Six months previously . . . .
It was a Saturday and here I was, sat in the driving seat of my car, cold and with a muzzy head. The clock on the dash display told me it was almost half past two in the afternoon.
There in the passenger seat alongside me was a slightly bulging wallet held together by some taught elastic bands wrapped round it. I reached over and picked it up; it was a holiday tour company’s wallet. I slipped the elastic bands off. Inside were tickets for a holiday to Jamaica, a brochure and a plastic moneybag bulging with Jamaican dollars.
I counted the dollars; the total came to $200,000, in crisp clean notes. I was shocked and nearly dropped it all over the floor. I caught the bundle of notes and the wallet, rapidly separating as they started to fall and roughly directed them loosely onto the passenger seat. I found and glanced at the money exchange receipt. I was holding some £1,100 in Jamaican currency. “Phew!” I exclaimed aloud in a gasp, my head clearing quickly.
For a moment, I thought I must have robbed a bank; I was sure I had not. Even so, where had I obtained the kind of money needed not only to buy a holiday with, but also have this amount of spending money in cash?
A mobile phone rang.
This was not my phone, mine was much smaller and not one of these ‘I’ type phones, which I did not like. I was carrying a different phone to my normal one; why, where was it?
I was an old hand and had always preferred a phone that made telephone calls and not much else but there, now and in my hand, was the green incoming call display button illuminated, flashing, on this new-fangled device. So I swiped my finger across the screen, regardless, hoping it would work and listened.
“Where have you been, Ian?” came the firm demanding tone. “I’ve been trying to contact you since lunch time; do you know what the time is?”
Hazel’s dulcet tones hit my eardrums with force. I sat back in my seat and thought about the questions.
“Where had you been, you fool, come on, get the old grey stuff working. Pull yourself together and find a sensible reply for Hazel or she’ll have your proverbials.”
I had to focus and pull myself together. I was now approaching the end of a lengthy career in engineering that had started way back as a sixteen year old ‘on-the-tools’ in a iron foundry. I had learnt then about developing into a man by a hard nosed, ex-army chap but who was also a great mentor. I was placed in his ‘care’ to learn the trade of fitter on the job. All of the men I worked with and learnt from were the salt of the earth but, to a man, all rough diamonds and hard nosed survivors in a dangerous world.
Finishing my time, I had managed to secure a position as a draughtsman with the local steel company, having taken all the right courses at college, passed some exams and now with an inside view of real engineering. I had thoroughly enjoyed expressing my creative side. Solving problems, often graphically, and having the solutions tested on site, successfully I might add, became an enjoyment. I was building up speed solving problems and could not get enough challenges.
I had been raised by my grandparents, my grandfather being an army veteran of WW2, and the bug to join up and serve was also in my blood. So after a great spell on a drawing board among some great new friends, I did just that; joined up. Here I learned about really being hard and surviving but again I also enjoyed every minute. The experience was welcomed but I broke back into engineering by accident as the army, in their wisdom, had decided to employ my engineering talents in the strife that was the province of Northern Ireland.
Experience upon experience was becoming my lot, in a new and different type of engineering while soldiering in civvie clothes, undercover you might say. I had to be sharp, aware and be skilled at reading situations, particularly to stay alive. I didn’t stand fools gladly; one or two uniforms, junior to me, which I encountered, got the edge of my tongue if they thought they were dealing with a long haired civvie.
I found a new world alongside civilians that I could take maximum advantage of. Life was different within this organisation; we all seemed to work as equals with little rank structure. The bosses were still the bosses and I had to toe the line as the other guys did to make sure I blended in properly. Carrying out project work away from the security of the office or local base could be stressful however but this could be mitigated by being mentally sharp assessing everything while on the move, truly thinking on my feet.
I eventually left the forces formally but stayed on in the civvie organisation stepping back into genuine civilian life as a working engineering designer. If anything my approach to personal security had possibly sharpened up a bit; I had felt exposed no longer having a military force behind me.
