Bipolar Force

Jim Michaels waited for Elaine’s departure for three hours. In between parking his car two streets away from her house and the time he started it again, he had gone through all scenarios that would have brought an alternative ending and found none. The arrangements had surprised him to come from one of them. He had listened impulsively hoping that he would not be walking into another of their traps. ‘We continue being tormented by the same evil again. Six months ago, it might have been coincidence, but now it can’t be,’ Sir Peter had thundered, vehemently pounding his desk. The other four had been quiet seemingly withdrawn but contained in the dilemma- none could go against Sir Peter and survive. Richard had sat like the bully he hid under his permanent brooding face. Next to him, Jon had pretended particular interest in his black police boots as if he had found them on his feet by mistake. On the other end of the couch, Rich had lounged with a pompous smile like he had won a lottery. Only Mark on a high-backed sofa had appeared interested, poking his finger into his nostril and inspecting his catch while threateningly daring Jim to disagree with Sir Peter’s thesis. The panel had waited for his reaction- what they had been expecting. Years before, he had been bought by Sir Peter, and he owed him. His promotions and transfers had been courtesy of Sir Peter- the dad he never had. Whatever Sir Peter said became law- his son-in-law was a problem that had to be dealt with. On that, Jim was in total agreement. He got into the house with ease. He sighed aloud, then looked around not sure what he hoped to find. Happy photos of Elaine and Ed always made him want to smash up things. He wanted to avoid a provocation that would mark his visit. He went to the master bedroom and stood at the door looking at the bed. Somehow, he turned away without losing his control. In the adjoining study, he found keys for the BMW in a drawer. He knew that at no time would she drive it. He was sure they would be safe. He proceeded to the garage. First, he went round the car careful not to touch it, his shovel-shaped jaw and well-trimmed beard pointing ahead like a bayonet. Satisfied with whatever he was staking out, he started his work. He was half way through his procedures when he received a surprise and dreaded phone call. He fumbled fast not to keep the caller holding. ‘Jim, we got a problem. How are you fixed this afternoon?’ ‘I’m on another job right now, but will be through in an hour or so. I will report to the station, then will be off on some errand. Say by 4 o’clock I can be there,’ he replied with respect. A call from Batch was like summons to the high court. The silence that greeted him saw him babbling to cut his ETA by two hours. His official duties did not rate higher than he was being asked to do. ‘Now we understand each other, Jim.’ He had no choice but to hasten his work, cursing under his breath every so often. He hated the control they had over him, but he had to comply. At 1:30, he was escorted along the gangway to the pier. He had been subjected to the immodesty of waiting in the glaring sun for nearly an hour to be cleared, everyone passing him looking at his attire silently condemning him for wishing the summer sun away. Inside the boat was even hotter and Jim found himself soaked to his coat with sweat. He could not wipe his stubble-speckled face not to let the dripping sweat drop to the carpet. He sat rigid like a stature to the glare of the three men. It was the rigidity that kept him on the seat when the cabin door opened and the rotund man stepped closer to him silently. ‘Reliably, we know that the St George incident was carefully planned to lead off the scent. We are down with some gear and resources after the issue and we need to send a message. Keep us informed of every angle you are pursuing,’ said Batch without a pause, dismissively. ‘Yes Sir,’ answered Jim. Batch turned round and re-entered his chambers and shut the door. Other unfavourable noises arose, with his crispy dry voice ordering whoever was there to get back. For a man with secrets, he had gone sloppy with security since the attack on his network and the resultant loss of trust. Jim was saved the farther embarrassment by being escorted out by the two minders who appeared like they had been denied the desires of the flesh apart from inflicting pain. Actually, the Missimo twins from the hilly Palermo province were eunuchs after a gangland Mafia misadventure had seen them on the losing side. Forever, they had intimidated him so much that he often said nothing in their presence. He had seen one of their victims and learnt to say nothing that would make them take more than casual interest in his person. Once on the street far away from them, he sat on a bench deep in thoughts. With DI Harts leading the case, there was going to be a problem to get the information. His eternal wary of her tactics always brought out risk of the past. Yet, the Alison-Elaine dynamic criss-cross had a likely denominator that was not obvious to many others, and that he realised with a smile he could exploit. His problems had just been solved for him. He realised that he should not even have bothered with the car.