Brotherly Love

By Eddie Gubbins

This is a story about fear, of somebody out of his depth in a world made strange to him by events he cannot fully comprehend. Ken Flood is pulled by family loyalties along paths of experience which would be best left unexplored.
The novel explores the conflicts which arise when an ordinary person is forced to choose between family loyalty and obligation to the wider public.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eddie Gubbins
• Release date: Aug 6, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452328577

Eddie Gubbins

I left school at sixteen and became a cadet with he Shell Tanker Company. In all, I spent 12 years as a ships officer in the British Merchant navy. That is where my Tales from the Sea posted on www.theoldun.blogspot.com come from. Actually I used to put what happened while I was at sea in some sort of literary context while walking up and down the bridge of ships in the middle of the night. Though it can sound exciting travelling the world’s oceans, at times it can be very boring spendin four hours staring at the sea. I never wrote these stories down at the time just composed them in my head. After leaving the sea, I graduated and became a university lecturer in Transport management. I had my first taste of writing seriously when I published a text book entitled Managing Trandport Operations. While lecturing years if my students appeared to get bored with my what I was teaching them, I kept them awake by relating my experiences while at sea! It was these students who encouraged me to write the stories down and post them on the web. over a number of years I wrote a novel entitled Running after Maria loosely based on aperiod in my life. In this novel I explored the effect of great loss and heartbreak and how the kindness of others can lead to redemption. As a first novel I could not find a publisher though I am thinking of publishing this as an ebook. Since retiring four years ago, I have signed up for Creative Writing classes at the local college. The Tutor ( Debbie Tyler-Bennett) is a poet and makes me write very bad poetry as well as short prose pieces. She has encouraged us to send our writing off to publishers. One of my short stories has been published as the runner up in a competion in an anthology “ islands in mind”. I have written or am in the prossess of writing a fantasy novel called The Return of the Exiles. I can remeber exactrly when the ideas for this started. It was 1972 and my wife had gone to look after her terminally ill mother. She left me with a copy of Lord of the RIngs and an Album Rambling Boy by Tom Paxton. I read Lord of the Rings in a very short time. It occurred to me that this was a genre in which certain ideas could be explored. Over the years i thought about this made notes and wrote isolated incidents in the story. Since starting Creative Writingclasses some of the other participants I have read some of these incidents to the class. they encouraged me to write the whole novel the result of which is The Return of the Exiles which looks as though it is now growing into two books. On my other web site: www.eddiegubbins.blogspot.com I am posting my fantasy novel The Return Of The Exiles a chapter a week. I have published under a grant scheme two novels An Ordinary Life and A Ceremony of innocence. I have for a long time been interested in how people see themselves and justify their actions. An Ordinary Life explores this concept in that the hero thinks he always acts for the best of motives. A Ceremony of Innocence explores the 1980’s and how many people grabbed what they could and hang the consequences. They did not consider how their actions impacted on other people.

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Brotherly Love

By

Edmund J Gubbins

SMASHWORDS EDITION

PUBLISHED BY:

Edmund J Gubbins on Smashwords

Brotherly Love

Copyright © 2009 by Edmund J Gubbins

All rights reserved. Without limiting rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means ( electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of the book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s mind or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of trademarks is not authorized, associated with ore sponsored by the trademark owner.

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By The Same Author:

The Shipping Industry

Managing Transport Operations

An Ordinary Life

A Ceremony of Innocence

Chapter One

Will James Gordon please report to the Trans Air desk!

The echoing sound of the loudspeaker cut through the hubbub of voices from the passengers milling around the concrete concourse of the airport. People paused in their hurried passage across the terminal and stood listening to the announcement. Most passengers continued on their way as soon as they were sure that it did not concern them.

Will James Gordon just arrived on flight TA234 please report to the Trans Air desk! We have a message for him. The voice, although still pleasant, sounded more urgent.

