Sabre Six : File 51 (7 page)

On a normal day, I would walk Griffer aro
und the field but as it was pissing it down, we would stay on the path for now. I ended up talking to the dog again. “We need milk, sugar and a loaf of bread, Griffer. Don’t sniff that, you filthy bastard! Come on, move it!” He just carried on trotting down the path. We stopped off at the Spar shop, where I tied Griffer outside. He wagged his tail when I came back out, crying with pleasure. “Christ sake, Dog! I’ve only been away for five minutes.” He was wagging his tail non-stop.

When we got
home, I let him out the back for ten minutes. I could hear the bugger barking at the neighbours already! I picked up my recorded mail and walked into the kitchen, looking on the back.  No return address – odd! I pulled out a knife from the kitchen drawer and started opening it.

Griffer barked and ran
towards the front door. Someone knocked again; I dropped the letter.

“Wait there! I’m just p
utting the dog away.” Maybe it was the postman again with more mail – this often happened.

“Just coming!” I sh
ut the dog in the living room and opened the door to find two police officers standing there.

“Hello, S
ir. Can we confirm that you are Mr Michael Fox, married to a Mrs Hannah Fox?”

My stomach lurched:
I stuttered my words. “Yes, that’s right, Officer.”

“May we come in, Michael?”

“Yes, please do.” They showed me their ID cards upon entry. One was a WPC.

“
What’s happened, officers?” I sat down in my chair, shaking.

“I am here to tell you that your wife, Hannah, has been involved in a traffic collision and was pronounced dead at the scene. I am so sorry, Michael.”

I don’t know what to do with my hands. I squeeze them into a fist, both of them. I cannot stop shaking. What the hell is happening! Is this a dream?

“What about our daughter, Fran?” They explain
ed that she was still at school.

“How, what, where, did this accident happen?” The female officer sits next to me.

“I know this is a big shock, Michael, but we are here to help you, ok! You are not alone.” She was trying to comfort me.

“I must get Fran from school.”

“Are there any relatives that could pick Fran up, Michael? Or even a family friend that could collect her from school?”

“No! Yes!” I’d
get them to phone our friend Mary across the street. She would look after Frances for the night until I could figure out what to do.

“Is there anyone that can be with you tonight, Michael?”  They call
ed Pete, a good friend of mine who was ex Regiment. Only two hours later every bugger was at my doorstep wanting a piece of me. The police officers left the house. Pete sat opposite me and poured me a whiskey to calm my nerves.

“I don’t
know what to say, Michael, I really don’t, mate.” He sipped his whiskey while I sat there numb, speechless. Slowly, everyone started leaving the house.

“I need to get Fran home, Pete.”

“She’ll be just fine where she is, mate, just have time out tonight. I’ll stay here with you.”

“But she needs to know.”

“Just take your time and we’ll tell her together, ok?”

I walk
ed outside to take a leak in the garden. On returning, I poured another whiskey for the both of us.

“Why has this happened to me, Pete, hey?”

“I don’t know, my friend.”

“Have I done something to deserve this? I know I’ve done some awful things in the past to others, but do I deserve this? I’ve only tried to do right by everything and everyone, Pete.”

“Sometimes things happen and there’s nothing you can do to change it. Nothing Michael, ok? So get those crazy thoughts out of your head. If Hannah was here now, she wouldn’t want you moaning about things, would she?”

“No
, she would not. She’d give me a bollocking.”

“Yes
, that’s right! Now pull your finger out, Michael.”

We dra
nk so much whiskey that we passed out on the sofa. In the morning, Pete opened the door to the police and invited them inside. It was raining hard.

“Take a seat
, officers. Would you like a cup of tea, or a coffee?”

“Tea, please. Thanks. Two sugars.
White please, and the same for ma’am.”

“Christ, what time is it?”

“It’s eleven in the morning, Michael. Did you sleep alright?”

“Yes, as well as could be expect
ed; passed out on the sofa. I’ve just thrown up in the toilet, but thanks for asking.” Pete brought the teas in.

“
Cheers buddy! Nice one.”

“Get that down your neck
, mate; that’ll do you good.”

“Anyway
, what can I do for you this morning, officers?”

“We need
you to come down to the station with us this morning, Michael. Your friend can come with us; we just need to clear something up with you, if that’s ok.”

“Clear what up?”

“We’ll explain more down at the station.”

After finishing our tea,
Pete and I got dressed and accompanied the officers to the station, where two more police detectives met us.

“H
ello, Mr Fox. If both of you could follow me, please.”

We were led
out the back into a small box room smelling of stale coffee.

“Do you both want a cup of tea?”

“Yeah, go on then, Officer.”

“Can we smoke?” Pete asked.

“Not in the building.” He smiled as he closed the door. Ten minutes later a smart looking man carrying a folder entered the room.

“Hello! Michael, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I am
Detective Mark Dupes from the London Metropolitan Police. I am running the investigation into the death of your wife, Mrs Hannah Fox. We need to ask you a few questions about her, if that’s ok with you?”

“Go ahead,
Sir.”

“Can you tell me what car she drove?” I answered his questions.

“What were her plans that day? Did she meet anyone else?”

“All I know is that she went to work that morning, and took my daughter Frances to school, the same as she does every other morning.”

“Ok. So she has lunch at work then, does she?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Why is this important to the death of my wife?”

