, as he looked around him, examining his
surroundings. He saw the Spectrum saloon,
lying not far away. A baby's car seat,
even closer, with a baby still in it, crying.
And a young woman, her face washed with tears, kneeling by his side,
pulling him into a sitting position.
“Don’t you
hear me? He’s going to die! You must help him!”
“What…
Where?” Scarlet’s hand reached for his
head. He felt the bump on his forehead.
So that’s where that blasted headache’s
coming from… In a fraction of a second, he remembered the accident, and
looked around. “Magenta…?”
The woman
desperately pointed toward the lake, where Scarlet could see a wide hole
punched through the ice. Large bubbles
of air were dancing on the surface of the water.
“He’s under!
He saved my little Davey and then my car went down! I didn’t see him come back!
He must be trapped!”
All traces of
drowsiness left Scarlet instantly.
Realising that his current partner was in deadly danger, he rose to his
feet. He was still a little weak from
his previous stay in the water, but it mattered little to him as he stumbled
toward the lake. He stopped at the edge
of the hole, looking down into it with horror.
Then he turned toward the woman behind him, and gestured wildly toward
the road. “Go! Try to stop any vehicle
passing by! We need help!” He didn’t wait to hear the woman’s answer to
his desperate call but jumped feet first into the icy water.
The cold got
to Scarlet instantly, and he had to fight hard not to instinctively gasp, which
would have expelled the precious air he was holding in his lungs. Trying to ignore the pinpricks of the icy
water on his body, and the growing numbness of his muscles, he frantically
searched the semi-darkness of the water.
He saw the huge bubbles he had already noticed exploding at the surface
and sought where they were coming from. They were rising from directly below
him, not even three yards down, from the front of a car resting at the
bottom. He could see its still powered
headlights dully brightening their immediate surroundings, and lighting his
path like an underwater lighthouse.
Scarlet’s
eyes went wide with utter shock when he saw the outline of a man lying
dreadfully still next to the open doors of the vehicle. He kicked wildly in that direction, reaching
Magenta, who was lying face down in the mud.
Scarlet noticed his right foot, entangled in a seatbelt, and understood
in a second what had happened. Like
Magenta before him, he worked frenetically to free his friend’s ankle, finding
it so very difficult, with the numbness that was threatening to stop his
fingers obeying him. Finally getting
Magenta free, he took him under the arms and kicked toward the surface,
desperately hoping, without really believing it, that it wouldn’t be too
late.
He burst
through the surface of the water and gasped to take in fresh air, doing his best
to keep his friend’s head above the water.
He looked down on the pale face, brightened by the moonlight above. It was completely set, the eyes closed. So deadly calm, with not even a single spray
of breath coming from the nostrils.
Magenta wasn’t breathing.
Scarlet knew he had to act quickly.
“Pat!” He yelled into his friend’s ear, surprising
himself with how forceful his cry had been. “Pat, please! Don’t be dead!”
They had
emerged not far from the shore, and numerous helping hands came to pull them
out of the water. Scarlet realized that
the woman had been successful in flagging down a couple of vehicles passing by
the road. He could see her, standing a
few feet away from the activity, her baby in her arms, and staring with horror
at the still body of Captain Magenta as it was laid on its back, onto the snowy
bank.
Scarlet tried
to drive away the hands of the many people now surrounding him and his friend,
but hardly had any strength in him. He
felt someone undoing the zip of his tunic and heard a commanding voice ringing
in his ear, with an urgent tone: “Remove these soaked clothes! Quick, before they freeze on them!” Scarlet was bewildered when many hands again
reached for him and worked to undress him as quickly as possible, removing his
shirt, his boots, his socks, his trousers. He was too weak, and too cold to
offer any resistance – he was only able to gasp and shiver under the cold
wind. His confused mind registered
blinking lights coming from the road, and a large ambulance-like vehicle
stationed there, waiting. Two men
dressed in white were busying themselves around Magenta, undressing him too,
with the help of a couple of civilians, while a third was crouched near a
practically naked Scarlet, draping him in a thick and warm blanket. “Keep that
close to you, man,” he heard the medic tell him. “That’ll keep you warm. Come on, get up. Up! You must walk, get
the blood moving in you…”
“My friend,”
Scarlet croaked. His teeth were
chattering. He was fairly sure nobody
had heard him. He nodded toward
Magenta, now undressed too, and wrapped in a blanket, with the two other medics
working feverishly over him. “My friend… He stayed underwater too long…”
“How long?”
the man asked him. “Up, I said! Come on, Captain. You don’t want to freeze
here!”
He pulled
Scarlet to his feet, and held him up, forcing him to walk, another man helping
him on his other side. Each step was a
torture to Scarlet; his bare feet protesting against the contact of the snow. His eyes couldn’t leave Magenta. He still wasn’t breathing, and was pale as
death itself. The two medics were now
performing CPR on him, one pushing on his chest, while the second was blowing
breath into his mouth. But it didn’t
look as if they were making any progress.
“How long,
Captain?” the medic asked Scarlet again, forcing him to look at him. “How long was he underwater?”
