Action adventure stories are my favourite, I love reading them, and recently I discovered I love writing them!
Take a guess where?
From the Author
First of all, apologies for the seemingly erratic way in which this story is getting posted to HP. There are a few things going on at the moment that have required me to be doing other things, not that the story hasn't progressed any, it has, but I just haven't had the time to post any new stuff on HP.
Having said that, my daughter says she'd got a great 'Tedtalk' I need to watch about 'procrastination' that will help me (?)
In the last part of the story, we had Joey and Sandy taking Paul into protective custody when things went 'pear-shaped' as they say, and they seemingly got out 'by the skin of their teeth' but then again, it's not unusual for our heroes.
In this one, they get Paul to the Safehouse, and then things start to happen, let's join the story.
By the way, I'll let you into a secret, I know the safehouse really well, I used to walk those hills all the time, see if you can guess where they are.
“Here we are” Jacko wrenched on the handbrake as they came into the yard, the car skidded to a halt outside what looked like a farm shed.
A small stone cottage sat to their left, the two buildings were separate, but connected by a small dry stone wall that formed a rectangle shape encompassing the cobbled courtyard.
“Stay inside the vehicle, and out of sight until I tell you otherwise,” Jacko addressed the heap that Paul was under, he’d been too scared to move since he'd been bundled into the vehicle ‘like a sack of spuds’. Jacko exited the car and headed for the door to the farm shed.
The door was closed but had a few unusual features, one of which was a keypad and screen, he quickly punched in a ten-digit code, the door started to move as he headed back to the car, it was fully open by the time he got in.
“Glad you made it” a female voice spoke from behind as they were getting out of the car, they recognised it as being the cop ‘Sam I think’ Jacko thought.
“We've been keeping up to date with things over the radio” Sam continued, they noticed both she and Hene were wearing the shoulder holsters, they both had Glocks in them, “is he injured?” she motioned to the ‘sack of spuds’ that was shaking, Paul was trying hard not to even move, but the sheer terror of what had happened had taken hold, shock, can be delayed, but never stopped altogether.
“Nothin’ that a cuppa Cannae cure” they couldn't miss the Scottish brogue.
“No physical injuries then Mac?” it was Hene asked.
“Nah” the big Scot replied, “psychological’ a different story though!” he frowned, then resignedly went on “still, cannae be helped, c’mon laddie” he prodded Paul, “yer quite safe now”
Paul began to move, though it took a few seconds for the words to register, “Safe” he mumbled, “I’ve been kidnapped, shot at, damn near killed, beaten to a bloody pulp by my SUPPOSED protectors, and HE says it's safe?”
Is it here?
The man with a 'Target' on his back
“Safer than staying where you were” Mac retorted, none of them had the time, or the patience for whining, “lead tablets are bad for the health” Mac went on, “and they were Tungsten, that even worse, one will kill ya, and there were about sixty, all headed for ya!” he reached in and virtually yanked Paul out of the car, “now get a move on!”
Paul stumbled as he was wrenched from the car, the left foot catching the back of his right leg, just above the ankle, he went down, only to be caught by Hene who held him up.
“Do you have to be that rough?” Sam quietly asked Jacko as the made their way towards a small trap door in the floor, she was a cop and used to being rough with the criminal she arrested, but Paul wasn't under arrest, he was just an average bloke.
“ When you're armed offenders squad clears a building in a hostage situation, do they stop each hostage to give ‘em tea and biscuits in the way out?” Jacko shot back, “bloody hope not” he replied to himself before she had the chance, “they're still in danger, get ‘em out of the danger first, then be nice to ‘em”
“But we’re at the safe house!”
“He’s never going to be safe” Mac cut her off, he'd been listening in, “until we nail these pricks, and dinna forget” he went on, “one of ‘em is MI6, they bloody well know the safehouses!”
“That's why we’re not using one of theirs” Jacko cut in, “this one’s ‘5’s, but Mac’s right, he’s gonna have a target on his back until we get these guys!”
Meanwhile, the investigation grinds on
“This is bloody unreal” Billie through the file she’d been reading down, rubbed her eyes and stared down at the desk. They’d been on the case for days, it felt like months, but they were getting nowhere, and fast! “Nothing, we’ve got sodding nothing, five days and zilch!” the frustration getting the better of her, she stopped and looked up at the wall, the clock said eleven pm. That didn't make her feel any better, it just reminded her she’d been working sixteen hours straight.
“Suppose he’ll still be dead tomorrow,” she said to no one in particular, there were still a few in the office, the detectives on the night shift, and a couple of other workaholics, no one paid her much attention, they all had their own cases to deal with.
Pushing back her chair, she was just rising to grab her coat when her mobile started to ring, ‘strange’ she thought, the only people who had her number worked in that room, it sure as hell wouldn't be her boss, ‘that one’s strictly nine to five, who the hell is it?’
