The Video Tape Ch. 05

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Are things spiralling out of his control?
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Part 5 of the 8 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 11/10/2006
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As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. Also for the speed in which they both turn around the chapters of this story. As I often play around with a story after they have read it, I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

Over the following few days there was a quantum change in Emily's attitude towards me. The trouble was it had been so long since we'd been together, I'd forgotten so much about how Emily operated. Come on, we've all got our little foibles in life and how we go about getting our own way. I very rapidly began to suspect that Emily intended to know what I was planning and I suspected that she was buttering me up so that I would tell her.

For all the apparent softening in her attitude towards me, I had my reservations. Her questions were subtly put, but they were there. After about a week, when I told her it wasn't going to work, she finally lost patience completely.

"Tony, if you don't tell me what you are planning to do, I'm going to see Inspector Morris and tell him you are up to something."

"Well, if you do that, I will most likely finish up in jail, Emily. Perhaps you'd prefer that to having those bastards locked away?"

That was a lie again on my part. The advantage of not telling Emily what I was planning was that she couldn't rat on me to the police, as she had no idea whether my plan was already in motion or not. Nothing illegal had happened yet, so if she did wish to take some personal revenge against me, by reporting me to the police; well, there wasn't anything they could touch me for. Yet!

Look, I'm not exactly daft. If anyone had treated me the same way as I'd treated Emily ten years before, well, I'm pretty sure that I'd be looking for some form of revenge. I loved the woman; I always have, even when I thought she'd been cheating on me. But my injured pride had made me do some very vindictive things to her. Emily had made it very clear that she didn't love me anymore and who can blame her. So her sudden concern about my welfare I had to treat with more than a little suspicion.

Strange attitude on my behalf? No, I don't think so. To quote Emily, "Just get it through your thick head, Tony, I'm here for one reason. My daughter! I'll be civil to you. Damn it, I'll spend all your money for you, if you like. But don't ever think you are going to mean anything to me again. And it'll be a bloody cold day in hell before I ever jump back into bed with you, if that's what you're thinking." Or something like that.

Now if I went down for a stretch, who would get custody of Bridget? Yeah, you've got it - Emily. So I had to be careful about what I told her. Look, I've found myself in a very unusual situation that left me trusting very few people. Regretfully that included the one person who I wanted to trust me again. You try to get your head around that little problem?

+++++++++++++++++

It was about three weeks after my first meeting with Pat in the Pub that his phone call came. Although I'd told him to use the new mobile phones, it appeared he didn't trust them and he called me on the pay phone outside my office building. Quite clever really, I came out of the office one evening; as I was walking past the telephone box, a young lady opened the door to it. Holding the handset out to me, she said, "Mr E, there's a call for you!" She handed me the handset and before I'd realised what was happening she had disappeared into the crowd on the street.

"Hello," I tentatively said into the handset.

"Mr E. Tea at five in the morning. Make sure you're not followed and try not to stand out like a sore thumb this bloody time. You'll find a donkey jacket beside your car; wear that."

The line went dead.

I'm going to admit that I had butterflies in my stomach. It appeared the game was on and, although I knew I had to go through with it, I wasn't completely sure I had the nerve to finish what I'd started.

In the car park, I found the well-used donkey jacket lying on the floor below the driver's door of my car. For one awful minute I was unsure about picking it up. I knew that Pat and his friends had close connections with the kind of people who where in the habit of blowing-up folks they didn't like or trust. And Patrick did know that I was aware he wasn't who he claimed to be.

After staring at the coat for some time and with my heart in my throat, I gave the jacket a little kick. The coat moved, but nothing else happened. I was still alive, so I picked the jacket up and threw it into the back of my car.

++++++++++++++++

That evening Emily's attitude was the same as it had been since she'd discovered that I was planning to take matters into my own hands. By that I mean that she wasn't being as hard on me as she had been, but she wasn't all over me either. We were effectively two people sharing the same house, albeit we had our daughter there. I suppose there must be lots of people who live like that. You know, live together because they are married but are not in love with each other anymore. In our case, I knew I loved Emily, but I had no idea how she really felt about me. I had no idea how strong her hate for me was.

