Retribution - A Dish served Cold

One

BellStead

The Year 2002

How long had it been? How much had changed? Life had caught up with him. It was as if he did not exist. No one stopped or asked if he was ok. The thin, old man with matted grey hair covering his collar gripped the cold steel handrail and dragged his frail body up the slope. A lifetime of sixty cigarettes a day had destroyed his lungs and forced him to pause. John Daniels bent over as if his stomach hurt. In time, the coughs eased until they stopped. Wiping his mouth on his coat sleeve, he spat bloody phlegm onto the path. Memories haunted him and time was not a friend.

The large glass doorway stood like a portal to the past. John's right hand moved forward as a concealed sensor opened them automatically. "Bloody technology," he muttered, gasping for breath.

Once inside, he flopped onto a grey plastic chair opposite the glass-panelled office and let his eyes wander. Everything changes, he thought when he could not recognise anything.

He smiled to himself as his mind filled with past actions. How many drunken yobs, their bodies covered in tattoos, had he dragged screaming abuse to the basement cells? In those days, a bunch of fives gained you respect. Today you lost your job.

A young uniformed sergeant strolled from the office. "Sorry, sir, but we're not open to the public. You need to telephone the station at Folkstone or dial nine-nine-nine for emergencies."

John, his face tense, gave a severe smile. "I must talk with Walker, your Superintendent. Tell him his governor wants a word."

The sergeant smiled at the old man in his creased white shirt, blue tie, and rumpled blue suit. "Sir, take it easy, get your breath. I'll contact him right now."

"Thank you." John fixed his eyes on the sergeant. "How old are you, son? Twenty-two, twenty-three? I'm Detective Chief Inspector John Daniels, retired."

The sergeant frowned and ended his call saying, "I'll inform the gentleman, sir." He raised his voice. "Chief Inspector, Chief Superintendent Walker, asks you to make an appointment."

John, his eyes neutral, chuckled. "Make a fucking appointment. Sergeant, please ring him and tell him Molly Bryant sends her regards."

The sergeant's eyebrows met when he raised them. "Can you give me any more information, sir?"

"No, I can't." Pain screwed his face as a fit of coughing grabbed him.

The sergeant made the call to his boss. "He'll see you in ten minutes, sir."

John grimaced. "I thought he might."

The sergeant came from behind his desk and sat alongside him. "Between you and me, and I promise not to tell a soul, who's this, Molly?"

"I shouldn't tell you, but what the hell? It was a long time ago." In a calm voice, John told the story. "I was an Inspector at the time, and your guvnor, a wet behind the ears beginner. Molly worked the streets. This station had an unwritten agreement with her if some eager newbie we sent to her patch acted high and mighty."

The smile on the sergeant's face changed to a grin as he rubbed his hands briskly.

"One night, the desk sergeant sent Walker to investigate a supposed disturbance where Molly plied her trade. He even gave him the keys to the spare police car. Full of his self-importance, he arrived to find Molly chatting up a punter. Walker wanted to create an impression. He asked her to sit in the vehicle's rear seat and answer a few questions. Molly gave him a sob story about how she had three kids to look after, which he swallowed hook-line and sinker. In a few minutes, she opened his flies and gave him a mega blowjob.

"My Polaroid camera instantly recorded the action. Don't laugh, but we didn't plan for Molly's false teeth to drop into his lap. He went mental when yours truly and three other officers surrounded the car. I held the two wet prints for him to see. He doesn't know I burnt the pictures on returning to the station."

John stopped talking when Chief Superintendent Walker arrived. "Mr Daniels, I can spare you five minutes."

John coughed, and the air entering his lungs stuttered. His pale eyes studied the slightly overweight man wearing a dark, expensive, double-breasted suit. "You haven't changed. Finding your dick in the dark was always a major problem for you. Always a first-class arsehole. But you had a touch of class and befriended those who could help you climb the promotion ladder. Why is it, the higher you climb the ladder, the more arrogant you become? Don't answer, and I'm here to close a few of your still open files."

"What were you saying to the sergeant?"

"Nothing important."

Walker raised an eyebrow. "When did you leave the Force, Daniels?"

"Nineteen seventy-two."

"The day you retired, I received my sergeant's stripes."

John's eyes narrowed and a cruel sneer formed on his lips. His voice lowered to a whisper as he grabbed Walker's shirt and pulled himself erect. "Look, you wanker. I may be old, but I'm not stupid. Engage your brain. The skeletons in your cupboard are about to go walkabout. I know things you don't and never will unless you listen to what I say."

Walker forced a smile. "You've been out of the force too long to know anything useful."

The desk sergeant swallowed a chuckle.

Walker glared at him but said nothing.

John paused to catch his breath as a single cough turned into a spasm.

"John, are you alright?"

"I'm as fit as a fiddle, just tired."

Silence followed until John lifted his head. "You lot ponce around with your thumbs up, your bums. Why do you think the Little brothers always escaped justice? Because they knew how the local plod operated. It would be better if we continued this conversation in your office."

Walker swallowed hard. This old man made him nervous. "Don't lecture me, but I agree with you for once. Can I help?"

"You can support my weight."

The desk sergeant shook his head as the two men staggered like drunks at the end of a heavy night.

Once inside the office, John slumped into the only armchair. As his eyes took the room in, it appeared to be the tidiest office in the world. Somebody had covered the wall behind the desk with photographs of Walker receiving medals and commendations. During his career, John had been here many times before. Much had changed since, as he put it, the good old days. It was once a significant part of his life. It was sometimes difficult to distinguish between actual memories and made-up ones.

"Do you know the assistant chief constable is retiring on health grounds?"

"Walker's eyes widened. "He was only appointed less than a month ago, so I know you're talking rubbish."

John appeared ready to argue but merely smiled. "They offered the position to  Johnson, a much younger man than you."

"I'll believe that when it happens."

"From what I overheard, you'll know tomorrow morning."

"And pigs might fly. What other words of wisdom are you going to tell me?"

"I know how the Little brothers met their end. Do you want to know who killed them, or don't you care?"

Walker sat with his back ramrod straight. "You'll tell me whether I want to or not."

"I made sure they never hurt anyone again."

"Keep talking. I need a good laugh."

"I'll start where it all began. This office. And for once in your life, shut your mouth and listen."