THE FIX: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 1) (25 page)

“Morning!” I shouted as I hit the bottom.

Des met me with a smile and a cup of tea. “Breakfast is on.”

I cupped the drink in my hands

“Have you seen Rick?”

He threw a thumb over his shoulder.

“He’s where you left him, except he’s got my laptop and he’s working.”

“Working?”

“Don’t ask. The guy’s fucking barmy.”

“He needs to rest. The physiotherapy sessions for new burn victims are a killer.”

Des shrugged. “Up to him, never was anything I could do with him.”

He walked back to the kitchen whilst I stuck my nose into Rick’s room.

“Hi,” I said.

Rick was propped up with pillows and he scrolled through documents on a computer on his lap.

“Hi,” he returned. Any hint of the soft voice from the previous night had disappeared with the dawn. I nodded toward the silver Apple on his lap. “You need some rest.”

He nodded, “We’re doing my legs this morning, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I reckon I’ll be fit for nothing after that, so I thought, I’d do this now.”

“True.”

“So get your breakfast, and I’ll see you later.”

I was about to speak but he was back to the documents on the screen and I knew it was pointless. I wandered back to the kitchen. Des was dropping bacon onto kitchen roll and buttering fresh bread.

“I’ve seen most of those files of his,” he said. “There is nothing there that is going to lead us to Stern.”

I shook my head.

“I’m really not interested in what happens next, Des. As I told you on the way up here, as soon as Rick is out of any real clinical danger, I’m off back to Leeds, and this is all over for me.”

“Fair enough.”

Des looked a little hurt again and I wondered if he had read something more into my presence. I couldn’t blame him for that but I needed to put the cards on the table.

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Des.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. I do like you, but I just don’t want to get involved with a guy at the moment.”

“Especially one that could be dead next week, eh?”

Before I could answer he smiled at me and handed me a bacon sandwich. “Here. Get this down your neck. After you’ve seen to Rick, I’ll show you the sights.”

Rick Fuller's Story:

I scrolled through page after page of text, hoping to come across some clue that may lead me to Edgar David Stern the myth. I was more convinced than ever he was just that, a myth. Joel Davies had been dealing with him, through Susan, for some time. She had brokered several smaller deals prior to the Amsterdam disaster, obviously tasters for the big sting.

I had heard Stern’s name mentioned by various other villains, but nothing other than Robin Hood stories. No one had met him or dealt with him other than Joel Davies. And he had never met or spoken with him. The only direct link to him and his organisation was Susan. She had turned out to be the surprise package of a lifetime, beautiful, dangerous and elite.

Des had found me by a terrible accident. What he had seen at the cemetery defied belief. I couldn’t get my head around the ferocity of the aftermath of the Amsterdam job. Not only had Stern’s guys followed all the players of the Dutch disaster, and attempted to kill them, but the planting of an explosive device at a civilian funeral was way beyond anything any European drug baron had ever orchestrated.

From what Des had described, Stern had wiped out the leadership of one of the most powerful drug families in the north of England in one move. We had to assume that Davies was either dead by Stern’s order or in hiding. What did that mean on the streets of Manchester?

I’ll tell you what. About half a million customers looking to get high. Not something to be sniffed at if you are a drug dealer, if you forgive the pun. The void would need to be filled and my guess was our friend Susan and her pals were working on just that.

As I mused, Lauren stepped into the bedroom. She had that nurse-like tone back; the same one from the camper. She insisted on being badly dressed, wearing poorly cut, cheap denims. Despite it all she was still attractive in a clean sort of way. I kept my thoughts to myself as I knew that she was about to hurt me. It was a pain that would enable me to walk and run again. Something that just days earlier, I could only have dreamt of.

The therapy was needed as burn tissue tightens and restricts movement. Most people have suffered a minor burn or sunburn, so understand how tight and sore the skin feels afterward. In the case of my burns, it was the area around my knees that would give me trouble.

Lauren rolled down my covers and gently removed the dressings from my legs. It was the first time I’d got a good look at them and it wasn’t a pretty sight. My left leg looked worse than my right. Most of the top of the thigh was one large blister. The remainder from my kneecap to my ankle was blood red. Smaller white blisters had formed on the inside of the calf. I got the distinct impression that I wouldn’t be wearing my Calvin Klein shorts this summer.

“First,” said Lauren, wiping her hands with a sterile cloth, “I’m going to apply an anti-biotic ointment to the whole area of each leg. We’ll do this each morning from now on. I won’t be replacing the dressings. I want to get some air to the burns.”

“Okay,” I said.

“It will be quite painful but we can’t risk any infection as we have no medical back-up. If you get infected you will get septicaemia within hours and you’ll be dead within days, understand? ”

I nodded. She raised my left leg slowly and rested my ankle on a clean white towel. Then she gently applied the cream. It actually felt soothing rather than painful. It seemed to take away some of the burning for a moment. I lay back and let her get on with it.

Each leg took several minutes to cover. When she’d finished Lauren washed her hands again.

“Now for the hard part. We need to get some movement back into your legs. We’ll start with ankle rotations and work up to the knees.”

She cocked her head to one side and her hair fell to her elbow.

“This will be unpleasant, Rick.”

She was right too. She cupped my heel in one hand and my toes in the other and started to turn my ankle. Even though the ankle itself hadn’t been affected, the scalded skin above felt like it was being torn off. I let out a gasp as the rotations got wider. Lauren seemed either not to notice, or was resigned to causing me necessary grief.

The whole process took over thirty minutes. By the time it was over I was soaked in sweat and shattered.

Right on cue Des popped his head around the door.

“Ye coming for a run yet, ye big Jessie?”

I couldn’t even manage a reply, but flicked him a very shaky pair of fingers.

“Charming, eh, Lauren? Ye enquire after yer mate and that’s all the thanks you get.”