Having returned to the mainland, where my edgy, proactive approach to all situations gave me an advantage over the genuine civvies, it did seem like I had hit the big time.
Standing out had its advantages. But things never seemed to run smoothly forever as no sooner had I spent six years climbing the ladder of promotion, when the entire organisation was shut down by the government of the time.
That forced me to take the most beneficial leap of faith ever by joining a professional engineering consultancy. I had to prove myself here all over again where the risk to one’s health was either from the principal or from the oft encountered obnoxious clients, not from flying bullets or explosions.
That now became my chosen path and for many years I enjoyed it all including the stress, that I insisted the team I found myself leading had also to experience or accept that they were not pulling their weight. Handling stress was second nature to me and I had no problem driving a team of guys to provide what I wanted.
Now life was so different. The years had passed, companies folded or changed hands and I was now working as an individual contracting consultant where my decisions determined how many tens of thousands of pounds would be spent. Make mistakes, costing your employer money would be the end of the road. The stress at this stage in what was left of a career had not disappeared but the response had had to be different and with advancing age a mellowing had taken place; it simply had to.
I had but months to go to retirement now and the pace had dropped off. I was managing work properly now to avoid stress, the result of ‘trying’ a heart attack a few years back, and with no wish to try another. I had been wrong about the stress I so enjoyed and had insisted upon; I really had mellowed a great deal. I think my colleagues at this time had breathed a big sigh of relief. The sharp replies and style of instruction had not left me but the pace of delivery was more easy going. I had had to slow down and putting in the extra work that kept coming my way had to be accommodated gently but not at any great speed.
I was sat here reminiscing for some reason and putting off perhaps, facing just what it was that I had been up to today with an explanation for Hazel. A lifetime of events brought to mind had passed, quite possibly, in only a few moments. It gave me some comfort that I could still think at speed if not implement what I was thinking of at an equal pace.
“Come on you silly sod, get a grip of today’s reality and sort out your head.”
I looked at my watch; it was four in the afternoon. Four pm, where the hell had I been? I could not remember, not like me at all; senior moments I could do without.
I tried hard, remembering leaving home late this morning, at about ten I think, and travelling into town to sort out a last minute deal on a holiday.
“Ah-ha! I’m going on a holiday; that explains the money.”
A voice was echoing within my head telling me that we had to get away quickly, for whatever reason, something that had happened, but of which I could not seem to recall.
The grey stuff did not want to perform properly and I did not remember having a few shots of the good stuff at the local tavern in town. This again was not like me. I was quite partial to a drop of the ‘water of life’ if the chance arose, there again I was driving and in such circumstances I would usually abstain.
I realised, not sure how, that it had become imperative for Hazel and I to get away quickly after something or other had occurred, but now any details would simply not come to mind. There was a feeling of urgency in my thoughts, an urgency that felt very real, almost as a panic, but why?
“Trust your instincts and feelings,” I thought to myself, “they will help you out of this mess as they have many times in the past. Remember your military experience, that Hazel dislikes you reminding yourself of, and find a course of action, if only in words.”
“Are you still there? What’s the matter, has something else happened? You’ve gone very quiet.”
The well-recognised but thundering tone in my ear coming from this unrecognised and strange phone had not quite reduced to a sympathetic questioning; not yet, but I desperately needed it to.
“I’ve no idea,” I replied flatly. “I mean, I’m still here and no, nothing has happened, except somewhat strangely, I can’t remember.”
“Can’t remember what?”
“I don’t know,” I managed. "I don't know what I can't remember."
“That was a stupid answer.”
“Can’t remember where I’ve been,” I tried again, “or what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m sitting here in my car about to drive home, with all the holiday stuff from the travel agents, but I can’t remember anything after leaving home this morning,” my voice developing a tremble. I assumed that I had left home this morning, I didn’t really know.
"I must have been to a travel agents, there's a bundle of tickets and stuff alongside me, but I'm damned if I can remember anything about it."
“Just get home quickly. Are you OK to drive? You’ve not been drinking have you?"
The direction of questioning had changed completely.
