No WInners! – An original short story rom Bryan (Nod) Wilson

Don Lenoir wheeled the gleaming green Greeves out into the sun in front of the shed, it was new to him and he was enjoying getting to know it. He had become familiar with the Greeves bikes overseas and liked them for their simplicity and because they were a very competent off-road machine, so when he saw this 1954 single up for sale he indulged himself. It was completely the opposite sort of motorcycle to the big VTR1000 twin Honda that it shared the garage with. He waved idly to his daughter as she went up the stairs to the house. Turning back to the little scrambler he checked the fuel and decided it was a perfect day for a little more bonding with it on the trails down to the coast. The phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and answered it without speaking, listened a few moments and closed the call. He pushed the Greeves back into the garage and pulled the door down.

In the house, his wife Emma looked up with a start as Judith swung the door open.

“Hi Mum, what guilty secret are you tucking away from me there?” She asked, indicating the black bag that Emma had quickly closed.

“Oh just a part of my tramping kit”.

“Are you off on a hike again?”

“No, I just like to have it ready.”

“Oh yeah. So what was this “I need to talk to you” message all about?” Judith challenged.

“We will get to that,” Emma replied,” but first tell me, in the last two days has anything unusual happened?”

“To me? No, unless you include Carl shouting me a hair makeover in that category.”

“They have made a lovely job.”

“The hair dresser was a prat though, got giggling to one of her mates and wanged the drier against my head. They were all sorry, sorry Madam, Madam  and did my eyebrows for free.” said Judith laughing.

Emma stood up and said simply

“Where?”

Her tone alarmed Judith so she pointed to a spot on the right side of her head. Emma immediately began closely examining the area.

“Got it!” exclaimed Emma who marched over to her computer and started rapidly typing and plugging boxes and drives into it.

After a few minutes she said. “Jammed it! That was on a band I didn’t expect so let's get it out before they switch it.” With that she flicked open a wicked looking knife that appeared in her hand from nowhere and cradling Judith's head flipped a tiny skin coloured object out onto her shoulder. She momentarily held it out to Judith then crushed it on the desk.

“They bugged you.”

“Mum you are freaking me out. What the fuck is going on?”

“Calm down now, it is very important to be calm”.

“Mum, when did you learn how to use a computer like that? Or a flick knife for that matter?”

“You don’t know much about me, but now you need to know. I learnt how to use a computer like that programming missile trajectories. I went on from there to work with an agency that interfered with another country's politics. That made them very angry and they have been trying to make us pay from time to time.”

“Not a school teacher then. Where does Dad fit into this?”

Emma paused, she had seen Don enter the room quietly a few moments ago.

“He was sent to look after me. To keep us safe. And here we are safe, until now.”

“Max called. It is category three now. Maria is coming to visit, travelling with her family.” Said Don perfunctorily.

Emma sat in silence for a moment, seemingly thinking something through.

“Tell us about your boyfriend, Carl. What do you know about him?” Don asked.

“You can leave him right out of it! I am not putting up with this. He’s my affair. How did you know about him, anyway?”

Don carried on, “His name is Frank, he has been active and very successful over the last couple of years. His operational name is Walter. You are his target, he will be wanting to use you to get closer to us before he kills you.”

Judith was looking open mouthed from her mother to her father.

“You two are fucking nuts.”

“Which is why we are sending you to Malta.” Emma added.

“I am not, not, going to Malta! Why would I go to Malta. Why would they want to kill me?”

“Because they are tidy like that. They don't leave loose ends.”

Frank cradled the stock against his cheek like an old friend. He could cover the walkway from the carpark to the main doors, now it was just about patience until she showed. He was confident she would come. 20:15 was in five minutes.

Pffft.

No one would have heard the shot as Frank’s head dropped forward, seeping blood from the small hole in his temple. From the carpark came the sound of a big vee-twin motorcycle unhurriedly making its way to the street.

“Here, you might want to pack some warmer gear. You might want to travel around a bit.”

Don handed her a large jacket.

Judith barely acknowledged it, maintaining the persona she had adopted since “my whole fucking world and what I believed in has turned upside down”.

Emma came in with several photographs of a man.

“This is the man who will contact you. Look at it carefully and closely, you must be able to recognise him. Note the small scar above his left eye, the colour of his eyes, the small mole below his left ear, the tip of the fourth finger of the left hand is also missing, you can’t see that in the photograph so it is the most important thing to look for. He will not, repeat not, use a name. He will ask you what you would like to call him when he is ready. You will reply that Jacques sounds nice.” Judith studied the photographs and handed them back wordlessly.

“When you have identified this man you will do exactly what he says without hesitation. I will show them to you again before you go.” Emma added.

Emma took Judith's head in her hands, looking straight into her face and almost whispered,

“Whatever you are thinking, this is very real and you are irrevocably a part of it. I would wish away anything for it to not be the case. I am sorry.”

Landing in Malta Judith cleared customs and walked out into the public foyer where a man approached her, a well-dressed, athletic type.

“Hello, I am sent from the hotel to meet you, my name is Max. I have a car waiting.”

“You have the wrong person” she said as she walked around him to the exit and the taxis.

“I am sure I haven’t, they gave me a photo, I am to take you to your accommodation.” he said as he reached for the handle of her bag. She didn't let it go and a small struggle began to ensue. She was hyper-alert to her surroundings now and noticed one of the taxi drivers moving towards her and as he did he flicked a meaningful glance to someone over her shoulder. In moments a uniformed airport security officer had a firm grip on the arm of her assailant. And with a rattle of conversation in what she guessed was Maltese the man was led protesting away.

The taxi driver approached her and said,

“I am sorry about that miss, that is not the way we like to treat visitors. If you like I can take you to your hotel.”