The relatively tall, broad shouldered man emerging from the customs hall as the announcement was made could not be mistaken for anything else but an Englishman. He was wearing a well-cut dark suit, very shiny shoes and old fashioned horn rimmed spectacles set squarely on his nose.

Looking hard at the floor as though to make sure it was clean, the man placed his travelling bag carefully on the ground at his feet and took off the spectacles, rubbing them vigorously with a large yellow cloth, put them back precisely on the bridge of his nose and peered short sightedly round the passenger hall for the Trans Air desk.

Smiling slightly when he had located the source of the announcement, he picked up his bag and walked slowly through the crowds to the desk.

I'm James Gordon, he said to the girl behind the counter, his clipped British accent and soft spoken words out of place among the loud, brash American voices of the other people standing near him by the desk seeking information or asking questions. You had me paged over the public address system.

Yes Mr. Gordon, we sure did, the girl replied with one of those sunshine smiles that only receptionists in the United States are able to achieve, giving the impression like no other place on earth that service is a pleasure, the customers welfare their only concern. We have a caller waiting for you on the line in booth four, which is over there by the end of the desk. Just go to the booth, pick up the phone and I will connect you. If you have any trouble with the line, you come right back over here and I will try to put you through again.

Gordon smiled shyly at the girl and walked the few yards to the phone booth she had indicated. Picking up the receiver in booth four, he waved to the girl on the reception desk.

There was a click, some static on the line and then the cheery voice of the girl said, You are through.

Gordon! he grunted into the phone, looking over his shoulder at the people passing through the concourse to check whether he was being watched. Satisfied that nobody was paying undue attention to him, James Gordon turned his attention to the voice on the other end of the telephone line.

Good, a British voice replied gruffly in his ear. You have been booked into the Washington Hilton for the night. Go there like any other businessman. There will be a car booked in your name waiting for you in the morning at the hotel; all you have to do is ask at the hotel desk for the key. While in the hotel, you are to give everybody you speak to the impression that you are off to the mid west the next day to meet some clients. In the morning after breakfast, you will drive off from the hotel in the direction of Saint Louis. Once you are quite sure you are not being followed, head for New York, leaving the car near the airport in the usual spot.

The voice paused for a moment as though consulting a list. One of our men will pick it up and deliver it to the hire people in St. Louis as though you had driven it there from Washington. Once in the airport, you are to book onto the next available flight to Vienna. In Vienna, we will contact you and give you the details of your mission. I need not belabour the point that you must make sure you are not followed or recognised. In this you are on your own.

The phone clicked and went dead.

Replacing the receiver, Gordon waved to the girl at the desk and went out of the arrivals hall to get a taxi. He spent the evening in Washington alone, drinking at the hotel bar and telling everybody who would listen that he was off to the mid west, giving the impression that he was a salesman but being deliberately vague about what he was supposed to be selling.

After breakfast, he paid his bill, collected the car keys and found the car that was parked outside.

Driving leisurely west, he stopped several times for coffee until he was satisfied that he had not been followed. Once certain, he headed for New York.

Leaving the car in the designated car park, he went into a bar and emerged a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a duffel coat, minus the horn rimmed glasses, with a soft travelling bag in his hand. He booked onto the next flight to Vienna with spare seats and sat in the departure lounge reading a magazine until the flight was called.

Arriving in Vienna, Gordon collected a parcel that was waiting for him at the airline desk, stowed this away in his bag and took a taxi to a hotel in a rather run down part of the city.

The hotel was not the best in town, consisting of draughty corridors and even older furniture but it fitted the image of a thrifty British tourist lacking adequate funds, which Gordon wanted to foster.

Carefully locking the door after a detailed surveillance of the corridor outside, Gordon checked over the room and looked out of the window at the street before he unwrapped the parcel he had collected at the airport.

Laying the contents on the bed, he examined the automatic pistol, several clips of ammunition and several sheets of closely typed paper.

