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  Look, when it comes to the questions they ask give them anything. Make it up if you have to. Just make them feel like they are winning. But don’t give them it too easy. First you have to stall, like you actually give a shit. Then give them bits of info. If you break immediately then it looks suspicious. Give them a piece at a time and it looks like they’ve done what they want and broken you into submission. That’s the trick’.

  Suddenly Tommy heard a commotion. The jibber voices were back. ‘Fuck!’ thought Tommy. He hoped that the voices were not heading in his direction.

  ‘Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm,’ he told himself over and over as he realised the voices were in fact getting closer. He heard what sounded like keys jangling, quiet foreign whispering, and a door opened. The door sounded metal or something as the door squealed open.

  Then loud gibberish as someone grabbed him and slapped the back of his head. He tried to walk but his legs were weak and he fell to the ground. He was kicked twice in the stomach. He screamed as dust entered his mouth. Someone stood on his fingers and he felt his little finger break, the bone clicking as he cringed with pain. He was picked up, still blindfolded, and dragged away.

  Laughing as they dragged him to God knows where, Tommy had the feeling this could be it. ‘Are they going to execute me? If so, please make it quick,’ he asked the gods. ‘Please make it quick.’

  Chapter Eight

  PRESENT DAY

  Having been told to wait in Major Roux’s study, Trigg’s eyes wandered across the wall, admiring the various pictures and accolades of this military legend.

  The study was exactly as he expected: spotless wooden floors, wooden walls and a wooden desk with expensive looking burgundy leather seats either side.

  There were pictures from the Falklands War in which Major Roux looked just the same as his more recent pictures on active service in the former Yugoslavia, and the even more recent photos of him in Iraq.

  Straightening his tie and his sleeves from his new suit, Trigg waited in anticipation of Major Roux’s appearance, for today he would find out Major Roux’s decision.

  Finally.

  The thing about Major Roux was that he never gave any indication of what he was thinking. He always had a straight face and was always very well spoken. He didn’t tolerate fools. He valued knowledge, education and people with forward-thinking attitudes.

  Having tried to get some sort of inside whisper all week, Trigg had found his attempts had fallen upon deaf ears as those closest to the Major would never whisper, never give hints, never dance, no matter who the enquirer.

  ‘Sergeant Trigg,’ barked the Major as he entered the study in a slow stroll.

  ‘Major Roux,’ replied Trigg as he offered his hand, which Major Roux shook with a smile. Gone were the formal salutes. They still used their ranks, and respected them, but the salutes were no longer required.

  Sitting down opposite each other, Trigg was made to feel more at ease by the Major’s surprisingly polite manner. He had met him a few years back briefly but hadn’t spent enough time to get to know him or pass any judgment on his character. The word round the campfire though was that Major Roux was not to be fucked with in any capacity.

  Smiling lightly as he sat waiting for the Major to say something, Trigg started wondering what was what. The Major had walked in with a file in his hand and, upon sitting down, started to read it, paying no attention whatsoever to Trigg. His eyes scanned up and down the paper. He looked at the second page but obviously didn’t read it, instead giving a ‘hmm’ and a grunt before putting it down. He looked Trigg up and down.

  ‘Combat in a wide range of environments, made stripey (Sergeant) in good time, good confirmed kill tally, yet you chose not to continue? Why?’

  ‘Sir, thank you, sir. As I told 2nd Lieutenant Graves, I want in this, I want in. I’ve wanted in X Company for years. I have had my own things going sure, but when your organisation approached me years ago I was dead set on making my name, to get noticed and become an earner, and with all respect to the earners you have who I’m sure do well for you, I am different, I get things done, my record in the street and in field speaks for itself, sir. I’m a worker, it’s what I’m about, sir, and given the chance I could do some damage out there for you, I promise.’

  Twiddling a pen around in his fingers Major Roux gave out a sigh, his face perplexed.

  ‘I do not doubt any of your credentials here. The mere record of your service in the field should have got you a meeting some time ago. I know how you work; I know what you’ve been doing in and out of the service. I also have to add that the tribute from your latest escapades in Iraq did not go unnoticed, but it is that which leads me to my next point.’