“I… I don’t
know, I… Minutes. Several minutes. The young woman… Maybe she’ll be able to tell you…”
“All right,
walk. Walk, I said. Come with me, I’m taking you to the
ambulance. We’ll have to treat you for
exposure.”
“No, my
friend… He needs help,” Scarlet
protested, looking back but obeying nevertheless.
“We’re
helping him. We’re doing all that we
can to bring him back.”
Bring him back… The words hit Scarlet
like a ton of bricks. He finally reached the road, where he saw a number of
cars parked any which way along the path, headlights still on, some of them
lighting the scene of the tragedy. There were two ambulances waiting there, and
he was helped into the closer one and ordered to take a seat as far away from
the open doors as possible. He couldn’t
detach his eyes as the other two medics were now settling Magenta on a
stretcher, and placing an oxygen mask over his face. There still seemed to be no reaction from the drowned
captain. Two of the civilians who had
stopped to help rushed the stretcher to the ambulance, while the medics were
continuing their work on Magenta. It was organised chaos, with people watching,
and speaking all at once, the blinding beams of car headlights, and the
flashing lights of the ambulances, making it more difficult for Scarlet to
concentrate and to escape a growing headache. The stretcher was pushed inside
the compartment, the medics jumping in with it, without even so much as
stopping for a breather. Scarlet felt his heart missing a beat, upon seeing how
pale Magenta’s face was under the interior light of the vehicle. And his bare chest wasn’t rising, refusing
to respond to the treatment imposed on it.
The medics connected various monitors to him, to register any sign of
life, but to Scarlet it seemed all so useless.
“Come on,
buddy, come on!” the one pumping Magenta’s chest was saying. “Come on, breathe, damn it! Help us out, here! You got to make it!” He turned toward a tired-looking and haggard
Scarlet. “What’s his name?”
“W-what?” the
British captain asked in confusion, barely able to think. He shook himself,
forcing the words out: “P-Patrick. His
name is Patrick.”
“Come on,
Patrick!” the man said without a break,
turning again toward Magenta, pushing obstinately on his chest. “You’re going
to make it, you hear? You’re not going to do that to me, Patrick! Nobody ever died on my shift! And I promise you, you’re not gonna be the
first!”
“He… He’s
already dead,” Scarlet murmured, the grim reality sinking in.
“No, he’s
not! He’s not breathing, the pulse is gone, but he’s still there! He’s just gone very deep! And we’ve just got
to bring him back. Come on, Patrick, you hear me in there? You’re going to make
a liar of your friend, okay? Do that
for me, please!”
All that
apparently useless shouting and the all-too-blinding light were getting to
Scarlet. He looked helplessly at the
ashen face of his friend. He felt
nauseous in the stomach. He couldn’t
bear to think that he had lost another partner in the line of duty. A partner who had obviously laid down his
life to save that of a child. And mine as
well, Scarlet added in confusion, recalling the state he was in when he had
regained consciousness earlier. I must have taken a dip in that freezing
water. He must have got me out…
“I have to
contact my superior…” he murmured pointlessly.
He realized nobody was really listening to him; all the efforts were
concentrated on Magenta. The medic who
had taken care of Scarlet went to close the ambulance door and the British
officer, without really thinking about it, followed him with his eyes. The last vision he had of the outside was of
the young woman and her baby, as they were taken away to the other ambulance He
knew he had to talk to her, to find out exactly what had happened, how this
disaster had happened…
“Step on it,
Joe! We may have a chance to save this
one!”
Scarlet
looked down with unbelieving hope at the man who had said those words, at the
moment he felt the ambulance jerk forward. “What… What do you mean? My friend…
He’s… he’s not…”
“I told you,
he still there. I’m sure of it. I already saw that. Now you gonna let me do my job? I’ve got a
life to save!”
Scarlet was
ready to protest when a bleep from the monitor near him almost made him
jump. He looked toward it, almost not
daring to hope.
It seemed
that several seconds passed by before another bleep sounded.
“That a boy,
Patrick!” the enthusiastic medic cried out.
“That’s the way to do it! You’re
going to make it, buddy!”
Scarlet sat
back in silence, looking with obvious uncertainty and complete mystification as
the three medics continued to work to bring Captain Magenta back to life.
On a small promontory,
overlooking the road, a dark figure was watching with cold eyes, gazing down at
the gathering of cars alongside the road, and at the wrecked Spectrum Saloon
car not far from the hole punched into the frozen lake. Then the eyes slowly moved to follow the
ambulance, all sirens and blinking lights on, speeding away from the scene of
the tragedy, toward the hospital and a nearly impossible challenge. That the ambulance was carrying two of his
former friends and colleagues – one of them drowned in the icy waters of the
lake – was of little consequence to the man who had been Conrad Turner –
Captain Black – in a past life. He now
only lived to serve his masters – the Mysterons.
He barely
reacted when another figure came near him and stood by his side, looking down
at the speeding vehicle, with a coldness in his eyes similar to that of
Black’s. Black didn’t even turn around
to acknowledge his presence.
“You know
what you must do,” he told him simply, in a dead, monotonous tone.