After reading the notes, he tore them into small pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Fixing the gun onto a clip on his belt, he lay on top of the bed fully clothed and went to sleep.

His alarm wristwatch woke him in the semi darkness of evening, the room slightly lit by the light from a street lamp. Hardly pausing to become fully awake, he swung his legs off the bed onto the rather threadbare carpet. Stretching the kinks out of his body, he smoothed his hair, brushed down his clothes and, placing his bag on the bed, went out into the night.

Standing in the shadows of a shop doorway opposite the hotel, he carefully surveyed the street before hailing a passing taxi. Once he had given the driver his instructions, Gordon settled back in the seat and watched the night slide by the car window. He stopped the taxi on a busy, well lit street, and walked at normal walking pace passed the bars and shops, stopping every so often to look into a shop window. Other people strolled passed; taking no notice of another rather shabbily dressed man out for an evening stroll.

Coming to a side street dimly lit by infrequent lights, he paused in a doorway to light a cigar and glance up and down the street. Certain that he had not been followed, he walked purposely down the alleyway to a block of flats and into the entrance.

Ringing a bell, he waited patiently until a voice came out of the speaker, spoke himself and pushed the door inwards at the sound of a click. Pausing briefly inside, he let his eyes become accustomed to the light and walked up the stairs and along a passage, checking the numbers on the doors as he passed. Finding the right number, he pushed the bell.

Hello Jenny, he said as the flat door opened, pushing his gun hard into the girl’s stomach. Don't call out or do anything stupid or I will have to hurt you. You must know I wouldn't hesitate.

Jenny backed into the room, her eyes narrow and watchful, her hands in full view of Gordon.

I'm sorry I had to imitate Jack's voice just now, Gordon continued when they were inside the room, but I had to get in here and see him without putting you on your guard. All you have to do is sit on the settee with me until he gets back.

They sat on the settee, Jenny glowering at him, Gordon relaxed and silent as the time slowly passed, their ears straining to hear the sound of the buzzer which would signify the return of Jack.

The silence hung in the air and after a time it seemed that they had been sitting together forever. When the buzzer sounded, Jenny jumped with fright.

Gordon was the first to the button to activate the front door motioning Jenny to remain seated. Putting the lights on low, he walked over to the door and put the lock on the catch.

Any sound out of you when Jack comes through the door and I will be forced to shoot, he said quietly to Jenny as he waited, tense and ready, behind and to the side of Jenny so that he could cover her and the door.

The door swung slowly open to reveal two men, one large and heavy, the other smaller and more athletic. The smaller of the two reacted instantly on seeing Gordon, his hand diving under his coat as he moved to the side but there was a plop and he slumped back against the wall, a red stain seeping through the cloth of his sleeve.

Don't move! Gordon growled to the other man, who obeyed by freezing into stillness, his hand only part way to his shoulder. Take the gun out slowly and throw it into the corner.

The gun thudded onto the carpet to the right of Gordon but he did not take his eyes off the man in the doorway.

Good boy. Now pull your friend inside and shut the door so that anybody passing cannot see into the room. We don't want innocent bystanders interfering do we?

When the man had propped his companion against the wall just inside the door, Jack looked at Gordon with naked hatred in his eyes.

What shall I do with Joe? he asked, looking down at the blood soaking the sleeve of his friend's suit.

Christ Jack get a cloth and try to stem the blood before he bleeds to death! Jenny cried, jumping up from the settee but sinking back when Gordon moved the gun in her direction with a glare that would have shrivelled a normal man.

Jenny you are going to tie Jack up, Gordon ordered in a quiet tone, ignoring her look of hatred. Jack you sit on the floor near Joe and make her task easier.

Once Jack was securely bound to his satisfaction, Gordon produced two pairs of handcuffs from his coat pocket, placed one of these round an ankle and the other a wrist of Jenny and then secured her to the leg of a table. In this position, Jenny could just about reach Joe but when she tried, Gordon kicked her hand away.

