The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series) (32 page)

‘
What are we going to do when we get there? The last time we met these Tom Jones nutters they tried to kill us,’ Curtis enquired.

‘
Yeah, but this time’s different. We've got Milkie's dad.’ I pointed at the cat. ‘And we've got this.’ I reached under the seat and pulled out the wooden box with the little Tom Jones inside. I opened the lid and showed Curtis the action figure.

‘
What the hell is that?’ Curtis stammered back.

‘
I haven't got a clue. Longy had it … all I know is we have to get to Milkie before Kruchenko.’

‘
Kruchenko wants the priest,’ Tabatha cut in.

‘
Kruchenko wants the list.’

‘
This is insane,’ Curtis mumbled.

Friday 2:00 p.m.

We were racing to Wales. Jeremiah, true to his word, sent me a text, and I sent him the address in return. It appeared that Jeremiah and I were on semi-civilised terms.

Well, he hadn’t shot me. We were now imbued with hope. We had a plan, not the greatest plan, but a plan: get Milkie, get Magenta Devine's
Black List
and swap it for our lives. Whoever had the list was calling the tune, and it needed to be us.

‘
Do you know how to get to Machynlleth?’ Muzzi asked, after witnessing Tabatha cross three lanes of traffic.

‘
Course! GPS on the phone.’ She smiled.

Machynlleth, pronounced Ma-humpth-lith, was a market town in the county of Powys and had been the seat of Owain Glyndwr’s Welsh Parliament in 1404. As a result, it claimed to be the ancient capital of Wales, although this had never officially been recognised. I had Wikipedia on the phone, and looked it up on the way. It was 217 miles and there wasn’t anything else to do. We were travelling via Swindon, Slough and Reading, so it wasn’t exactly a journey filled with adventure and intrigue.

We'd just past Slough when my phone started ringing. It was Bosley.

‘
Wolfy where are you?’

‘
Just past Slough.’

‘
I've found the Tomsians. I'm heading there now. I must just be a little ahead of you.’

‘
We've found them too ... They’re in Wales.’

‘
Exactly. We need to talk. I know how your friend was involved. Oh and Scott Frazer got bailed last night, he had a high end solicitor we couldn’t hold him.’

‘
Yeah I know about Frazer.’

‘
What?’

‘
He just tried to set us on fire in Warwick road. Don’t worry about it. It’s a long story, involves cats. Where are you?’

‘
The first service station outside Slough I'll be waiting.’

We pulled in at the service station; I could see Bosley's old red Astra.

‘
Park up next to him Tabs … jump in Bosley we ain't got no time to stop.’

Bosley jumped out of his car and jumped in Betsy. Tabatha sped back out of there and we were back on our way.

‘
I know how you found the Tomsians,’ I said to Bosley, smirking. Bosley was dressed in a white PVC Jumpsuit, with a fake chest wig and gold medallion. ‘You either went undercover or you’ve joined!’

‘
Joined. I told you before I almost joined. I've decided to abandon the police and join the Tomsians.’

‘
Okay ... glossing over that. You said you knew how Longy was involved.’

‘
Your friend’s brother spoke the truth. Baba is the Prophet.’

‘
What?’

‘
There is a prophecy; a stranger will appear carrying the symbol of the Resplendent.’

‘
Resplendent?’

‘
We call Tom Jones the Resplendent.’

‘
Oh ... fair enough.’

‘
This stranger will choose a new leader who will usher in a new order, raising the Tomsians higher in the light.’ Bosley said this with complete seriousness. He'd gone bonkers.

‘
And I take it Longy was the stranger?’

‘
Yes. He carried the symbol of the Resplendent.’

I looked at Tabatha, she looked back at me. I reached under the car seat and pulled out the box with Tom Jones in it. Opening it I said ‘Is this it?’ Little Tom started singing.

‘
You carry the Resplendent.’ Bosley stared in awe.

‘
Wolfy is the Prophet,’ Curtis announced giggling.

‘
No, I'm not.’ I closed the box.

‘
It would appear that you are. You carry the Resplendent,’ Bosley pronounced.

‘
Bosley what's happened to you? Have you been sniffing that wig?’

‘
When we left the Jonesians, I had a moment of revelation. I looked at my life and decided to abandon it, leave the grime and vermin behind. Since I made that decision, I have found a calmness in myself, an inner peace.’

‘
Good for you,’ Muzzi said in all seriousness.

‘
Thank you,’ Bosley replied. ‘Why are you carrying a cat? ’ he continued.

‘
It's Kevin Milkie's dad … He's the one at the centre of this lunacy,’ I sneered.

‘
Oh … how?’

I explained to Bosley all about Magenta Devine, Kruchenko, and the
Black List.
By the time I'd finished, we'd just reached Llanidloes. Curtis proclaimed what I’d already secretly thought myself.

‘
It’s really beautiful up here you know.’ Which it was. Although I’m not countryside-friendly, I have to admit that it was truly stunning in Wales; a place of sheer unsullied beauty.

The address Marigold Milkie had given us was just north of Machynlleth, near to Tal-y-Llyn, a lake between two hills that was so stunning that I actually had to stop and take a photo. We drove down a little side road, for which the term ‘off the beaten track’ had been invented.