Whilst Bridget was doing her homework Emily again tackled me about what I was planning, as she did almost every night, but I refused to tell her. She hadn't threatened me with the police again after the one time when she had though.

++++++++++++++++

I slept very little that night and I arose early without disturbing anyone else in the house. I left the house wearing my normal business suit. But I drove to a quiet spot where I changed into some denim jeans and my old gardening boots. The Donkey jacket was quite thick, so I figured my tee shirt would suffice under it.

Taking a mystery tour to ensure that I wasn't followed, I parked in a side road near the café and walked the last few hundred yards.

As I entered, I saw Pat sitting on his own at the back of the café. There were some other guys there who were sitting kind of strung out across the place. Having joined Pat at his table, I noted these other guys had moved their seats slightly. Getting anywhere near where Pat and I were sitting would be extremely awkward for anyone.

"Right are you sure you're wanting to go on with this?" Pat asked.

"Pat, after what those arseholes did to me and mine. I'm prepared to do anything to make sure they pay," I answered with my fingers crossed.

"Look, you've got to understand that the people we're going to have to work with don't play games. They do what they do for many reasons. Some because they want the six counties to be part of the republic. Some because they want money and they will do just about anything to get it - those buggers hide amongst the believers. And then there's some who just want power and control over other people. They know that if you can get people hating each other then you've got power over them."

"There is an old saying: 'Divide and conquer'. It's true and it's been used for thousands of years. The Nazis used it and it has been used in South Africa and the USA. Get one part of the community hating some other part of the community and you can use their fear of each other to put yourself in control."

"But I thought you were a republican. Which grouping do you fall into?"

"Now there we have it, I was a believer. I still am in my heart. I believe that Ireland, all of Ireland should be ruled by the Irish. But I discovered to my cost that all hate does is to destroy innocent people. The troubles have cost me my family, my mother, wife and sister. And it wasn't the loyalists who killed them. It was my own people, when a bomb factory in the flat below my mother's blew up. What were they doing making bombs amongst their own innocent women and children?

"That's when it came home to me and I washed my hands of the struggle. They didn't care about who lived or died, providing they got what they wanted. I couldn't be working with that kind of people for a political cause. So I came over here and tried to get on with my life."

Pat sat back in his chair. I gathered that he was collecting his thoughts.

"These people we are going to have to use. You have to understand that they are only interested in money. I believe we are justified in using them, because the men we are after are also only interested in themselves and money. But I can't be sure we can trust the guys we are intending to use either. You must understand that!"

"I think I do!" I replied.

"Good, because the moment we get over there we are placing our own lives on the line. Be sure you are willing to take that risk."

Pat went on to explain how we were going to get into Ireland without anyone knowing we were there. Whether this was to protect me, or because the authorities were looking for Pat over there - or come to that, in England - I don't know. But a week later we were in the Republic.

I'm not going to be specific on exactly where for obvious reasons. There's extradition agreements in place between the Irish and British authorities.

We'd arrived at a farmhouse during the night and I'd have had no real idea where we were if Pat hadn't told me. As soon as it was light, Pat came into my room carrying a tray with my breakfast on it, while also laying on the tray was a handgun.

"Have you ever used one of these things?" he asked.

"No, and I'm not sure I want to," I replied.

"Now look, Tony, when we meet these people later you are going to be carrying this gun. You are going to know how to hold it and how to shoot the damn thing. These guys are not really to be trusted; they have got to think you can handle yourself and are someone to reckon with. Do you understand? Any weakness will be spotted and for god's sake don't mention the troubles. If they think you are a spy then we are all in deep shit. This is a money deal and that's all they think we are interested in."

"Okay, Pat," I said, gingerly picking up the gun.

"And don't go pointing that bloody thing at anyone! You don't know if it's loaded."

"Sorry, Pat," I said as I marvelled at the weight of the thing.

"Eat your breakfast, then we'll go over to the barn and I'll show you how to handle it. The neighbours are far enough away for you to let off a few rounds."

