The Agency

The Agency

1

Ray looked lovingly down at Jo, her head resting in his lap. She held
her hand up to the light and watched the orange glow of the passing
street lamps flash in the tiny diamond set into her ring. She smiled at
Ray. 'How the hell did you afford this, hon?'
'Well, I had to sell your mother.' He said without change of
expression.
'What?' replied Jo, pushing the back of her head into Ray's groin and
struggling to hold back her intoxicated giggle.
'But I didn't get as much as I hoped, so I had to sell some of
&;#8230;'
Jo poked at his stomach. ' Had to sell some of what? Huh? some of what
Ray?' She teased.
'Some of your clothes.' He finished, laughing and trying to fend off
her probing fingers with his elbows. 'Come on Jo. I'm well over the
limit. I'll lose my license if I'm stopped.'
'Okay.' She conceded. 'But only because I love you.' Looping her hands
behind his neck she pulled herself up from his lap and gently kissed
his chin. 'Thank you Ray.' She whispered.
'SHHIIIT!' Screamed Ray, wrenching the wheel to the right and slamming
his foot on the brake, the tires grabbed at the tarmac screeching as
they disintergrated.

The homeless man stood his ground and watched the blue car swerve to
avoid him. He wondered why the man behind the wheel was screaming; it
was after all, his own fault. He clutched at his can of Special Brew
and took a swig of medication. 'That'll teach ya, drink drivin, gonna
kill someone someday, then we'll av ya.' he chuckled to himself,
eventually hacking phlegm and lung tissue into the roof of his
mouth.

His mouth was stretched open and his throat burned with the force of
his scream, yet Ray could hear nothing beyond the mind-shattering
screech of rubber. Cold rushes of fear surged up his spine, as the
lamppost raced toward them. An instant before impact, there was
silence. Ray watched in horror as the lamppost tore through the bonnet.
He felt himself thrown forward into what should have been the steering
wheel, instead he was engulfed by a huge soft white cloud. Distantly,
he heard the echo of something crack, 'a bit like someone breaking a
stick of celery,' he thought absently&;#8230; and then
nothing.

'Mr. Drayton?&;#8230; Mr. Drayton?'. Ray opened one eye and
immediately snapped it shut, cutting out the large fluorescent light
humming fiercely above him.
'Welcome back, Mr. Drayton. How are you feeling?' Ray cautiously opened
his eyes and peered up at a silver disc swayed inches above his head,
the whole picture struggled into focus revealing a large man, fat in
fact, wearing a white coat, and stethoscope draped around his
neck.
'Er&;#8230; well, I-I&;#8230;not too bad.' Ray guessed. In truth,
he wasn't sure. 'What happened? Where am I?&;#8230;Ahhh my head.'
Ray slammed his hands against his temples trying to drive back the
pain.
'That will pass. Now, first things first,' replied the man. 'My name is
Doctor Redmond and you're in St. Thomas's hospital. You arrived here
last night in a state of deep shock. You were in a car accident.'
'Car accident?' Struggled Ray, bewildered.
'Yes. On York street, in Waterloo, just down the road. You received a
concussion and a few cuts and bruises, otherwise you're all right. And
don't worry too much about your recollection of the incident. It's
quite normal to experience mild amnesia in-'
The doctors' words trailed off into insignificance, as the face of the
drifter appeared in negative before Rays' eyes.
The entire crash played in slow motion to it's exclusive audience, each
horrific detail in perfect focus.
-Okay but only because I love you-
Ray sprang from the raised cot and gripped the Doctors' lapel
violently.
'A woman was in the car with me, where is she?' Ray pleaded. 'Is she
all right? Can I see her? Her name is Joanna Grant.' Doctor Redmond
looked gravely at the young nurse standing beside him, she looked at
him, momentarily confused, then left hurriedly.
'Well?' Ray asked, becoming impatient&;#8230;sensing the burning
discomfort as each of the words played around in Dr. Redmond's
mind.
'Now settle down please.' The doctor said lacking conviction and
attempting to push Ray back down onto the cot.
'What's happened?' Ray blurted urgently. 'What the fuck happened?' He
screamed in the doctors' face, peppering it with saliva.
'I'm sorry Mr. Drayton.' the doctor delicately began, 'there was
nothing we could do for her.' He rushed, relief surging behind the
sentence as it was finally set free.
Ray slowly released the doctor's lapel and slumped onto the bed.
' She died instantly in the crash. She would have felt no pain, her
neck was cleanly broken. It's a miracle that you're still alive, it was
the air bag you see.'
His words echoed around the confines of Ray's mind. Nausea crept up
Ray's body, twisting his intestine in knots, gradually inching toward
his throat.
'The air bag saved you.' Continued the Doctor.
'Saved&;#8230;me? Who says it saved me?'
Ray sat on the bed devastated. Jos' face smiled sweetly before his
eyes, but beyond those loving eyes was the horrific image of the
drifter, standing in the middle of the road, a long dirty coloured
quilt draped around his shoulders. He smiled at Ray. 'That'll teach
ya.' He said.

