“They passed Lester’s, the coffee shop on Eighty-fourth where Robert used to take Grace for breakfast sometimes before school.”
The fifth line of the fifth page of the fifth chapter of “The Horse Whisperer” by Nicholas Evans
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| credit Canva-Irena Szirtes |
In honour of Wilhelm Imiołczyk, whose name I've taken for this story.
In the living hell of WW2 Poland, his forged papers saved lives.
Hoods and Bots: Part Eight
When Bhuresi summoned me, I felt I must have
done something wrong. That feeling had often grabbed me since I shot the
railway guard, though I knew the alternative was unthinkable. ‘Everyone talks
under torture,’ it was said, though we knew there were exceptions. My father’s
memory was honoured because he gave nothing away – a true Imiołczyk, he’d maintained
silence, ensuring there were no further arrests or security breaches following his
death. It was a lot to live up to and only added to the inadequacy I often felt
post-Frank.
“Come in,
come in, coffee’s ready.”
The smell of fresh coffee brought me back to
the moment, but I still took my seat feeling like a teen whose curfew-busting
was rumbled. Bhuresi had, after all, helped Mom raise me following Dad’s death,
and it was hard to forget she’d caught me out more than once, even though my teen
years were now well behind me.
“Don’t look
so worried,” she said, sweeping her work aside and placing herself at the
kitchen table. “I’ve news you’ll like. You’re off the last two months of your
Roland assignment.”
“Oh,” was
all I could manage for a moment. “Do you mean your decision was overridden?”
“Not exactly.
You might have noticed Roland hasn’t been around this week. He’s had a bit of a
personal crisis - big time, actually. I told you there were concerns about his
mental health, didn’t I? And you saw the state he was in on the bench with
Frank for yourself. Well, he's been in
counselling, and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that what emerged could
put you in serious danger.”
“Like what?
I can look after myself – did I ever tell you I held him at knife-point the day
I lifted him?” I failed to say Roland had offered no resistance.
“You did
what? Mia, that was foolish – I dread to think...”
“But no one
told me I was lifting a Bot! What was I supposed to think?”
“Hell yeah,
that was one almighty cock-up! How could anyone possibly’ve known you’d
encountered him in town? But what’s the deal? I thought you wanted out!”
“I do, but why do they think I can’t handle
it?”
“I’m not
party to details, I’ve no information about what came out, only that he needs
placing with someone combat hardened, someone like... umm... someone like Victor
Mann.”
She let this sink in, then looked at me with a
degree of tenderness I hadn’t seen since I was a child sitting on mom’s rug, obsessively
arranging my toy farm. “I wouldn’t want you looking at having to – you know – having
to - the very worst-case scenario.”
“Oh, you
mean... worst case scenario... someone like Victor...”
I squirmed a little. Victor had joined us from
another unit two years ago. His role included willingness to carry out ordered assassinations,
though such orders were rarely given. He
was definitely the sort who had few qualms about becoming what he hated. Everyone
knew he’d worn our black hood on many a dark night.
“So, it’s
not about doubting your abilities, just that the assignment may no longer fit
your role. And I do have even better news.”
“Go on.”
“You and
Roland would’ve been taking a trip North, to brainstorm and negotiate ways we can buy and transport lamb
from Resistance farms up there.”
“Hold on,”
she said, as my mouth dropped open and I began to speak, “Wait a minute, now – yes,
I’m well aware you’ve been fascinated by livestock - since you were knee-high
to a grasshopper, in fact!” And “Oh yes, we teased you about it non-stop,” and “yes,
drawers stuffed full of drawings of sheep and cows and horses - I’ll bet I’ve
still got some somewhere!” Then, “If you’ll just listen one minute – thank you - I proposed
you go North with Roland and Victor, the idea being to ease Roland’s transition,
and because – this is the best bit - there might be a new role for you, if we can
get the trade going and think of surreptitious ways to transport the goods. What
do you think? You can’t take the dogs, of course. You'd have to work something out”
“Wow, That’s awesome! Hell yes, the terriers
have never seen sheep, they’d be beside themselves. Hercule might be ok
though?”
She shook
her head. “No dogs allowed on this one. That’s non-negotiable. Sheep farmers are
protective, they won’t have their sheep used for impromptu stock breaking. Anyway,
you’ll have Victor with you.” She paused again before adding, “So who’d need a
combat dog?”
“You’re right Bhuresi!” Excitement had taken
away all sense of the decorum a professional meeting demanded. “I can just see Victor on his hands and knees
in a collar and lead alongside Hercule! A Bot with half a brain would choose a fight
with Hercule any day of the week!”
Bhuresi’s
eyes twinkled, but she said, “Let’s show some respect, shall we? Remember Victor's a decorated veteran, and the
military training he provides is invaluable.”
I knew this was why leadership turned a blind
eye to Victor’s nocturnal excursions. He had proved very useful.
“Ok, sorry - point taken. The North...wow! Are
we going to Scotland? NotToo far!”
“Derbyshire
then?”
“Right
between the two! The Lake District and Cumbrian fells.”
“Wow, that’s
brilliant! I can’t wait to see those fells...
love it, how farmers bred Soays and Lincolnshire Horns to get past that stupid
ban on shearing, turned them loose on
common land, even males, think of that, males on the common land after
centuries... and how the Bots think the sheep are totally feral and...”
“Yeah, ok, I
know all that, I’ll take that as a yes then.”
“Yes indeed!
Thanks, Bhuresi! Oh, the delight of seeing real grazing animals! I can’t wait! When do we go?”
“Sometime
during the next couple of weeks. Come see me on Friday around two, and I’ll
have the details.”
It was
my turn to add something at the last minute, something prickling me. “Why has no one confronted Roland about the
locket yet? Why would we let him see facilities up North if he’s still Bot? Why
would we string him along like this, especially if he’s dangerous?”
Bhuresi
shrugged. “Like I said before, I don’t know everything. The powers that be know
what they’re doing. But meanwhile, think
of all those messages getting intercepted by our agent. You did a pretty good job spotting the locket,
don’t you think?”
“I suppose I
did.”
“But don’t
let it go to your head girl,” she added, giving me a playful punch on the
shoulder, something else she used to do when I was little.
The thought I should advise Roland to watch
himself around Victor flickered through my mind. Then confusion: why should I care about an infiltrator,
especially him? Everything began to feel out of kilter again, but excitement
about the upcoming trip soon refilled my head.
To be continued.
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