Chapter 16 - You Really Got Me

The door was opened by a man in a balaclava, much to Janet's surprise. She thought, for a second, that she was back on the streets of Belfast. There were, afterall, enough Ulster accents in St. Andrews. The man put his gloved finger to where his lips must have been behind the wool, and beckoned her inside. She was trembling a little as he closed the heavy door silently behind her. She followed him quietly up the stairs and into the living room, where Kate, Anna, Marc and Nadia were all laid on the floor, ropes binding their arms to their sides. The figure indicated that Janet should sit on the sofa and she fearfully did as she was told. Others, similarly clad, were stood around the room. None of them spoke. Janet flashed a look at Kate, but the returned glance said something she had hoped not to hear.
It's for the best.
Another man, stood by the door and whom Janet hadn't therefore seen as she entered, motioned with his hand and the others, bar one who stayed to guard the hostages, followed him from the room, the door closing silently behind them.
In the hallway the men grouped by the entrance to Holly's bedroom. The leader held up three fingers, then two, then one.
When the remaining finger was lowered the group, silently and professionally, burst into the room, taking in the scene in an instant. Matt and Holly were laying on the bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed. Matt had his right trouser leg rolled up to the thigh and Holly's hand was resting on his knee. There was another figure, also laid, facing the wall.
An unknown.
A need to adapt.
Matt and Holly looked startled by the sudden interuption and sat up in horror, their secret discovered already. Two of the group moved from behind the others to the front, placing black cotton bags over their heads, while four others stood them up and ushured them from the room. The leader indicated towards the sleeping figure with his finger, and another dealt with him, placing a chloroformed paper tissue over his mouth and nose and holding it there.
Then they made their exit.

***

When Simon arrived at 123 he found the red door open. He shouted up the stairs, but heard no response. Entering the living room he found the inhabitants of the house, plus Janet, tied up on the floor. He knew immediatly whose work it was. UCCF had hired him in the past to do jobs, the last being that against Matt. This time they'd done the job themselves with a level of professionalism that only they could manage.
Janet's presence surprised the Geordie, though he guessed the reason she was here and felt a waft of sympathy for her now he knew the truth about Matt and Holly. He untied and questioned the hostages, but they could tell him nothing save for that a group of thirteen, all wearing the same black trousers, black shoes, black socks, black gloves, black balaclavas and mission week hoodies, had carried out the operation, all of which he had already guessed.
He entered Holly's bedroom, wrinkling his nose as usual. The UCCF squad had, no doubt, been able to stomach the smell; after all, they could withstand 45 minutes of notices every Friday night. Task squad training was said to be tougher than that of the SAS. There was no evidence of a scuffle; Simon knew that Holly's room was always like this. The figure sleeping soundly on the bed, however, might be able to tell him something.
He approached and gave him a shake, but there was no response. Out cold.
Chloroform.
Simon went back into the living room, where everyone was silently watching Futurama, the evening's events forgotten.

***

Henry and James walked back from the ball. Well, Henry walked while James attempted to thread the needle, his face becoming ever redder from the combination of effort and blood.
"James," said Henry, "I need to tell you something."
"Uh-huh?" answered James, effort evident on his face.
"I think I'm in love."
"Uh-huh?"
"With Janet."
"With Janet? But what about Matt? Man!"
"I know, I know. It's just that... well, the idea of her that Matt's given me, it's like she's the ideal woman."
"Well, what does she look like?"
"I can't remember, but man, she's so hot."
"What's she like as a person?"
"Erm... I don't know."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"About nine months ago."
"When did you last speak?"
"I don't think we ever did, but she's always been nice to me."
"So," he gasped with the effort of leaping through his arms again, "how do you know you love her?"
"Oh man, I dunno. I just do."
James didn't reply, he was lying unconcious on the floor, his arm bent at a curious angle.

***

The stranger was finally awoken by the smell of herbal tea at 5:53am. Simon closed the door to the box room and sat beside him on the bed.
"We need to talk," he said.
No reply.
"What's your name?"
Still no reply.
"I need to know your name. Do you know who you're dealing with here?"
"Gimp."
"You can insult me all you like, but I need to know your name."
Silence.
"If you don't tell me your name I'll hang you from the Angel of the North." The Geordie Mafia's tamest of punishments, but the threat usually had its effect.
The stranger remained in silence.
"How about if I stand you outside Madras with a can of Tenants and no defence."
The stranger yawned and rolled over.
There was nothing for it, Simon would have to use his harshest of punishments.
"If you don't talk, I'll send you to Yorkshire."
The stranger talked.