2

'Where the bloody hell have you been?' shouted Jerry. 'You've got some
catching up to do.' He added not waiting for a reply and dumping enough
beer into a spare glass to send the head surging over the edge onto the
already swamped table.
'I've been out in the bastard cold, restoring faith in humanity, that's
where I've been.' David said breathing hard into his cupped hand.
'Really, and how did you manage that? Roger asked indifferently,
finding the removal of a hair from his pint, to be of far greater
importance.
'By giving this poor beggar twenty quid, I-' David was interrupted by
Jerry spurting his beer in surprise, the majority exiting through his
nose.
'Christ Jerry, that's-'
David dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 'Anyway, I only had a
twenty on me, so I thought what the hell, the pathetic bastard looks
like he needs it more than I do. He looked to be in his mid forties but
for all I know he could have been 10 maybe fifteen years younger, his
face so dirty and with enough food or vomit trapped in his beard to
feed half of south London. You should have seen the pathetic quilt he
was wrapped up in, I expect it was probably quite brightly coloured at
some early point in it's life, absolutely covered in piss, shit and God
knows what else.'
Roger slapped the still coughing Jerry on the back, more as a gesture
than to any effect, his attention to the illusive hair not faltering in
the slightest.
'Steady on Jerry.' Roger said, offering a second weak slap. 'It must be
the cold, it does strange things to the best of us.'
Jerry, finally recovering from choking, looked up at David, 'Dave you
are indeed a kind man.' He said toasting him with the remainder of his
pint. 'kind&;#8230; and stupid.' He added, cracking up and slumping
back into his chair.
'I'm afraid he's right, Dave. These people are con artists simply
fuelling their alcohol addiction.' Roger said, examining the retrieved
hair on the end of his finger.
'I'm sorry, but that is complete horse shit.' Argued David. 'Many of
these are people have very real and disturbing reasons for being out
there. Things like psychological or financial stress has forced them
out onto the street, a disastrous divorce&;#8230;no offence Jerry.'
He picked up his pint toasting Jerry and took two gulps. 'Cheers by the
way.' He added, taking another gulp.
'In fact Dave,' Jerry continued, ignoring Dave's toast and comment. 'I
read that they make up to seventy quid on a good day. With no tax of
any kind to pay, or even rent, they do pretty well wouldn't you say?'
David had no chance to contradict. 'They probably love it, no
pressures, no deadlines, you're your own boss, hell they choose the
street, anyone can do it. Dress up in clothes from a skip, develop your
pathetic look so that nobody can resist pity and away you go, prey on
the guilt of others.' He was standing now and completely unaware that
his tie was hanging in his refilled pint.
'I disagree.' David said shaking his head. 'It's not as simple as
that.'
'Of course it is. What's not simple about it. The hardest part is
finding a lager with high enough alcohol content to drown all your self
respect, and that's easily done, my ex wife will tell you that.'
'Come on Jerry, sit down, you're starting to drown some of your own
self respect at the moment, half the bar can hear you.'
'Ahh there's not much self respect left here anyway, I bet I could make
50 quid in an hour.' He mumbled crashing back into his chair.
'Well why don't you prove it to us, Jerry?' Roger said refilling his
own glass from the pitcher. 'We'll even put some money on it. If you
make fifty quid, I'll double it. One hundred pounds says you can't do
it.'
Jerry looked uneasy, he noticed his sodden tie and began to wring it
out. 'Well I&;#8230;' he attempted.
'Come on Jerry, it's easy remember.' David said smiling. 'Anyone can do
it.'
'I'm not standing out there in the buggerey cold for a hundred quid. I
still have standards.'
'I'll make it a grand then.' Roger said, a sinister smile creeping onto
his face.
'You're drunk.' Jerry scoffed.
'Oh really Jerry? How about you Dave?.' David put down his pint slowly,
a slight look of alarm about him.
'A grand?' He questioned, furrowing his brow.
'It's ridiculous&;#8230; I -I was just making a point.' Jerry
interrupted. 'It's just a drunkard lifestyle choice.'
David glanced across at Jerry.
'Come on Dave, you can easily afford a grand.' Roger teased, his eyes
fixed darkly on David.
'Of course, I-I know but&;#8230;'
'But what Dave, you and I know he'll never make it anyway. You can
always give your winnings away to our new favourite charity.'
'Right, sod it, Count me in. Two grand says you can't make it begging
for cash on the street for a day.'
They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, eventually
Jerry's mouth started to curl cautiously into a smile and eventual a
slightly muffled chuckle coughed from behind his lips and moments later
ruptured into laughter. 'Right you money burning loosers.' He said,
picking up his pint. 'You're on.'

3
'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust&;#8230;' The priest droned on in his
over rehearsed funeral monotone. Clouds of warm breath streamed past
his nicotine stained teeth, condensing as mist in the frosty morning
air. Ray stared into the grave, through glassy eyes, his tears refusing
to spill. He gripped Jo's engagement ring tightly in his left hand,
welcoming the pain as the stones gouged into his fingers. In the other,
he held Elsie Grants' hand.
Rays' parents had died nearly fifteen years ago and he had become very
close to Jo's mother, she was becoming the mother Ray had never
known.
Frank Grant enjoyed his steak and although the doctor had warned him
time and again, he selfishly insisted he was as strong as an ox. It was
the second heart attack that finally killed him in June of that year.
Jo and Ray had watched helpless, as a piece of Elsie died with him. And
now she had lost Jo, more to the point, Ray had taken Jo away from her.
Hearing Elsie sobbing quietly into her handkerchief, Ray wondered if
the pain could reach a level beyond this, if there could possibly be an
emotional empty pain beyond the relentless hell he now lived in. If
Elsie didn't recover, he new he would find out.