Pulling up a chair, Gordon sat close to Joe and smiled crookedly at the three on the floor.

Right! Gordon said briskly. We will sit here and watch Joe bleed until you tell me where the package I came to collect is hidden.

Gordon let his voice trail into silence, a silence punctuated by Joe's gasps and whimpers of pain. Well?

You bastard! Jack shouted but sank back as Gordon fired into the wall at his elbow.

After Joe lapses into unconsciousness, I will have to start on Jenny, Gordon remarked, his voice calm and certain.

He did not smile now but sat in the chair moving Joe's injured arm with his foot, causing Joe to cry out at the pain.

It's taped behind the drawer of the desk in the corner over there, Jenny gasped pointing to a piece of furniture which had seen better days while her eyes pleaded for Jack to forgive her. Jack glared back at her but did not say anything.

Gordon pulled the drawer right out of the desk, scattering the contents across the floor as he turned it upside down. The package was taped to the rear just as Jenny had indicated. Smiling to himself, Gordon pulled the package from the back of the drawer, ripped off the tape which had been holding it in place and opened the top, spreading the items it contained onto the surface of the desk before examining closely each item in turn.

Accepting Jenny's strangled affirmative when he asked if this was all there was, he replaced the items in the package, put it into his pocket and went to the door.

Turning to face them with his hand on the door handle, he smiled faintly and said in a quiet voice. If I were you Jack, I would phone your boss rather than the local police because you may have difficulty explaining what you were doing in their country armed and undercover with a bleeding man on the floor of your flat.

Shutting the door quietly behind him, Gordon went out into the street, walking slowly back the way he had come as though he was an English tourist out for a stroll.

A desk light shining on the green ink blotter encased in red leather, cast the rest of the room in shadow, illuminating as it did only the desktop, a red telephone, an intercom lined with buttons and the hands of a man writing. The hands were large, tufts of hair above the knuckles, the nails cut back short and they held an ordinary black fountain pen with the ease of long familiarity. Except for the faint scratch of the pen the room was silent but through the open window the sounds of laughing and talking drifted in as footsteps passed in the street below. In the distance could be heard the noise of cars snarling their way through the rush hour traffic but the man appeared not to hear. Sighing deeply, he stretched his hands above his head in the gloom and then rubbed his eyes.

Light streamed into the room as a door in the wall opposite the desk opened and a woman of medium height carrying a piece of paper entered. She was dressed in a smartly tailored blue suit, a multi-coloured scarf knotted loosely round her neck and hanging over her white blouse. Her brisk movements and her dress gave her an air of authority and confidence.

Hello Diane, the man at the desk greeted her, his clipped speech suggesting a touch of the south west overlaid with Standard English. I was about to call and ask you to bring me some coffee. I find these late nights at the office, stretching out endlessly by evening time, most wearing. A cup of your excellent coffee might just uplift my flagging spirits.

Diane smiled briefly, as though smiling detracted from her efficiency, and placed a telex on the desk in front of the man. I'll get the coffee while you read this message. It appears that operation Starsearch has run into difficulties. The message has been decoded.

Picking up the telex, Diane's boss sat gazing at the words, his expression bland and giving nothing away.

Joe shot and injured. Package taken by opposition. Discrete enquiries under way. Report in more detail later. he murmured as he read.

Well Diane, the man said his voice still calm and soft, when she came back with his coffee. It looks as though we have problems. Get hold of Phil Roche as quickly as possible and tell him to report to me here straight away. I don't care what he is doing or how much he protests, get him here. I must brief him and send him out there to take charge. What a mess. You had better get Jenny back here as well.

Will you be staying here until Phil arrives? You are aware it sometimes takes a long time to locate him, Diane asked, before she went back through the door to her office.

I said I would stay here! the man growled irritably, his calm suddenly gone.