Having eaten and gotten dressed, Pat took me to the barn that to my surprise had a proper shooting gallery inside. Well, all right it was a kind-of Heath-Robinson one. Pat showed me how to fire the gun and reload it. He explained how the safety catch worked and we spent most of the time with me learning how to flick the safety on and off quickly.

"How many times have you seen that one used on the films?" Pat asked. "Some fool points a gun at the hero and he says you forgot the safety catch. The fool looks to check the safety catch and the hero takes the gun from him. You make damn sure that if you have to use that thing, you know that the catch is off. And make sure the damn safety is on when the thing's in your pocket."

As I was trying to get at least one bullet somewhere near the target, I suddenly became aware of a movement off to my left. I stopped firing and turned to see a woman standing there with a smile on her face.

"My god, Pat, you'd better give him a sawn-off. He couldn't hit a barn door."

"It's not as easy as it looks in the films," I retorted.

"Bloody Englishman," she replied.

Then taking the gun from my hand, she put the remaining four bullets into the centre of the target. Before I'd finished studying her marksmanship, she'd ejected one magazine and slipped in another, putting a further four bullets in the same area.

"Damn it, Pat, I think it would be better if this young lady kept the gun and acted as my bodyguard," I said to Pat jokingly.

"Kathy is your bodyguard!" Pat replied.

"I'm not expecting any trouble but just make sure you don't shoot her or me if things get messy. Wherever you go over here, Kathy will be with you. Don't speak to anyone unless she gives you the okay. If Kathy tells you to run, you run and if she shouts down, you get your bloody head down quickly. You got that?"

"Whatever you say, Pat. You know what you're doing better than I do," I replied.

"Good. Now, Kathy, see if you can get him to put a bullet somewhere near that bloody target. I don't need to be shot in the backside. Now I've got some people to see."

Both Kathy and I laughed as Pat left the barn, although if this turned out to be a shooting war, I did wonder what side I would be most dangerous to.

"Dad said you've only got to look like you know what you're doing with a gun. So don't you go worrying yourself too much. Really we are not expecting any real trouble of that kind," Kathy said when we were alone.

"That's a relief. I hadn't planned to play Jessie James or anything. Did I just hear you say that Pat's your father?" I asked.

"Damn, I'm not supposed to tell you that, so don't you be going telling him I did."

"No chance; I don't need Pat upset about anything. I need his help here."

"He's a good man. He will do what he can to help you and your wife," Kathy replied.

"You know about what happened and why we are here?"

"Fa.... Pat told me last night. I was wondering what he was up to; the people he's gone to see are not very nice but they owe him a debt. But I'm wondering, what debt does Pat owe you?"

"None that I know of, I just asked him for his help and he offered it. Although I think he could be sweet on Emily."

"He always has been a sucker for a pretty face. Is your wife good looking?"

"About as beautiful as you, if just a few years older."

"Now don't you be trying your city blarney on me."

"Kathy, I'm not, but there's the most uncanny resemblance between you and Emily when she was younger and had her hair long. You know, I think that Pat has noticed as well and that's why he feels so protective towards her."

"Ah, now, you could be on the right track. I'm told I have my mother's looks so perhaps he sees her in your wife."

"I suppose it would explain his willingness to help me," I replied.

My gun lessons lasted until Kathy decided that it was time for us to eat again. Back in the farmhouse, I saw signs that other people lived there, but I didn't see anyone except Kathy. We ate lunch and sat around talking about Emily, Bridget and my attempts to build a new life together.

I realised later that Kathy was keeping me talking, I wondered if I was really showing how afraid and out of my depth I was. I wondered whether she was trying to keep my mind off of things. When we began to run out of things to talk about Kathy went over to a dresser and got out a photograph album. She looked through a few pages and then stopped and stared a one particular picture.

"Here, that's my mother," she said, as she turned the album so that I could see it.

"Oh, my god! She is the image of Emily," I commented.

I'd been struck by Kathy's similarity to Emily. The woman in the photograph could have been Emily.

"I think we do know why Dad's helping you then. He misses her so much."