There were at least forty people gathered around the grave, Ray knew
them all. He had grown up with a majority of them. The mothers held
their daughters close to them, gripping their shoulders, determined at
that moment never to let them go. The fathers stood behind them, their
eyes depicting contempt for Rays' reckless behaviour. Although,
undoubtedly at some point, every one of them had been guilty of drink
driving themselves, as far as they were concerned, the loss of Ray's
license had been a pathetic punishment for what they believed to be
murder.

A man was walking back and fourth behind the crowd, Ray strained to see
who it was. Snatches of scruffy hair bobbed between the shoulders of
the mourners. The strange man paced busily behind the crowd eagerly
searching for a way to the front. At last he stopped pacing and started
to edge his way through. He forced his path, offering a swig from his
can as compensation for their space.
The drifter reached the front row and stared into the grave, he kicked
some dirt onto the coffin and spat a gob of green phlegm mixed with
blood onto the lid. He looked up at Ray and smiled an almost toothless
grin. Ray looked at him in horror, his jaw slowly dropped, but no words
came out, nobody seemed to notice or care. Ray let go of Elise's hand
and raised a shaking finger at the intruder, his whole body trembled as
the shock mixed with rage.
'What's the matter? Would you rather it had been me?' the drifter
mocked sarcastically. People started to stare at Ray and mutter under
their breath. Ray continued pointing in the direction of Mrs. Wenstall.
'What&;#8230;what&;#8230;' Ray stuttered hoarsely, trying to say
all the words at once. 'What the hell are you doing here?' Ray roared
in disbelief. Mrs. Wenstall recoiled with shock and burst into tears.
Mr. Wenstall immediately pulled his wife into his arms and comforted
her momentarily before turning toward Ray.
'Now look here son&;#8230;' began Mr. Wenstall furiously.
'You bastard. It was you that forced me to crash. It was you&;#8230;
you killed her.' Ray was trembling uncontrollably as the anger climbed
within him.
The drifter pointed at his chest, his face awash with the innocence of
a child guilty of eating sweets before dinner. He mouthed the word
'me?' and rolled his eyes skyward. Ray coiled his hands into tight
fists and drummed them against his thighs. Everyone stared at him. The
priest had lowered his bible and pushed his spectacles to the end of
his nose. Mrs. Wenstall sought refuge behind her husband's ample girth
and confined her tears to her handkerchief.
Ray forced his breath between his grinding teeth. From across the
grave, the drifter stared at Ray waiting for his next move.
'Just paying my disrespects to the deceased.' He offered, bowing
dramatically.
The drifter exagerting his steps, paced the length of the grave,
looking at the coffin. 'Nice coffin gov'. I'm no expert o'course, but
it looks nice. Expensive? Pretty strong I'd guess.' He craned his head
up at Ray. 'Wouldn't ya say gov'? pretty strong?' He looked down at the
coffin, and leaped into the grave. His taped up boot crashed through
the lid and sank into Jo's body. Ray caught a glimpse of Jo's favourite
blue silk blouse, as it billowed up toward the hole.
'Whoops, looks like this here coffin aint as strong as what I thought.'
The drifter tried to pull his foot free with little success and started
laughing hysterically.
'NO' screamed Jake, unable to contain the fury boiling beneath his
skin. 'YOU BASTARD.' Jake dived on the drifter, clawing frantically at
his filthy neck. The drifter did nothing to fend him off, he merely
ensured that his special brew remained up right.
Jeff Monroe Ross Hargreaves, two of Ray's old school friends seized Ray
by the shoulders and hauled him out of the grave. Ray stared with wild
eyes at Mr Wenstall who lay on the coffin clawing at his collar, trying
to free his wind pipe from his tie. The husbands held their sobbing
wives, the wives held their sobbing daughters but mostly everyone
stared in disbelief.
With all the commotion, no one had noticed that Elsie Grant had
collapsed.

'What the hells the matter with you mate?' Jeff whispered hoarsely into
Ray's ear.
'What's the matter with me? What the hell do you think is the matter?
That God damn drunk jumping on Jo's coffin is the mat&;#8230;ter'
Ray blurted, turning around looking for the drifter. The only thing in
the grave was the coffin with a cracked surface where Mr. Wenstall had
landed.
'He was there.' Ray shouted frantically. 'Didn't you see him? He was
right there.' As the last words drifted hopelessly from his lips, a
tear spilled down his cheek and clung to his jaw.
'He was right there.' He whispered softly.

Soon afterward, Elsie was discovered and lifted to an awaiting car, she
had fainted and would be OK after some rest. How na?ve, Ray later
thought. Those who had not yet left were slowly edging away. It wasn't
long before Ray was standing alone at the edge of the grave. He stood
silently staring through a blurred window of tears at the coffin,
covered with the handfuls of earth the mourners had thrown upon it as
they left the graveside.
'Good bye Jo.' He said quietly.
Ray turned and was about to set off, when he heard gravely scratching
behind him, he slowly turned around. A cloud of macabre certainty
descended around him.
Foul nicotine stained fingers dug for grip at the edge of the grave.
Immediately next to the handhold, a can of Special Brew balanced
precariously. The drifter hoisted his chin to the edge and peered over
his can at Ray. Ray immobilised with fear, stared directly into the
drifters eyes.
'Don't mind if I keep her company, do you Ray?' The drifter drawled
hoarsely.
Ray pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes and hunched his
shoulders against his neck. The tramp cackled and took a swig. 'Aw Ray,
now that only works in the movies, you know that don't ya?'
As Ray opened his eyes, wild fury blazed within them. His whole body
shook with anger. 'I will find you.' He promised.