*
* *
“It’s called the mammalian diving reflex. It
isn’t a very common phenomenon, but it happens when the right conditions are
there. The way the doctor explained it
to me: it’s when a person falls into
very cold water and then the body’s systems automatically shut themselves
down. Circulation stops, except for the
brain, the heart and the lungs. The
reflex keeps what little is left of the oxygen in the blood so it can be
conveyed to the brain – keeping the body in a state similar to
hibernation. The victim appears to have
drowned. No breath, no heartbeat – no
pulse. Seemingly dead. But he isn’t.”
Seated on the side of the bed, and pulling up
his boots, Captain Scarlet had just finished his quick account to Captain Blue,
who was standing just in front of the door, his arms crossed, listening
silently until his friend had finished. It had been four hours since Scarlet
had made the call to Cloudbase to report what had happened in Vermont. It had
not taken very long for Colonel White to send Blue down to the hospital where
both Scarlet and Magenta had been taken. Blue had presented himself at the
reception desk where he had asked news of his colleagues and where he could
find them. If he had not been surprised
to learn that Captain Scarlet was ‘recovering remarkably well under the
circumstances’, Blue was rather relieved to learn that Magenta’s condition had
now stabilized and that his own recovery was considered satisfactory. Blue had briefly gone to visit him, to find
him lying in a bed, unconscious, breathing regularly through a tube. The doctor being otherwise busy with another
patient, and unable to give him further information, Blue had then gone to
Scarlet’s room, to find his friend was presently dressing himself in his now
dry uniform. It was then that Scarlet briefly
explained about Magenta’s unusual situation.
“I tell you,” Scarlet finished, slipping his
tunic on, “I really thought he’d had it, when I pulled him out of that
lake. He was so pale, no sign of
life… But the medics didn’t give up on
him. They kept trying, and trying,
giving him CPR, pumping his heart, feeding him with oxygen. When I saw the machines they had hooked him
up to, finally showing signs that he was coming back to life, it gave me quite
a start. By the time we arrived at the hospital, his heart was beating faster,
more regularly - and I was told he would probably pull through. It was incredible.”
Blue offered a nod of understanding. “Now YOU know what we’re feeling when you
pull a stunt like that with US,” he noted quietly.
Scarlet answered with a faint smile. “It’s not
quite the same thing, Blue,” he replied, zipping up his tunic. He sighed
heavily. “Even in the best of conditions when that kind of incident happens,
the victim has to receive treatment as soon as possible. We were lucky somebody had witnessed the
accident at the moment it had happened and had immediately called for an
ambulance. Or Magenta may not be alive
as we speak now.”
“Is he expected to make a full recovery?” Blue
asked.
“It’s still not sure. He SHOULD, but, according to the doctors, it’s still touch and
go. It really depends on how much
damage was done to his brain. If it has
been deprived of oxygen for too long…”
Blue could see his friend was rather sombre,
seemingly tired, his eyes looking thoughtfully into space, with a sad
expression in them. The American tilted
his head to the side, with a probing expression. “You’re all right, though?”
“Physically I am,” Scarlet answered gloomily,
“but inside…” He sighed heavily, and
looked down at his hands. “I thought I was going to lose another partner,
Adam.” Blue gave him an enquiring look,
and Scarlet shook his head. “I kept reminding myself of Steve,” he said. “How similar this accident was to that other
one.”
“It was NO accident that other time, Paul.”
“I know.
Believe me, I know.” Scarlet
tiredly ran his hand through his dark hair.
“But… I couldn’t help thinking about it. It WAS a car accident, and we DID go off the road BOTH
times. And Steve and I were
killed. Magenta nearly drowned tonight. No.
Let me rephrase that: he DID
drown. And I was unable to help him.”
“You DID pull him out of the water,” Blue
reminded him. “You saved his life.”
“No, I didn’t.
The medics did the job. Not
me. These people are real heroes. And Pat is, too. HE pulled me out of that lake, I was told. And then, right after
that, went back to save the life of a baby.”
“And that surprises you?”
“No.” Scarlet shook his head sadly. “To think that he was once a wanted criminal
– head of a mob organisation. Every cop
in the world wanted to put him behind bars for life. He devotes his life every day to the safety of this planet… And now he’s lying in a hospital bed.
After…” Scarlet swallowed hard, still
unsettled by the thought of his friend and colleague’s recent ordeal. He cleared his throat, trying to get a grip
on himself and looked Blue squarely in the eyes. “You know, no matter WHAT
people may think about Pat, he’s really a great guy. It’s so unfair that there are still people around thinking badly
of him.”
“They don’t know the real Magenta,” Blue
remarked.
“They don’t know the real Patrick Donaghue,”
Scarlet corrected.
Blue nodded his agreement, watching his partner
as he now kept silent, still brooding over the recent events. He could see it was still troubling him
deeply. He could only guess what his
thoughts could be at the moment. Blue
cleared his throat. The best way to
draw Scarlet from his present state was to keep him occupied. And the best way to keep him occupied was to
force him to think about work.
“I hope the medical personnel didn’t seem too
curious about your own ‘miraculous recovery’?” the blond captain asked. “You
know we don’t want your special ability to raise too many questions…”
Scarlet shook his head, standing up from his
bed. He had noticed in the all-too-official tone of his friend that it was time
for them to come back to business at hand.