“I think Rick is a little sore right now, Des.” Lauren gestured towards the door. “But I’ll go for a jog with you.”

“Jog!” Des seemed amused by Lauren. “I don’t think so, love.”

Lauren seemed to take the bait. “I’ll have you know I jog three times a week.”

Des smiled his knowing smile. “The girl wants to get some in, eh, Rick?”

I was coming down from my adrenaline rush. The pain was easing a little.

“Just take it easy on him, Lauren. He’s over forty now.”

Des guffawed, “Eh! At least I’ve not taken to my bed with no more than sunburn and a toothache.”

“Fuck off the pair of you.”

I listened to them sorting out their running gear. Des with his boots and Bergen, Lauren with her Reeboks and trackies, the pair were slagging each other off even before they had even started. It was all good natured banter. I felt a pang of jealousy, at not being able to share the jokes. As I listened to Lauren take the piss out of Des’s knees, I couldn’t help but wonder why someone like her had got so involved with us.

I mean, the thing was far from over, and from what Des had told me, he hadn’t hidden anything from her. So she was either crazy about him or just plain crazy.

Well, if Des was looking for a new woman in his life, he could do worse.

She was adamant that as soon as I was out of any real danger, she was off. I didn’t believe that, and neither did she. Des could have organised the meds and done the physio. If I’d suffered any real setback, or contracted a serious infection, Des would have had to dump me on the NHS and hope for the best. Simple as.

So why was she really playing nursie?             

I put Lauren to one side and turned back the clock to Amsterdam, Susan and David Stern.

Lauren North's Story:

Jesus, the guy was a bloody gazelle. There I was thinking that we’d set a slow pace. Tabbing, Des called it. Murder, I named it. We’d been going for about an hour at something between marching and jogging pace. Des had loaded a big green rucksack he called a Bergen with so much stuff I thought we were going on a weekend trip, never mind a run. The Bergen was strapped to his back and he showed no sign of fatigue.

I was blowing like an old kettle. I’d reckoned we’d done about eight kilometres, mostly uphill and we hadn’t turned for home.

“When are we going to head back?” I gasped.

“About another four clicks and we’ll have a break.”

Oh my God! That was a minimum twenty-four kilometres by my reckoning. I’d never run further than ten in one go.

“Turn back if you like,” he said, with a hint of ‘smug bloke’ in his voice.

“No. I’m okay, I just like to know where I am, that’s all,” I lied.

“’Kay,” Des chirped.

Twenty minutes later I was near exhaustion and thankfully Des slowed to a walk.

“We’ll take a rest here, and have a brew.”

I could hardly breathe and he’d brought half the bloody kitchen with him. He sat on the grass and unpacked a small primer stove, bottled water and plastic mugs. He settled to his task whilst I took lungful after lungful of air with my head between my knees. Once he’d got the water on he had the audacity to light a small pipe. He blew a plume of bluish smoke into the air and rested back on his elbows. He beamed in my direction.

“Not as fit as ye thought, eh?”

“Obviously.”

I heard mild irritation in my voice.

“Never mind,” he added. “Soon have you in shape if you train with me and Rick.”

I sat beside him, my breathing returning to normal. I was suddenly aware of the view. So much beauty surrounded us. The morning air was still, crisp, clean and fresh. Wisps of white cloud were translucent, unable to hide the intense blue of the sky. Rolling green hills that had looked so daunting when we arrived now looked lush and welcoming.

“There’s no chance of that. It is beautiful here, Des, but I can’t stay. I have a life and a career in Leeds.”

“None of us can hang about here forever, Lauren. I was just suggesting you might want to stay until Rick was fit.”

“That could be months.”

“Weeks,” Des corrected.

I watched him reload his pipe. I took a deep breath and heard myself say, “I’m going back home in ten days when my leave runs out. You won’t need me then.”

Des checked the water and rooted for teabags. His voice, flat and matter of fact. There was no hint of displeasure or disappointment.

“Suit yourself, hen, it isn’t a problem. What you did for both of us was beyond anything that we could have expected. If you go in ten days, we’ll wish you well. If you want to stay on a while and help out, that’s okay too.”

I didn’t know what to say, because I didn’t know what I felt. I was enthralled by the two men that had been thrust into my life. I was bored with my petty existence in Leeds. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to throw everything away. I had friends, a home and a job I loved.

“Just pour the tea,” I said.

Des found his smug face again and handed me a brew.

“We’ll take the short way back.”

I couldn’t help myself.

“We bloody well won’t!”

Four weeks on, I was keeping up with Des on our daily runs. He had added circuit training to his regime and I was fitter and faster. Rick was walking around the house like a caged, bad-tempered lion eager to join in.

He’d suffered a small setback in the first week after he had attempted to climb the stairs and torn the skin on his left leg. Since then his recuperation had been remarkable and he was able to walk unaided. I had removed the stitches from his cheek and he had been left with a star-shaped scar the size of a two-pence piece. He split his time between exercising his upper body, poring over his computer and being grumpy.

Why hadn’t I returned to Leeds? Because I’d never felt so alive. I found that I could enjoy the company of men without feeling the pressure of a relationship. I discovered that I liked to fish and I established that I could shoot too.

It was like living with my two handsome older brothers, who just happened to be your favourite anti-heroes.

By week six Rick was running and punishing his body in a way a tri-athlete might when preparing for the Olympics. His determination to be fit was only matched by his obsession with finding the man I had grown to know as Edgar David Stern, his femme fatale Susan and his henchman Stephan.

Rick had been cooking dinner when he called Des and me into the kitchen. I had been in Scotland for almost three blissful months. What I didn’t realise was, that moment, that meeting of three people thrown together, seated around a kitchen table in Scotland, would change my life forever.