  Getting up from his chair Major Roux walked over to a cabinet just to the left of his desk. It was encased in glass and contained numerous medals which served as proud reminders of the Major’s many years given to the Army. Major Roux opened the cabinet and carefully took out a medal. The medal was a gold cross with curved edges, overlaid with white enamel. At the centre of the cross there was a raised laurel wreath in enamelled green surrounding the Imperial Crown in gold, on a red enamelled background. The ribbon that held it was a deep crimson, flanked by narrow dark blue stripes at the edges.

  Major Roux held it in his own palm for Trigg to see.

  ‘This is the Distinguished Service Order Medal, awarded for good leadership, or so they say. Now I love and hate this award for two very different reasons. On the one hand, I love it because it serves as a reminder to me that I made some right choices on that fateful day, and as a result I saved lives. On the other hand, I hate it because it serves again as a constant reminder that on that day I also made some terrible errors of judgment which subsequently cost some good men their lives. I have to live with that. We live and die by our decisions and, more importantly, other people live and die by our decisions. This fact is true both in the service and out here, in our world. The men who serve X Company are highly trained, highly disciplined individuals. Like me they have made mistakes, they are only human, but now we serve each other in the quest for substantial wealth with less chance of getting our heads blown off.’

  Putting the medal away back in the cabinet, Major Roux seated himself. ‘I’m going to talk to you about a few things before we go into your involvement in my organisation. You need to know the truth from the fiction, Sergeant Trigg.’ The Major brought out a petrol lighter which sported the logo ‘desert rats’ which was a term used for the men who served in Iraq. He lit a cigarette from a polished wooden case. Trigg sat obediently listening and taking notes in his mind.

  ‘I remember years ago, when I first formed X company, I said my sole purpose was to make sure that I, and the comrades whom I trusted, were no longer palmed off with medals and forgotten about - that we would get what we deserved, what we had risked our lives for. I saw man upon man slaughtered during my time in service, so I spent the last few years building contacts around the world and using them to form something to benefit us men of honour. My best friend many moons ago when I was a keen grunt once told me ‘get out of this shit, it’ll kill you’, and it surely killed him. No money went to his family because he was on Deep OPs. No money goes to the men of unofficial missions, as you know. Honourable men forgotten. We got sick of it. We started with some arms deals, and then, when that got risky, we got into booze, tobacco and, more recently, narcotics. You see X Company is a brand now to us, a symbol. We have become known. For one, we are a unit, no quarrels, everyone knows their place and we follow the chain of command as we would in the army proper. But our interests are not of a legal nature, therefore we are vigilant as to whom we do business with but, most of all, as to whom we…employ. Now you might ask yourself what I am getting at with my whole speech about medals and what not, and assuredly you already know what we do. As I said when we approached you a few years back, we told you nobody got in without time in the service - at least three years. You did that as well as making a m
ark in this city with your criminal endeavours. So I know, I know, you could be an asset. But it is the business with what I hear is an ex-friend which disturbs us, disturbs me.’

  Trigg’s head dropped. He had known this would come back and bite him on the arse.

  ‘Boom,’ smiled Major Roux

  ‘Let me explain,’ Trigg said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

  ‘No, let me explain,’ smiled Major Roux. ‘The facts as we understand them are that you did a deal with Annah, you got the shipment of heroin, and you threw your friend in with the deal. Your friend. We would probably have turned a blind eye to the matter in the light of the generosity of your tribute but, Trigg, he was a soldier.’

  ‘He was a gutless fuck, sir ‘There was venom in Trigg’s voice.