“Not to worry. Considering how quickly I had recuperated, they figured I
had been far less touched by the cold than they previously thought.”
Blue raised a curious eyebrow. “Just as simple
as that?”
“That, and the fact that I told them that we
Spectrum agents receive special training to face these kinds of
situations. They bought it.”
“Yeah, well…
eventually, they will realise that Magenta would probably have followed
the same training. I suppose we should take advantage of that temporary
reprieve to get you out of this hospital – before they decide to perform
further tests on you, if only to make sure you’re really okay.”
“I know,” Scarlet nodded. “Colonel White told me
the same thing. That’s why I’m dressed
now, and ready to go.”
“We should take Magenta back to Cloudbase with
us,” Blue added. “If he’s able to travel, of course. I’ll have to see the
doctor who took care of him to make sure of that. I’d prefer it if you don’t come with me, Captain. The further you are from any doctor, the
better it’ll be in regard of your secret.”
“In the meantime,” Scarlet answered, putting on
his cap, “I’ll check on that woman whose baby Magenta saved. I’d like to know what exactly happened on
that road. There are some missing
pieces, and I would like to be able to give the colonel a complete report.”
“As you wish,” Blue conceded. “But stay away from doctors, Scarlet.”
“Don’t worry.
I won’t make Fawn jealous.”
Young Helen Hughes had been brought to the same
hospital as Captains Scarlet and Magenta.
She felt physically fine, aside from a few bruises and a slight
concussion, due to her falling from her car when it had plunged into the
water. Thankfully, the deep snow had
cushioned her landing, protecting her from major injuries. She was presently in a small, quiet room,
where she was to stay overnight, under observation, after she had gone into a
minor shock. Her baby, Scarlet had been
told, was also fine, not the slightest injury, and had been taken to the
nursery, where he’d been sleeping since his arrival, as if nothing at all had
happened.
Scarlet walked to the room that a nurse had
pointed out to him and found the young woman half-slouched in her bed, her eyes
closed, apparently resting. There was a young man sitting on a chair, by her
side, whispering quietly to the baby he was holding in his arms. Scarlet
understood instantly that this was more than probably the child’s father –
Helen Hughes’s husband. Scarlet tapped lightly on the frame of her door; the
man raised his head at the same time the woman opened her eyes. At first, she
didn’t appear to see him, but when she did, she recognized him instantly and
settled herself on the bed, as he walked in.
“Captain… It’s so good to see you!”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Hughes…” Scarlet
started tentatively.
“Oh, not at all! I was just resting my eyes for a minute or two.” By the look of her eyes, she seemed so very
tired, but her voice was calm, if a little slurred. Scarlet was sure that she
had been given some mild tranquilliser. She didn’t seem as surprised as she
ought to be to see him standing there, in full uniform, already recovered from
the accident.
The man by her side stood up. He was eyeing the uniformed captain with a
somewhat jittery look, as if he didn’t know what to say exactly. “Captain…” He
held out his hand to Scarlet, under the baby, clumsily, then seemed to realise
how awkward that gesture seemed in his situation. Scarlet nevertheless shook his hand, as the man introduced
himself: “I’m David Hughes. Helen’s
husband.”
Scarlet
could see he was still on edge; it was likely he hadn’t yet recovered from the
earlier shock of learning of his wife’s accident. He motioned to him to sit down again. Maybe he would feel less nervous if he was comfortable.
“I came as soon as the hospital contacted me
about the accident,” David Hughes continued, clearing his throat. “We have a small inn on the mountain, and
Helen was coming back with the groceries…
If I had known what would happen, I…”
“Please, David,” the young woman interrupted
him, gently, putting a soothing hand on his knee in an attempt to calm him
down. “You don’t need to blame yourself for what happened. It was an accident.” It was odd to see how being the one involved
in the said accident, she was also the one keeping the most serene about it,
and trying at the same time to quiet her husband’s fears. As he gave her a thankful smile, she turned
her eyes to Scarlet. She frowned a
little, however, eyeing him curiously, suddenly realising how surprisingly well
he looked.
“You’re okay? I was wondering about you…”
“I’m all
right,” he confirmed, with a reassuring smile of his own. “Just a little shaken, maybe, but considering
the events, not as hurt as it first appeared.”
“Captain,” David Hughes then said, “I don’t know
where to start… I can’t thank you
enough for saving my son’s life.”
“I had little to do with it, Mr. Hughes,”
Scarlet corrected him. “It was my colleague who did it all.”
Helen could only approve with a faint nod. “He’s
alive, I was told?” she asked, her slightly trembling voice showing her concern
for the man who had saved her son.
Scarlet nodded. “He’s alive, yes. His condition
has stabilized. It’s still a little
uncertain, but he’s expected to recover.”
“I hope he’ll be all right,” Helen said with a
heavy sigh. “We owe him so much! He saved Davey. He didn’t hesitate one
instant to go into that freezing water to get him…” Her voice broke and she
shivered upon remembering the events.
She reached for her husband’s hand and squeezed it, as if trying to draw
from him a little of the strength she couldn’t muster from herself. “Never in my life did I see such
bravery…” She looked Scarlet square in
the eyes. “You were brave too, Captain, to go after your colleague like you
did. But he… He saved our son, and… I
could never forget that.”