4
Jerry waited impatiently at the steps of Waterloo station. They were at
least half an hour late and he was beginning to feel ridiculous in the
old second hand clothes he had bought.
The sales assistant at the charity shop had become quite irritated by
his request for some 'really old nasty clothes.'
'All of our clothes are good quality garments.' She had insisted.
'Just because they have been donated, does not mean, that they are
therefore nasty.' Jerry had shrunk into his collar, mumbling a weak
apology. 'Some items carry Marks and Spencer labels you know!' She had
then added matter of factually.
Despite the assistant's assurances, it was not long before Jerry had
found what he believed to be nasty old clothes. By way of making
strategic tears and applying appropriate dirt, he had created a
reasonably convincing image representative of what he considered a
homelss persons outfit to look like. He had neglected to shave for well
over a week now and the itching had become almost as irritating as the
continuous taunting from his colleagues, still, he would prove there
was money to be made in this con racket.

'Wow Jerry, I love the look. Is this what the new man about town will
be wearing this season? The Autumn/Winter collection?'
'You like?' Jerry answered performing a twirl for David.
'Yes I like. Where did you get all this shit?'
'Don't you recognise this? I wore this at your brother's
wedding.'
'Yeah that's right, now I remember.' David said slapping his forehead
in jest. 'Well it still looks good, I guess that kind of thing just
never goes out style.'
They looked at each other a while longer, their smiles beginning to
decay.
'Listen, Dave, I'm not sure I want to go through with this, you know
it's pretty cold out there today and I didn't manage to get a good
jacket or blanket and they all have thick jackets or blankets right?'
Jerry stared into Dave's eyes looking for confirmation. Dave looked
away and blew into his hands. 'I don't know Jerry, we made a bet, I
would not want to think that you would pull out of a
bet&;#8230;'
'It's not that I want to pull out Dave . You know, I just thought that
maybe another day, or-'
'I don't know Jerry, it's quite a bit of cash riding on this and well
you've seen how serious Roger has been about this all week.
'Fuck Roger, I don't give a shit about Roger, Christ, we hardly even
know the bastard. He's taken this shit a bit far, we were all pissed,
mucking about Dave. It was a bit of a laugh, come on, I'll do some sort
of forfeit. I'll donate a bit of money to the poor bastards. Come on
it's stupidly cold out here.'
'David. Jerry.' Roger strolled toward them. 'Sorry I'm late gents, I
was-'
'-Was giving money to some poor homeless person.' Jerry finished
sarcastically.
'No. I had to make some calls, but now that you mention it, I'm sure I
can spare you a few coppers, Jerry. And by the way, has anyone
commented on your stunning outfit yet? You must give me the name of
your tailor.'
Roger laughed, but broke off abruptly.
'Jerry's not sure if he wants to go through with it, Dave.' His words
struggled past his lips. 'He was wondering if maybe he could do it
another day.' He turned to Jerry and looked him straight in the eye.
'Another day, when perhaps its' not so cold, ay jerry ?'
Jerry looked from David to Roger, the same inescapable glare locked on
his face.
'That's right Roger&;#8230;another day.' Jerry attempted
weakly.
'No. I don't think so Jerry.' Roger said shaking his head. He ran his
fingers along the contour of his chin, feeling for an inconsistency in
this mornings shave, and stared nonchalantly into the distance. 'You
see the problem is this, Jerry. We made a bet, you can't&;#8230;how
I can I put this?&;#8230;you can't fuck with the terms of a bet once
the bet is made. That's not how a bet works Jerry. That kind of shit
will fuck with the odds. Besides, there is another point, doing this
another day is not an option for most of these people.' He had walked
behind Jerry and gripped him by the shoulders, he leaned in close to
his ear. 'Do you understand Jerry?' he whispered hoarsely.
'I realise that, but-'
'No Jerry. No but, we have a bet. Anyway, its' easy&;#8230;
remember?' Roger said flatly.
'For God's sake calm it down, we can do this another day, its' just a
bloody bet, a bit of a laugh.'
'I don't bet a grand for a bit of a laugh. Do you Jerry?' The disgust
in Rogers' voice unnerved Jerry further still and he became aware that
despite the cold he was sweating profusely.
'Roger, what the hell has gotten into you man, we were&;#8230;I was
drunk, I was just making a point. I really can't believe
that&;#8230;that&;#8230;Dave, will you at least talk some sense-'
Jerry turned toward Dave, staring at him wildly.
'Well Dave, are you going to talk some sense into me, didn't we make a
bet David, a bloody bet?' Roger spoke calmly drawing David's attention
away from Jerry. 'You do remember don't you Dave? You remember how
certain Jerry was that it's all a big con and that you were an idiot
for buying into it, you do remember that don't you David?'
'I-I&;#8230;well he's right Jerry, we made a bet, you were drunk but
you knew what you were doing, it's for 2 grand Jerry, you have to go
through with it.' David was building confidence in his argument as his
sentence progressed, he was distantly aware that Roger had his hand on
his shoulder. 'Just get on with it Jerry, the worst that can happen is
that you loose a few quid and get a slice of reality bite your arse,
maybe even suck the scrooge out of you. The bet is still on Jerry.
Either pay now and go home or get out there and prove your ridiculous
theory.'
They stood there in silence all facing each other not saying anything
for a few seconds until Jerry broke the tension.
'Shit&;#8230; all right, all right.' he conceded. ' I can't believe
your giving me this much shit about a God damn bet though, it's a bit
full on, there are psychiatric issues that you need to take care of
Roger. Your one evil twisted fucker.'
'Perhaps your right Jerry. Your keys and your wallet.' Roger said
holding out his hand toward Jerry.
'What?'
'Your keys and your wallet, give them to me. Not that we don't trust
you of course, its' just better that you don't have the
temptation.'
'Or option.' David added.
'I think this is way out of hand.' Jerry said reluctantly handing over
his keys and wallet.
David's fingers imitated glasses in front of his eyes, 'We will be
watching you&;#8230;.Jerry '
'Whatever&;#8230;. pervert.' Jerry scowled.
'Okay Jerry, go do your stuff, you have twelve hours and remember keep
receipts for anything you buy with your hard earned cash. I wouldn't
want you to loose by the price of a cheese sandwich.' Roger said,
almost smiling.
'Yeah, yeah. Go fuck yourself.'