  ‘A soldier nonetheless, a soldier, Trigg. The fact is we knew of you both from the days you guys ran the markets - the DVDs, the CDs, the fake perfume. Oh yes, we have monitored you boys for years. Now, when we approached you both with regard to your potential services a few years back, I knew you were both interested. I mean that was easy to recognise as you both signed up for active service within the same year. I also recall Tommy doing some jobs for us. It cannot be ignored Trigg, the man is respected whatever your differences .Yet, when on leave some time back, I recall Graves approaching you and it was his belief that Tommy wanted no part of the drugs, wanted no part of anything illegal anymore, which was a disappointment to us, but we thought we could work on him. We know he is friends with that hotshot Joey Graziano, something of a hotshot lawyer I am told. That’s spells trouble, Trigg. Graziano has friends in higher places than makes us comfortable and the last thing we want is attention, especially from a lawyer. A lawyer who can’t be bought, I might add.’

  Getting all the more irritated at even the thought of Joey and Tommy, Trigg didn’t know what this meant for him. ‘So what? That’s it? I can’t get made on account of a what if? In all due respect, Major, I’m ready!’ Don’t let this mishap affect your judgment please.’

  ‘I’m not, Trigg. You see, we are all resourceful men in X Company. We all bring something to the table, that is always good policy, particularly in a business such as ours. Now we, I, am thinking that were you to handle this mishap, as you call it, yourself, you would prove to us, to me, that you are a man to be taken seriously, a man we can trust, but more than that, a man who handles his affairs swiftly, discreetly and professionally. Now, I don’t want to hear how you do it and I don’t want to hear when you’ll do it, just mop this mess up quickly.’

  Smiling at Trigg, Major Roux told him the golden words, ‘You’re in, Trigg, for now, though we will keep it small with you, a few pick ups here and there to get you acquainted with our people on the street. If all goes well with your problem then I think we can point some major operations your way. If you prove competent and loyal to X Company, you’ll find that the rewards are exceedingly high.’

  Disappointed but understanding the Major’s perspective, Trigg nodded in agreement. ‘You have my word, Major Roux. I will erase the problem, quietly and with no comebacks.’

  ‘Outstanding,’ concluded Major Roux, ‘now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get my brag rags on (full military uniform with medals). The last time I was nuts-to-nose in ribbon was the day of my court martial.’

  ‘I heard, Major, a goddam disgrace. However, you know what they say, your rank is your rank, in or out of the shit. We earned it, and no cock-faced judge with fake stripes can take it from us.’ Trigg stood to attention as the Major walked to the door and opened it for him. ‘It’s been an honour meeting you, Major. I hope to speak with you soon.’

  ‘Likewise,’ replied the major. ‘Now haven’t you got a wife to go home to or something? It would do you good.’

  ‘Not me. I’m a million dollar man who needs a billion dollar bitch. Ain’t many of them about, so I just fuck the rest.’

  ‘Fucking is a young man’s game’ commented the Major, ‘but good luck to you, if that is what you want.’

  Walking to his car with a sweat on, Trigg could hardly breathe, so he eased his tie loose. He lit a cigarette and puffed on it, taking quick drags. He grabbed his phone from his inside jacket pocket and dialed Mario.

  ‘Fucking knew it, Mario, cunt ain’t even back yet and things are fucking up for me. The mere fucking whiff of him has people backing off - him and that fuckhead lawyer.’

  ‘Relax, Trigg, we can sort this. What about the Major? Can they help? You in or what? Talk.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m in, but they said they can’t do too much shit with me till this mess is sorted. I send them two kilos of uncut shit to be repaid like this. It’s fucking bullshit, Mario.’

  ‘It’s necessary bullshit though, Trigg. You want the ride, you gotta pay the toll, in this case the toll is getting rid of the problem.’

  Walking in circles near his car, Trigg was getting more and more wound up. ‘I KNOW! Fuck me; the thing is how do we get rid of the problem? We can’t buy Tommy, and we sure as fuck can’t buy that fuck lawyer. So where does that leave me, Mario. What other choices do I have?’

  ‘You haven’t any, Trigg. Tommy has to go. No two ways about it. Should have killed him back in Basra, but how were we to know he’d get out of that shit alive. Should have been dead ages ago, but he keeps coming back. You know as well as I do he’s a dangerous motherfucker who raises friends quickly. The Major knows that too.’

  ‘I know. He has to go.

  ‘And the lawyer?’

  ‘Don’t worry about him. I know exactly what to do with him.’

