Chain of Vengeance: Chapter One - Part One

1

 

BRISTOL – ENGLAND

 

 

 

Jack Catholic held Lucy’s arms just beneath the shoulders and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers.

Her death was less than one hour away.

She nibbled his lower lip then giggled. He smiled and kissed her again, wrapping his arms round her back. Jack held onto that second kiss. He didn’t want to break it. It felt critical suddenly to keep it going as long as he could. Beside them the river flowed, the late afternoon sun coming down through the struts and cables of Clifton Suspension Bridge, two hundred yards away and hundreds of feet up, spanning the valley.

Lucy turned her body just a little and gave him a pat on the wrist. He loosened his grip and pulled away. She laughed. “Are you trying to suffocate me? If you were, you did a pretty good job.”

“If I’d been trying to do that you’d be dead by now,” said Jack.

“And what would you do with my body?”

He gave her a quick  up and down glance then shrugged and thumbed over his shoulder at the river. “I’d dump you in there.”

“In front of all these witnesses?”

He looked at the cars moving past parallel to the flow of water. The valley sides were steep. Across the river were woods and a railway track. This side was pavement, the road and then another steep slope crowded with houses. The two of them were the only people visible on foot. “What witnesses?”

“On the bridge!” Lucy pointed.

“Those dots?” said Jack. “Those aren’t people. They’re ants.”

“They’d see everything. Not to mention all the people driving by. You’d never get away with it.”

Jack pulled her close again. “Maybe I wouldn’t care about that. Besides… I bet they’d applaud me. They might even help to cover it up.”

“Then you’d better get on and do it,” said Lucy. “I’m bored.”

They kissed again. When they pulled away Jack felt a tightening across his stomach. It crept round his sides and into his lower back.

“What’s up?” asked Lucy.

His cheeks were tense but he shook his head. “Nothing.” He looked at her. “I just—“

“What?”

Jack’s gaze locked on her eyes, dropped to her lips, rose again. Something wasn’t right. “I don’t know.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“No. I think maybe…” He turned away from her but couldn’t keep his eyes elsewhere. It wasn’t real, it was probably indigestion, but it felt real: it felt like a premonition... or foreboding. It was silly and almost certainly something he ate.

Lucy ran her fingertip from his shoulder to his elbow. “You should lie down. Let’s go back up to the hotel.”

“Yeah. Probably a good idea.” Jack gestured to the bridge. “Why don’t we get an ice cream or something first? I think I can just about stretch to that. What do you think?”

“Okay.” Lucy slinked her wrist through his arm. “Sounds wonderful. Then afterwards we can go back to our room and—“ She stretched up to his ear and whispered.

Jack’s smile broadened to a grin. “Who could refuse such a demure and respectable lady?”

“If you think that’s respectable I must not be trying hard enough.”

They both laughed and turned toward the cut-through that would take them back up to the top of the hill.

“By the way,” she said, “I hope you don’t mind. I know this is our first trip out of London and everything but I sort of invited someone to call in and see us.”

Jack was a little disappointed but he made himself not mind. “Sure,” he said as they started the steep climb. “Who?” 

2

 

 

Several miles away, Sam Decker pulled in under the trees at the side of the quiet suburban street fifty yards from his destination. He cut the engine and reached for the bag in the foot well of the passenger side. He kept his head up, eyes slowly scanning left to right.

No one in the street; no one visible in the windows of any of the houses; unlikely he would be seen but he kept the bag low just the same; kept watching, opening it by touch.

He withdrew a black automatic pistol, ejected the magazine, checked the rounds, then reinserted it. He pulled the slide back then let go. It snapped forward, chambering a round. He checked the safety catch was in place then set the gun on his lap and took the shoulder holster out of the sports bag. He returned the bag to the foot well, eyes still on the street.

This was the moment. Every action he’d taken over the past five years led to this exact point in time and space. The past and the future had only this one pivotal instant between them. It was an arbitrary point – one that he’d chosen – but a point that needed to be set. He couldn’t keep pushing forever. The likelihood of discovery was increasing each day. The opportunity to continue amassing capital was becoming outweighed by the risk.

Sam put the shoulder holster on over his shirt, took his black suit jacket from its position over the passenger seat and slipped into it. He inserted the barrel of the pistol into the holster and let gravity drop it into place.

The decision was made. It was time now to take his activities to the next level. He could no longer think like an innocent man. From this point on he was potentially a fugitive. Every situation had to be planned from its worst-case-scenario. There could be no surprises.

Down the street the building he had come to visit stood tightly amongst its neighbours; one more three level terraced house made descript by its shabbiness. The whole street was thirty years beyond its prime. That particular house exhibited decay that looked many times that age: too far away to make out exact detail but there was a fuzziness, a lack of focus that meant peeling paint, splintered damp-stained window frames, cracked glass, dishevelled garden.

It suited its owner.

Sam reached into his jacket and touched the pistol with the first and second fingers of his right hand. He withdrew them, running them along the grip then opened the door and got out of the car. Nobody was in the street but it didn’t matter now. They wouldn’t be aware of the gun if he were standing next to them. He started walking along the pavement toward the dirty grey house.

Three more stops to make and then he could leave the country; that was all: this one… both of his stashes back in London later that night… and before he left Bristol, his sister’s hotel.

To see her one last time.