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The Video Tape Ch. 01

By: The Wanderer



 Okay more mind games for you readers and any authors who'd like to take up the challenge. From the title of this story, you could well have got some idea what this one is going to be about, and it has been done a few times before. But I believe I've come up with a little twist that could surprise the reader and some of the folks frequently comment on these stories. 

I intend to post the second part in exactly seven days, and the third part seven days after that. Anybody, who would like to pick the story at the end of this, or even at the end second chapter and run with it, I'd like to invite you to do so. But I think by the end of the second chapter the story is about told. Although my closing chapter is proving to be a real bugger to write, I can promise you.

As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I'll also add that we don't always see eye to eye with each other, so I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Clarification: High Jump. British, colloquial. A drastic punishment (he's for the high jump). 

*

This was bloody uncanny. It was just like the last time it happened some ten years before. The post girl had just dropped a pile of letters into my in-tray and straight away the thick package in the brown envelope had caught my eye. Just like it did the first time!

Slowly and with a trembling hand I extracted the package fearing its contents this time, not with the curiosity I'd had, of why anyone would want to send me a video that I'd had the last time. Yes, it was a video I discovered as I tore the packet open and I extracted the black plastic tape cassette from inside. A piece of paper came out with it and fell onto the desk. Picking it up, I discovered there was just two short sentences of text printed on it.  I'm sorry, some of us do have a conscience. You need to see this."  Well, that was one sentence longer than the note that came with the original tape had been. That note - that I still had in my possession - just had the words "You need to see this." printed on it.

My hand was still trembling when I dropped the cassette onto the desk and picked up the envelope again. Turning it over in my hand, I noticed that, like the original one, it didn't bear a stamp or frank mark.

"Stella!" I called out, pushing the intercom on my desk; "Can you come in here please." There was no reply but the door swung open and my secretary of the last fifteen years strode into my office.

"Yes, Tony, do you want a cup of.... Oh, my god, not again!" 

Stella had spotted the tape cassette lying on my desk. She had seen the original tape ten years before and had been with me all through the repercussions that its contents had had on my life.

"Can you get on to the post room and try to find out where this came from, please, Stella?"

Stella didn't even leave the room. She picked up my phone and called the post room. I picked up the cassette and turned it over in my hands, willing it to tell me where it had come from and what sick arsehole had sent it to me, whilst Stella talked on the phone.

"It was hand delivered to the front security desk during the night," Stella said as she disconnected the call to the post room and dialled another internal number.

"Security, Stella Helligon here, Mr Bartholomew's secretary. Mr Bartholomew wants the tapes from the foyer's security cameras of the last twenty-four hours sent up to his office the moment they are changed."

There was a couple of minutes' silence as someone in security answered her.

"I don't give a damn. Copy them first if you have to, but get those original tapes up here as quickly as possible and don't make me have to come down and find them, or someone will be for the high jump." Stella slammed the telephone back down, then stood there watching me.

"Are you going to watch it now, Tony?" She asked, in a very controlled and somewhat calming voice.

"In a minute. Let's have coffee first and will you stay whilst I do, please?"

"If that's what you want, Tony." 

Stella went over and turned the television on and then poured out coffee for both of us. Having done that she left my office, most likely to tell those outside that we weren't to be disturbed. I sat there and remembered watching the first tape in this same office all those years ago.

For a few moments after I'd hit the play button, the screen had remained blank. Then suddenly the picture of my bedroom at home had come on the screen. The first thing that had caught my eye was my eighteen-month-old daughter standing in her cot. Staring at the two people lying on the bed. Or should I say two naked figures lying on the bed.

The camera angle didn't give a good picture of who it was on the bed whilst they were lying down. Why should it? It had been set up to cover the cot as a nanny-cam. But you could plainly see that the man was coloured. His fingers were buried in the woman's pussy and her hand was wrapped around his penis. The woman's moans of pleasure could be plainly heard.

The woman began to move, the back of her head with it's long tresses of blond hair coming into view as she kissed her way across the man's chest. Slowly she moved down his body until she apparently took that large black cock into her mouth and then her head began to slowly bob up and down on it.

Now the man's moans of pleasure could be heard as he encouraged her to greater exertions. It was at this point that I had thrown up on my office floor because the tattoo on Emily's shoulder was clearly visible. I was watching a video of my so-called loving wife giving her black lover a blowjob. 

"Here it comes," the black man could be heard saying and then "Yeah, you white slut, swallow it all." 