  Chapter Nine

  During the interrogations we were always blindfolded and, daft as it may seem, it did make a difference. The whole concept of not knowing when or where the pain is coming from is terrifying. No amount of training I had received prepared me for it. Sure, we had the standard training should we be caught and then tortured, but nothing prepared me for this.

  Tommy sat there with his blindfold still tight around his eyes. His breathing was erratic. He was scared. The men who had collected him loved seeing their subjects quiver in fear. The room was silent. This in itself was a form of torture, the wait, the long wait of fear, the fear of knowing that something so so awful was going to happen. The fear of knowing that some indescribable pain was going to strike on some part of my body.

  ‘Please God, not the nuts’ I prayed silently as I waited for the inevitable.

  ‘Name?’ the voice said.

  ‘Tommy.’

  ‘Rank?’ the voice asked.

  ‘Tommy.’

  ‘RANK’ the voice was agitated.

  ‘Corporal.’

  ‘They don’t send Corporal’s out on missions like the one you were on. I say again, rank?’

  ‘Oh fuck. Look me shoulder’s fucking killing me. I’ve been shot. Oh you dumb fuckers.’ Tommy spoke slowly as he tried to get them to understand. ‘I have beeeeeen shot, you know? Bullet? Gun? Shot? El shoto?’

  ‘I understand everything you say. Ok, Ok, you want to make jokes, you want to test your strength, yes? Ok.’

  Tommy’s heart beat faster as he realised that getting clever with a man whom he could neither see nor touch might not have been such a good idea. ‘I’m just in pain, sir; I am in pain, that’s all.’

  Footsteps could be heard leaving the room with another set coming in. He heard the sound of shuffling about. ‘What the fuck are they doing?’ Tommy thought nervously.

  Out of the blue Tommy felt indescribable pain. The men in the room laughed and joked with foreign words as Tommy cried. The torturer, who Tommy could not see, had inserted a nail into the top of Tommy’s thigh with a hammer. Tommy shuffled as the pain shot up his leg. The nail wasn’t all the way in yet though. As the torturer twisted the nail round and round, Tommy could feel the head of the nail scrape his bone as it was driven in deeper and deeper.

  Screaming with rage and shuffling left and right in the chair with pain, Tommy let his anger be known. ‘I’m gonna ki
ll all you fuckers, you fucking sick bastards.’

  ‘Name and rank?’ the voice said with a hint of laughter.

  ‘I told you! I fucking told you, my name is Tommy, and I’m a fucking Corporal! Arsehole!’ Tommy wanted to kill this motherfucker. No, Tommy wanted to rip this guy’s fucking eyes out with pliers, then set him on fire, and that would have been too good for him.

  ‘Arsehole? Arsehole you say? You see, Tommy, I speak the perfect English. I understand everything. We are done with the questions for today.’ The voice then spoke what might as well have been Martian to Tommy. It sounded like people were leaving the room in some hurry.

  There was still someone in the room with Tommy, though. The door shut. Tommy heard the squeak of the door. He felt a sudden sharpness on his throat. Then what felt like a punch to his stomach, then again, then to his face, once twice, again and again. ‘Aghh, you fuck, you sick fuck!’ Tommy screamed. He was in pain, but he was also mad. He felt some of his back teeth get knocked out; he spat them to the floor as his head hung down taking punch after punch. The punching continued long into the night until Tommy passed out. He was tossed back into his cell.

  Chapter Ten

  It seemed like as soon as I woke they were on me again, the fuckers. That’s the way it went for the first few weeks - sleep then a good kicking, sleep, then questions and a kicking.

  On this particular day I was lucky, though. Somehow my blindfold had loosened and I caught my first look around. My eyes hurt like hell and my vision wasn’t too good because I’d been in the dark more or less for weeks. Well, I say it was weeks, I was going by my body clock, it could have been days for all I know. I had managed to scout about with my eyes and realised that there were two floors. The first floor had two trucks parked inside. It kind of looked like an old warehouse with an upstairs - not too big. I was in one of about four cells.