Get Some (5 page)

Tommy could feel the sweat dripping down his head onto his face, then rolling down to his chin. It made him thirsty. He was so thirsty.

The shoulder hurt like hell. His head was worst though. ‘That bastard Trigg! That bastard!’ Tommy now remembered Trigg had shot him in the shoulder. He needed medical attention.

Tommy had started to panic

‘
Who the fuck are these people?’

Deep down he knew. He was just too scared in his own mind to accept he was in the presence of some of the nastiest people on God’s earth. And these people were here for him. What were their intentions?

Tommy knew. He knew what they were here for. He was under no illusions.

He just prayed deep down that for once he was wrong. He had to gather himself, gather his emotions.

Then a voice in a language he understood. ‘What did you say?’

Tommy asked out loud as he couldn’t quite make out the words of the comforting voice without a face.

‘
Stop breathing so heavy. You’ll tire yourself out, son. You a soldier? You must be a soldier?’

Tommy let the words sink in. It was an American accent. He felt so good that wherever he was he was not alone. He told himself it must be an American soldier who had also been captured.

‘
Thanks, I’m just so hot. I can hardly breathe. Yeah I’m a soldier. You?’ Tommy replied whilst trying to work out how close the voice was.

‘
No, my friend, a reporter. It is hot. You gotta breathe more easily buddy. Chill out a little. You been processed yet?’

‘
Processed? What’s that mean? Wait don’t answer that. You mean tortured, right? Wait, don’t answer that either. Oh no.’ Tommy knew what the voice meant.

Tommy had another flashback and he remembered being in extreme pain with what felt like a rock hitting his head a few hours ago.

That rock was in fact the butt of an Iraqi AK47 rifle introducing itself to his forehead. After that it got misty.

‘
Look, hey, I don’t know your name. Well, whoever you are I tell you, I’m getting the fuck outta here, I ain’t seen anything yet, I’m kinda fuzzy headed, took a big crack from a rifle on me head, all I could hear was gibberish before I passed out, then I wake up in here.’

There was a shuffling as the voice sounded closer. ‘Look, buddy, first rule, keep quiet, they go fucking ape-shit when we make noise. Look, buddy, the likelihood of us getting out of here is slim – yours slimmer than mine. You’re a soldier for fuck sake, a prize; they’ll be parading your ass for sure. This is the place you stop bullshitting yourself. I know in your mind you think you’re gonna be the one to get out, that by some miraculous way of fate some camo wearing grunts are gonna barge through here and save your ass. Then you’ll go home to a big brass band with cameras asking how you coped. You write the book, do the TV interview. Your woman parades you to everyone as the hero come home. Ain’t gonna happen, my friend. Second rule, tell them what the fuck they need to know. If not, it will be a long long stay for you’.

Trying to scratch his nose which was itching whilst having his hands tied was challenging, but Tommy did it by simply brushing his head up against his shoulder as he answered.

‘
Well, I guess I’m fucked then, ‘cos I tell you I don’t know shit, nothing which could help them anyway. All I know is I got fucked over by someone close to me, and I’m fucking stupid because my gut told me it weeks ago and I ignored it. But I am getting out. I’ll get out all right. I ain’t dying here. Got shit to deal with, and although I’m shitting bricks, I’m gonna try and have the courage to live. Any fucker can die’.

The American sounded serious as his voice grew louder ‘Wrong attitude. Whatever you have to deal with forget about, for now. Deal with the situation you’re in. You will learn, oh yeah, you gonna learn.

Look, when it comes to the questions they ask give them anything. Make it up if you have to. Just make them feel like they are winning. But don’t give them it too easy. First you have to stall, like you actually give a shit. Then give them bits of info. If you break immediately then it looks suspicious. Give them a piece at a time and it looks like they’ve done what they want and broken you into submission. That’s the trick’.

Suddenly Tommy heard a commotion. The jibber voices were back. ‘Fuck!’ thought Tommy. He hoped that the voices were not heading in his direction.