Nor
could I,” David added solemnly. “And
we’ll never be able to repay him.”
Scarlet offered them another reassuring smile. “I’ll be sure to tell Captain Magenta how
grateful you are.”
“Magenta…
So that’s his name?” David said. He nodded simply “Are all Spectrum officers as dedicated as
him?”
There
was a fond smile upon Helen’s lips, as she rested her head against the pillow
and stared into empty space. “God bless him, then. And help him recover completely.”
Scarlet’s smile broadened. There
ARE people who’ll be aware of Magenta’s true nature after all, he
thought. What his friend had done was
truly heroic. Sometimes, Scarlet had
reflected how it could seem easy for him to put his life on the line. Well, no, it WASN’T always easy. The eventuality that one day his
retrometabolism would not work was always present in his mind. He was deeply aware that maybe one day,
perhaps he wouldn’t be able to pull it off. But his colleagues – Blue, Ochre,
Grey – and Magenta – they didn’t have to go through this. Their thoughts, their
fears, were different. They knew that if they were unable to pull it off, just
once, it would be final. No welcome
back committee for them. But that
didn’t stop them from risking their lives.
Just like Magenta did, by fishing Scarlet out of the icy waters of the
lake – and going back to save the life of a baby.
He didn’t have second thoughts. He didn’t hesitate one instant. He was needed, and he did what he had to do.
That was the measure of the man Magenta truly
was.
Scarlet pushed the thoughts to the back of his
mind, snapping out of his reverie. He
had a job to do too, at the moment, and those reflections weren’t helping him
any. He wanted to know more about the
accident and what had happened. Maybe
the young couple in front of him would find this unbecoming, and would be even
annoyed by his questions, but he felt that he had to ask them.
He cleared his throat, and dived in. “Mrs. Hughes… I know it must be difficult for you… But about the accident…
Could you tell me exactly what happened?”
She did seem surprised. As did her husband. They exchanged a glance.
“I’m sorry if that sounds rather rude,” Scarlet
then said with an apologetic tone, “But Captain Magenta and I are due back at
base shortly. I need all the
information you can give me, to report to my superior what happened. If you don’t feel up to it, however, I…”
“No,” Helen interrupted him. “It’s okay, don’t
worry.” She sighed heavily. “But I’m afraid all I can say is that it was all my
fault,” she muttered, lowering her gaze, thinking the Spectrum captain was
somehow accusing her.
She felt her husband squeezing her hand.
“Helen?”
“I lost
control of the car,” she explained. “I know it sounds strange, but… I wasn’t
going that fast.” She glanced back to her husband to reassure him. “Really, I
wasn’t, you know I how careful I am with Davey in the car.” The weary eyes she turned back to Scarlet
were convincing enough. He simply
nodded his assent. “Suddenly,” she continued, “the engine was racing, I
couldn’t stop it. The road was very slippery, as you know and… I guess I wasn’t able to react in time to
avoid a collision.”
“The engine raced?” David said with a puzzled
frown.
She turned to him. “I remember you did have the
car checked recently, I know,” she told him.
“Yes, I did,” David said, chewing his lip.
“Apparently, the mechanic missed something.”
“A mechanical failure then,” Scarlet said,
nodding.
She smiled sadly. “I suppose people must be
saying that ALL the time. But it’s the truth, Captain.”
“I believe you, Mrs. Hughes. And… after that? Are you able to tell me
what happened?”
“Oh… I lost consciousness and I guess I was
thrown out of the car.” She felt the hand of her husband tense under hers. “When I came to, your friend was already
swimming you back ashore. My car had punched a hole through the ice on the
lake, and was half sunk. I was still confused, and I was looking around for
Davey. By the time Captain Magenta
hauled you out of the water, I realised where my baby was.” As calmly as she could, Helen Hughes then
related Magenta’s valiant efforts to free little Davey from his precarious
position, despite the fact that he was obviously exhausted from his earlier dip
in the freezing water; then she told how, just seconds after the baby had been
rescued, the car had gone under, taking Magenta with it. All the while, her
husband was keeping quiet, obviously trying this way to support her.
“I was desperate,” she explained finally. “I didn’t know what to do, you see, I…” She
lowered her head, ashamed of what she was about to say. “I can’t swim. If I had
tried to go into the water myself, I would only have made matters worse. All I could do was call for help, but nobody
answered. And then I tried to wake you.
I was lucky you came to, then, in time to save your friend.”
Scarlet nodded slowly and stood up. “Magenta is
the one who’s lucky, Mrs. Hughes,” he said gently. “You helped to save him. We
owe you our thanks.”
“Please, Captain,” she then replied. “It is us
who owe him our thanks.”
“Considering the way he put his life in danger
to save our baby,” David agreed.
“He was the one in need of help after that,”
Helen continued. “What I did was the
only natural thing to do. It’s what
anybody in my position would have done.”
“Well, apparently, NOT everybody in this world
thinks the same as you,” her husband suddenly growled.
