Long Time Dead

 It had been a long time. Too long? Not long enough? Perhaps not even time would tell.

 

Even though the box had been buried for the best part of twenty years, it’s contents looked the same. If you prepare something well enough it will stay perfect almost indefinitely, or so I’m told. The inside still smelt of the proofing oil I’d used.

At my leisure, back in the security of my large executive home, I examined the contents of the box. -If only my pretentious neighbours could see me now!

There was the knife Blades had used on so many people that I couldn’t remember all of them & I doubt he had either. The wickedly sharpened knuckle dusters Spikes had always worn when there’d been trouble -& there’d been plenty of that, God knew.

The Alice band Sarah wore in her long auburn hair, my bowie knife -it hadn’t killed as many as Blades’ but it had done enough, in it’s time.

Perhaps it’s time had come again? We’d see.

Wrapped in oiled cloth was my own “weapon of choice” -an odd looking, seemingly innocuous yet deadly 7.65mm Vietnamese assassin’s pistol. It was a rarity, being the only handgun in the world with a built-in silencer. I’d traded it with an American, who’d got it when he was in the US Special Forces, taken from a dead Viet Cong. There was also a sealed box of ammunition. Probably still OK. If not, I’d re-load it with fresh powder.

I hadn’t killed anyone in almost two decades. After almost everyone but Doc, Mazz, The Duke & I had died, I thought I’d left that  lifestyle behind me.

Is it part of the human condition that the flimsiest lies we tell are those we tell ourselves?

Sometimes I was almost able to convince myself it had not been me, that I was plagued by false memories, or memories belonging to another person.

Sometimes, but not quite always. I still dreamt of the old days, like the rush I felt as I did the ton thirty past the bemused occupants of a panda car.

Sporadically I had waking flashbacks. Not even alcohol helped. Though I’d tried it often enough.

I’d suddenly see the face of someone at the moment of their death. Someone I’d killed. Still, it had been kill or be killed & I’d rather it be me thinking about how I’d killed them, rather than the other way round.

In my bedroom’s built-in wardrobe, there was a simple “secret” compartment I’d made with a few battens & a wooden board.

Hidden inside it were my Colours.

I looked at myself in the wall mounted full length mirror after I had put them on. Silly, but as soon as I saw myself, I felt the power surge through me.

I’d been David Porter, management consultant to ailing British industries for too many years.

Now, the real me had returned. This was who I was. What I was. What I would always be. My name? No longer David Porter. Now I was The Bard -again. Perhaps I would dig out some of the poems I had written back then and re-read them.

Was I ready for action? No. -Not really. But sometimes you have to come, ready or not.

I called The Duke first. I recognised his well-modulated tones as soon as he answered the phone.

“It’s me. The Bard. Something’s happened. We’re on.”

“I see... Will you contact Doc & Mazz? Or should I?”

“It’s my place to do it, so I’ll do it.”

“As you wish. Where shall we meet?”

“Is the usual place still  there?”

“The wha..? Ah! Yes, I get your drift. It’s still there, still looks the same, though I haven't been in for years.”

“OK, that’s settled. 2pm Tuesday, unless I get back to you with a change of plan.”

I rang off. It had been good to hear him again. Sort of.

Two days later, Doc, Mazz, The Duke & myself were meeting at a place that held many memories for us, most good, some bad.

The Duke was almost right. It looked the same outside, but the inside had been gutted. Twenty years ago it had been a large Victorian pub.

Now? Mazz looked around the garish interior, eyeing it disapprovingly. “Ben would never have allowed this to happen.”

The Doc nodded. “Right. But I’d guess he’d have retired a long time ago.”

He looked at me: “Why are we here?”

“Yeah, that’s you, Doc. Always straight to the point.”

I breathed deeply before continuing. “It’s Barry Longmans. He’s back.”

They looked stunned at such a cruel twist of fate.

The Duke spoke for them all. “That bastard? Back here? How? When?”

“I don’t know. I saw him by chance. He was trying to weasel his way into getting a contract with of one of my business clients. I made sure he didn’t see me.”

Mazz spoke, the anger adding a hard edge to his voice: “He must know what’ll happen to him. Why’s he come back now after nearly twenty years?”

“When I heard him speak, I noticed he had an Australian accent. He must have skipped to Australia. -Perhaps Australia got too hot for him?”

I looked at them all for a second before I continued; “This place will be too hot for him too, soon enough.”

Doc nodded, took a long swig from his pint before speaking. “We’ll have to have a plan. It’s been a long time, but it’ll have to be as tight a plan as we ever devised. I don’t want to go to jail. It would really disappoint my patients!”

“I agree, Doc. It would! Don’t worry -I’ve already mapped out a plan. He will be meeting the MD of my client next Friday at 3pm. He’ll have about thirty minutes with him, before the MD tells him that he isn’t interested -& I’ll see to that! We’ll hit Longmans when he’s on his way back to the motel he’s staying in.”

The Duke nodded. “Everyone of us wants to kill him, but you have two rights to having the kill. Seniority &...” He suddenly stopped, unable to continue. I found his sudden lack of the appropriate words touching, because I knew what he had found impossible to say.

My thoughts went back to Sarah & that catastrophic period in my life -God? Had it really been two decades ago?

