A Bullet to the Head

A Bullet to the Head

&;#61651;2003 Ian Hobson

Private John Scargill - Scag, to his mates - waited patiently in the
front passenger seat of the dark blue Ford Focus. The car belonged to
David Butler - ex-British Army and a veteran of the Falklands War. As
Scag's cell-phone vibrated against his chest, he pulled it from his
shirt pocket and looked at the display as he pressed the receive
button. 'Go ahead, Dave.'

'He's gone to the bar for last orders, but the old guy's leaving. You
should see him coming out now? side door.'

'Yeah, I see him? grey hair? bit of a beer gut.'

'That's him? Tell the other's ten, fifteen minutes, twenty at the
most. I think they're fairly strict about closing time here. Watch the
doors though? I'm gonna take a leak.'

'Okay, Dave, out.' Scag took the phone from his ear, pressed the down
arrow until the right name was highlighted, and then 'dialled'.

Inside the pub - The Old Boar Inn - Dave took another sip at what was
left of his second pint of bitter before standing and heading towards
the Gent's. He looked straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye
he watched his quarry, Sergeant Graham Myers, as he carried two full
pint glasses back to where his remaining drinking partner was sitting.
Dave made that five rounds during the ninety or so minutes that he had
been watching. There were still about a dozen customers gathered around
the bar and as many still sitting, but the pub was growing
quieter.

Dave stepped to one side as an old man came out of the toilets, but
caught the door before it closed fully. It was quieter in the toilets
but the place stank of urine - The Old Boar was a drinker's pub. Dave
used the urinal then quickly washed his hands, but as he rubbed them
together under the electric dryer the door swung open again. Dave kept
his face to the wall, still drying his hands.

'Alright, Mate?' It was Myers; his voice just a little slurred, as he
walked in and stepped up to the urinal.

'Not too bad,' replied Dave, his throat suddenly very dry. Though he
had nothing to worry about. Myers had never met him, and probably would
not know him from Adam. Dave quickly walked towards the door, pulled it
open and walked through. His beer glass had been cleared away, he saw,
and there were even fewer customers. Deciding that to stay longer might
look suspicious, he left the pub and returned to his car.

'They're only half way through their pints, but the pub's emptying out
now,' he told Scag, as he slid into the driver's seat.

'Are they pissed? drunk, I mean?' asked Scag.

'They should be, but they don't look it? The bastard actually followed
me into the toilets and spoke to me.'

'Shit! What did he say?'

'Nothing, just "Alright, Mate." I got out before he could say anything
else.'

'Are you sure he doesn't know you?'

'Yeah, I kept well clear of him at the inquest, and I didn't have this
beard then? Are Ryan and Sam ready?'

'Yeah, they're in place? What do we do if Myers and his mate don't
split up?'

'Abort, as planned. But they met here, so my guess is they'll go their
separate ways? You sure you don't know either of his palls?'

'Never seen 'em before. The old guy walks like a soldier though? Are
you sure Myers'll go home the same way?'

'It's the shortest route? and that's the way he went when I followed
him two weeks ago? If not, we'll have to improvise? When's your leave
over?'

'I have another week, but Sam's due back on Tuesday.'

Scag and Dave watched as more customers left the pub, some on foot,
some by car, some obviously the worse for wear. Not that that stopped
the ones who were driving.

'Here they come,' said Dave. 'It's a good job Myers doesn't drink and
drive.'

'Yeah, well, we wouldn't want him to have any nasty accidents, would
we?' It was a joke, but neither of them laughed. Scag reached for his
cell-phone and it chirped as he contacted Ryan. 'They're coming out
now? Shit! They're staying together? I'm going to follow on foot. Dave,
you stay with the car. I'll call you when it's safe to follow.' He
climbed out of the Focus, leaving the door ajar rather than slamming
it, then followed, slowly, still holding the phone to his ear, and
keeping to the shadows. He hoped there were no muggers around.

Half a mile away, beside a disused factory building, Corporal Samantha
Hastings and ex-Private Ryan Burns waited; Samantha in the driver's
seat of an old Vauxhall van, and Ryan in the passenger seat with a cell
phone held to his right ear. They leaned towards each other, feigning a
kiss, but not actually kissing, as a car sped past. 'Are they still
together?' Samantha asked Ryan.

'Yes?' Ryan almost said 'Sir,' old habits dying hard, despite the
pretended intimacy. 'Hold on? Scag says they've split up. His mate's
gone left. Looks like we're on.' The two exchanged looks, then checked
the van's wing mirrors.