The man's hands grabbed the back of her head and you could see him lift himself off the bed as he forced his cock further into Emily's mouth. 

Emily went to try to move away from his cock, but he held her firmly there. 

"No, bitch, get it hard again. I wanna fuck your little white cunt now." 

For the next few minutes Emily slurped on and licked around his cock until she was apparently satisfied that it was hard enough to give her a good fucking. The man stood up with his back to the camera and pulled Emily into the kneeling position on the bed and then proceeded to fuck her doggy style.

This went on for some time before the man suddenly stopped. He obviously pulled out of Emily's pussy for a moment and then Emily shouted, "No!" 

But the man replied, "Shut the fuck up, you fucking whore. I'll fuck you any fucking way I choose." 

Emily screamed and cried as the black man obviously ploughed her back door. He kept at it for some time, throwing insults at her all the time he did so. He was telling her that she was his white bitch now and how she was going to service all of his friends. This carried on until it was plain to see by the way he rammed hard into her and flexed his buttocks that he was coming inside Emily's rectum.

Then the screen had gone blank.

Weirdly enough Emily had tried to deny the whole thing. I was already home that evening when she came home from work. She was upset and crying when she walked in the door and before I had a chance to challenge her, she came up with a preposterous story about the bosses at her company trying to blackmail her into becoming a company whore.

I thought it more likely that her black lover had tried to blackmail her into sleeping with his friends or even turning tricks for him. I figured that was too much for her and she'd tried to lay the blame for the whole thing on her company bosses. Why the hell she came up with that idea neither the police nor I could explain.

Emily claimed the whole thing was faked, she had never been with the black man and it wasn't her on the tape. But her tattoo was plainly visible and so was the birthmark on her lower back, just above her buttocks. And then of course she couldn't account for the fact that the film was obviously shot on our nanny cam, or that our daughter was standing in her cot watching the whole episode.

Emily persisted in her denials and was actually charged with wasting police time when she accused her bosses of faking the video. Two of her bosses threatened to sue her for defamation and slander. But Emily's solicitor managed to talk them out of it. Emily, by the time the divorce Judge had finished with her, had no money to pay any damages with.

I couldn't understand why, after she'd lost her family, her job and most of her friends over the debacle, she didn't at least charge her lover with attempted blackmail, as it obviously had to be him who sent me the tape in the first place. But then, to do that she would have had to admit that she had lied all along and that she had been having an affair with him, wouldn't she?

End of part one 

The Video Tape Ch. 02



As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I'll also add that we don't always see eye to eye with each other, and often play around with a story after they have read it. Consequently I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Clarification: 

Beak. British, slang. = A Judge or magistrate.

Tout-de-suite. From the French. = Immediately or at once. 

Tart. (As used in this story) British slang (offensive). = A girl or woman.

*

Chapter 2

Stella came back into my office. She didn't speak as she locked the door behind her; then she walked over to my desk and picked up the tape cassette and the rubbish bin from beside my desk. Placing the bin beside the sofa, she put the tape in the player and then stood there looking at me.

"Well, I suppose we'd better get this over with, or are you going to drink that coffee first, before you grind a hole in the bottom of the cup?"

I looked down and realised I'd been stirring the coffee since Stella had given it to me. The saucer was half full with coffee I'd splashed out of the cup. Pouring the spilt coffee back in to the cup, I crossed the room and sat on the sofa. Stella sat on the other end of it with the remote control in her hand.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be!" I replied and Stella pressed the remote control start button.

For a few moments the screen was blank again and there the screen flashed into life showing a view of an office somewhere. There was an empty chair and you could see the side of a television but not the screen. Hushed voices could be heard but it was impossible to make out what was being said. Then suddenly there was the sound of someone knocking on a door.

"Come in, Mrs Bartholomew," a disembodied male voice, said. Then a few seconds later, "sit down please?" 

Emily appeared on the screen and sat in the chair. She looked confident but just slightly nervous. Her head turning from side to side, obviously looking at several different people who were also in the room, but out of the camera's field of vision.

"Emily - you don't mind if I call you Emily, do you?"

"No, of course not, Mr Harcourt."

"Please call me Mike, Emily. We're all one big happy family here, aren't we, gentlemen?" 

There were several grunts and noises from the other occupants of the room.

"Now, Emily, have you considered my proposition yet?"

Emily suddenly looked very concerned.

"I didn't think you were serious, Mr Harcourt."

"Mike, Emily. Must I keep on reminding you? Of course I was serious. We need a woman of your qualities on the team."