“Who’s this?” She pretty much demanded as she answered the phone.
“Detective Sergeant” a voice on the other end replied, “is that a good way of greeting someone with information?” he was a gentle rebuke in the voice.
“This wasn't the hotline number” she replied, “it's known only to a couple of people, and you're not one of them! so, who are you?”
“You’ve got stiff in your mortuary right? no idea who he is, and no one’s saying anything, am I exactly take a rocket scientist to figure that!”
“Let’s cut to the chase shall we?” the voice came back, “Now to the important stuff, you’ve no idea whom he is right?”
“I suppose that was in the news, so nothing new there” she was tired, and this, while the banter might be enjoyable when she wasn’t tired, right now she really couldn’t give a damn, “You better do better than that if you want this conversation to continue” by now a couple of the others in the room were looking over, she indicated for one of them to get onto the cyber division and trace the call. One of them jumped towards his phone and got things moving, he gave a thumbs up indicating the trace was in progress.
Strange calls, and stranger texts
“Check out a name, you’ll find nothing on file after 2005, but the name is Mohammad Akbari, Iranian born in 1978 in Cairo, came to Britain to study in 1995, studied Oriental languages and computer sciences, became a naturalised British citizen in 2004, then disappears off the radar” the line went dead as the phone was hung up, a very confused Bille was just looking at it, wondering whether it could be legit, when the phone pinged again, this time an email, from a ‘Hotmail’ account which meant it was practically impossible to trace, all is said was “in case you’re unsure” she opened the email, there was a crystal clear photo of the deceased, and it wasn’t the one they released to the press, this one was recent, but he was alive in it, and it had been ‘clipped’, all it said was “He worked in computers, for someone important!”
This was getting stranger by the minute, first, the body appears ‘within shouting distance’ of parliament, no ID or anything, the Police throw all their resources at solving the case, but someone starts pulling strings, and they’re re-assigned pretty quickly, then phone calls in the middle of the night?
She stopped, swung the bag she was holding back down by her desk and sat down again. Picking up the phone she pressed a number on the speed dial, a grumpy voice came on the line, “Guv, you do know it’s eleven pm right?”
“Yeah, sorry Jimmy, but I need you to look into the customs and immigration files for me”
“Ya got any paperwork we might need?” Jimmy didn’t like to poke around in government files without the correct signatures, “Doing it without the right signatures can bite us in the arse you know?” he knew that BJ knew that, but sometimes it’s good to remind them, ‘just in case’
“Not really” she was honest with the reply, “but I might have the ID of our victim. You’re looking around 1995 probably from Egypt, and the name’s Akbari, while you’re there check the DVLA records”
The ‘DVLA’ stands for the Driver and Vehicle Licencing Centre, all the driving licences and vehicle registrations are registered there, if Akbari’s name was on the lists it would tell them what kind of vehicle he owned, and more importantly where he lived.
“Guv, we ran the photo through the DVLA before, got sweet Fanny Adams from it remember” he began.
“Run it again” she cut him off, “and this time with the name!” the fact was the info she’d been given showed that someone didn’t want her to find out whom it was, this would flame well show them she was better than they were, and she’d get the ID eventually, she was sending them a message, “Stop screwing with me or get ready to pay a steep price!”
“Okay boss” he replied meekly, “It’ll probably take me a couple of hours to get the info Guv, want me to come in?” he wondered if this was going to be ‘official’
“Nah, better do it from your end” Bille replied, “Your coffee’s much better, send the results to my mobile.” and clicked the phone off, as soon as it clicked a message came up.
“While you’re waiting for the reply, grab a coffee at Starbucks on the corner, table nearest the door” this was damn strange, but she had to follow through, she had to find out who was sending the cryptic messages.
From the Author
That was a turn up for the books, someone contacting the cops and giving them information! I wasn't expecting that when I started writing, but the muse leads where she leads, and we're just humble recorders of the story, or at least it feels that way!
I really enjoyed this week, actually right until I sat and put this together I was going to have the safehouse in a different part of the country, but it just feels right to have it near where the first story started, it's also where I grew up, but that's another story.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this week's episode, let me know what you think in the comments below.
Robert Sacchi on March 02, 2019:
You are in the zone if the story is leading you. That is a good feeling when the story seems to write itself.
Lawrence Hebb (author) from Hamilton, New Zealand on September 10, 2018:
Thank you, it just 'feels right' writing things that way, can't explain it, it just does.
William Kovacic from Pleasant Gap, PA on September 10, 2018:
I have to say it again, Lawrence. I love the description mixed with the dialogue. It feels so real, and that's the way it should be.
Lawrence Hebb (author) from Hamilton, New Zealand on September 09, 2018:
Thank you, you're probably right.
Bill Holland from Olympia, WA on September 09, 2018:
I doubt you procrastinate much,my friend. I don't see you as a procrastinator; nor do I see myself as one. We are just inundated with life right now. :)