“No love,” I replied, “but I could do with a drink right now.”
“You’re driving, do not be drinking,” she came back at me sharply; that made sense.
“This sounds like another weird event, like the last time,” she continued, “I hope it isn’t.”
“Is it another one; are you OK?”
“Just get home quick.”
“Do you feel OK?”
“Tell me, are you able to drive?”
The questions from Hazel were now being delivered like bullets to ricochet inside my head. I did feel sort of strange, a bit delicate, like a light hangover, but no head thumping, just an odd, not quite real feeling. And I knew that I had not been drinking; I wished perhaps that I had. This feeling was not a hangover.
“I’m OK,” I lied. “I’ll be on my way now; back home in about thirty minutes, see you shortly love.”
The phone call was ended. I knew that I had lied but what else could I do.
“You dumb bastard, Hazel will tear into you for that. You can’t even make sense to yourself.”
Hazel referred to and ‘knew’ what had happened the ‘last time’; I didn’t. What was she talking about?
“Wait until you get home, Ian,” I told myself out loud.
I could sound stupid at home. It would be easier than over a mobile phone of a type that I didn’t recognise or like using, especially sitting in this car park. Where was my old phone and ‘what’ had happened last time? I felt as though I was losing the plot big time, heading for the funny farm perhaps.
“Get home as quick as you can while you still feel sufficiently capable,” I spoke to myself again out loud, with the realisation that once more I was continuing to talk to myself; I felt more shook up by that.
Think to myself, yes, but not hold a verbal conversation with myself; that was really losing the plot.
I reached for and turned the ignition key, already in place, and the engine started first time. Thank goodness, something sounded normal.
Yes, my hands and feet seemed a little shaky but as soon as I pushed the gear stick into first and started to pull away from out of the parking bay I was in, the automatic pilot in-between the ears took over.
I drove past the rows of parked cars and found myself driving towards the exit at the top of the circular ramp. I was in the middle of town in the multi-story car park several stories up, but, again, no memory of how I got here. I certainly seemed to know how to leave this place.
I came up to the red and yellow striped barrier, lowered the driver’s side window and inserted the parking ticket into the machine without a thought. The barrier lifted, but why? I had found myself in my car, in the middle of the car park and had no knowledge of visiting the pre-pay machine, but the ticket I had just inserted worked fine.
“How long have I been sitting here for. When did I put my money into the pay machine that I don't remember visiting? Where was the pay machine? Come to think of it, where did I get my parking ticket, and when ..... ”
“Beeeep, beeeep,” a car horn sounded behind me.
I looked in the mirror to see a clearly irate motorist in the vehicle behind me, waving his arms quite dramatically and with the obvious intent of making me get a move on. I replied with a few choice expletives that he might just have heard as the window was still open; I didn’t care. If he wanted to argue with me then good, bring it on.
“Stop dreaming and drive, you fool, you are not a young man any more and you’re unlikely to win a punch up.”
I left the window open; the damp draught was refreshing and most welcome. Driving forward and gently down the circular ramp, I found this to be almost an automatic pilot thing. Ingrained practice to the rescue, I reached the bottom of the ramp in one piece where the traffic lights were on red. I had just come to a halt when they went through their sequence to green.
Quickly, this time, I indicated left, changed gear, released the hand brake and moved off.
As I turned the corner onto the through-route, a wave from a familiar face on the pavement caught my eye. I briefly raised the fingers of one hand off the steering in acknowledgement, smiled and kept on motoring, picking up speed as other vehicles behind me followed.
“How nice to see that guy again,” I thought.
“AGAIN.”
I didn’t know who he was, but, HELL, yes I did. My memory could not dredge up the required information to tell me who he was but, nonetheless, I recognised him. I checked my mirror quickly but he was no longer standing where I had seen him. I had travelled only a short way, how could a standing man disappear so fast? I kept motoring in the direction of home. I was driving steadily but my thoughts were in panic mode.
“I must be having a mental aberration of some sort? This is not pleasant.”