“Mr Fox, have you had anyone ....how can I phrase this.....have you had any threats to you or your family in the past?”

“Why do you ask
that?”

“Answer my question, Michael, please. It is very important.”

“Ok. What is said in this room stays in this room: is that ok with you? Turn the tape off then, as this cannot be recorded.” He nodded.

“Go on,
Michael.”

“I am Ex SAS and now work for a private security firm abroad. I also do jobs for MI5 now and again. Not long ago I was in Paris looking after a certain person’s son who was a target for the Al-Qaeda.”

“Whose son was that, Michael?”

“A French billionaire
. He was some big shot, with the right contacts if you know what I’m saying!”

“Carry on
.”

“They put a bounty on the kid
’s head for 150,000,000 Euro. We set up an ambush and the three targets were taken down.”

“So they were Al-Qaeda then?”

“That’s what I was told. Then when I got back to Paris I bumped into an old friend who wanted me to follow an ex IRA boss called Ryan Killeen.”

“Killeen
, that’s interesting. Continue.”

“It was close, and I was
compromised. They tortured me until a team was sent in by the Security Services. I’ve been resting up ever since.”

“Tell me about Killeen
.”

“He was a big time
IRA suspect; retired from the job. He now deals in weapons with the Taliban.”

“Michael,
I don’t think your wife’s death was a road traffic accident. I think she was murdered.”

I slammed my fist down on the table.

“What did you just say?”

“I think your
wife
was murdered.” I was in shock. Pete calmed me down.

“Talk, now
!”

“On attending the incident, we found an empty car with stolen plates. It was reported stolen last week. There are no witnesses to the incident; however, we did match up some DNA to a suspect. His name is Mohammed Husain Bennemara.”

“Ok, so what are we saying happened here?”

“Michael
. Mohammed Husain Bennemara! The Taliban murdered your wife.” I felt numbed by the news.

I stood up from my chair. Pete and the detective looked up at me.

“Michael! Killeen and the Taliban are working together, mate. The foul up in France has really pissed them off!”

“KILLEEN
!” I screamed out his name. Even though the Taliban had been partly involved in the death of Hannah, it was Killeen that I held responsible.

The following morning I picked up my daughter and stuck Griffer in the car. Pete had decided that the best thing for Fran was to get as far away as possible from me, out of harm’s way. He lent me a few quid and then I drove up to my uncle’s house in Evesham, Worcestershire.

They were happy to see us, welcoming us both in with open arms. My uncle was very touched. It had been a long time. His wife, Barbara was in her fifties and worked as a cleaner at one of the high schools. My Uncle Robert was a welder.

Barbara put Fran to bed.

“She went down a treat, s
he did. As good as gold, she was!” Barbara was happy.

“Bless! I think she’s touched by having a little one here.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Uncle.” We sipped on our tea. Uncle Robert sat staring at me.

“So what brings you here then, Michael?”

“Ah, you know – this and that.”

“Now, tell me the truth, Michael.”

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Are you in trouble, Michael?”

“No! Of course I’m not in trouble, silly!”

“I could always tell when your father lied to me, and you’re do
ing the same. That little bit of your mouth gives it away.”

“What bit?”

“Yes, that bit. Let’s have a stronger drink and you can tell me all about it.”

Now that’s what you
’d call a double vodka!

“Come
on – out with it, then.”

“Ok. I need you to look
after Frances for a while. I could be in danger.”

He took
a swig from his glass. “I know your wife has just died Michael but why are you in danger?”

“I just am. I need you to look after Fran for a couple of weeks whilst I go away. Will you do that for me? I’ll give you keep money, so you won’t be short.”

“Don’t be silly, you daft bugger, we’re family! Barbara, can you come here, please.”

“What’s up, darling?” She stood
there with her hands on her hips.

“Our Michael is going away for a short while, maybe two weeks, and wants to know if we can look after
Fran for him over the holidays.”

“Of course we can, Michael!
I know times are tough with your loss and all that, love. She’ll be just fine with us, darling.” I felt the weight drop off my shoulders.

“Th
ank you, Uncle. Cheers, Barbara!” She smiled as she went off to the kitchen.

“Oh, and Michael! I know what you do for a living but please come home in one piece, for your daughter’s sake. She’s just lost one parent; she doesn’t need to lose another, if you catch my drift.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

Two days later, I made
my way back home. I phoned Pete and arranged to meet him in London. I couldn’t sleep for shit, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Hannah and Killeen. “How did he find out about her?” My brain would not rest.

I tried to call Pete again for reassurance
, but to no avail.  I had so much racing through my mind. One of the ideas was selling the house. I couldn’t live here now my Hannah was dead: it wouldn’t be right. At last I must have dropped off, and woke to find Griffer sprawled over my belly and licking my face. He still had a bowl of biscuits, so he’d survive for another day.

“You ok
, boy?” He wagged his tail.

“H
ow’s my big boy doing?” He barked for a walk. 

I went downstairs
and opened the fridge for a drink of milk, but I had nothing in at all. There were just two Weetabix left in the cupboard and a mouldy old piece of bread. I took Griffer for a nice long walk to clear my head, with Griffer taking the biggest shit ever! He was all I had left now: my darling wife was dead and my daughter up in Evesham. I made my way home with a tear in my eye, my blood boiling at the thought of Killeen.