'No sign of him yet,' said Ryan into the phone.

'He'll be turning the corner soon, Rye. Get ready. I'll call Dave
now.' Scag 'hung up' on Ryan, and called Dave. 'Okay, Dave, get
moving,' he said, as he began to run stealthily along the pavement. He
stopped to peer around the corner of the building where their target
had turned left only a few seconds earlier, then turned towards the
sound of an approaching vehicle, surprised that Dave had responded so
quickly. But as he realised that the vehicle was a taxi, he stepped
around the corner and walked on, hoping that Myers would not look back
in his direction, and relieved as he heard the taxi continue straight
on at the junction. Ahead he could see the Vauxhall van parked on the
left-hand side of the road, and Sergeant Myers about an equal distance
between himself and the van, his assured stride unmistakable. Scag
turned as he heard another vehicle approaching, this time relieved as
he saw Dave at the wheel.

Dave passed Scag, driving slowly to get the timing right. And as his
Ford passed Myers, he switched on the car's interior light and sounded
the horn to attract his attention, and to give a prearranged signal to
the others. He slowed to a stop about ten metres behind the Vauxhall
van, opened the electric widow in the passenger door, and as Myers drew
level, he shouted: 'Excuse me! Can you tell me where Station Road is,
please?' He lowered his voice on the word 'Station'.

Myers stopped. 'Where?' he asked, taking a step towards the open car
window.

'Station Road,' replied Dave, holding a crudely drawn map towards the
window with both hands.

'There's no Station Road around here, Mate.' Myers leaned towards the
window to get a better look at the map, but suddenly the map was
lowered, and as Dave activated the device in his right hand, Myers was
on the receiving end of a large dose of pepper spray. He jerked
backwards and a cry of distress escaped his lips, and his hands went to
his face; and at that moment, Scag ran into him with enough momentum to
bring him down, winding him as he hit the stone paving.

But Myers had spent most of his adult life in the British Army, and his
soldier's instincts took over. He lashed out at Scag, his right fist
making contact with Scag's forehead. But almost immediately Dave and
Ryan, who had leapt from their vehicles, joined Scag, and their
combined weight was enough to hold Myers down. Ryan produced a roll of
wide masking tape, and after a violent struggle Myers was bound hand
and foot and dragged towards the rear of the van, which Samantha had
reversed towards them.

The three men bundled Myers into the back, and Ryan and Scag, whose
right eyebrow was bleeding, climbed in and lay on top of him. Dave
slammed the rear doors then looked around, relieved to see that there
were no witnesses. 'Go!' he shouted to Sam, before returning to his own
vehicle and following as the Vauxhall van sped away into the
night.

***
Sergeant Myers sat bound to a chair at one end of an ancient and
isolated barn. He was gagged and a sack covered his head. Several hours
had passed and the effects of the pepper spray had mostly worn off, but
as he struggled once more, trying to free himself, he received another
kick in the left shin for his trouble. At the other end of the barn the
two vehicles used in the kidnapping were parked, one beside the other.
But the Vauxhall's headlights were switched on, eerily illuminating the
inside of the barn.

'What shall I do with these?' asked Ryan, holding up the number-plates
he had just removed from the Ford Focus.

'Put them in the van,' said Dave, as he stooped to fit the first of a
second set of false plates to his car, 'they'll not be missed, will
they?'

'No, no problem there, Dave.' Ryan worked for a garage, and had made
up the plates himself. He had also acquired the old Vauxhall van, which
no longer carried any serial numbers or identifying marks of any
kind.

Samantha came in from outside carrying a torch. 'Everything's quiet.
It'll be light in about two hours though? Do we have enough petrol,
Ryan?'

Ryan nodded a reply as he helped Dave fit the second number-plate, then
the three of them joined Scag and their prisoner at the other end of
the barn. They were more nervous now than they had been all
night.

'Are we ready?' asked Scag. His right eye was blackened and an
Elastoplast covered the eyebrow. The others nodded and Scag pulled the
bag from Myers' head.

Myers struggled again, making what sounds he could through the balled
cloth that was held in his mouth by masking tape. His eyes and face
were red, and as he squinted at his kidnappers, seeing all of their
faces for the first time, his fear turned to scorn. He looked at each
of them in turn: The older one, the one who had tricked him by asking
directions, was a stranger to him, but the other three he knew. They,
he thought, were three of the scum that passed for soldiers these days.
And he would make them pay for this night's work.