The spotlight was even more pronounced on the blotter on the desk when Diane showed Phil Roche into the room later that night. Phil pulled the jacket off his rather short, squat figure, flinging it disdainfully over the back of a chair. After he was seated in one of the comfortable chairs, he scowled angrily at the man sitting across the desk.

I am supposed to be on my day off, sir! Phil began sarcastically through stiff lips but the man behind the desk cut his protest short with a wave of his hand and a look from his hard blue eyes.

Phil, you damned well know the rules of this organisation. They do not include days off without any chance of being recalled. That is why you have to leave an address with Diane so that we can contact you at all times while you are on leave. I can do without the histrionics at the moment. You can forget about tumbling your girlfriend in a haystack and get down to business. The man glowered across the desk and then smiled thinly.

Something vital to the security of our organisation has happened and you are the only man I think can deal with it. You will have to go home as soon as possible, pick up your bag and get the next flight to Vienna. Jack Duncan is already there with Jenny Arkwright but I have ordered her to return and report to me in person. Before you leave the office, Diane will fill you in with the details as we know them at the moment. Jack will meet you at the airport when you arrive in Vienna and he will be able to fill in the rest of the picture. Remember, you have to act very cautiously because the Austrian police and security services know nothing of what is happening. We were acting without their knowledge. I don't want anybody else to know about this, not even the people in the embassy. The only person you are to report to is me personally. Right off you go.

A couple of days later a cryptic message reached the office informing them that Roche had arrived in Vienna, teamed up with Jack and they were on the track of the people who undertook the robbery.

Then there was silence, leaving Diane and her boss to sweat impatiently, ignorant of what was happening to Roche and Duncan. There was nothing else Diane and her boss could do, now that they had set in motion the train of events. Their instructions had emphasised the need for secrecy and care in reporting back to the office, so they did not expect to hear of progress until something important occurred.

Over a week later, a buzzer sounded on the boss's desk just as he was packing up for the night.

Phil Roche is in the outer office, Diane's voice announced. I told him you were on the way home but he insisted it was really important.

Send him straight in and get us both a drink, the boss' voice grated angrily, his eyes fixed on the door.

Well? he demanded before Phil had even stepped inside the office but Phil ignored his boss' question until he was slumped in a chair, looking tired and travel worn.

You need a bath and a shave pretty desperately, the boss observed dryly but his eyes did not smile.

Phil rubbed the stubble on his chin as though he had only just become aware that it was there and rubbed his rather dirty hand over his forehead.

Sighing heavily, he replied evenly. You ordered me to come straight here and report to you personally as soon as I got back from Vienna. That is why I am here. I touched down at Heathrow under an hour ago and had to get here under my own steam, not in one of our cars. If I had known that my state would have offended you, I could have called at one of our houses for a shave and a bath but I thought you would want me to see you first.

All right, said the boss, smiling thinly across the desk at Paul. You have made your point. Now tell me what happened and then you can go and have a bath.

He took the drink off the tray that Diane offered and sat back, his eyes never leaving Phil's face.

When I arrived in Vienna, Jack made contact as we had arranged. I must say he had been working hard before I arrived, for some reason he seemed to take the loss of the package as a personal insult to him and Joe. By the time I arrived there, he had established that a man had been seen by a few people hanging around the building in which he and Jenny had rented the apartment. With a great deal of difficulty, mainly because he had to do everything himself and not contact the police, Jack managed to trace the man who had been seen outside the apartment to a sleazy hotel some way from where he and Jenny were living.

Phil paused and took a drink. When we had teamed up, we chased this man, he was travelling under the name of White, from Vienna to Amsterdam, after being side tracked by a lot of false leads. We found him in a flat in the red light district but after searching the flat from top to bottom, we could not find the package. The man was a real pro though I have no idea who trained him or for who he worked because he never told us that and he is not one of ours. Still, we persuaded him that it was in everybody's best interests if he told us where the package was to be found.