This was one of those odd moments, I had experienced a few in my life, when the person opposite is recognised but their name just cannot be recalled. The harder the recollection process is driven, the deeper the answer feels to be and is best left alone.
I greeted these people, sometimes more senior than myself, as a professional engineer should do, in the hope that within a few moments of talking you can figure out who they are. It was quite likely that, sooner-or-later, a name would just pop-up into the conscious thoughts. This was a minor problem it seemed I had had for ever with my brain’s dictionary and phone book EPROM failing to advise me from time to time who was before me.
It was now becoming a little too frequent for my liking and advancing years; another one before retirement, if I could last that long. The image of that guy’s face stuck with me all the way home.
I had a feeling of knowing who he was, but couldn’t put a name to the face or where I knew him from; perhaps he was one of my engineering contacts that lived locally, but that didn’t ring any bells. I was nearly retired, still putting a couple of days in part-time before handing over to the new faces in the office and still had a lengthy contact list. This chap might be in my collection, he was certainly dressed correctly, suit, collar and tie and loose overcoat.
As requested by the company that deemed me useful to be employed by them, I was still solving the odd tricky engineering problem that occurred normally from time to time; I possessed the eyes and mind of an old hand. My brain still had enough about it to be able to teach the young hands. I could see straight away what they might take twenty years of practice to achieve.
I was no longer mentoring anyone or in original creative design, just handling the ‘tricky’ jobs where perhaps a twenty plus years old boiler and heating installation was concerned.
I concentrated on the face of the friend I had acknowledged while working on the driving. Still no one came to mind, yet the face was so familiar. Why was he standing on the corner of the exit from the car park, it was almost as if he was waiting for me to appear, and then where did he disappear to so fast? There are no pedestrian routes back into the building from where he stood; there was only the pavement alongside the road.
I reached home, put my thoughts on recognising the face onto the back burner, parked up and walked in through the front door with the holiday package, roughly pulled together, in my hand. Hazel was in the kitchen as I walked into the living room. She came through very quickly and instead of the third degree, which is what I expected, she was actually very concerned for me.
She insisted I sat down as a cup of coffee she had prepared a few minutes ago, was placed in front of me on the coffee table. Oh the smell of the coffee was so welcome, reviving almost before I had even taken a sip.
“Right,” she said, “have you remembered where you’ve been? You were not making any sense on the phone.”
Her tone was conciliatory and genuinely inquiring but there was still the edge to it.
“I don’t,” was the only reply I could manage, but that clearly was not enough. I recall leaving this morning,” I continued, “driving into town, but then the next thing is finding myself sat in the car, in the multi-story, looking at the travel docs and the money. I still cannot remember anything in between.”
“We need to get away quickly,”she said changing her tone to one of alarm. That caught me out; she was actually quite agitated about something.
“The warning we received was not at all pleasant,” she continued, “better do as it said and as quickly as possible. I don’t like this at all.”
“Warning, what warning?”
I didn’t know nor like what she was saying and it disconcerted me; more so because I really didn’t know what on earth she was talking about, never the less the intonation of her voice; one that spoke, perhaps, of near panic.
“Tell me about the warning,” I asked as a genuine question, “that won’t come back to me either. This is becoming unpleasant. Help, please. Tell me everything I should know.”
I needed help but she just stared at me with a look of disbelief. I reached for the coffee that was still too hot to drink, but I needed something. I slurped the hot liquid noisily from the edges of the mug, trying hard not to scald my lips; something else learned from my military days.
Hazel sat on the settee alongside me.
“The interview, remember the interview, when your old phone exploded. That’s why I got you the new one. You must remember that ...”
Bells were ringing in my head; this had a vague familiarity about it, as though visiting an old dream, partly recalled.
“... and the first message the phone received as soon as you turned it on.”
That I could not recall; the bells stopped.
“Look at your phone, now,” she commanded.
I took it out of my jacket pocket and held this unrecognised device in front of me, clearly with no idea how to operate it.