Scarlet gave him an inquiring look. There was a dark intonation of loathing in
his voice that was now fairly apparent in his features. His wife waved a soothing gesture in his
direction.
“David, I don’t think now’s the moment to…”
“How can you be so calm about this?” her husband
suddenly interrupted her, frowning in disbelief. “This is something serious, darling. Somebody turned his back on another human being in need! It’s just pure luck Captain Magenta didn’t
die.”
“Well, I’m not saying I’m not as disgusted as
you over it, but…”
“What happened?” Scarlet asked. He was rather
perplexed by the couple’s current conversation. They looked toward him and saw his inquiring frown. At first, they seemed embarrassed that he
had to witness their antics; but David then lifted his chin, like a man who had
suddenly realised he had nothing to hide.
“It’s something Helen told me, earlier,” he
finally said. Scarlet could see there was some resentment in his eyes.
Helen sighed. “You remember you sent me over the
road to call for help, when you dived in to save your friend?”
Scarlet nodded. “Yes, and you flagged down some
cars as they passed by.”
“Well, just before that, as I was climbing to
reach the road, I distinctly saw someone there in the woods. There was a man
just standing there, watching the accident. I called for him to help. He didn’t even answer me.”
Scarlet frowned. “A man?”
“As I came back down, I noticed that there were
two of them, in fact,” Helen corrected. “I saw the second man as they went
away, turning their backs on me. The
nerve… I couldn’t believe anyone could do a thing like that!”
“Can you imagine?” snorted David
derisively. “They didn’t offer
assistance to a person in deadly danger!”
“Can you describe those men?” Scarlet asked
Helen, trying to ignore David’s remark.
The young woman frowned, trying very hard to
remember, “I… can’t really recall... I
was so panicky at the time, and… I was so blind with anger that somebody
wouldn’t answer a call for help… It’s
just… The first man I saw was dressed in dark clothing… And the second, I can’t say, I didn’t see
him that clearly. I must admit, it was quite dark by the time I got back from
the road. Only his outline. All I can say is that he was a shade taller than
his friend.” She smiled sadly. “Nothing
to go on, I’m afraid.”
“Which is a real shame,” mumbled David. “Those guys ought to be brought to
justice! Why, that kind of behaviour
isn’t just totally sickening! It’s
criminal!”
His wife concurred. “Why, yes. It is criminal! What kind of men would stay up in the woods and look on as a
tragedy happens?”
“One can only guess,” Scarlet murmured, a
thoughtful look on his face. There was something nagging him, in the back of
his mind, but he didn’t dare think his suspicions could be true.
And
what if…
He shook himself. Well, it may very well be only a dark suspicion from his
overactive mind – maybe he had seen too much in his time and was going
paranoid. Just in case, however, he took
a card from his pocket, wrote a few words on it, and handed it to Helen. “Mrs
Hughes, if you do remember something else about this accident, or those men… or
anything you think may be useful – even if it’s only a small detail – can you
contact Spectrum? We… That is I would appreciate it greatly.”
The Hugheses looked at him with the same
questioning expression. “Of course, Captain,” Helen said, nodding vigorously.
“If it can help you…” She frowned. “But
it was only a dumb accident… It’s that
important to you?”
He smiled gently. “It was an accident, yes, Mrs.
Hughes. But I have to present as
complete a report as I can to my superior.”
He then extended his hand to the young woman. “Thank you very much, Mrs.
Hughes. I won’t take any more of your
time. You need your rest, and to be
alone with your husband.” He shook
hands with the young woman, then her husband, to whom he addressed an
encouraging smile. “You’ve got one tough
wife, Mr. Hughes.”
“I know,” the man smiled back. “And I’m SO lucky
to have her.”
“I’ll take my leave, then…”
Scarlet was about to walk away, when Helen
Hughes reached for his hand again, and clutched it tightly between hers. “When
you’re able to talk to Captain Magenta… do tell him of our gratitude, please?”
Scarlet nodded his agreement, addressing her and
her husband a last, somewhat uneasy smile.
“Take care of the baby,” he said finally. He then left them, closing the door behind
him. He stood there for a moment, disturbing thoughts still brewing inside his
mind. There was something in what Helen Hughes had told him… But really, he
couldn’t see WHY he was so concerned.
And yet, what if he had been RIGHT in the first
place, comparing that accident with the one that had claimed both his life and
Captain Brown’s, some years earlier?
Could there really be some similitude between the two events?
Those two men Helen had seen – one dressed in
dark clothing… Could it be…?
Snap out of
it, Metcalfe! There’s certainly not
just one person in this world wearing dark clothes!
And unfortunately, there will always be people walking away
from an accident without offering assistance.
That incident by the lake didn’t mean anything.
Maybe he was
getting paranoid.
But the suspicions didn’t leave Captain Scarlet
as he walked down the corridor. He couldn’t escape them. And so, he didn’t
discard them completely.
He had the niggling impression that they would
come back to haunt him in a very short time…
* * *
Ben
Fisher opened the door of the lower basement room known amongst the members of
his now extended mob gang as ‘The Drop’.
The only furniture in the room was one solitary chair, set right next to
a large trap door on the floor, which could be opened by pulling a big metal
lever fixed to it. The trapdoor led
straight down to the Hudson River, which passed right under the building, a
storehouse used for the gang’s operations, and located on the harbour docks.