After showing him that we knew what we were doing, we managed to get him to talk. It was rather hard on him though and I expect his wife or girlfriend will be a little cold next time she sees him. Phil looked grim.

All right, the boss sighed, looking at the ceiling. You can spare me the details. That was one of the reasons I chose you for this job, you being one of our best operatives when it comes to getting information out of reluctant informants. What did you find out from White?

One thing early on. Actually, it did not surprise us too much, because we had suspected it from the first when we set out to follow him. It became obvious that he was too easy to follow, though never so easy that we didn't have to work to keep up with him. It turned out that he was not the man we wanted. We had been well and truly set up because the man we wanted had got White to act as a decoy in order to buy a little time. Their scheme had obviously worked because we chased White half way across Europe before we found out that he was only acting as a decoy. All White knew was that he was to hang around the flats in Vienna, be seen in the local cafes and the nearby streets. At a signal, he was to take off for Amsterdam, laying a trail so that anybody looking for him would be bound to follow.

As I have said, he was very good, leaving clues along the way that only trained people would notice quickly and thus be led on. Once we had him cornered, he told us our quarry had got away though he did not know where he had gone. After a lot of effort we got him to tell us who his contact was and he said somebody called Gordon.

Christ! the boss exploded with anger, banging his fist on the table so that the light wavered and the blotter jumped. What the hell are my men up to? I ordered them to make sure Gordon was not let out of their sight for a minute and now he turns up in Vienna without any warning. No, that is not fair to them. I do not have enough operatives to keep an eye on all the people I would like to but they were supposed to keep me informed of anybody travelling under that name. The last information I received was that he was on his way to Washington bound for the mid-West to set up the security for the Minister's visit in the spring. My men must have assumed that he was there once he had been spotted at Washington airport.

Phil shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his eyes making them more red than they already where. Diane made some enquiries about Gordon while I was on the way from the airport. It appears you were right. He was last seen leaving Washington bound for the mid-West but, according to one of my contacts there, he hasn't arrived in St. Louis yet. How he managed to give our men the slip, we don't know. Anyway, once we knew who we were looking for, Jack and I went straight back to Vienna and started from scratch. It was hopeless really. The trail was cold and we had no idea where to start looking. Then, one of those chances that ordinarily do not occur very often happened to help us. One of my contacts informed me that Gordon had been seen getting off a train in Rome. Jack and I rushed down there as soon as we could get a flight.

Well? the boss grunted, leaning forward as Phil paused to take a long drink from his newly charged glass.

We eventually traced him to Spezia, though not without difficulty. When we arrived there, we found he had hired a boat and vanished into the Mediterranean, not to be seen in Italy again. Phil shook his head grimly.

I didn't know what to do because there was no way Jack and I could hope to trace a boat in all that sea without the aid of the navy and air force and you had ordered me to keep this under my hat and not get too many other people involved. I hope you don't mind but I then played a hunch and put out a low key message to all our contacts along the coasts of the Med to look out for the yacht which Gordon had hired. At the same time, I sent a few of our men to all the likely places he would call at on the way to the U.K. Again, our luck was holding and one of these spotted the yacht in Ibiza but it had sailed by the time I got there. All I was able to find out was that the people on the yacht had taken on stores and told everybody they were going to Bordeaux. Phil shrugged again

What do you intend to do now? the boss asked quietly.

Jack is at this moment trying to find out all he can about the boat and the crew members. Their names are Tom Weaver and Andy Knowles by the way.

The boss pushed a button on the console on his desk." Dianne! Get onto Mercer and tell him to give all the assistance he can to Jack in gathering information on James Gordon, Jim Weaver and Andy Knowles. You know the usual thing, where they were born, where they have friends in the U.K., where their family lives and who they work for. Tell Mercer I want all the information our files contain by the morning. Yes, they will have to work all night if that is the only way they can get the information to me on time! Yes, Dianne slavery has been abolished but this is an emergency and anyway you could