Emily's face now looked extremely angry.

"You must be insane. I would never contemplate such an idea. What kind of a woman do you take me for?"

"Well, a very beautiful and happily married one, I thought. Who exudes sex appeal!"

Emily stood up. "How dare you even suggest such a thing! I thought it was the drink talking the other day and I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You will have my letter of resignation as soon as I get back to my office and I'll be reporting this to the authorities."

"Sit down, Emily, before you do anything you'll be sorry for." 

This was a new voice and a very commanding one. Emily stopped, looking at someone obviously standing beside the camera. A man's back appeared on the screen as he moved towards her. He took Emily by the arm and pushed her quite firmly back down into the chair.

"We have a little film for you to watch, Emily. Look at the television please." He said.

Emily's gaze moved to the screen and from her reactions I gather she was watching the first video that had been sent to me. This was no act. I could see that Emily was having trouble understanding or believing what she was seeing.

"But that's impossible. How did you... where did you get this?" Emily demanded.

"Its very good, isn't it, Emily? We've got some people who know how to knock this sort of stuff up for us. Do you like the tattoo and your birthmark?"

"But I, I don't understand, how did you know about my birthmark?"

"Silly girl, remember that massage you had at that conference in Germany. A company perk, you thought. We've got some very nice film of you changing for it as well, or should I say giving us a strip show. You know, several of our customers have said that they'd like you to entertain them, on the strength of seeing that film."

Emily's face showed an expression of horror and a lot of unintelligible words were coming from her mouth. It was plain to understand that she just didn't know what to say.

"It was very handy of you and your husband to have the baby camera in your bedroom, the child adds some authenticity, don't you think? Our people just hooked a recorder up to the circuit for a few days. Actually you were sitting on the bed reading in the original version. And then when you and hubby went off for that weekend trip to Paris we gave you, well, our little film crew slipped into your flat for a few hours and recorded the action.

"She's good, isn't she? That blond wig and a little bit of body painting. You have trouble believing that it wasn't really you yourself, don't you? We had some trouble with her voice though, so we can't use a lot of the film that was taken, but this should be enough. Luckily the young woman got a little excited; she wasn't expecting to take that monster up the backside. But I think anyone would have difficulty in believing that it isn't you screaming and moaning, under the circumstances. 

"I hope you do like it up the arse, because some of our clients like to take our whores that way. But it doesn't matter if you don't. You'll soon get the hang of it."

"You're all insane. I'm not sleeping with anyone for you or anybody else."

"Oh, but you are, Emily. If you don't, your husband will receive a copy of that tape in the mail."

"He'll never believe it's me."

"Oh, I believe he will. Are you really willing to take that chance?"

"I'll tell him you are trying to blackmail me. I'll tell the police as well. You will all finish up in prison."

"I don't think so, Emily. You see, we aren't even in the country. Officially, everybody in this room except you, is out of the country today and has been all week. As far as anyone else knows, this interview has never happened; well, you can't prove it happened anyway. Now I'll tell you what you are going to do. You'll go back to your office and then you will ask your secretary to call hubby and tell him your going to be late home this evening. Then you will go to the Hilton Hotel where you will meet and entertain a client of ours who is waiting there for you. That way we will know that you're on board.

"If you don't do as I instruct you, your husband will receive a copy of this tape, tout-de-suite. And then, hey, presto, your nice little world will fall apart and your marriage will be over. And of course you won't have a job either. Just to top things off nicely, I should think hubby would get custody of the child as well. What judge is going to give custody to a mother who would put on a show like that in front of an infant?" 

"Never in a million years." Emily shouted and in an instant, she was out of the chair and the door could be heard slamming closed behind her. Several voices could be heard talking at once almost in panic, then the commanding voice called for calm.

"Now, don't panic gentlemen. We all knew this might happen one day. Have her telephone switched off and someone watch her to see what she's doing. When she leaves the building, if she doesn't go straight to the Hilton, get that tape delivered to her husband immediately. We'll meet at the airport later and be back in the good old US of A before anyone knows we were here. If she tries to call our bluff, that silly little tart's going to be in real trouble. Every body hold your nerve and she can prove nothing."

The screen went black.

Stella and I sat there looking at each other.

"Tony, you don't think Emily was telling the truth, do you?"

"I really can't think what to make of it. But if this is an elaborate hoax, she must have managed to take a few years off somehow. The last time I saw Emily she looked ... well, she looked like a broken woman. I haven't seen her looking like that since...."