David and Roger watched Jerry trudge down the street, flapping his arms
about his body for warmth.
'Do you think we were a little hard on him.' David mused, dropping his
spent cigarette to the ground and making a far greater effort than
necessary to put it out with the sole of his shoe.
'Perhaps. But I hate to loose a bet&;#8230; I don't care how much
money is at stake.'
'I wonder if he'll pull it off.'
'I doubt it.' The corners of Rogers's mouth had pulled into a smile,
however his eyes remained unchanged. 'And David?'
'What Roger?'
'I think that you can leave that cigarette alone now. I'm sure it's
quite dead.'

5
Ray stared into the tiny diamond set into the gold engagement ring that
should have been tightly wrapped around Jo's finger. Sometimes, when he
missed her the most, he thought he could see her trapped within the
finely cut surface of the stone, crying out his name. It was at these
times, that the anger would swell within him, eventually consuming his
sanity and sending him into a violent uncontrollable rage. The only
recollection of these times was in the form of horrific dreams that
would grip his conscious mind forcing him to witness the horror he was
capable of. As rows of houses raced by the window, Ray found himself
slipping into his macabre dream world of recollection.
Beneath him was a man, walking slowly down a deserted road, although it
was intensely dark he immediately recognised it as it led from his
local pub. The man appeared to be examining something closely in his
hand. A few metres behind him four kids no older than eighteen stepped
into line behind the man gripping their beer bottles with far more
determination than mere drinking demanded. Ray tried to call to the man
but he could muster no more than a whisper. The boys crept closer. The
tallest lad raised his bottle in what seemed like slow motion, Ray
watched with compulsive fascination as the dregs of beer slipped out of
the bottle and down the boy's sleeve. The boy froze in suspended
animation, his face contorted with excitement. And then everything
snapped into real time. The bottle whirred through the air chased by
its' brilliant green light trail and shattered across the back of the
man's head. The man fell to his knees and then sprawled onto all fours,
the object he had be carrying rolled out of his hand and came to rest
inches beyond his reach. The boys started kicking him in the gut
repeatedly. Ray shouted for help but all he heard was a hoarse
gurgling. He watched helplessly as one of the younger lads picked up
the glimmering object lying by the man's hand.,
'Well lookee here.' He said holding the ring up to the light. 'I found
me a diamond ring.'
Ray instantly recognised the ring, he opened his mouth to scream and
heard it come from the man below. The man turned to face the boys, his
face was masked with streams of blood, clouds of condensed breath
battered through his clenched teeth.
'Give me the ring.' He hissed.
'Fuck you.' Said the boy gripping his bottle even tighter.
The man shot out his left hand and grabbed the boy by the hair. As he
pulled the boy toward him his fist smashed into the boy's face
shattering the bone in his nose, sending the splinters searing into his
brain. The boy twitched violently and then hung limp from the man's
grip. The first boy screamed, charging at the man, led by the jagged
edge of his bottle. The man easily dodged the bottle, and in one swift
movement dropped the dead boy, caught the thrusting arm with his left
and the throat with his right. He cocked his head to one side stared
hypnotically into the boy's eyes while he squeezed. Something
distracted his attention and he looked over the boy's shoulder. A
strained whimpering noise emanated from within the third boy's throat
as he frantically searched his dead friends pockets. The man looked
back at the tall boy within his grasp, his eyes were bulging from their
sockets, blood filled his lower eyelids and then rolled down his
cheeks. The third boy stuffed the bag of dirty brown powder into his
pocket and started to edge away mumbling hysterically. Ray watched
horrified as the man swung his victims' head against the lamppost. The
gut-wrenching crack, as his skull made contact with the metal, echoed
between the walls of the alley. The man was running after the boy, his
heavy breath battering Ray's ears as he closed the gap with each
stride. 'Let him go.' Ray attempted feebly. As the man drew closer, Ray
could feel himself sinking toward the man, he felt as though his feet
were almost touching the top of the man's head.
The boy almost made it around the corner when the man caught him. He
cupped the back of the boy's head with his palm and accelerated it
toward the parked car in front of him. His head bounced of the window
almost comically. Ray sank further into the man, he closed his eyes not
wanting to see anymore. When he finally opened them he looked down at
his foot imbedded in the boy's neck. The boy's eyes stared confusedly
into Ray's. Ray threw his head back and screamed.
Ray awoke shivering, his body cloaked with a layer of frost. He looked
out of the window and watched a Eurostar train accelerate past on it's
way to Paris, he would soon be in Waterloo.