“Thank you, I hadn’t booked one but if you take me to one of the chain ones that isn’t too expensive, that would be great.”

“Certainly.”

“Unless you can suggest a local one that has nice views.”

“I can.” He said. “There is one I know well. It is run by friends of mine.”

They stopped in the set down area of an attractive but older hotel.

“If you just wait in the car, miss, I will check that they have a vacancy.”

He returned shortly and told her they did have a vacancy and unloaded the bags, wheeling them through the doors for her into the light of the foyer. He took off his cap and looked her straight in the face, almost posing for a moment so that she could see the small scar and the mole. Then she thanked him and paid him, noticing the missing fingertip as she handed him the notes.

“In the morning, if you wish to use my services again, you can call this number.” He said, handing her a small card with only a phone number on it.

She did as he suggested and in the morning the taxi arrived as promised and as she slid onto the seat next to him said

“Thank you. I realise I have no name for you.”

“What would you like to call me?”

“I think Jacques, yes Jacques is nice.”

“Then I am Jacques. I am so happy to meet you again after all these years.”

“Meet me again?”

“You were only three then. Now where shall I take you first?”

“Breakfast and a coffee would make an excellent start.” She said.

Don and Emma sat at the kitchen table with a Chinese takeaway and considered their options. Emma played an input role but deferred to Don’s decisions, as tactics were where he excelled. Emma was for a surprise assault because they knew there were at least four of them, but Don decided, instead, on a two layered defence, which meant they were working in conjunction but on their own. He wanted to force them to attack when and where it suited him, not them. The plan took shape slowly and revolved around a cabin that Don had sourced for precisely this scenario. Eventually each had a clear role and they were ready. They had done this sort of work together in the past and knew each other's strengths.

There were a few fraught ad hoc adjustments to the plan as the evening selected progressed but Emma knew that it was all over when she heard the little Greeves putt-putting up the trail to the meeting place in a leisurely fashion, rather than the banshee wail that would have had her out of the Range Rover and into a firing position. All the public knew of the night was “Five foreign nationals were found dead under unexplained circumstances near a small town in the Mangaweka area.”

Don pushed for news of Maria but she couldn’t be located. He knew her from long ago and was aware how dangerous she could be. So only after two weeks of waiting and watching did they sound the all clear for Judith to return.

Don met Judith at the airport in the old Range Rover and discovered a transformed and exuberant girl.

“I had such a great time Dad, Jacques took me all around on an old bike like yours but a road one, a Greeves too. Yes it was blue with a white seat and two cylinders and I even got to ride it, although Jacques looked terribly worried while I was doing it. I think he was more worried for the bike than me. He said it was Mum’s old bike but I didn’t believe him, I mean, Mum on a bike!”

“It was her bike, she rode it everywhere, so much so that it made her too recognisable.” Don interrupted.

“Really? We went to shows and restaurants and explored the famous caves that he knew really well. And the wine! My god the wine is Divine!”

Eventually they arrived home and Don said “You go up love, I have to pop down to the garage to pick up a tyre. Then I will bring your cases up.” Judith bounded up the stairs and in the kitchen found her mother cooking scones.

“Mum, what a trip. I had so much fun. The guy Jacques was wonderful. We went around on an old blue motorbike because it was so warm every day. We went swimming, exploring, what a life.” She hugged her Mum.

“So he still has my old bike. He said he would keep it. It was a huge thing for him to see you again … his daughter. That was your father.”

“You love keeping me in the dark.” She said, taken aback. “Why didn’t you tell me before I went!”

“ You had enough to think about.”

“Well now I have two fathers and I am proud of both of them.” she said after a moment of quiet thought, feeling the elation of the moment again.

“Whip the cream for me please, love.”

“Phew, it’s a bit off.” Said Judith pouring it into a bowl. “I’ll run down and get some more.” turning and bounding down the stairs.

“No, wait for Don!” Emma called after her but it fell on deaf ears as she heard the door close to the street.” She paused what she was doing for a moment and put her hand on her black bag, weighing a decision in her head, then turned back to the task in hand.

Judith strode buoyantly down the street the hundred yards towards the small shop. Her thoughts on the news of her father.

A lady from the bus stop stood up quickly as she got to it, blocking her path so suddenly that they almost collided, and with a big smile said,

“Judith, welcome home.”

Too late she remembered the same lady giving her that smile on the plane. The lady threw an arm around her with a too-tight embrace and she felt the hard lump of the small derringer type weapon against her chest a heartbeat before the muffled shot.

The lady gently lowered the slumped body into a sitting position on the bench and, closing her coat, walked away.

Emma froze as she felt a slight breeze from outside come up the stairs, then she heard a soft footfall. She reached for the black bag again and this time took out a small stun grenade and the FN. Emma had every sense heightened and smelt a tiny hint of perfume, one she recognised with alarm. She knew who was on the stairs. On the next small noise she threw the grenade and launched herself through the doorway firing as she went. At the same time she heard the bark of Don’s gun from below. She looked at the figure of the lady slumped against the wall, arms thrown wide, machine pistol dropped on the floor. The dying eyes of Maria focused on her and she attempted a smile as she murmured.

“Still using that old FN, Juliet. “

Emma didn’t answer but fired one last shot.

Don walked up the stairs, and now put his arm around Emma’s shoulders and steered her to the kitchen table. Emma looked up at him with a frightened expression.

“Yes, she got her, at the bus stop.”

Emma dropped her head on the table.

“There were no winners on this one.” Don said after a few moments.

“There are never any winners in this game.” Emma said putting the FN back in the bag.

“We had better go.” Don said.

“Yes, we had better go.” She said picking up the bag and heading for the stairs.

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