The organization, p.28
THE ORGANIZATION, page 28
As Matthew offered his passport, the officer stepped back a pace and turned away to speak into the transmitter attached to his immaculately pressed, white shirt.
After the message was given, he turned back to Matthew, placing his hand on the single holdall. ‘Just a moment, sir, if you don’t mind.’ No more than that.
Matthew, in something of a limbo due to the change in time zones, did not have the inclination to argue. He just stood, holding Belinda’s hand and waited. Glancing at the large airport clock, he noted that it was 3:10pm GMT.
Without too much delay, those behind studying Matthew closely wondering if he was using the little girl to transport drugs, two plain-clothes officers arrived and asked the couple to come with them, one picking up the holdall.
Unaccustomed to swearing, even in his mind, Matthew thought: What the fuck now? as he meekly followed the officers into a sparse room which was locked behind him.
The attitude of the officers was completely neutral as they asked Belinda and him to take a seat there being only two on their side of the ancient wooden desk, at which sat a middle-aged male officer, the choice was limited. They sat obediently.
The middle aged man looked up from his scribbling, and his expression, at least, was of compassion.
‘Sir,’ he began, ‘I am very sorry to inconvenience you and delay you any further. However, the two gentlemen here,’ he waved to the plain clothes men, ‘wish to talk to you. They are from Scotland Yard.’ Turning to the men, raising his eyebrows, he ended: ‘Gentlemen?’
The men had drawn up an easy chair apiece and one began to speak. ‘Mr. Lucas, I am Inspector Graveney and my colleague is Detective Sergeant Bloor.’ Bloor nodded at his introduction.
‘Unfortunately,’ he continued, ‘I have some rather bad news for you. We have been trying to contact you at the Salt Lake City Airport but they told us you had checked out without leaving a forwarding address.’
Matthew spoke. ‘Yes. I had had unwelcome visitors and thought they may want to harm me.’
‘Quite.’
‘You’re going to tell me something about Tiffany, aren’t you. My wife.’ The knots had tightened in his stomach.
‘You know, sir?’ asked Graveney in surprise.
‘Yes. I do know!’ snapped Matthew rather irritably.
Graveney went on, undeterred. ‘Last Tuesday, your daughter was kidnapped by persons unknown. You are clearly aware of that now. Later that same morning, I regret to tell you that your wife was attacked in her home, again by persons unknown.’ The official terms: ‘persons unknown,’ was beginning to irritate Matthew.
‘Attacked in the most vicious manner and left for dead.’
Matthew started and Belinda looked up, wide-eyed.
Left-for-dead? The statement slowly sunk in. Hope blossomed.
‘However, the good news, if anything can be termed as good news, is that she was discovered by the postman the following morning and taken to hospital. She was barely alive.’
Matthew was now on his feet. ‘She’s alive? How is she, man? How is she?’ He had moved to within a foot of the Detective.
‘Sir. Please. Sit down. I know this is difficult but please, try to remain calm.’
Reluctantly, Matthew sat again and held Belinda tightly to him..
‘As I was saying, she was barely alive when she reached the hospital but we have found today that she is out of danger and on her way to recovery. It was said that a lot was down to her fighting spirit.’
‘That’s my Tiffany,’ murmured Matthew, the trickle of a tear starting to slide down his face. ‘Which hospital is she in?’ he asked.
‘She is now in the BUPA hospital at Harpendon,’ replied Graveney.
Matthew stood again.
‘Sorry, Mr. Lucas, but there is more, I’m afraid.’
Matthew sat back down. How much more can there be?
‘On the same day of the attack on your wife and the kidnapping of your daughter, your office was set alight. Arson. Unfortunately, your colleague, Mr. Fellows was on the premises at the time. He didn’t survive.’ A more serious expression clouded Graveney’s face. ‘Prior to his death your colleague had been tortured. I am again sorry to bring you such distressing news.’
‘How is Mary? Mary Senior, my secretary?’ Matthew whispered, anxiously, his mind still whirling with the awful news of Trevor.
‘She is fine. She was out at the time but returned and became injured by flying glass and suffered from the heat. Naturally, she was in shock. She was taken to the hospital but is now back home.’