6
It was eleven o'clock and Jerry was freezing. He stared at the handful
of shrapnel he had collected so far and started to recount what he
already knew to be eighty-nine pence.
'Here ye go pal.' An aging Scot mumbled through a mouth full of food,
as he tossed the remaining crust of his sandwich at Jerrys' head.
'Cheers.' Jerry groaned, wiping the dollop of margarine off his
forehead and in return flipping his middle finger.
A pound coin rolled past his foot, circled, and came to rest next to
his leg.
'Cold Jerry?' mocked Roger, clapping his gloved hands together.
'For Christ's sake Roger it's bastard freezing. I've lost all feeling
in my fucking nads-'
'Thank you Jerry, but despite what you may have heard, I have
absolutely no interest in the state of your bollocks.'
'Lets just call it off ay? You're right okay, it's a shitty way to make
a living.' Jerry said, signalling with his hand that he wanted hoisting
up.
'Nope. I don't think I will.' Roger said turning around. 'A bet is a
bet old boy.' His words echoed within the railway arch.
'You win Roger, you win OK, I'll pay you the money, come on lets get it
over with, I need a hot bath. I'll even donate some money to some
shelter thing or whatever you decide.'
'I'll look into it Jerry, how much are you going to donate then.' David
breathed heavily into his hands, he guessed it had to be around -5?C
out here.
'I don't know, a couple of hundred&;#8230;' Jerry began to say as he
struggled to his feet.
'Not interested.' Roger said as he drew in closer to Jerry's face. 'Not
interested in your donations. Lets' double the bet. Four grand says you
can't make fifty pounds by the end of the day.'
'Hang on Roger, I'm not prepared to up my side of the bet.' David
backed off clapping his hands together for warmth. 'Jerry's already
conceded.'
Roger turned to David. 'Oh you think so Dave.' Roger spun on his heels
to face Jerry. 'What do you say Jerry? Four grand to prove you point.
How about I make it ten.' Roger winked at Jerry. 'How about it
Jerry?'
Jerry stared at Roger quizzically. 'No, you've lost it Roger.' He
started to push passed him.
'Ten isn't my final offer Jerry.' Roger whispered into his ear as he
struggled to pass.
David watched with fascination as Roger leaned closer still to Jerry's
ear.
'You fucking what?' Jerry pushed Roger away and tried to laugh, but the
noise came out wrong, more like someone choking on a fish bone.
'50 grand?' Jerry continued. 'You have so lost it Roger. 50 grand. How
about that Dave, are you in on that?' Jerry asked, nervousness creeping
into his voice.
'No Jerry, I'm not sure what's going on, 50 grand Roger? What are you
doing Rog?' His words trailed off weakly almost inaudibly.
'Well Roger Rogue, you don't mind being called Roger the rogue do you?
I'm not sure if the title really fits you but I couldn't think of any
other 'R' words, it's the cold it's frozen my brain I suppose, well
there was one other 'R' which sprung to mind, but your certainly not
Roger Rabbit either&;#8230;.are you Rog ay?' Jerry's babble was
speeding up with every word.'
'Go home Jerry, 50 grand is a ton of money.' David was shaking his head
and looking at his shoes. Roger stared in amusement.'
No I don't think I will you know Dave, I don't think I'm done making my
point, I don't think I'm done at all.'
'Quite right Jerry, I'm not Roger Rabbit, and perhaps Rogue will do for
now.' Roger said coldly.
'Yes 50 grand is a ton of money Dave, but I think it's warming up out
here, might even hit zero by lunch time. Maybe I'll make myself a ton
of money just for a laugh ay Dave.' Jerry was staring at the lighter
patch of grey sky where the sun still stood no chance of breaking
through.
Jerry looked at the leather-gloved hand extended before him.
' 'Well fuck you then. I haven't lost yet.' Shouted Jerry, his final
words buried within a violent cough.
Roger walked away smiling to himself it had been too easy. David
followed him occasionally looking over his shoulder at Jerry slumped
against the wall of the railway arch deep in thought.
'Just great&;#8230;. bastard flu, now I get bastard flu, not
yesterday. No. Today I get flu.' Jerry mumbled, staring at the water
running down the greasy wall of the arch.

'Roger, I'm getting out of here, this caf? is driving me insane, if I
drink anymore coffee I won't sleep until July.' As Dave started to get
up Roger gripped his elbow painfully.
'Stay.' He said.
'Shit Rog. Steady on, Ok I'll stay.' David slumped back into his
plastic seat.
'Thanks.' Roger was shaking a cigarette free from his pack of
Marlboro's
'How's he holding up.' David inquired sincerely.
'He'll crack before I finish this cigarette.'
'Listen Rog, any chance of you calling it off?' Dave already knew the
answer before he had finished the sentence, but still he pressed on.
'It's bloody cold out there and I think he gets the point-'
'It was never about the point Dave.'
'No&;#8230;I have come to realise that' David said quietly to
himself. 'So why then? Raised on the streets by stray cats.'
'Nope.'
'The money?'
'Nope.'
'Well?' David asked after a while, somewhat agitated.
'Well what Dave?'
'Well what the fuck is this all about then?' He said beginning to loose
control.
'Stick around and find out, you won't be disappointed.' Roger said
quietly, dropping the cigarette butt to the floor and smiling through
the exhaled cloud before him.