"How old were you when it happened, do you remember your mother?" I immediately felt I was intruding the moment I asked the question.

"Kathy didn't answer for a few seconds.

"My mother was carrying me when the explosion happened. My mother died the same evening; they performed an emergency Caesarean and I survived. I was a month premature so they kept me in hospital for a while. After what had happened, Pat couldn't handle looking after me. So he brought me down here to my uncle and his wife who have raised me. Father went off to England - he could earn more money over there - to help his sister look after me. And he was further away from people he might have taken some revenge on."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What is it with these people?"

"Hate. That's what father says. They are so busy hating that they don't think about what they are actually doing. My father tries his best not to hate anyone nowadays, even those people who were responsible for that bomb factory. It's taken him a long time but I think he's getting there."

"I don't know him that well Kathy, but I think he's a good man."

"I know he tries to be and he'll do everything he can to help you. Tony, you can trust father and me."

The day dragged by and Pat didn't return. I was beginning to get worried about him, when the telephone rang. Kathy answered it.

"There'll be a car here to pick us after it's dark," she said, as she replaced the receiver. "Things have gone rather faster than Pat had anticipated. I know that he had something in motion, but it must have worked better than he thought."

Kathy poured me a rather large whisky (Irish) to calm my nerves. She would only let me have the one because she said I was carrying the gun.

It was very late, about eleven o'clock, and extremely dark outside when a car pulled into the farmyard. Kathy told me that the man driving it was one of her father's people; he wasn't introduced to me, as it wasn't prudent to know too many names. Kathy and I got into the car and it sped off into the night.

"Now, listen," the driver said. "Whatever happens now, hold your nerve. Say nothing and don't react whatever happens. Take your cue from Kathy and listen to what she tells you," the man said to me as we pulled into a decrepit looking factory estate.

The place was all in darkness from the outside; the man led us into a building and down a corridor lit by a single light bulb. But it did appear quite bright after the darkness. At the end of the corridor, another man handed us all woollen balaclava helmets with just small holes for our eyes and mouths, which we all put on.

Then he opened the door to a large dimly lit warehouse and led us inside. The warehouse was empty except for two chairs about fifteen feet apart and several people standing in the shadows. Sitting on the chairs were a well-dressed man and a young woman. The man was apparently tied to his chair and gagged, but I could not make out if the woman was restrained in any way or not.

"Good, you're here. Now we can get on with this," Pat's voice said from somewhere in the room. "Take that gag off."

Another masked man stepped from the shadows and removed the gag. All of the men in the room now closed in towards the sitting man.

"Now we have some questions for you." Pat's voice again said, "You would be sensible to answer them truthfully or, I can assure you, you will be very sorry. We do not wish to hurt you, but we will if you do not give us the information we require."

The man, who looked extremely scared, didn't say anything; he just looked from one masked face to another.

"Are you going to be co-operative?" Pat asked.

But before the man could answer there was a movement on the other side of the room. This happened very quickly and I have some difficulty in remembering exactly what happened. The young woman, who apparently hadn't been restrained in her seat, must have decided to make a break for it whilst everyone was concentrating on the man. I was suddenly aware that she had gotten up from her chair and was running towards the door. Suddenly there was the loud retort and flash of a gunshot. The woman let out a little scream; she stumbled a couple more steps and then collapsed to the floor. I didn't see who fired the shot.

"Damn it, I told you to watch that little bitch," Pat exclaimed angrily.

One of the other men went over to where the girl was lying; crouching down beside her he turned to look back at Pat.

"She's dead!" he announced.

End of part five

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  • COMMENTS
14 Comments
DG HearDG Hearover 2 years ago

good story

DG Hear

jtwheelsjtwheelsover 4 years ago
Bad ass people and fail to restrain or watch?

Hole in the story

nancyharpman17nancyharpman17over 7 years ago
My Kind Of Story

The plot thickens.

TavadelphinTavadelphinover 10 years ago
Ah yes the fear of God

It is known to work wonders - let us see if the woman is a plant workoing for Pat?

peggytwittypeggytwittyabout 17 years ago
It just gets better and better

Really good

PT

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