‘Is that it, Superintendent? Is that it? Or have you some more delights for me?’ asked Matthew with undue sarcasm.
The detective took a deep breath. Matthew recognised this as the prelude to even more disaster.
‘Yes. One last thing.’
‘Last thing? Well, thank God for that!’ The bitterness was clear.
‘I’m truly sorry, Mr. Lucas. I can only provide you with the facts. I am not responsible for the actions.’
‘No. No. I know that and I’m sorry if it seems like I’m blaming you. It’s just that I am very tired and at my wits end.’
‘Yes. You have certainly had more than your fair share of tragedy.’ He paused to let Matthew settle himself and then continued. ‘You have a friend. A Mister Lewis Harman?’
Matthew buried his head in his hands. ‘Oh, no. Not poor Lewis, too,’ he groaned.
‘I’m afraid so. He also was found in his fire-gutted home. It later transpired that he had been severely beaten and probably tortured beforehand but the cause of death was due to combustion. Minute remnants of a sophisticated device were found on the premises and this is what did the damage to the property. It seems Mister Harman was directly in its path.’
Matthew sobbed and Belinda followed suit, frightened by the crying of her daddy, a sight she had never before witnessed.
Detective Sergeant Bloor went to Matthew and comforted him. ‘Sir,’ he began tentatively, ‘I know it’s a terrible time for you but we must ask you some questions.’ He allowed time whilst Matthew composed himself. ‘Okay mumbled Matthew, ‘What do you want to ask?’
‘As we have said, you have had more than your fair share of tragedy – and all in the space of a couple of days. Well, clearly there must be something behind this. You have upset someone pretty badly, so we need to know what it is all about. Can you please enlighten us?’
A period of silence followed before Matthew told the story yet again, in dull monosyllables.
The men from Scotland Yard listened to the account, taking notes, asking questions where necessary to clarify certain points, until Matthew had finished.
‘Well,’ said Bloor, ‘James Bond couldn’t have done better!’
Matthew was in no mood for light-hearted humour and looked at the man sourly.
Graveney stepped in quickly. ‘You mentioned a compact disk, Mr. Lucas.’
‘Yes.’
‘And this disk has details of paedophiles across the world? Their addresses, businesses etcetera?’
‘Yes. It will blow them to hell,’ spat Matthew.
‘You say you left it with a policeman in the USA. Do you have a copy, by chance?’
Matthew sat up in his chair. He wanted to leave; to get to his Tiffany. ‘As a matter of fact, there is a second copy. It’s with my Solicitor, Mr. Dodds of Dodds, Baker and Gresham, in High Street.’ Matthew looked at the CID men as if deciding whether to confide further. ‘I suppose it will be safe with you people,’ he said finally. ‘I intended to hand it to the police, anyway.’
Graveney looked pleased. ‘If I could ask, Mr. Lucas,’ he said quietly. ‘Would you telephone your Mr. Dodds and give permission for my colleague and I to collect it? It is of vital importance as you will clearly appreciate.’
‘Yes, of course,’ he responded. ‘Where is the telephone?’
The Customs Officer indicated that he could use the one on his desk and handed it to him. The number was punched in slowly; Matthew was getting really fed up now. It took only minutes to speak to Mr. Dodds and give the necessary permission.
Standing, ready to go, Graveney shook Matthews hand thanking him for his help and congratulating him on the job he had done. Bloor followed suit and both men left. Strangely, neither officer had made comments to Belinda, which Matthew thought unusual. Probably serious minded men due to their occupation.
‘Thank you Mr. Lucas,’ said the Customs man, opening the door in an invitation for Matthew and his bored daughter to leave.
The taxi journey home seemed twice as long as when Matthew left, Belinda falling asleep shortly after setting off, her long, blonde hair in an attractively untidy bundle, resting against his body as he cuddled her to him. The sights outside the window passed by as something of a blur; his mind was on Tiffany and what she must have suffered.
Finally, they arrived and Matthew paid the fare before gently assisting his little girl from the cab. As they entered, he felt the chill of emptiness and of something being not quite right.
He and Belinda went through all the rooms as if searching for the Tiffany they knew was not there. ‘I think we should take a shower and have a bite to eat,’ he said to Belinda. ‘Then we’ll get a taxi to go and see Mummy. Okay?’