An hour passed, the crossword had held David's attention for less than
10 minutes and what ever else readable the caf? afforded involved
footballers wives in scandal and Alien abduction stories.
David recoiled from the sip of cold coffee, shrugging his shoulders in
disgust. 'Shouldn't we be watching him?'
'He has to pass this window if he's going anywhere.'
Roger stared into his coffee watching the current drag the plastic
stirrer around the rim of his cup. 'We've got an hour before the fun
starts.' He said checking his watch. David looked up from his paper
worriedly. 'What have you done Roger.' He asked suspiciously.
'Just wait.'

7

'Cold are ya mate?' asked the old man clutching a can of special brew
close to him as he pulled the dirty coloured quilt about his
shoulders.
'No. Temperature has no effect on me. Now piss off, I thinking.' Jerry
retorted rudely.
'You're trembling gov.'
'No, I think you'll find the ground's vibrating.' The drifter looked at
the ground confused. Shaking his head, he looked into his can and
decided the answer lay within the next gulp.
'I'll give you my blanket if you like gov, '
Jerry looked up at the drifter, irritated that he hadn't moved on yet.
He was, however, pretty cold.
'Sure I'll take the blanket.' He said with feeble gratitude.
'I'm sure you would gov,' the tramp said pulling the blanket just out
of Jerry's reach. 'But it's like my dear ol' dad used to say-'
'Oh fuck off then, I haven't got any money for your dirty blanket
anyway.' The drifter continued his speech regardless. '-when he caught
me stealing from him "son" he'd say "there aint nothing free in this
world. There aint nothin you can just take without paying, you always
gotta pay." And then he would take his belt to me until I was all
bloody and couldn't cry anymore.' He bent down slowly and softly
whispered. 'But he was right Jerry.'
Jerry snatched his head away from his folded arms and stared into the
drifter's eyes.
'What did you just say?' He blurted urgently.
'He was right.' The drifter said staring beyond the wall of the arch.
'Yeah&;#8230; Dad was right. And in the end I made him pay for what
he done.' The drifter draped the blanket around Jerry's shoulders and
started to shuffle off, gurgling some unrecognisable tune. Jerry shook
himself free from his shock and huddled beneath the blanket. It was
dirty and stank of stale beer but it was bloody cold and after all, it
hadn't cost him anything.

8

The lamp post had been sawn off about two feet above the ground. Police
tape soiled by months of traffic dirt was bound tightly around the top.
Other wise, the scene of the crash looked almost identical to the night
of the accident. Ray had not been back since and now the horrific
detail of it all played over and over in slow motion within the
inescapable confines of his mind.
'Knew you'd be back, was promised I was.'
Ray spun round to place the face to the instantly recognised voice. All
he saw was a snatch of colour disappear around the corner. He sprinted
after the trail in pursuit of his tormentor.
The car park was completely empty and looked out of place against the
modern Eurostar train terminal looming in the background.
'Where are you? You bastard.' He screamed scanning the coves of each
doorway. 'Who are you?&;#8230;Why are you doing this to me?'
Ray cautiously edged along the wall of the adjacent building. 'What the
hell did I ever do to you?'
'Questions, all these questions. I don't 'ave all the answers gov, but
I'll write em down and ask my boss.' The drifter offered as
consolation. 'I'm just a recruitment staff see. Small fry really.' The
drifter darted from the shadows of a coach and disappeared through a
doorway to the underground car park. Ray was not far behind and as he
entered the stair well he inhaled a breath of stale alcohol and pungent
body odour enough to make him gag. His heart pounded in his ears as he
leapt several steps at a time. He crashed through the doors at the
bottom and staggered into the car park aisle. Dimly flickering
fluorescent lights hanging from the low ceiling revealed little amongst
the rows of dusty Mercs and BMWs neglected until the weekend. Ray could
hear nothing above the background rumble of rush hour traffic above
him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins causing him to tremble. 'Come
out here, you bastard.' Ray bellowed, beginning to walk down the aisle
and frantically searching every shadow or nook.
'Beau'iful girl- Jo.' The voice bounced around the concrete walls.
'Wouldn't you say gov? O'course we lost her to the other side, but
sometimes you have to loose a couple of em to get the one you
want.'
Ray started running down the aisle, not knowing where the voice was
coming from.
'I'll kill you, you bastard' Ray shouted spinning around, refusing to
give in to the futility of his search
'Good' The tramp laughed 'Very good' Retreating footsteps echoed behind
Ray and then the mind shattering crash of a heavy door. Ray sank down
to his knees gripping his temples tightly between his palms. The
drifter was gone, but he would be back.

9

'Right, come on then, this is where things get exciting.' Roger threw a
ten-pound note on the table and headed toward the door.
'Just a second&;#8230;What's 'concur'-five letters.' David had
finally returned to the crossword, he looked up from his paper to see
Roger disappearing out the door. He grabbed his pen and darted after
him.
'Christ's sake Roger what's so bloody important?
A sinister grin spread across Rogers' face. 'I've arranged a visitor
for Jerry.' David did not hear.