“Mr.
Fisher…” Matt Riordan looked about the
room apprehensively. The storehouse wasn’t used ONLY for passing in transit
illicit goods. This room had another,
primary, purpose. One that Riordan wasn’t really comfortable with. “Is this
really necessary?”
“Tell
me, Matt, you’re loyal to me, right?” Fisher asked casually, as he pulled
slightly on the trap handle, as if to inspect that the door would still open up
smoothly.
“Of
course, Mr Fisher, I just…” Riordan stopped short as Fisher turned an accusing
glare on him.
“What? Not up to the job, Matt? I can find someone who is!”
Riordan
clenched his jaw. Fisher’s methods were
different to Patrick Donaghue’s, Riordan’s former boss and friend, that was
certain; and when Fisher threatened, he meant it. Riordan may have harboured deep misgivings about those methods
and his involvement in them, but, as ever, Riordan’s powerful instincts of
self-preservation would always prevent him making any move or committing any
action that would precipitate his own demise.
“I’m
with you, every step of the way, Mr Fisher,” he replied with a resigned sigh.
Fisher
smiled inwardly; Riordan was a handy guy to have around. He had been with the mob since its
inception, when Donaghue had gathered together several groups of uncoordinated
and largely unsuccessful smaller syndicates to take the underworld by
storm. He knew everything there was to
know under Donaghue’s regime, including his Spider’s
Web accounting techniques.
Maintaining dozens of legal accounts, all interlinked, with money moving
rapidly amongst them, had held off the World Government Police Corps for years. Yes, they knew about many of their illegal
operations but had been utterly unable to find a shred of evidence to
substantiate their claims. Donaghue had
boasted that not one single arrest had ever been made from his Syndicate. After Gabriel James had taken over
Donaghue’s operations, after the latter had mysteriously disappeared, that
particular record fell almost immediately.
James was ruthless enough, certainly, but Donaghue had proved that it
was intelligence and sheer ingenuity that had made the Syndicate what it was up
until his departure. Fisher was
determined to return it to its former glory by bringing the best of both
principles. He was ruthless and tough,
yes, he would prove that today, but also Fisher was no fool. Whilst even he would admit that he couldn’t
compete with Donaghue, whose skill and flair had been almost legendary, his own
successes in the past had been significant enough to earn respect and favour
from his peers. Now he ran certainly
the biggest mob in history: his, the deceased Mark Abbott’s and Donaghue’s
combined. He was not about to
relinquish that, nor the respect he enjoyed, and certainly not because of
Riordan’s squeamishness.
Fisher
looked up, and his expression hardened as the door opened again and two men
walked briskly into the room, dragging a third between them. Two other men followed them at a slightly
slower pace. Those men now gathering in
the room were the core of Fisher’s new Syndicate. Josh Kirby, his right hand man, significantly younger, but
intelligent and loyal; Jack Harper, a violent thug, loyal only to himself but
willing to attach himself like a parasite to almost anyone he believed could
offer him advancement; Jeff Tyler, one of Fisher’s original Syndicate, who was
in his late twenties, and who had spent five years in prison for armed robbery
before joining up with Fisher’s mob, considering there to be safety in numbers.
He was trained as an engineer, and there was very little his quick
technically-adept mind couldn’t build with the minimum available to him. And
finally Sean O’Rourke, who had been a member of Donaghue’s Syndicate, an
explosives expert; no lock, alarm system or safe was a problem for him.
The
fifth man who had been dragged into the room was Aidan Mahoney, also one of
Donaghue’s men. That is, he was.
“Sit
down, Mahoney.” Fisher’s voice was cold. It was so very plain that he was
angry.
Tyler
and O’Rourke dragged Mahoney to the single chair in the room, pushed him into
it and stood menacingly, one on either side.
Mahoney looked about his surroundings nervously, a cold sweat on his
forehead and eyes wide in panic. He’d
heard of this room; they all had, but nobody ever wanted to see it for
themselves. But for the remaining six people in the room, there were few people
who ever saw it twice.
Mahoney
looked in the direction of the open door.
So close… Could he dare make a run for it? Fisher could almost read his
mind, and a cold smile spread across his lips. A massive silhouette then
entered the room, very quietly; Mahoney’s hope automatically left him, when he
saw the mountain of a man who was Robert “Ox” Oxbury closing the door and then
taking three steps to stand like a rock not far from it. Ox was the gang’s enforcer, like Mahoney,
formerly of Donaghue’s days. He wasn’t
very quick in thinking, but he was certainly quick in reaction – and as strong
as his nickname led to believe. There
was no way Mahoney would be able to reach the door without being crushed by
Ox’s huge hands.
Jack Harper leaned up against the wall
opposite the chair and smirked malevolently.
But for the agitated breathing of Mahoney, the room was silent. Slowly, Jack cracked the knuckles of his
right hand. Each hollow pop echoed
menacingly around the room. Never
taking his eyes off the terrified man sitting uneasily in the chair, Jack
cracked all of his left knuckles at once with a sickening resonant sound. Mahoney’s mind worked overtime as he watched
Jack prepare for what he assumed would be a beating. As the last knuckle popped, Mahoney sat forward in the chair only
to be pulled back viciously by Tyler and O’Rourke.