I cleared my throat before I was able to continue. “Thanks, Duke. You’re right, of course. I want to do it. Besides, it’s a duty thing with me, too.”

Mazz finished his pint & voiced what both of the others were thinking; “You say you have the plan mapped out?”

“Yes. I worked it out over the past couple of days. We follow him from the factory, wait until we hit a quite piece of road, just down from Paines Lane would probably be the best spot, box him & cover him. -We’ll each be armed, of course. Bring whatever weapons you feel comfortable with. -But within reason! I don’t want a cock-up like when Blades decided to try & take out that other lot with a bloody rocket launcher back in ’77!”

They all laughed, remembering Blades & his habit of employing madcap, complicated schemes for simple jobs.

Thinking about Blades & what Longmans had caused to happen to him would have supplied a reason for us to harden our resolve, had we needed one...

Pulling my mind back to the present I continued to describe the plan in low tones. “When we have Longmans trapped, with handguns covering him, Doc sticks a hypo in him to put him out, we take his car & leave it on the Alderman Chambers Estate. Knowing the kids there, it’ll probably be stolen before we manage to get back into our cars! -But  remember to  wear disposable gloves!”

The Duke added; “What happens to Longmans?”

“We have him in a van which I’ll buy for the occasion.”

The Duke frowned and said; "If something goes wrong, say the road is busy, what then?"

"I have a fallback plan. I'd just have to break into his motel room and shoot him. -It's a risky plan, but I can't afford to let him get away again. So it's a risk I'd have to take."

The Duke nodded and added: "As there's no statute of limitations on murder, the police will still be looking for him. -Is he using a false name?"

"Yes. -He introduced himself to the company as David Wilson, an industrial sales consultant from Sydney. -Probably armed himself with a fake passport, too. So when he disappears, it's unlikely anyone will make much of a fuss. Just someone else who skips out of a motel, leaving some dirty clothes and a few belongings."

“Will we use our bikes?”

“No, Mazz. I thought about that & much as I’d like to get the hogs out for this job, I think it’ll be best if I buy two cars & the van, instead. I’m having a word with Sammy’s son, Paul, tomorrow. He’s running the used car lot now & he’ll sort us out. He'll help sanitise them, too. ”

“How are you going to finish Longmans?”

“You all know the rules. Because of what that bastard did, I want him to know for sure what is going to happen to him & who is doing it. He broke the code & we are going to make sure he pays! & that he knows he’s paying!”

Friday went like clockwork. When Longmans came round, he didn’t seem especially frightened. He had a look of resignation on his face.

“Hello, Longmans. Remember us?”

“How could I forget you? What’s this all about?”

“Don’t be bloody stupid, Longmans! You may have forgotten your English accent, but you can’t have forgotten what you did!”

“Why don’t you use my proper tag? It was never surnames before. You should call me...”

Before he could even begin what I knew he was going to say, I smashed him hard across his mouth, drawing blood.

“Don’t use that name! You were stripped of it & it was erased from the record book! It’s never to be used again! As far as we are concerned, that person doesn’t exist!”

“Still in charge, eh?” He hadn’t changed. Still able to sneer, even with a shattered mouth.

“Yes, still in charge.”

“You are going to kill me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“You broke the rules. You tried to organise a take-over. You know what happened to Sarah, my Lady. What you did was wrong. Against everything we stand for & you knew it! If you had wanted to be the President, you should have challenged me properly, according to the rules!

“Sarah got in your way, so you beat her so badly, that she... If you hadn’t done what you did, none of this would have happened. What’s worse, before you sneaked off you fomented an internal war that left 15 good people dead.”

I could tell he was thinking up a reply. I had wanted him to explain why he’d done it. But Suddenly, before he had the chance to speak I became bored with talking to him & disgusted by his presence.

Swiftly, I lifted the odd-looking assassin’s pistol, snicked the safety off & shot him through the head.

It was a clean, relatively silent shot. There was almost no blood & he was dead before he slumped against his ropes. I’d wanted him dead, but I’ve never believed in torturing those I killed. Not even  him.

The others were really good. They picked up the body, loaded it into the van, giving me time to sit & think about Sarah, of fifteen of my people Longmans had caused to die including my Lieutenants Blades & Spikes & the passing of two decades of my life.

We took his body to one of our secret places & dumped it. He’d never be found. & if he was, it probably wouldn’t be until all of us were a long time dead. & when you are dead, you are a long time dead.

Two days later, as I had done without fail every Sunday for nearly twenty years, I visited Sarah in the private nursing facility which had been her home for most of that time. I spoke with her, or more accurately I spoke to her, as I always did.

She lay still in her bed. Although she had put on a little weight whilst she’d slept two decades away, & her hair had greyed a bit, essentially she was still my Sarah, the President’s Lady, the person who’d ridden behind me on my hog & shared my passion for speed & a dangerous but exciting way of life.

I’d long ago given up hope of her recovery, but that Sunday? When I told her I’d finally killed Barry Longmans, she smiled faintly & her eyes had flickered. I’m sure they did...

Perhaps there was hope, after all? It didn’t matter. I’d still visit her every Sunday. Why? Those are the rules. My rules. & no President ever abandons his Lady.