The dark side of my soul (6 page)

Six

I was early. It was before seven o’clock and the dawn had only recently broken as I turned off the paved country road onto the track. A heavy mist hung overhead like a blanket obliterating the sky and on either side the trees, not yet in leaf and with no wind to stir them, stood motionless in their dewy cloaks, their trunks like ghostly apparitions appearing out of the wet damp fog that meandered between them.

The track was gravelled and wider than I had expected, no doubt used by the vehicles of the forestry workers and tree surgeons but this morning it was deserted. The mist moved mysteriously between the trees and conspired to hide the way ahead in damp greyish white sheets.

I proceeded with extreme caution along the route, watching the ground in front to make sure that the gravel didn’t suddenly end and my car plunge into deep mud from which I could not easily escape. I had gone almost the designated distance when the surface ahead changed, became rougher with cracks and potholes and I decided to go no further. At this point the trail was wide enough to make a multi-point turn and I carefully manoeuvred the car around so that it ended up facing the direction in which I had travelled, thus facilitating a quick exit should one be necessary.

Through the haze I could just make out the road at the end of the track. On arriving I had been tempted to leave the car on that road and walk into the forest but I had discounted the idea as it would leave me vulnerable and without any means of a quick getaway. Now I began to doubt my decision. If the blackmailers arrived in a vehicle they would almost certainly come the same way and block my escape route. I debated whether or not to drive to the end by the road and wait there. That seemed to be the better option but on the other hand I had the gun and if I had to draw it to threaten them it would be best done in the solitude of the woods, away from passing motorists prying eyes. I decided to stay exactly where I was.

I didn’t know what form of transport they would use. Maybe they were already in the forest, watching me. The thought caused me nervously to inspect the nearby surroundings more thoroughly but all I could see were the outlines of the dark demonic trees, their black branches thrusting upwards into the mist.

I was wearing a long brown trench coat with deep side pockets. The pistol fitted neatly inside the right hand pocket but it was not easy to get at sitting in the car so I decided to get out. It was already ten minutes past seven and I should not have long to wait. After switching off the engine I opened the driver’s door and stepped outside into the damp cool air.

The money, minus the extra five thousand I had drawn, was in the holdall on the passenger seat. Within the next half hour its fate would be determined. I looked at it through the window and placed my hand in the pocket of the coat and felt the comforting grip of the gun. If necessary I would have to give all the money to the blackmailers but I still clung to the hope that I could somehow scare them off.

I was surprisingly calm but when I heard the sound of an engine approaching along the main road my heartrate started to increase. I heard the vehicle draw closer but it did not seem to be slowing down then I saw it go by the end of the track, just a blur in the fog, and the sound faded as it went on its way. People were starting to go to work, beginning their regular daily routine, unaware of the drama that was about to unfold in a small quiet corner of the Kent countryside.

A sound behind me, like someone treading on a broken twig, made me swing around and peer into the vaporous wood but I saw no one. I watched for any movement and listened for another sound but only the silent damp trees confronted me. It may have been my imagination or an animal moving in the undergrowth. I was getting jumpy. Keep calm I told myself and sucked in several long deep breaths of the cold wet air. Control your breathing, relax. Keep cool.

Before I left home that morning Sandra had thrown her arms around me and held me close. Still unaware of the possible danger from the Romanian travellers she had offered to accompany me but I could see no point in putting us both in peril and I had assured her that I would be fine. The unmistakable lines of worry that were etched on her face gave me ever more reason to hate whoever was doing this to us. They were destroying our lives, our wellbeing and taking most of our life savings and unless I could frighten them off in some way there was little we could do about it.

Sandra had not been happy at me taking the gun and I had to assure her that I never intended to use it other than as a threat. I was going to act the tough guy, try to show these people that I would not be intimidated and use the weapon merely as a bargaining tool. She didn’t think it would work and secretly in my heart neither did I but it was the only plan that had even the remotest chance of success.

I stood by the side of the Ford with my hand resting on the butt of the automatic, at least that gave me some hope, a feeling of security but then just in case someone was watching in the depths of the forest, I removed my hand from the pocket and allowed it to hang by my side. I didn’t want any observer to think that I may have a concealed weapon. That had to come as a last resort.

Another vehicle came along the main road. The noise of the engine increased as it drew nearer but it did not slow down and again it went by in a flash, the sound fading, allowing the forest to return once more to its gloomy silence.

The seconds ticked by and I waited nervously. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. I looked at my watch. It was nearly twenty minutes past seven. I had expected them to be here by now.

It is amazing how the human mind clutches at the faintest ray of hope. Maybe they weren’t coming. Perhaps this was some hideous and nasty prank. I imagined waiting here until eight o’clock and then when no one showed up returning home with all the money still intact and a big smile on my face. I could visualise Sandra’s smiling face and us both laughing at how stupid we had been.

That hope was soon dashed as I heard the sound of another vehicle coming along the road. This one was noisier, the engine rougher and it appeared to be slowing down. A few seconds later a large truck turned off the road and onto the track. It stopped at the far end with its front facing me, an ominous grey shape in the mist, its headlights shining through the fog like the eyes of an animal waiting to pounce and straightaway I knew that I had made the wrong decision, my way out was blocked, I was cut off. How stupid could I be? I wasn’t used to this kind of clandestine operation.

A deeper, denser mist descended on the forest making it difficult to pick out any detail of the vehicle. This was it, the time had come, the confrontation that I had been waiting for was about to unfold. My heartrate was increasing again and my mouth was dry but I tried to stay calm. The truck sat immobile, engine throbbing. No doors opened, no one got out. What were they waiting for? Perhaps it wasn’t the blackmailers, perhaps it was someone come to work in the woods and they were wondering what I was doing here. Then I realised that if it were the criminals they were probably checking, making sure I was alone.

