Anthony Batholomew was a multi millionaire who commanded respect, fear and admiration in equal measures within the world of corporate banking. He was considered by his contemporaries and adversaries, as a captain of industry who thought nothing of brokering billion pound deals on a weekly, almost daily basis. He had not foreseen his own weakness in this way and he was grateful that no one, other than his family and the other police officers who for the most part were all strangers to him, had seen him break down and sob like a little child. The thought that his banking competitors might see him in this way further compounded his distress.
John spoke quietly and with real warmth. He had gotten to know him quite well throughout the duration of his ordeal. You can tell a lot about a man in four days when he is under extreme pressure and one thing’s for certain, pressure doesn’t get much more extreme than the possibility of your wife and child being brutally murdered. He liked and respected him. He was a good man and that in turn was more than enough for John.
‘Anthony’, he said gently, ‘come and sit here and listen to me; you and your family have been through trauma and fear the likes of which most people, thankfully, will never ever see in their lives. Go home with them; enjoy each others company as much as you can. But also, take this thought with you. Even though what you have all suffered has been beyond imagination for most people and almost unbearable, you have also got something very precious out of this terrifying ordeal. I know you will think I’m mad when I say this but hear me out and give some serious thought to what I am about to say.
I say this from the heart and with some experience of what you and your family have had to endure. Most people will never come so close to losing something or someone that is very precious to them. You and your family have such a closeness, such a bond now, that you have to make each day count as much as possible. You have a wonderful wife and daughter who know how much you love them. It’s plain to see what a loving family you all are. Go home now, take them on a fantastic holiday, you all need it and deserve it so much. All I ask is that you do me one thing; one thing that is just so important to me; I hardly dare mention it.’
The big man straightened his shoulders and looked up at the faint smile that had spread across Johns face.
‘Promise that you’ll send me a funny bloody postcard.’
A very slight smile creased his lips. He took hold of John’s right hand in both of his own hands and looked into his eyes, regaining his composure and speaking in his formidable Bankers tone he said, ‘thank you John for all that you have done for us. You are a truly exceptional man. You quite literally put your life on the line when you stand next to these evil people who hold guns to the heads of innocent; ordinary people and I will never be able to adequately thank you and your colleagues for the outstanding work that you do, often in situations of secrecy that the public will never be aware of. I am, and forever will be, deeply in your debt. I know you are a very busy man John, so I will leave now. I will take your advice; we all need a good holiday. Please remember John. My offer, either now or in the future, is a genuine one. You know me well enough to know that I am a very wealthy man. You also know that I would not make such an offer lightly. If you need me at any time; in any capacity whatsoever, I would consider it a great honour if you contacted me.’
He watched the proud man regain his full height, his immaculately tailored suit looking just how it should do once more. With shoulders back, he strode along the corridor and almost marched out of the office arm in arm with his family.
Inspector Thomas, the office manager, broke the spell by proclaiming, ‘okay you lot, show’s over, back to work and lets put some more scrotes and evil bastards away where they belong.’
The office erupted into laughter when one of john’s colleagues, strolling along, hands in pockets and nodding in John’s direction, piped up, ‘Aye boss, except for that tosser. He doesn’t have to work, he’s off on a world fucking cruise.’
John smiling in his quiet, unassuming way, elbowed him in the ribs and winked at Tommy Evans. ‘Well, one thing’s for certain bollocks, it won’t be your arse next to mine on the sun lounger.’
John often got gently ribbed after that with friendly banter from his friends and colleagues. They knew that he was indeed a special person, any one who was prepared to walk unarmed into the lions den as often as he had done in the past deserved their whole hearted respect. When someone wanted to lighten a grim or difficult situation, one of the boys would often use John’s ‘predicament’ for their own amusement. ‘It’s okay for you bollocks, you don’t need to work,’ or, ‘now then John Boy, seen much of your fairy godfather lately.’
He never got bothered by the comments as he knew they were always in jest and it was important to remember that it was the jokes and the comments that often got them all through a difficult situation.
His mind came back to the present, Oh God he thought, what I wouldn’t give for a bit of friendly banter now.
‘Move away from the car.’ The cold menacing voice of Johnson cut through his thoughts.
He moved several yards away to the front of the car. The last thing he wanted was to escalate the tension. He knew the police marksmen would be peering through the ‘scopes of their rifles from the various vantage points, looking to take Johnson out at the first opportunity. Johnson in turn was all too aware of his own vulnerability.
‘I’m going to get out of the wagon with your mate. Any sudden moves by anybody and he gets it in the neck, literally. Understood?’
John swallowed hard. ‘Yes, just tell me what you want me to do.’
‘Nothing until I tell you.’
The gunman poked around in the bunk area and located a small cupboard behind the drivers’ seat. He opened it and found a large wooden handled carving knife that Joe, the escaped lorry driver, kept for cutting meat and food when he was travelling overnight doing his out of town runs. The interior of most modern wagons was a far cry from a few years ago. Now, they were fitted out with lots of comforts and gadgets. A small fridge and cooker, even a toilet in some to cater for the foreign trips when the drivers may be away from normal facilities for days on end. He put the knife in his waistband and turned to Dave.
‘We’re leaving the wagon now. If you fuck about as we climb down, this might go off and take your head with it. Understand?’
Dave was fatigued. He had been awake since the previous day and it was now 3pm. The pizza and water had revived him initially but the shock and blood loss were still taking their toll.
‘Look, I’ve got nothing within me to fight you with. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Let’s get this over with. Where are we going?’ Johnson didn’t answer.
‘Right, you’re going first with me close by.’
With that, Johnson threw the blanket from Joe’s bunk bed over the heads of both of them and pulled Dave close to him. As they both slithered out of the passenger door of the wagon, it was impossible from the police marksmen’s position to determine who was who under the heavy ex army surplus blanket. Dave could smell the foul breath of his assailant as his head came into contact with Dave’s. The stubbly beard scratched at his cheek. He had to fight the urge not to bite his attacker’s ear. He’d never thought of himself as a particularly violent person; didn’t think he was capable of serious violence to another person but, he wanted so badly to chew his ear and make him feel some of the pain that he was enduring as a consequence of the loss of his own ear lobe courtesy of Johnson’s earlier rage in the wagon.
He knew it would be the last act of his life if he attempted the same as Johnson would surely pull the trigger, whether he wanted to or not. The thought of his kids being fatherless and Mandy being a widow gave his mind a certain clarity and he pushed the notion away.