‘Yes, daddy. I can’t wait to see mummy. I thought she had gone to heaven to see Jesus. I’m so glad she’s decided to stay!’ With that, she skipped up the stairs to have a shower and to change from her soiled uniform.
Matthew went into the kitchen, pulled a frozen Lasagne from the fridge and popped it into the oven. He preferred oven warmed to Microwave; always thought they stayed hot for longer. Also, the showers would take up some time. He put the kettle on with tea in the pot and set utensils onto the breakfast bar.
He then went into the lounge and sat, unaware that this was the exact scene of Tiffany’s torture.
Picking up the telephone, he dialled Mary’s number. When she heard Matthew’s voice on the other end of the line, she was ecstatic. Her words tumbled out in an excited gush. She told him all about the fire and the death of Trevor and how she almost visited Tiffany on that day and how she could have got her to the hospital sooner if she had, and so on, and so on. Even Matthew felt breathless at the end of it.
His voice, however, was calm, perhaps a little dejected, as he thanked her for all she had done and offered his sympathies for the traumas she had suffered. Mary swept the apologies aside; she had only carried out her duties as a secretary and as a family friend.
When she enquired about Belinda, not knowing that she had been abducted, Matthew gave a simple account of events saying that Belinda was in fine shape, having a shower and looking forward to a meal.
‘I don’t know how long it will be before I can get set up again, Mary,’ said Matthew. ‘From what I can gather, the office was completely destroyed. Until then, you are still on the payroll, of course.’
Mary’s voice became official. ‘I’ve dealt with that, Matthew. I immediately rented a vacant office in Vicarage Lane. It’s roomy and clean, has a reception area, a main office, two other smaller offices and a small, fully equipped kitchen. Oh, and there are two w.c’s. I’ve also rented office furniture until you get sorted. Is that all right, Matthew?’
Matthew was impressed but not over surprised at Mary’s efficiency, she was a real jewel. ‘Mary, that is perfect. Trust you to get things organized amidst all the chaos. Thank you. Thank you very much.’
Unseen by Matthew, Mary’s chest grew another two inches with pride. She knew she had done a good job but it was always nice to be told so. ‘It was no trouble.’
Oh, yes it was, thought Matthew. ‘Oh. And Mary. I didn’t manage to bring back a present for you. Sorry.’ He smiled thinly.
‘Yes you did, Matthew. You brought yourself.’ Again unseen, Mary blushed at the recollection of the occasional lewd thoughts she had entertained involving her boss, in the ambulance and in the quiet of her bed.
‘Belinda and I will be visiting Tiffany after we’ve eaten. Have you been today, Mary?’
Mary had visited as often as she could but it was only this morning that Tiffany had been in a position to recognise her visitor and to speak. Indeed, the first day had been spent in an unconscious state. ‘Yes, I have, Matthew, and she is improving all the time. Her appearance may be a little upsetting but, believe me, she is doing well.’
‘Thanks again, Mary. I’ll hang up now and speak to you again later. Goodbye.’
‘ ‘Bye, Matthew.’ The connection was closed.
By the time they had finished their meal and tidied away the few plates and utensils used, it was coming up to 5pm. and the jet lag was beginning to set in. However, both were quite ready to do the hospital visit and both experienced a feeling of apprehension.
Matthew brought the plum coloured Jaguar from the garage, generally used on special occasions only and off they set. Moving on to the busy A5, they made good, largely uninterrupted time, arriving at the hospital in a more relaxed state.
A parking spot quite close to the hospital entrance was vacant and Matthew guided the sleek car into it. Belinda ran ahead into the reception area and waited at the desk for her daddy to arrive, which was a minute later. He was directed to the women’s ward down highly polished and clinically smelling corridors, their feet making a gentle slapping sound as they walked. The corridors were full of hustle and bustle, with visitors either coming or going and medical staff, whose feet did not make the slapping sound, passing by, looking towards the pair in disinterest.
At last they reached Tiffany’s ward, supervised by a small reception area with a very pretty and pleasant young lady sat behind the desk. On being given the name of Lucas, she quickly checked the files in front of her. ‘Room 27, Mr. Lucas. Just behind and to your left,’ she said, delivering her smile again.