‘
Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm,’ he told himself over and over as he realised the voices were in fact getting closer. He heard what sounded like keys jangling, quiet foreign whispering, and a door opened. The door sounded metal or something as the door squealed open.

Then loud gibberish as someone grabbed him and slapped the back of his head. He tried to walk but his legs were weak and he fell to the ground. He was kicked twice in the stomach. He screamed as dust entered his mouth. Someone stood on his fingers and he felt his little finger break, the bone clicking as he cringed with pain. He was picked up, still blindfolded, and dragged away.

Laughing as they dragged him to God knows where, Tommy had the feeling this could be it. ‘Are they going to execute me? If so, please make it quick,’ he asked the gods. ‘Please make it quick.’

Chapter Eight

PRESENT DAY

Having been told to wait in Major Roux’s study, Trigg’s eyes wandered across the wall, admiring the various pictures and accolades of this military legend.

The study was exactly as he expected: spotless wooden floors, wooden walls and a wooden desk with expensive looking burgundy leather seats either side.

There were pictures from the Falklands War in which Major Roux looked just the same as his more recent pictures on active service in the former Yugoslavia, and the even more recent photos of him in Iraq.

Straightening his tie and his sleeves from his new suit, Trigg waited in anticipation of Major Roux’s appearance, for today he would find out Major Roux’s decision.

Finally.

The thing about Major Roux was that he never gave any indication of what he was thinking. He always had a straight face and was always very well spoken. He didn’t tolerate fools. He valued knowledge, education and people with forward-thinking attitudes.

Having tried to get some sort of inside whisper all week, Trigg had found his attempts had fallen upon deaf ears as those closest to the Major would never whisper, never give hints, never dance, no matter who the enquirer.

‘
Sergeant Trigg,’ barked the Major as he entered the study in a slow stroll.

‘
Major Roux,’ replied Trigg as he offered his hand, which Major Roux shook with a smile. Gone were the formal salutes. They still used their ranks, and respected them, but the salutes were no longer required.

Sitting down opposite each other, Trigg was made to feel more at ease by the Major’s surprisingly polite manner. He had met him a few years back briefly but hadn’t spent enough time to get to know him or pass any judgment on his character. The word round the campfire though was that Major Roux was not to be fucked with in any capacity.

Smiling lightly as he sat waiting for the Major to say something, Trigg started wondering what was what. The Major had walked in with a file in his hand and, upon sitting down, started to read it, paying no attention whatsoever to Trigg. His eyes scanned up and down the paper. He looked at the second page but obviously didn’t read it, instead giving a ‘hmm’ and a grunt before putting it down. He looked Trigg up and down.

‘
Combat in a wide range of environments, made stripey (Sergeant) in good time, good confirmed kill tally, yet you chose not to continue? Why?’

‘
Sir, thank you, sir. As I told 2nd Lieutenant Graves, I want in this, I want in. I’ve wanted in X Company for years. I have had my own things going sure, but when your organisation approached me years ago I was dead set on making my name, to get noticed and become an earner, and with all respect to the earners you have who I’m sure do well for you, I am different, I get things done, my record in the street and in field speaks for itself, sir. I’m a worker, it’s what I’m about, sir, and given the chance I could do some damage out there for you, I promise.’

Twiddling a pen around in his fingers Major Roux gave out a sigh, his face perplexed.

‘
I do not doubt any of your credentials here. The mere record of your service in the field should have got you a meeting some time ago. I know how you work; I know what you’ve been doing in and out of the service. I also have to add that the tribute from your latest escapades in Iraq did not go unnoticed, but it is that which leads me to my next point.’

Getting up from his chair Major Roux walked over to a cabinet just to the left of his desk. It was encased in glass and contained numerous medals which served as proud reminders of the Major’s many years given to the Army. Major Roux opened the cabinet and carefully took out a medal. The medal was a gold cross with curved edges, overlaid with white enamel. At the centre of the cross there was a raised laurel wreath in enamelled green surrounding the Imperial Crown in gold, on a red enamelled background. The ribbon that held it was a deep crimson, flanked by narrow dark blue stripes at the edges.