10

Ray stared at the moon's struggling light beneath the dark storm
clouds, distantly aware of the first drops of rain shattering against
his face. The clouds rumbled above him, threatening the sky with
lightening.
A combination of exhaustion and disparity overwhelmed him, he clamped
his eyes tightly shut trapping the escaping tear. Grief welled within
sending waves of heat into his face, and as the cold drops spilled down
his cheeks, he could feel Jo's smooth hand caress them away, she stood
close behind him, holding him gently, kissing the back of his neck, her
soft lips sending rushes of pleasure down his back. A soft prickling
sensation brushed against the back of his ear. A foul stench of stale
alcohol drifted on her breath bringing a twinge of nausea. And then she
belched.
'Beggin your pardon gov.'
Ray screamed, feeling his throat tearing with the force. Forgotten
grief boiled into fury as he spun around, eyes blazing with horrific
vengence.
'No. You bastard. I'll fucking kill you.' He roared.
Ray watched the drifter disappear beneath the arch. He ran into the
arch and stared at the heap of cloth and hair sitting at the far end,
huddled under the filth encrusted coloured blanket blanket. Ray edged
toward him cautiously, barely able to control his anger. And then he
could no longer. He lunged into a full sprint, his breath whistling
through clenched teeth, his heart battering his chest at an insane
frequency. As the gap closed he looked into the confused eyes of the
drifter, eyes that glinted with the dim orange sodium glow of the
single street lamp.
The force of his first punch buried into the tramps cheek, a satisfying
chill twitched through his spine as he felt the bone shatter beneath
his knuckle. His second punch came from the side and sent a jet of
blood spraying from the drifter's mouth. Ray hardly noticed his own
hand breaking in the impact. The punches flew wildly at the drifter's
face, some not even connecting. Spit sprayed from Ray's mouth as he
vented his fury upon the disintegrating face. He grabbed the drifter's
throat, feeling for the trachea and then holding his bleeding face with
the other hand began to pull slowly, relishing the strange high pitched
cry of pain, as at last his vengeance was unleashed.

'Oh my God.' Screamed David beginning to sprint toward the arch.
'Somebody's attacking Jerry.'
Roger continued to walk with unchanged pace toward the arch.
'For God's sake Roger, come on.' David shouted behind him.
David tackled Ray from the side knocking the wind out of him. Ray lay
on the ground clutching at his side.
Blood and saliva hung like macabre red web from Jerry's mouth, his eyes
were rolled upward and a laboured gurgle struggled from his partially
removed throat.
David looked in horror at Jerry, unable to do anything. He turned to
Ray who was already on his feet.
'You bastard.' He screamed hysterically, bring his foot into Ray's
groin. 'You killed my friend, you bastard, you fuck, you killed my
friend.'
'He killed my&;#8230;' But Ray was denied, David swung his foot into
Rays' face as he dropped to his knees. David did not stop, he continued
kicking until Rays' face was no longer recognisable and then he
stopped, but only because he collapsed, exhausted. He slowly pulled
himself to his knees and vomited violently.
David clapped his hands slowly. 'Good&;#8230;good&;#8230;very
good I knew you had it in you. I knew&;#8230; I always know.' David
walked around Rays' body. He gently eased his foot under Ray's shoulder
and rolled him over.
'Oh God, oh no, oh no Roger look at Jerry, he's fucked, he's totally
fucked. Help him Roger.' David tried to cradle Jerry's head in his
hands. He was babbling hysterically. 'Oh fuck Roger, I think he's going
to die, he's going to die Roger.' Roger continued to examine Ray for
signs of life with the edge of his shoe.
'Yes&;#8230; it certainly seems that way David.' Roger said sneering
as he noticed some blood had leaked onto his shoe. 'Well what are you
going to do about it?'
He squatted down beside Ray, moving his face inches away from the
bloody mess that was Rays'.
'Welcome Ray, you're with us now.' He whispered.
David looked up from the ground at Roger, unable to accept what he had
heard. 'You know this man?' He trembled, turning to his victim.
Roger walked over to Jerry and pulled the blanket away from his
shoulders, he bundled it up and threw it to the drifter lurking in the
shadow of a door way.
'Yes. Yes I do.' Roger said, fixing his stare upon David's glazed
bloodshot eyes. He is with the agency now-'
'What agency? What the hell are you talking about?&;#8230;Jerry's
dying.'
'He's dead David.'
'Dead?' David stumbled backward, tears rolling down his cheeks.
What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck are you? What the
hell do you mean he's with the Agency now.' David voice climbed in
pitch with each word, finally reaching an hysterical crescendo.
'-and in time&;#8230;you will be too.' Roger continued.
'What fucking agency?'
'Why, there really are only two agencies Dave, the one up there and the
one&;#8230;down there.' His words
slid from his dark smile sending a bolt of fear surging up David's
spine as Roger pointed his ebony gloved fingers toward the
ground.
David backed against the damp wall of the arch, frantically probing the
greasy brickwork for escape. 'Your crazy.' He offered weakly, staring
at the bodies laying at his feet.
'Dave, your not the first to say it. What can I tell you, I work in
recruitment.' Roger flashed a menacing smile.
'You should meet my boss Dave&;#8230; and you will. He's one hell of
a guy. You would like him Dave, he already likes you.' With that Roger
turned around and started to walk out of the arch. He shook a cigarette
from his pack and tossed it into his mouth. 'Be seeing you Dave.' He
lit the cigarette and took a long drag. 'Hell of a guy.' He repeated,
his laugh echoing through the arch.

The end&;#8230;?