He winced as Scag pulled the tape from his face, and then as the cloth
was pulled from his mouth he coughed and spat into the dust. 'You won't
get away with this,' he said. 'This is kidnap?' Myers' head was knocked
sideways as Ryan swung the back of his right fist against his
jaw.'

'Shut up and listen,' Samantha advised him, as she shone her torch in
his face. 'We don't have long. This is a court-martial, and you are the
accused? And I accuse you of rape!'

'You lying bitch? I never raped you!'

'Only because I fought you off, you bastard? But what about Private
Sandra Shepherd?'

At this Myers' eyes changed, giving him the look of a hunted animal.
'I never raped her neither.'

'That's not what she told me,' replied Samantha, with disgust.

'Look,' said Myers, 'this is no court-martial!'

'Well let's call it a murder trial then,' said Dave, gently moving
Samantha to one side with a touch of his hand and then stooping to look
Myers in the eyes.'

'Murder?' exclaimed Myers. 'I don't know what you are talking about?
Look? I need a piss.'

'Go ahead,' said Scag. 'I'm used to the smell of your piss. You pissed
on my bed once, remember? Just before the inspection you held. And the
next day you beat me up and put me in hospital for three weeks.'

Myers swallowed hard. 'It was for your own good. To toughen you?' He
was about to say more but he thought better of it as he saw Scag's fist
bunch.

'I want to know the truth about Philip,' said Dave, quietly.

'Phillip?' asked Myers, his voice gravelly.

'Private Philip Butler,' said Dave. 'He was my son, and I want to know
why you murdered him.'

Myers tried to swallow again but his mouth was too dry. 'I didn't? It
was suicide? I need water,' he managed to say.

Dave nodded to Samantha, and she handed the torch to Ryan before
walking over to the Focus and returning with a bottle of water. She
held it to Myers' lips and let him drink.

'We'll make a deal with you,' she said, as she screwed the cap back
onto the bottle. 'You tell us about the murder, and we'll turn you over
to the authorities.'

'You'll turn me over? I've done nothing. You're the?'

This time it was Dave that lost his temper. He gave Myers a right hook
and he toppled over. Ryan and Scag pulled him upright again and checked
that he was still securely bound to the chair.

Dave rubbed his right knuckles with the palm of his left hand. 'Just
tell me why you murdered Philip,'

Blood trickled from the corner of Myers' mouth. 'It was suicide, I
told you? The army said it was suicide. The investigating
officer?'

'Was lied to, by you!'

'No, I?'

'My son was about to be married. I saw him three days before he died.
He was very happy. He did not commit suicide!'

'We're wasting time,' said Scag. 'Let's kill him and have done with
it.'

'Okay? if he's not willing to deal,' said Samantha. 'Get the petrol,
Scag.'

'What are you going to do?' asked Myers, his tone becoming
frantic.

'If you won't deal, then you have to die,' announced Samantha, without
emotion.

Myers watched Scag as he walked around to the back of the Vauxhall van
and lifted out an obviously full, bright red, fuel canister. 'Okay! It
was an accident? I was inspecting his riffle and it discharged. It
was?'

'You were inspecting his riffle at three in the morning, in the dark,
beside the perimeter fence?' said Dave.

'Like you inspected my riffle by cracking three of my ribs with it?'
added Ryan.

As Scag approached with the petrol canister, unscrewing the cap as he
got nearer to Myers, Dave and Ryan and Samantha stepped back a few
paces.

'Okay!' screamed Myers, smelling the petrol fumes. 'I killed him! But
he was no good. He wasn't fit to be a soldier.'

'So you killed him,' said Dave. 'You judged his performance, you found
him wanting, you sentenced him to death, and you executed him with a
bullet to the head?'

'But?'

'But what?' asked Dave. 'But it was for his own good?' He walked over
to the wall behind Myers and reached for the tape recorder that was
sitting on a dusty ledge, hidden under a rag. He pressed rewind button
and then the play button.

'?beside the perimeter fence? Like you inspected my riffle by cracking
three of my ribs with it? Okay! I killed him! But he was no good. He
wasn't fit to be a ?' Dave pressed the stop button.

'Shame we can't use this,' said Dave. 'Though it might be enough to
sway a jury, if we're caught.' He reached up to the ledge again, and as
his companions turned their backs and looked away, he held a silenced
pistol to the back of Myers' head and pulled the trigger.

***
As the four of them drove away along the deserted country lane, only
Scag looked back. A mile behind them the barn was well alight, and
there was an explosion as the Vauxhall's petrol tank blew.