Major Roux held it in his own palm for Trigg to see.

‘
This is the Distinguished Service Order Medal, awarded for good leadership, or so they say. Now I love and hate this award for two very different reasons. On the one hand, I love it because it serves as a reminder to me that I made some right choices on that fateful day, and as a result I saved lives. On the other hand, I hate it because it serves again as a constant reminder that on that day I also made some terrible errors of judgment which subsequently cost some good men their lives. I have to live with that. We live and die by our decisions and, more importantly, other people live and die by our decisions. This fact is true both in the service and out here, in our world. The men who serve X Company are highly trained, highly disciplined individuals. Like me they have made mistakes, they are only human, but now we serve each other in the quest for substantial wealth with less chance of getting our heads blown off.’

Putting the medal away back in the cabinet, Major Roux seated himself. ‘I’m going to talk to you about a few things before we go into your involvement in my organisation. You need to know the truth from the fiction, Sergeant Trigg.’ The Major brought out a petrol lighter which sported the logo ‘desert rats’ which was a term used for the men who served in Iraq. He lit a cigarette from a polished wooden case. Trigg sat obediently listening and taking notes in his mind.

‘
I remember years ago, when I first formed X company, I said my sole purpose was to make sure that I, and the comrades whom I trusted, were no longer palmed off with medals and forgotten about - that we would get what we deserved, what we had risked our lives for. I saw man upon man slaughtered during my time in service, so I spent the last few years building contacts around the world and using them to form something to benefit us men of honour. My best friend many moons ago when I was a keen grunt once told me ‘get out of this shit, it’ll kill you’, and it surely killed him. No money went to his family because he was on Deep OPs. No money goes to the men of unofficial missions, as you know. Honourable men forgotten. We got sick of it. We started with some arms deals, and then, when that got risky, we got into booze, tobacco and, more recently, narcotics. You see X Company is a brand now to us, a symbol. We have become known. For one, we are a unit, no quarrels, everyone knows their place and we follow the chain of command as we would in the army proper. But our interests are not of a legal nature, therefore we are vigilant as to whom we do business with but, most of all, as to whom we…employ. Now you might ask yourself what I am getting at with my whole speech about medals and what not, and assuredly you already know what we do. As I said when we approached you a few years back, we told you nobody got in without time in the service - at least three years. You did that as well as making a mark in this city with your criminal endeavours. So I know, I know, you could be an asset. But it is the business with what I hear is an ex-friend which disturbs us, disturbs me.’

Trigg’s head dropped. He had known this would come back and bite him on the arse.

‘
Boom,’ smiled Major Roux

‘
Let me explain,’ Trigg said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

‘
No, let me explain,’ smiled Major Roux. ‘The facts as we understand them are that you did a deal with Annah, you got the shipment of heroin, and you threw your friend in with the deal. Your friend. We would probably have turned a blind eye to the matter in the light of the generosity of your tribute but, Trigg, he was a soldier.’

‘
He was a gutless fuck, sir ‘There was venom in Trigg’s voice.

‘
A soldier nonetheless, a soldier, Trigg. The fact is we knew of you both from the days you guys ran the markets - the DVDs, the CDs, the fake perfume. Oh yes, we have monitored you boys for years. Now, when we approached you both with regard to your potential services a few years back, I knew you were both interested. I mean that was easy to recognise as you both signed up for active service within the same year. I also recall Tommy doing some jobs for us. It cannot be ignored Trigg, the man is respected whatever your differences .Yet, when on leave some time back, I recall Graves approaching you and it was his belief that Tommy wanted no part of the drugs, wanted no part of anything illegal anymore, which was a disappointment to us, but we thought we could work on him. We know he is friends with that hotshot Joey Graziano, something of a hotshot lawyer I am told. That’s spells trouble, Trigg. Graziano has friends in higher places than makes us comfortable and the last thing we want is attention, especially from a lawyer. A lawyer who can’t be bought, I might add.’