BlindFire (15 page)

  Sahra pretended not to notice the street name, or the house number to the left of the door. Trying hard to remember, she kept saying 'Sixteen Munster Strasse’ in her head over and over again.

  Once inside the woman produced some paper and crayons as she had promised and then disappeared into the kitchen. 

  "I've finished it mother!"
Sahra shrieked
excitedly. "Come and see!"

  "That's wonderful, what is it?"

  Sahra pointed to a blue splodge in the middle of the picture. "That's our blue car."

  "But why is the sky red?"

  Sahra looked thoughtfully at the picture. "...Because it’s a very hot day. Can I stick it on the fridge?"

  "Of course Dear, I'll get some tape."

  The second the woman had left the room, Sahra took another piece of paper, wrote  'HELP SAHRA'  on it and her address on the inside, folded it in half, then wrote 'DADDY QUEBECK BARRACKS OSNABRUCK' on the outside. Once the stamp was attached she hoisted up her skirt and pushed the paper down into her knickers. All that was left to do now was post it.

  "Get your coat."

  Sahra jumped with fright, almost knocking over the glass of orange juice on the table, but just catching it in time.

  "What's the matter, did I startle you?"

  "No Mummy." She replied, almost too brightly.

  Mother already had her coat on and was carrying her handbag as usual. "Go on then." She hissed. "Get your coat
child
."

     Ten minutes later, Sahra found herself once again at the Post office. She couldn't believe her luck, this was her only chance.  It  didn’t  matter  what  happened  afterwards  it  was  now  or  never.

  Viciously pulling herself free of Mothers vice like grip, she ran as fast as she could to the nearest letter box. The inscription on it read 'Andere Orte' (other places). Sahra tore the letter from under her skirt and stuffed it down the dark oblong hole, just as mother yanked her back nearly pulling Sara’s arms out of their sockets.

  "What was that?" She spat. "I demand you tell me."

  "It..! It was nothing."  Cho
ked Sahra and started crying.

  "I saw it." You wrote a letter to someone... Didn't you?"

 
“Santa..!” Sahra could see
that mother was seething with rage, but knew she wouldn't hit her out here in public. She would wait until they were home.
“I wrote to Santa.”

  Petrified and fearful for her life, Sahra wet herself leaving a large pool of urine trailing on the floor behind her.

  "You disgust me." And then
she
added maliciously. "
...There’s a man coming to see you soon and then you’ll be out of my hair forever
."

***

   Reports of the Belfast massacre, as the media had dubbed it, was old news by the time Major Rothschild had booked in to his room, had a shower and something to eat. He was just about settled on his single bed, when there was a quiet tap on the door.

  "Who's there?" He said and silently cocked his nine millimeter.

  "Room service." Gunter
replied
in a mock female voice.

  Sighing with relief, John
returned his weapon to its holster and opened the door.

  "What's up Gunter? Can't you find anyone to play with?"

  "Have you called your HQ yet?" He asked, suddenly seeming more serious.

  "No...Why?"

  "I really think you should. It was on the news just now."

  "What was?"

  Gunter walked past the Major and sat down. "They're calling it the
Belfast
massacre. Twenty four soldiers murdered in an ambush. The oldest was a thirty year old sergeant, the rest were boys, just out of training.

  "Jesus Christ... I'd hate to be the one telling their families."

  "Me too."

  Silence hung heavily in the air, until John walked over to the window. “Do you think we're making any difference what so ever?"

  Gunter shrugged. It wasn't his war and besides, the question required too much deep thought.

  "Sometimes I think Stone is
doing the right thing, an eye for an eye and all that." He opened the window, taking in the cold night air. "Everytime we get one of them, there's six more waiting to take his place, and god
forbid we kill one of them
, all hell breaks loose."

  Gunter stood motionless. Sometimes it is better just to listen.

  "...Enquiries left, right and centre. Can't move for bleeding
hearts and
red tape...."

  "Why don't you have a drink and sit down?"

  "No..... maybe Stone’s
right... The
y kill one of ours and we kill one
of theirs."

  "I don't think that is the way
forward
."

  "Perhaps not, but by my reckoning t
hey owe us twenty four
bodies.”  T
he Major suddenly looked in deep thought
. "...He's answerable to no man."

  "Who?"

  The Major turn
ed away from the window. "Stone
of course... He could get away with it."

  Gunter sighed heavily. "Now you are not making any sense at all."

  "No, listen. Imagine that all the top
Provo
men were taken out, what would happen?"

  "Basic military tactics, with no leaders, the men would be in disarray
until a new leader immerged
."

  The
Major smiled sardonically. "With all that infighting taking place it c
ould take them years to readjust."

  "And meanwhile the British could wage an hearts and minds campaign....."

  
The Major interrupted. "...No
, not al all!
We could push our deep
cover agents forward as leaders, within ten years
there could be a permanent piece in
Northern Ireland
… We could utterly destroy the Real IRA
"

  Gunter shook his head and laughed. "....Pipe dreams."

