Organisation Man: Chapter 16

In which Claire and Lexa receive some interesting intelligence.

Claire Maguire and Lexa Hackett walked on.

"What makes you think we're being followed?" said Lexa in a low voice.

"Sound of footsteps behind us", whispered Claire.

"Could be someone going to the station, just like we are".

"Could be. Or maybe not".

"One way to find out". Lexa turned into a side street, without looking back. Claire went with her.

"I still hear footsteps", said Claire.

"So do I", said Lexa. "OK, let's do this".

They slowed slightly, imperceptibly, and then suddenly turned around to charge and grab a fresh-faced young man who had no time to react. Before his surprise abated enough for him to do anything they pushed him into a convenient doorway.

"Are you following us?" said Claire.

"Yes! Yes, I am", the man spluttered.

Lexa clocked him as someone who had been in the pub, but not one of the students they had been talking to. "Do you often follow women home from the pub?" she asked.

"No! It's not like that. Listen, you were asking about Dave in the pub?"

"Yes, we were", said Lexa.

"Well, I might have something for you. I didn't want to tell you in the pub, because I didn't want people to find out what I knew. But you… you're his friends, right?"

"Yeah, we are", said Claire. In a manner of speaking, she thought.

"Well he didn't just disappear, and he didn't head off on his own either".

"So what did happen to him?" said Lexa.

"Eh, could you let go of me first?"

Claire and Lexa exchanged a look and then released the young man, moving back slightly from him to give him room to breathe.

"Thanks", he said.

"Tell us what you know", said Claire.

"Well, your mate Dave – I knew him from the pub. He came out of nowhere and then for a week or two he was the life and soul of the place, buying everyone drinks and giving us all the pleasure of his company. I got a good few drinks out of him, but I can't say I knew him well – it was the girls he was after, mainly. But I liked him. There was an air of danger and excitement about him, and no one knew where he had come from or what he was doing here. Well, we knew he was from Ireland, obviously, but what had taken him away from there was a mystery to us all".

"Go on". As someone who knew Ryan from his working life, Lexa found the idea of him being a mystery to anyone a bit comedic.

"Then he went away, and we all started wondering what had happened to him. Pulled in by National Security was one theory, while others reckoned he had some kind of shady past that had caught up with him – you know, old gangland enemies had tracked him down, or something like that. But some of us also reckoned he had just been over here on holiday and had gone home".

Claire and Lexa both nodded.

"And then he was back. But he was in terrible form that last night – not seeming to want to talk to anybody, not wanting to do anything but pour drink into himself. Then he started throwing his weight around, insulting anyone who came near him and accusing people of looking at him funny. When he deliberately bumped into someone and knocked over his drink the barman threw him out, but he looked for a moment like he was going to go ape-shit and wreck the place. But he calmed down a bit and went off, and we never saw him again".

"You're not really telling us anything we don't already know", said Claire, trying to sound more like she wanted to draw him on rather than expressing the kind of disapproval that might shut him up.

"There's more. We never saw him again… in the pub. But I saw him again, later that night".

"Yes?" said Lexa.

"Yes. It was after pub closing time. I'd had a lot to drink that night. I think after the trouble with Dave being thrown out, I had a few too many to overcompensate. Then after chucking out time I was walking off and… well, I was a bit caught short".

"It could happen to a bishop", commiserated Claire, wondering if it had ever actually happened to a bishop.

"I couldn't really think what else to do. I mean, I couldn't go back to the pub, it was closed, so I climbed into the gardens, Cartwright Gardens, to… well, you know".

"I think we do", said Claire.

"And what happened then?" said Lexa. "Apart from the obvious".

"Well, I saw a van pull up outside one of the hotels there. A man ran from the van into the hotel, and then came out with two other guys and a woman. They were carrying Dave – I could see his face clearly. He seemed to be unconscious".

"The van, was it an ambulance? Maybe they were bringing him off for medical treatment?"

"No, it wasn't an ambulance. And there was something moody about the whole business. They were all looking around suspiciously, like they wanted no one to see what they were up to. So I kept well still where I was and hoped they wouldn't see me".

"And did they see you?" said Claire.

"No. To be honest, I don't think I'd be here if they had. Those guys looked like they meant business, and I think if they'd seen me I'd be wherever Dave is".

"Do you think they might have been National Security?" said Lexa.

The young guy shrugged. "How should I know? But I don't think so. National Security wouldn't be so furtive about hauling someone in. And National Security were all over the shop a couple of days later asking about Dave, so I don't think they knew anything about where he'd went".

"Did they all go off on the van?" said Claire.

"No. The three men did, with Dave, but the woman went back into the hotel".

"Would you recognise these people if you saw them again?" asked Claire. "Or would you be able to describe them to us?"

"I'd know the woman again. She was old, maybe in her 50s. Grumpy looking, seemed to be telling the others what to do".

Sounds like the Cartwright Friendly's manager, both Lexa and Claire thought.

"And the men?"

"They were pretty non-descript looking. Darkish hair. I don't think I'd recognise them again, to be honest".

"Mmmm".

"Though they all had moustaches".

"They all had moustaches?" said Claire. "Did they look like they might be Middle Eastern or South Asian or anything like that?" She tried to think of other parts of the world where men stereotypically have moustaches.

"No, they looked European. Or British. Apart from the moustaches".

"And you didn't think of reporting this to the authorities?" said Lexa, perhaps a bit more sharply than she intended. "I mean, it sounds like a pretty blatant case of abduction".

"It crossed my mind, but National Security are trouble". Then he continued in a quieter voice, "And I'm not exactly a natural supporter of the Transition".

"Yeah, I know how it is", said Claire.

"So you're Dave's mates… do you reckon you'll be able to get him out of wherever he is?"

"Well I don't know", said Lexa. "You've told us he was abducted from the hotel by some men with moustaches, but we've nothing to go on about where he's been taken".

"There was something on the van, maybe that would help".

"There was something on the van", said Lexa. "What? What was on the van?"

"The name of a company. Grieg Industries. Something like that, anyway".

"OK, that is useful. Anything else?"

"I think that's everything".

"Well", said Claire, "thanks for all this. If we're able to find Dave we'll let him know who put us on his trail. Here's something for your trouble".

She proffered two fifties, but the young man held his hands up to indicate refusal.

"No thanks, I don't need your money. I've got enough drinks out of Dave. I just don't want to see him come to harm".

"OK, thanks", said Claire.

"Cheers", said Lexa.

"You'd better go back the way you came", said Claire. "Just in case. We'll go on this way. Oh – if you think of anything else, ring me at this number. Leave a number I can call you back on". She handed him a piece of paper.

"Thanks", said the man. "Be seeing you".

The two women and the young man went their separate ways. As he walked back to the pub, the young man took the piece of paper out of a pocket, looked at the name and number written on it, and smiled.

more NaNoWriMo action coming soon

19/11/2011

An inuit panda production