Bosley asked us to drop him at the start of the road. Said it might hinder us if he entered with us. More like he didn't want us to embarrass him. Either way we'd lost our nutter in hand.

Being Wales, it was predominantly green. Sheep, of course, were in abundance and the mountains were large. We continued down the little path until we reached a massive old stone church with a slate roof. The church looked weatherbeaten, yet had a rustic charm. I could have lived there; a perfect little country idyll. Peace and tranquillity resonated all around.

‘
Park up, Tabs. Let’s see what the situation is.’ She parked up Betsy and we all got out.

‘
Now what?’ Curtis wisely observed that we didn’t actually have a plan.

We needed something a bit more sensible than waving a plastic Tom Jones at the first Welshman we saw.

‘
Knock the door, babes.’

I knocked the door, clutching the old box in my hand. The door was ancient
oak; it had once been blue but was now mostly brown, the wood reappearing between the gaps in the paint.

The door opened slowly, and if we’d had any doubts we were in the right location, they were eradicated instantly. There, standing before us, was a small Chinese man in a white PVC jumpsuit open to the navel, revealing a large swathe of what was obviously fake chest hair. He had a large gold medallion hanging round his neck and smiled politely when he saw us.

‘
Alright. What can I do yer for?’ He was a Scouser.

‘
Um … is Tom Jones in?’

‘
I’m Tom Jones. What can I do f’yer?’

‘
Was Mrs Milkie’s husband Chinese?’ Curtis asked.

‘
I don’t know.’ I replied honestly. I looked at Muzzi. He shrugged.

‘
Oh god ... is Kevin Milkie here?’ Tabatha interrupted us, deeply unimpressed by our floundering.

‘
There is no one ‘ere called that mate … Deliverer!’ He’d clocked the box I was holding. ‘Bleedin’ hell Deliverer. Forgive me.’ He knelt down and started bowing his head.

‘
What? Oh yeah, I’ve come to deliver this.’ I raised the box and opened the lid. Little Tom started singing. It was the least convincing arrival of a prophet in world history.

‘
Please come wid me, Deliverer. We’ve bin waitin’ f’yer arrival.’

He ran into the house beckoning us frantically to follow. We stepped through the door into the inner sanctum.

‘
Allow me to summon the brethren.’ He bowed, running off through a door at the back, leaving us to investigate our surroundings.

We were definitely in the church of Tom Jones. The Jonesians were just a fan club compared to these guys. We were standing in an absolutely massive open room. It really felt like entering a church, large open space and high ceiling. It differed from your standard church in the odd detail, one of the main ones being that there, staring directly at us, was a nine-foot statue of Tom Jones made of solid granite. It was dressed in a red, seventies’ velvet suit with white frilly lapels, and was in a classic Tom Jones pose and incredibly accurate. It dominated the huge room.

There was an altar at the far end, covered with a large cloth with Tom Jones' face printed upon it. Either side of the altar were two large wooden arches with heavy wooden doors, one of which the Chinese Tom Jones had gone through.

The place was all hardwood and Welsh heartthrob. On the wall behind the altar were the complete lyrics of ‘Kiss’ carved into the wall in medieval script. To either side of us were a series of six stained glass windows, brilliantly done in reds and greens, each representing a different era of Tom Jones’ life: the three on the left, his earlier years; while on the right, his later era. Under every stained glass window were various exhibition cases. Contained under the glass like precious treasures were various bits of Tom Jones memorabilia. There were ten cases in total, containing artefacts such as a boot, a scarf, a pair of flairs, a medallion, pairs of knickers and hair. One displayed about seven strands of curly black hair.

‘
God, I hope that’s off his head,’ Curtis smirked.

‘
Oh, that’s nasty, Curt. What’s wrong with you?’

‘
What? Look at this place. You can’t be sure.’

‘
Stop fucking about Curt. We’ve come for the list. Don’t piss anybody off.’

‘
Sorry,
Deliverer
.’ Curtis smirked, preparing to take the piss. I gave him a dirty look. ‘I know … I know we’ve come for the list, but if you think I’m letting this slide after all the crap I’ve taken about doilies, you’re as mad as they are.’

‘
Shut up. They’re coming back.’ The door next to the altar opened and over twenty-five people came flooding out, led by the Chinese Scouse Tom Jones.

There standing before us was a wide array of nationalities, shapes and sizes, as well as sexes.

‘
Bloody hell, it’s like the UN on acid,’ I said.

‘
He’s an international superstar. Why wouldn’t they be from all over the world?’ Muzzi was taking this all very seriously. He'd also taken the cat out his box and was stroking him in his hands.

‘
Muzzi, why have you taken the cat out of the box?’ It was still trying to get me.

‘
I thought it would make him easier to recognise.’

‘
Good thinking. Any idea which one’s Milkie?’ Muzzi shook his head.

Although they represented a wide spectrum of the planet’s populace, they all shared certain similarities. They were all dressed identically in white PVC jumpsuits, split to the navel, with nylon chest wigs, and gold sparkly medallions; even the women.