Retribution - A Dish served Cold

Chapter Twelve

Two pigeons cooing on his roof annoyed John and made sleeping any longer difficult.

Not in the best of moods, he checked the time, six. Washed and dressed, he ate two slices of toast, one mug of thick black coffee and a couple of cigarettes. To clear his mind, he went for a walk. The streets were empty, and it took him less than twenty minutes to reach the beach. He seated himself on a wooden bench and let his eyes roam the emptiness. The first glimmer of a new day gave him the energy he needed. Gulls screeching, each searching for their first meal of the day, forced him to move. With purpose in his step, he made his way to Angela's. With the early morning daylight, a few pedestrians headed for the station. Those he noticed walked with shoulders hunched and unsmiling faces. John looked at his watch. It was approaching eight. The mere thought of not having to do that every morning made him smile.

On arriving at Angela's, he wondered if she might be working. He pressed the bell push. 

The door opened, and Angela wearing a pink dressing gown eyed him unkindly. "Hi, Last night was a pain in the arse. Do you have any idea what time it is? Come in before the neighbours wonder who you are."

"Bad night?"

"Five domestics, four drunk teenage mums and a wife who stabbed her husband when she discovered him bonking the next-door neighbour in her bed. It must have been a full moon or something."

"Sorry, I should have given you a call, but I was out walking and found myself passing you home.

"I'll make a coffee."

"Are you sure? I could come back later. We could go to the pub for lunch."

In the kitchen, she filled the kettle and flicked the switch. "Yes, I'm sure, and yes, we can go for lunch. You can make the coffee while I put on some clothes."

"I've seen you naked."

She laughed. "Make the coffee."

He watched her leave and lit a cigarette. The kettle boiled, and he made two cups of black coffee.

Angela returned wearing black jeans and a sloppy dark blue jumper. "Have you had breakfast?"

He nodded, "I could murder a couple of slices of toast."

"On their way. Now, what's on your mind?"

He looked straight at her. "You, me, us. I have something I must do. I don't want you involved, so I'll not be around for a while. Please don't ask me how long, but could we get together again when this is over?"

"It's the Little brothers. I understand why, but if our life together works out, I believe it will. Why risk ruining the future?"

"They took my sister's life and must pay the price. It's too late for me to back out.

She grabbed his hands. "You're full of shit. You want to make them suffer. Don't laugh, but what if the police find it was you who did for them?"

"I wrote the book on how to undertake investigations. I promise not to leave my name and address at the crime scene. One thing for sure I never let the left hand know what the right hand is doing. As detectives, most couldn't find a whore in a brothel."

She laughed. "I agree, but we don't have a brothel in this town."

He checked the time, "Must dash things to do. See you in the pub. Is one o'clock okay?"

"First one there buys the drinks."

His grinned. "I might be late."

She kissed him and shoved him towards the front door. "I'm going for a bath, and there's not enough room for two."

He left and walked home.

***

John went straight into his workshop, hoisted the rucksack containing his explosives over his shoulder and left. Within five minutes, he was cycling towards St Mary's.

He entered the church grounds via the Lychgate, except someone had removed the gate. As he walked, pushing his cycle through the long grass, he realised he was excited by the prospect of ending the despicable careers of the brothers.

On arriving at the mausoleum, he checked the padlocks. A smile spread across his lips, and they appeared untouched. In seconds he was inside and securing the door. With the metal plate removed, he dropped the rucksack into the dark. He entered the undercroft with a torch in his right hand and feet first.

As the roof height increased, he stopped and emptied the rucksack. His two battery-operated lanterns lit the space better than daylight. He separated the Semtex, roll of wire and the six detonators into three lots. The battery went back into the rucksack. Apart from two years of national service, he had been a police officer most of his working life. The army taught him how to destroy things, a lesson he had never forgotten.

Seated on the dirt floor, he closed his eyes and thought over his next move. He wore his ex-police gloves, put together six explosive packs and attached wires to the detonators. As he worked, sweat trickled down his back. Using a trowel, he dug a hole at the base of the roof supports. Into each, he placed an explosive pack with the wire trailing. The wires he wound together and buried. The bare ends he knitted together and taped. Finished, he inspected his work. The dry soil completely disguised his work. One more check, and he made his way out, unlocked the door and left. Ten minutes later, his clothes were in the washing machine, and he was in the shower singing Roberta Flacks' latest hit.

***

While dressing, John glanced at the alarm clock at his bedside. It was twelve forty. "Shit." He grabbed his coat and headed for the front door. With luck, he might make the pub by one.

Gasping for breath, he shoved the pub door open one minute past one.

Angela gave him a crooked smile as she met his gaze. "Strange, but I didn't expect you to be late."

"Sorry, busy morning. What are you drinking?"

She didn't have time to answer before John waved to Heather, who smiled and strolled across. "What will it be?"

"Please, a pint of IPA for me. Angela?"

"Fresh orange, tonic with ice, please."

Heather nodded. "No problem, give me a nod when you're ready to order your lunch."

"Thanks," said John.

Angela turned to John and pressed her lips together as she placed her right hand on his. "I've been thinking over what you said this morning."

John sighed. "I'm listening."

"I could get into deep shit for this, but I have no intention of visiting you in prison. Can I help?"

A wall of silence came between them until he said," No. I care what happens to you. Shall we have lunch?"

John nodded to Heather, who took their order.

Angela's initial shock at his answer diminished. "Okay, there're two ways we can go with this. One, we enjoy our lunch and say goodbye and never see each other again. Alternatively, you come home with me, come to bed, and make love until I kick you out."

"I thought you were working tonight."

"I don't feel well. Best I call in sick. Can't spread whatever it is around the station."

He laughed. "No pressure then."

"What's your answer?"

"You could become a rather bad habit."