“Give it to me, you’re hopeless,” she demanded as it was almost snatched from me.
That didn’t bother me; I really did not like these new phones where having a conversation with another person was bottom of the many available options. I had no idea how to send and receive messages on this thing. I was confused by these new I-phone things; what was wrong with a simple phone with numbers on the front. Why have a load of ‘apps’ that I did not understand nor need. Hazel had the phone and within a few seconds of finger touches, she found the received messages. She handed me the phone back with the instruction to read the one she had just opened.
Holding the device gingerly in case I touched something which I shouldn't, I read what appeared to be an urgent message.
============================
Holiday
GO ABROAD AS SOON AS POSSIBLE
TAKE A HOLIDAY
LIVES ARE IN DANGER ESPECIALLY
YOURS
Your friend from the interview
Received:13:51:35
19-April-2014
From: G Bennett
(not available)
=============================
It didn’t make any sense to me.
“This doesn’t make sense love,” was all that I could respond with, repeating my confused thoughts.
Hazel seemed to echo them with the opened holiday package now spread over the coffee table in front of her and a look of some query spread firmly across her face. We both seemed to agree on something; none of it made sense! She looked straight at me with her stern face now on and yet another edge to her tone.
“We agreed that we would take the first flight to the 'Med' because that would be the easiest and quickest to arrange. You considered the messages to be genuine after your close call. You have come home with a package for Jamaica. We don’t have the kind of money readily available for something like that.”
“How have you paid for it?” she demanded most firmly.
That was a very good question; where had I got all the money from? The last time we holidayed in Jamaica, despite my reasonably good income as a contracting self-employed design engineer, we had still saved hard for six months to afford that one.
“I have no idea,” I managed in a tone of incomprehension that made not the slightest impression, as I tore my eyes away from the phone for a moment to stare at the money in front of us.
I swiftly turned my attention back again to the phone to stare at the message once more. I was confused and did not know where to look or what to say. When Hazel got the upper hand, I had to be focussed or woe-betide me; she could be hard when she wanted to be. Mind you so could I, but not with Hazel; I would have to be on top of my game and at least know what I was taking about beforehand.
Hazel was sorting the paperwork in front of her when she asked, in her continued inquiring yet demanding tone.
“Who’s G. Bennett? His name is on the payment receipt for the cost of the holiday, the flights and the currency. In all, just over five thousand pounds. Who is he and why is he paying for a holiday booked in our names?”
This was worse; the lack of any ideas was almost painful as the grey cells refused to perform. I simply could not find an explanation. I shrugged as a stupid child might. I was feeling foolish. I hated not having answers, which was not me, not the kind of work I did, or with the generality of life. I was suddenly in charge of nothing right now and that definitely was not me.
“Have you seen any of this,” she asked, “we’re due to fly out tomorrow morning at seven-thirty am! How could anybody manage that? Just what is going on here? Are you able to pull strings I don’t know about and for a holiday booking you having no recollection of?”
She was asking stupid questions now, well stupid to me, as none of it made any sense. Yes I could pull strings, I had lots of contacts who could help me out but right now, I had no answers. I got the impression that Hazel was starting, as firm as she might sound, to become as panicky as I felt.
I had to remember something, anything, to explain where I had been, how the holiday had been paid for and who this G. Bennett was. I sat in a sort of numb shock and reached for the coffee again. That wonderful taste of fresh coffee and the swirling aroma especially when it’s needed was just the job, but it didn’t help me with finding any answers. I needed something stronger but I knew that wouldn’t help with finding the answers and they were needed desperately now.
I stared again at the phone message, it may help me remember, but the screen in my head was blanking as rapidly as the dimming screen of the phone. G. Bennett was surely ‘Gordon Bennett’ a common expression of incredulity but why would anyone sign their name as this; perhaps this really was the sender’s real name.
“How do you get the messages back Haze?” I asked, “This thing confuses me.” Before she could respond, it rang an odd tone I did not recognise; I didn't recognise anything about this type of phone and that continued to bother me.
