Isolated

'Good morning,' King said.

'Are you from around here?'

'No, I’m from out of town. Just passing through.’

'Oh, well, that’s nice. Don’t see many of your type around here, dear.'

'My type?'

She made a long, sweeping gesture, bringing her hand from the floor to the ceiling. Indicating King’s height. 'You know. The tall, handsome type.'

King chuckled. 'I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. How long have you been here?'

'All my life, dear. Most folks who live out here grew up in these parts.’

'I’m Jason, by the way.'

'Pleasure to meet you, Jason. Suzanne.'

There was a pause.

'Well the reason I bothered you, young man, is because my box is just under yours. I hope I’m not rushing you.'

'Not at all,' King said, swinging the small door closed. 'I was just leaving.'

He motioned to move past Suzanne.

'Your key, dear,' she said.

King turned round and looked at the key he had left on top of the postal box. It still bore the same 'Jameson Post' tag. He’d hoped Suzanne wouldn’t notice, so he could move on with his life. It seemed fate had another idea.

'Ah, thank you,' he said, feigning foolishness. He reached up and snatched it back.

Suzanne let out a gasp.

King looked down and saw the hem of his shirt had risen over his belt as he’d reached for the key, exposing a thin line of bare skin at his waist. There was a tattoo visible, inked into his pelvic area. A steel triangle, half of which resembled a lightning bolt, with a serrated knife slicing through the centre.

‘I know that symbol,’ Suzanne said.

King knew he should have walked out of that post office right there and then. This wasn’t something to talk about with a complete stranger. But he relented.

‘You do?’

‘Delta Force.’

King couldn’t help but admit he was surprised. To be fair, it only took a Google search to find the unit’s insignia. Yet the last thing he had assumed was that the old lady in front of him would have knowledge of such a fact.

'It is,' he said. 'I spent some time in the Force. Not long though.' There was no need to share the complete truth.

'I noticed the accent, dear.'

'Quite a few people have told me that.'

'Look, the only reason I ask is because I have a relative… and, oh — I’m not sure I should be talking about this. I’m terribly sorry.'

King hesitated. Then he made up his mind. 'Go on.'

'Well, my nephew… his name was Lars… he ran off to America twenty years ago. My sister and her husband — they didn’t go too easy on the kid, if you know what I mean. Beat him up very badly a few times. I always got on with him, though. He was a good child. I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering whether you came across Lars during your time in the military. He always said he wanted to become a soldier.’

'I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not something I can talk about. The Delta Force is very different to the Army. Everything’s classified.'

Suzanne raised an eyebrow. 'Is that so, love?'

'I’m afraid it is.'

She leant in closer. 'Well, if you choose to help me out, I might not tell anyone what I know.’

‘And what exactly do you know?’

‘That’s not your postal box.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘A pair of men opened that exact box yesterday, dear. I watched them do it. You weren’t either of them.’

King motioned to the box he had just unlocked. 'You saw two men use this?'

'I sure did.'

'Do you have any information about them you could give me? Any descriptions?'

'Do you have any information about my nephew?'

He hesitated. It was against protocol, but what was a little old lady going to do? Especially with the answer he was going to give.

'I’m sorry, ma’am, but I never met anyone called Lars during my time in the Force. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but I just did. I wish I could be of more help.'

'And I wish I could be of more help too, Jason, but there’s not much I have to say either. I was in here yesterday morning, and two men came hurrying in. One of them had real short hair, and the other had medium length hair. They were both white. And they were… oh, I don’t know, about average height. I wasn’t paying them much attention.'

'Seems like you can remember a lot about them for a couple of passersby.'

'Jameson doesn’t get many passersby. Everyone knows everyone here.'

'So you hadn’t seen them before?'

She shook her head. 'Never.'

'They were new in town?'

'I guess so. Haven’t seen them since though…'

'That’s odd,' King said, though he knew she wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. 'So that’s all they did — unlock the box?'

'Yes, and they took out a parcel. A big box of some kind, all wrapped up in brown paper. I remember this clearly, because they looked all jittery. Like they were… not nervous, but on edge. I don’t know. When you see the same people day in and day out, anything different spices up your day a little.'

'I can imagine. You don’t know who put the box there?'

'I’m afraid not, dear.'

'No problem. Thank you very much for your help, Suzanne.'

'Are you going to tell me what this is all about?'

'Maybe if I run into you again.'

She shrugged. 'Doesn’t bother me. Old age makes you care less. You have fun with your adventures.'

And with that she turned and strolled out of the post office. King noted that she had completely forgotten to check her postal box, and went to call her back. But he decided against it.

There were a million questions he needed answers to.

CHAPTER 7

'I’m sorry, mate, but there’s nothing I can do.'

'This is urgent,' King said.

'I can see that. But it’s about privacy. I can’t ruin the integrity of the store.'

The man behind the counter was unrelenting. King spun in a circle, surveying the occupants of the post office. There were none.

'All I need is one glance at the security cameras,' he said. 'There’s no witnesses. You can pretend it never happened.'

The man — whose nametag read “Billy” — visibly stiffened. 'I’ve said no, buddy. And you won’t change my mind on that. You’d better quit talking about witnesses and the like. I could ring the police.'

King pressed a pair of fingers into his eyeballs. 'Look, I know what you’re thinking. Big imposing guy who you’ve never seen before asking to look at tapes. Sounds bad. Looks bad. But I can assure you I’m doing the right thing.’

‘Alright, mate.’

‘You don’t believe me.’

‘Why would I?’

'Because you saw two men who you’ve never seen before in your life collect a package from that postal box yesterday.'

King pointed to the empty box.

Billy paused a beat. 'How’d you know that?'

'You were suspicious. You’d never seen them before, but they had a key. Someone had given them a key. But they were in and out before you could react. Correct?'

'How the hell did you know that?'

'I’m a private investigator. I just talked to an old lady called Suzanne — I take it you know her — who told me all about two men collecting a package. Now I’m assuming they didn’t rent the box; firstly, because they were collecting something, and secondly, because I know for a fact they’re involved in some shady business. So unless you want to take the blame for withholding evidence, I suggest you show me the tapes so I can find out who put the package there.'

It was a long spiel, filled with authority and impatience, designed to confuse. It was the most King had spoken in months. But it worked.