The nerves began once more as Matthew approached the door, Belinda holding tightly to his hand. A deep breath, a slight hesitation then in he went.
Inside the doorway, both stopped in their tracks. There was a figure in the bed, with tubes up what was visible of the nose beneath the swathes of bandages covering the head, and in the mouth. A further two tubes were inserted into the left arm, which was also covered in bandages.
Matthew went to Tiffany’s bedside, deep concern etched in his grim face, the permanent scar showing more prominently. Belinda was now partly behind her daddy, a little afraid of this unknown figure in the bed.
The eyes of the patient opened. Unmistakably the beautiful eyes of Tiffany, sparkling through the puffiness and bruising that surrounded them. On seeing her visitors, the eyes sparkled even more. ‘Oh, Matthew! Matthew! And Belinda!’ she murmured, speaking as best she could through the mouthful of tubes. She instinctively tried to sit up but moved no more than and inch. With a painful grunt, she flopped back.
‘Don’t speak, my little darling,’ whispered Matthew, as Belinda moved eagerly to the bed, hurling herself onto it rather roughly and causing her mother to gasp. Undeterred, Belinda hugged and hugged at the prone figure, squeezing so tightly. She did not want to lose her again.
Matthew bent forward and kissed the now wet eyes in turn. ‘Oh, Tiffany,’ he murmured, ‘Tiffany. Why was I not here to protect you? How could I let this happen?’
The bandaged figured croaked a few words: ‘No, Matthew. You mustn’t blame yourself for this.’ She stopped to swallow hard and regain her breath. ‘This is the work of evil. It is not your fault.’
Again Matthew bent to kiss Tiffany’s eyes. ‘Sympath-eyes,’ he whispered tenderly, ‘Sympath-eyes. Two lovely, bright and sparkling eyes.’ He hugged her delicately not wanting to ever let go. Tiffany was here. She was alive. Hurt but alive. He loved her and loved her. She meant absolutely everything in the world and beyond to him. He loved her.
‘Can I breathe for a while, please?’ the croaking voice came, exuding humour. Matthew realised he was in danger of suffocating her and released his smothering hold. ‘I love you so much, Tiffany,’ he said, his eyes misting. ‘Nothing like this is ever going to happen to you again,’ he promised.
‘Thank God for that,’ she said with light-hearted sarcasm. ‘Don’t think I could take it again.’ The eyes looked evenly at Matthew as she asked: ‘What happened, Matthew. Did you complete the job?’
‘Yes, I did. With a lot of help from an American friend. A chap named Billy. Terrific man.’ The memory was painful.
‘And are you all right, Matthew? Really all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, especially now that I’ve seen you. I was so worried about you. Thank God you’re still with us.’
‘Oh, I don’t intend to go yet.’ Tiffany began to return the hugging of Belinda, speaking to her in cooing tones, broken by pauses for breath and to swallow into the dry and sore throat, comforting and assuring her that mummy would get better now that she had seen her.
The visitors had been there around twenty minutes and Tiffany’s tiredness became more apparent. ‘Time to go now, my love,’ said Matthew, levering Belinda from her mother’s embrace. He leaned over to Tiffany and gently kissed her on the mouth, ignoring the strange sensation of the plastic tubing going in there. ‘Sleep, Tiffany. I’ll come to see you tomorrow. I love you.’ Tiffany smiled and was asleep.
Both Belinda and Matthew felt more uplifted having now seen Tiffany. She looked bad but, knowing her, it would not be too long before she was back home.
When they went out of the room, a doctor was waiting. He held out his hand to greet Matthew and guided him into a nearby room, leaving Belinda with the pretty receptionist.
‘I am Doctor Margeson,’ he introduced himself. ‘I wanted to have a word with you about your wife’s condition and what she has suffered. The two sat next to each other on a padded bench type seat.
Doctor Margeson then went on to describe the state that Tiffany had been in when she arrived at the private hospital. He told, as gently as was possible, how Tiffany had been subjected to various methods of torture and a savage, life-threatening beating. He then gave Matthew the news that his wife had been cruelly raped and abused.