“Another message,” Hazel explained as she took the phone from me.
Her fingers seemed to fly over the surface of the screen as she pressed something or other. With a quick glance at what it displayed, she almost threw it at me as though it was too hot to hold. I caught the device and read the new message it displayed.
============================
URGENT
You and your wife are directed to leave
this country on a holiday immediately
THIS IS NOT A HOAX
This is very serious and you must
follow these instructions as quickly as
possible’ You must recall what happened
at the interview, it was me who gave you
the warning and saved your life.
We will meet shortly but for now you
must do as I say.
A holiday abroad has been booked
and paid for and you must take advantage
of this to leave the country immediately.
My information is that you have been
targeted and further attempts will be made
on your life.
That includes your wife if she happens to
be with you at the time.
I will explain all when we meet later
perhaps when you have safely gone abroad.
PLEASE DO AS THIS MESSAGE SAYS
PREPARE TO LEAVE NOW AND DO IT
QUICKLY
IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE
YOU ARE TAKEN OR KILLED
<<< THIS IS NOT A HOAX >>>
REMEMBER THE INTERVIEW
DO YOUR PACKING AND LEAVE BY THE
TAXI THAT WILL COME FOR BOTH OF
YOU EARLY TOMORROW
Your friend from the interview
Received:14:51:13
20-April-2014
From: G Bennett
(not available)
============================
This was an enormous message, in full text without any of that annoying shorthand so often employed, even by junior engineers and especially by the young, and from a still unidentifiable G. Bennett, yet again.
This was nonsense but it had the frightening feel of reality about it and the name of the sender was the same as the one on the holiday receipts.
“Now do you remember?” Hazel asked. “The first message came into the phone yesterday, straight after we bought it. The day after the interview incident, two days ago; now this you must remember. You certainly took these messages seriously at the time, now you seem not to recognise them.”
Something was stirring in the old mind but I did not remember properly. The mention of buying the phone and then later receiving the message was opening something up in the memory archives. I had to concentrate. Was the lack of memory today something that was also connected, I thought that it must be. Maybe the loss of a few hours memory was fogging the thoughts of something previous, the few days before. I only wished it had been the old ‘water of life’ that I am often partial to; I could accept and deal with that. I reached for more coffee and saw that my hands had started to tremble a little; something inside my head was working on its own; this had never happened before.
I slurped some more of the more than welcome coffee, closed my eyes and tried hard to visualise the last few days; the mention of an interview seemed to be the key somehow, I had to try.
“Don’t think too long, Ian,” Hazel came at me, “you’re starting to develop a stupid blank expression. I hope you don’t look like that at work.” That had a sharp edge to it but in a ‘piss-taking’ sort of way; banter I think the youngsters call it today.
“If we are going on a holiday, paid for by someone else we've not heard of, don’t know and who is now telling us to leave quickly by sending us these frightening messages, then we need to start packing now,” she fired at me.
“Does she mean packing or panicking?”
“While you have been messing about trying to remember, I don’t know what on earth is wrong with you but what happened two days ago was very real, I have just checked the travel details on my I-pad and we even have pre-booked seats, first class seats.”
“I really do not know what is going on but after your lucky escape and all this, it’s not only very real but it’s frightening. For goodness sake, get your finger out, pull yourself together man and let’s get this sorted.”
That got to me.
“Should we not contact the police?” I ventured. “This is all very odd and not a little cloak-and-dagger nonsense; this just doesn’t happen in real life.”
But similar events had happened in my past while in uniform, or rather a lack of it, during service in Northern Ireland at the height of the troubles. A few words then received on a public phone or occasionally from a passing figure, were intended to be life savers and to be acted on straight away; no questioning required or expected.
I closed my eyes and tried to let the mind recover itself, I needed to know. I needed a sense of sanity. Two days ago, what had happened two days ago? Never mind the packing, I could do that in ten minutes, all men could. Slurp some more coffee, sit back, close my eyes, and allow my senses to come back to me, gently.
“Remember, remember, come on Ian, this is important.”
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