Malcolm Geedy replaced his gun in its holster and moved a body across the bathroom of the small house. Resting it against the toilet so the blood still pouring from the skull could be easily contained, he rubbed his eyes and strained to quell his emotions. How had life come to this?
Malcolm was a military policeman, as was the man at his feet. They worked together for six years. Sean Davidson was a friend. A man he trusted. However, his choices and his gun ended all that.
For years, Malcolm hid a secret. He was a gambler, and not a very good one. His total debts at the start of the year amounted to more than his house was worth. He was in deep, and the vultures who lent him the money would not take later for an answer anymore.
In a fit of self-loathing, he had gone on one last bender. A night to end all nights before his wife found out what he had done, and he lost everything. It was late on that fateful evening when he met the man who would set him on his current path.
As Malcolm staggered down the back streets of Norwich, stumbling to find any purveyor of alcohol still open, a limo pulled up at his side. The man who strode from the vehicle was well dressed, and knew Malcolm by name. He thought it was one of them, come for their money. How wrong he was.
Ushered into the limo and handed a glass of champagne, the man proceeded to offer to pay off Malcolm’s debt in return for a few favours.
It was a strange conversation. Malcolm slurred, the man continued to top up his glass, and all the while, a peculiar figure in what looked like a monk’s outfit sat on the wide back seat with them and said nothing.
He had no options. Three hundred grand was not going to materialise any other way. He had to accept.
True to their word, the debt was paid, a burner phone was promptly delivered so their communications could be secure, and his bank account soon filled with additional funds.
At first, their requests were simple enough. Copies of personnel files, schematics for some base, details on psych evaluations undertaken; the information was only slightly more than could be found online.
That was of course, until yesterday.
Rung with urgency, he was ordered to get to the house of one of the men he had provided information about, Professor Harry Linley. He challenged the request, but they pushed their point. He worked for them. His was not to challenge, but to obey.
Malcolm swallowed hard as he listened to what he must do next, the details making him realise he was now in the employ of people far worse than loan sharks. He knew their threats were not idle ones. If he refused to do as asked, his family would die. Once again, he had no choice.
When he arrived at Professor Linley’s house, he was shaking. He could not believe they would force him to do this. Nevertheless, do it he must.
After he was done, Davidson arrived. Somehow, a message reached the military police about Linley’s life being in danger. If Davidson continued his investigation, someone would eventually work out he was involved. After all he had been through, he could not allow that to happen.
Turned as he examined the body, Davidson did not see Malcolm hold out his gun. He did not see him struggle to calm his shaking hand as tears began to flow down his cheeks. He did not see him slowly pull the trigger back, scrunching his eyes tight to distance himself from the act. Finally, Sean Davidson, a man who had lent him money when he was struggling and even babysat his children on occasion saw nothing ever again.
Calming himself as best he could, Malcolm reached into his pocket for his burner phone. After a few moments, a recognizable voice answered. “We’ve got a situation.” he said, responding to the voice’s questions. “I’ve had to kill Davidson. He was about to call in the coroner to examine Linley’s body.”
Malcolm held the handset away from his ear, as the volume of response increased.
“I can only re-state what Linley told me; nothing.” Malcolm said, almost pleading. “I am certain he was telling the truth when he said he acted alone. People tend not to lie when you’re holding a power drill to their ear.”
There was a long, distasteful pause before the man spoke again.
“Yes, of course. He’ll be taking care of the situation on site now.” Malcolm said, attempting to placate the growing ire on the other end of the line. “It might not be as simple as that. I’m almost certain Linley knew what he was looking for. I have no idea how.” He concentrated hard, ensuring he captured every shred of information from the response. “I’m listening sir, go on.”
The last thing that went through Malcolm’s mind was the screen of his phone, as the modified unit exploded in his hand.
-
Thirty miles away, from a limo parked by the side of a disused road, another call was made. This time there would be no mistakes.