“Please! Mr Fisher!” he spluttered in panic. “I don’t know what you’ve
heard but I didn’t do anything!”
“You’ve
been disloyal, Aidan,” Fisher spoke slowly as he paced in front of the chair.
“And I don’t like people being disloyal to me.”
“No,
Mr Fisher, I’ve been loyal to you!”
Mahoney’s
voice shook under the pressure of the situation. Sitting forward once more as
Fisher passed him, he put his hand out as if to beg him to listen. Pulled back once more, his shoulders slammed
back onto the wooden frame of the chair, his head continuing in hyper-flexion.
He felt the agonising pain of something pop in the back of his neck before it
flopped forward again under the action of his muscles desperate to restore a
natural position. O’Rourke’s hand grabbed his hair and pulled back his head
painfully, compelling him to cry out.
“Please,
Mr Fisher, I didn’t do anything. You
have to believe me!” he said, trying to look up at Fisher as he walked past him
once more, but the pain shooting down his neck into his shoulder blades was
excruciating.
“You
went to the police, Aidan.” Fisher stopped directly in front of him and turned
to look him squarely in the eyes. “More
than once, isn’t that right?”
“No,
Sir, I didn’t. I’ve been loyal!”
Mahoney
lifted a hand once more, then screamed in agony as Tyler removed his gun from
its holster and smashed the butt down on Mahoney’s wrist.
“Keep
still!” he whispered threateningly into Mahoney’s ear.
“What
makes you think I went to the police, Mr Fisher?” Mahoney whimpered.
“You
spoke to Captain Brealey, you gave him information on our plans to hijack a
gold shipment,” Fisher stated frostily.
“No,
Sir!” Mahoney cried emphatically.
“Only
you knew about that, Mahoney, Fisher growled. “Only you.”
“That’s not possible, I’m just a driver, I’m the last to
know! Someone else must have done
it. But not me, Mr Fisher. You’ve got to believe me!”
“We’ve
suspected you for some time, Mahoney, and we set you up. The hijack plans? They weren’t true! And you were the only one
to know about them. We made sure of that!”
“No,
Mr Fisher. Mr Harper told me, so he
knew too! It must have been him.”
“Why,
you…!” began Jack in a low growl as he pushed himself away from the wall.
Fisher
waved his arm in a calming gesture.
Jack stopped unwillingly in his tracks as Kirby grabbed his arm to pull
him back.
“Well,
maybe I should tell you about your other mistake, Aidan. A deadly mistake.
Captain Brealey… works for us!” Fisher
reached inside his jacket and withdrew his gun. “Nobody!” he yelled. “Nobody betrays me!”
Mahoney’s
eyes widened still further as he looked in terror at the gun and the wild eyes
of Fisher behind it.
A
single bullet was all it took to snuff out the life of the informant. Mahoney
slumped onto the chair, with a last jerk, then stayed motionless. Fisher grunted with satisfaction as he
returned the gun to its holster.
“Weigh
him down and drop him,” he ordered, stepping to the back of the room so he
could address all of the men standing in front of him. He could see the uncomfortable look in Matt
Riordan’s eyes, as well as the faint glitter in both Ox and O’Rourke’s. Those three weren’t used to his methods of
‘doing business’. They were Donaghue’s
men, and under Donaghue’s regime, there were no killings. Gabriel James had not been squeamish about
it, and so Fisher didn’t think that O’Rourke or even Ox would disapprove of
Mahoney’s execution. But Fisher was aware that these men didn’t like him that
much, and the way he had taken over after James’s and Abbott’s demises. That
was why this display had become necessary to Fisher. He had to show them all he was boss.
“And
let that be a lesson!” he added, in a threatening and arrogant tone. “I don’t ask much. Loyalty and commitment, that’s all. I get that and you stay alive and out of jail, understand?”
The group before him answered, each in their own way,
nodding or by verbal acceptance. Fisher
looked at them all in turn, still only offering them little more than an angry
frown.
“Good. Any one of you gives me cause to doubt you,
and you’re dead. No exceptions!”
The
door behind them opened and a man, dressed smartly in an expensive and stylish
suit, entered the room. In surprise, they turned around, at first not reacting
to the presence of this man in this place. In one hand, the newcomer was
holding a small, smouldering cigarillo.
With his free hand, he casually removed a pair of dark sunglasses and
closed them with the flick of his wrist.
“No
exceptions, Ben?” he asked nonchalantly, taking a quiet puff off his cigar.
The
group’s reactions were as interesting as they were varied.
Having
never met the newcomer, only knowing him by name and reputation, neither Tyler
nor Kirby recognised him, or if they did they weren’t absolutely
certain. Jack curled his lip in a sneer
of hatred. Riordan seemed simply
astonished. As were Ox and O’Rourke, each fixing a disbelieving stare on the
newcomer.
Fisher
was the first to vocalise his surprise, staring with wide eyes at the man
simply standing there in front of them, still smoking without any concern.
“Donaghue?”
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