  "Stranger things have happened."

  "John. All you can do is slow them down and get in their way. So before you go doing anything crazy, I suggest you call your boss."

  The Major snatched the handset out of its cradle and more out of habit than security, inspected it then dialed a number. Once through to the special operations exchange, he dialed another number. This was the latest of many systems on trial from GCHQ. Which allowed secure communications on the public telephone system, by detecting listening devices then destroying them with spot targeted high frequency waves fired from a military communications satellite somewhere in orbit above
Europe
.

  The telephone on the other end rang several
times before anyone answered
.

   "Yes."
The Colonel's all too familiar voice boomed
.

   "It's me Sir, I'm in
Ireland
."

   "I am aware of that fact
but it would have been handy to know in advance
."

  The Major was growing increasingly impatient. "Have you got any news for me yet Sir, you know, about the killings
,
?
And about Mckay?
"

  "Killings." The voice boomed again. "Killings...... I don't think
Agincourt
looked much different, bloody mess if you ask me, bodies everywhere."

  "What about my problem Sir."

  "Ah yes..... A lad walked in to a police station early yesterday morning. Said he was involved, shopped the whole caboodle..... Handed over twenty odd names including his own father."

  "That's excellent news Sir, have there been any arrests yet?" He asked knowing full well there hadn't.

The Colonel was quiet for a second and the
n: "Well, actually no there has
n't, we don't want to hinder any future intelligence operations do we and besides, this lad could turn for us."

 
His shoulders sagged.
"Well, if that's it I'll get off...."

  "I'll tell you when to hang up Major Rothschild.... The boy mentioned Jack Mckay, apparently, if the boy is to be believed, Mckay was dispatched to
America
on some sort of   fund raising mission..."

  "Shit...
Well if he’s to be believed, that’s the first definitive information we’ve had on him for years
"
He punched the air with his fist. “Have we got the FBI on side?”

  "
Ofcourse but t
here's more... We have a certain Gentleman in
Whitehall
, who on my order
leaked details of the murders to
McKay’s bosses. Consequently they also want him dead;
they've put a hit out on him worth twenty thousand pounds."

"He's upset a lot of people, hasn't he...?"

  The Colonel suddenly hung up.

  "Colonel.... Sir...... Bastard hung up on me.
.!
"

***

  Danny
awoke with a jump, his brain trying to fathom the terrifying nightmare which his body was telling him had really happened. He tried to focus on his surroundings, it seemed like a dream. He tried to think, but the confusion delved deep into his subconscious playing sick games with his mind.

  He remembered the explosion 'wasn't that part of the dream? He thought. Then he remembered the dingy and the freakish storm. He tried to sit, but realizing he was tied to the bed, he slumped back.

 
“For god sake not again..!
How can
this be?" He cried and pulled against his restraints. “I wish people would stop tying me to beds!
"

  He struggled to free himself, but it was fruitless, his captor had used thi
ck black masking tape to bind his wrists
to the bed. Easily exhausted, he drifted back to sleep only to be woken what seemed like minutes later by a strange tickling sensation on his lips. Opening his eyes, he recoiled in terror, for a split second the mongrel licking his face was one
of the monsters from his nightmares
.

  "Piss off."

  The dog simply wagged its tail in reply. Suddenly it cocked its head over to one side and looked at the door.

  Danny
froze; he couldn't hear anything but the dog obviously could. He was trying in vain to tear himself away from the bed when the door swung open, bathing the small room in bright light. A few seconds later, a figure stepped cautiously into the doorway, carrying the
S
pas
shot gun
.

   "Who's there, who is that?"
He screamed
, for the first time feeling very vulnerable.

  "You're awake then..!
"

  "Who are you?"

  The man came closer. "I hope my dog didn't disturb you."

  "No.... He didn't." Danny
lied.

  "You should thank him; he's the one who found you, out there on the beach."

  "Who are you? Why am I tied up?"

  "
Well t
hat depends..."

  "On what?"

  "What you doing here."  He held out the Spas twelve
Shot gun
. "This doesn't come as part of the beginners pack for sea fishing
now does it?
"

  "Are you going to use it?"

  The man laughed. "Me good god no. I'm in the profession of saving lives, not taking them."

   "So you're a doctor then."

   "A ve
t!
I tend to get a better class of patient."

  Danny
closed his eyes in disgust. "I've been treated by a vet."

  "Don't worry... “
He
placed the Spas on a chair.
”
In my time at London Zoo, I treated Apes, Orang-outang and chimps believe me, you're not that different."

  "Why don't you just untie me and I'll be on my way. You won't ever hear from me or see me again."

   "What if I call the Police and turn you in." He said, filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. "How does that sound to you?"

  "No please..., please don't. I beg you, I must get to
Belfast
."

  The old man took two cups out of a small cupboard under an old fashioned sink and dropped a tea-bag into each of them.