A full minute went by without movement, a minute that seemed like an eternity. Did they want me to approach them? If so, they were going to be unlucky, I had formed a vague plan, not a very good plan it was true, but one that I had to stick with. They were going to have to come to me.

Another age passed and I never moved, determined to stand my ground. The long slow seconds dragged by until eventually the truck started rolling towards me. It came forward sluggishly through the mist, the headlights like watery eyes, its engine gurgling throatily, an old dirty grey pick-up, the kind I imagined travellers would use, which confirmed in my mind that it was the gypsies that I was about to face. They weren’t going to be young kids who I might have a chance of scaring off or someone I could easily intimidate.

As the truck drew closer I could make out the two people inside. They were both looking around, watching warily in case I was not alone. Thirty yards away they stopped, the engine still ticking over noisily. The occupants made no attempt to get out. Both studied the surrounding woodland, making certain we really were alone.

I waited, my heart thumping uncontrollably. More long excruciating seconds passed until at last the passenger opened his door and stepped down onto the gravelled surface. At that distance I could not make out any details of the face but he was tall and slim with an athletic physique. He wore blue jeans with a thick multi-coloured long sleeved shirt and no coat or hat. The cold conditions didn’t seem to bother him, as though he was used to working outside and once more I thought he might be a forest worker. He stood by the truck, cautious, looking around then he turned his gaze towards me and I knew this was no worker. This was one of the blackmailers.

A few seconds later the driver opened his door and got out, leaving the engine running. They were clearly expecting this not to take long, or perhaps the engine was left idling on purpose to cover the sound of my yells or screams when they attacked me.

The driver was shorter and stockier than his passenger and from this distance looked a little older. He was also wearing blue jeans but the top half of his torso was encased in a black leather bomber jacket, the type the world war two fighter pilots used to wear. He had no hat and was totally bald.

They came around from either side of the truck and started forward together, almost side by side, still looking about them, still cagey. If anything they appeared more nervous than me, perhaps my unmoving stance was paying dividends.

When they were about ten yards away they stopped and I could see their faces. The taller one had long dishevelled straggly black hair that hung limp down to his neck. He had dark eyes and a pointed nose and looked unwashed. His thin tanned face was gaunt and the three day old stubble only partially disguised the unsightly pot marks on his cheeks.

The shorter man had more rounded features but still had the same dark eyes and evil stare. It was hard to believe they were father and son as Archie had said but then age can be deceptive.

It was the younger, taller man who spoke and I recognised his voice from the telephone calls even though he had tried to disguise it. “Have you got the money?”

“It’s in the car,” I said, surprisingly calmly. I opened the door, reached across and lifted out the bag with my left hand, keeping my right hand free to grab the gun in case one of them rushed me. I held the holdall out and threw it three or four paces in front of the car. I took one step forward.

“Bring it over here,” ordered the driver.

I shook my head. “If you want it you’ll have to come and get it.” I was shaking with nervous anticipation but I tried to appear calm, in control.

There was a brief impasse as they seemed unsure what to do then the tall slim one started to come forward. “Is it all in the bag?” he said as he moved, never taking his eyes from mine.

“Yes, all seventy five thousand, my bloody life savings.”

He stopped when he got to the holdall and still looking at me bent over to pick it up. Only then did he look down to find the zip. He opened the bag, put his hand inside and pulled out one of the packets of twenty pound notes. A cynical smile crossed his scrawny features and he looked deeper inside the bag. He dropped the packet of notes he had taken from the holdall back into it and zipped it up. “Seventy five grand, in here yeah, I wouldn’t want to be short changed.”

“If you don’t believe me why don’t you count it,” our eyes met once more and my hate for the man grew sufficiently to eclipse my nerves.

He held the holdall by the strap and lifted it off the ground. It swung by his side. “When this is gone we’ll be back for more.”

“There is no more.” My abhorrence for the pair seemed to spread through my whole body. I was relieved that they didn’t seem intent on doing me serious harm but I could see that was only because they thought they could bleed me for more cash later.

“Oh you’ll get it somehow. If you pay once then you’ll pay again.” The hideous mocking smile creased his ugly face and at that moment, as they were about to walk away with our life savings, my loathing for them and the shame of my own inadequacy and weakness combined to send my emotions into a kind of overdrive, a red zone that I had never before experienced.

“Come on, we’re done, let’s get the hell out a’ here.” The driver called and he began walking back to the truck.

“Thanks for the cash tosser,” the skinny one said with a laugh as he turned away.

I was seething with anger and fury and that last remark was the final straw. I couldn’t just let them walk away. I drew the automatic from my pocket, pointed it at the retreating pair and said in a loud and determined voice. “Hold it, don’t go any further.”

The taller one turned his head and saw the pistol. He stopped and swivelled around to face me, at the same time calling to his compatriot. “Hey, Jonny look at this, the man’s got a gun.” He seemed more amused than frightened, and that added to my hate and abhorrence of the pair.

The driver, Jonny, walked back slowly, an evil grimace on his face. “Now I wonder what he’s gonna do with that.” He too appeared amused, unfazed by the sight of the weapon.

Nervous but infused with rage, I suddenly remembered the safety catch was on and I edged my left hand toward the piece and clicked it off. “Now the safety is off. As I am sure you gathered I’m no expert with firearms. Anything could happen. It could go off at any time.”