"Oh, god, how could anybody be so cruel?"

"You think this is genuine then, Stella?"

"Yes Tony, I believe I do. If Stella had set this up, she would have had to have filmed this video years ago. So why would she wait until now to send it to you? No, I think someone in Emily's old company has suddenly found himself a conscience.

"Oh, shit, what have I done?"

"You didn't do anything, Tony. You acted on the evidence available to you at the time. The same as the police did."

"But I could have trusted her."

"And what if the first tape had been genuine. Tony, you made a decision based on the evidence you had at your disposal at the time. No one is going to blame you for doing that."

"No one! What about Emily?"

"Ah well, now there you are going to have to speak to her. But before you go off half cocked, I think that you'd better have the police take a look at this tape first and perhaps they can have another look at the original as well. Things have moved on a bit in the last ten years. They may be able to see how it was put together now. That's assuming that it isn't genuine."

++++++++++++++++

I was lucky. Or rather Stella was. She managed to track down a police officer who had been a junior member of the team that carried out the investigation of Emily's claim that her bosses had tried to blackmail her. The officer had been promoted to inspector Morris in the ensuing years. Stella somehow persuaded him to come to my office the following morning.

He watched the new tape through twice and then turned to me.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you sir, but I believe that this new tape is genuine."

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm damned sure, sir. I recognise that voice and the office this tape was made in as well, from when we did original interviews."

"What does that prove? This tape could have been made recently."

"No, I'm afraid that it couldn't, Mr Bartholomew. That whole office building was pulled down about seven years ago now."

"Jesus Christ!"

"You can say that again, sir. Now just how did this tape come into your possession."

"Delivered to the front desk early yesterday morning, about four AM. We have a surveillance tape here of the man who delivered it. But if he was a courier, there's no badges or insignia to recognise where he came from."

"Four AM. Doubtful it was a courier then. More likely a taxi I'd say. That's assuming it isn't our informant who's suddenly got himself a conscience who delivered it personally. Now that would make life easy. Let me take a look at the film of him you've got and see if his face rings any bells."

Stella put the video of the man delivering the package to the front desk into the player.

"No, his face doesn't ring any bells with me," the inspector said. "But I'll show it to some of the night lads. With any luck, one of them might know him. If not, the labs will try to get a decent still of him off of it. Now I'd like to take both this new tape and the original with me if I can. If nothing else comes of it, there should be someone up before the Beak for trying to pervert the course of justice, it nothing else. You never know. We might be able to get the attempted blackmail case reinstated, if we're lucky and can find enough evidence. This tape must have been stored somewhere and how many other tapes are in the same place.

"Now can you tell me where I can find Mrs Bartholomew nowadays?"

I looked at Stella and she shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't inspector. I feel very foolish now but I've been a little bit, vindictive. Emily is only allowed to see my... our child on her birthday and at Christmas. I haven't kept track of where she's living I'm afraid."

"Do you know where she works?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you there either."

"Old friends or relatives?" 

"I'm sorry to say she was disowned by just about everyone, including her family."

"Oh, dear, what a bloody mess. I promise you, someone is going down for this. Do you have her National Insurance number by any chance?"

Stella this time looked positive and headed out of the office. Two minutes later she was back and gave the inspector Emily's insurance number and a copy of a photograph that had been taken at Christmas about three years before.

The officer looked at the picture of a once beautiful Emily. "Bastards," he muttered under his breath.

"Inspector, when you find her, could you please let me know where she is?" I said to him as he went to leave the office.

"Of course I will, sir, just as soon as we can locate her. I don't suppose she's actually in hiding, so it shouldn't prove too difficult."

"Assuming you're right and that tape is genuine, I've got a lot of making up to do. That's assuming Emily is going to let me. 

"I'm sorry, sir. If you don't mind me saying, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, for all the tea in China."

End of chapter two.



The Video Tape Ch. 03



 As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I'll also add that we don't always see eye to eye with each other, and often play around with a story after they have read it. Consequently I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story. 

*

I had a proper council of war with inspector Morris a couple of days later, after he'd had time to dig out and go over the original files.

"Damn, those bastards were bloody cute," he said as he signalled for me to take a chair opposite him in his office. "You know they counted on the fact that Emily was going to name all five of the men who were in the office that day. Then when we went looking for them, do you know where they were?"

"Yes, they were on a yacht that was sailing the Caribbean. They were all interviewed by the American police when the boat got to Miami or somewhere," I replied. I'd heard this report so many times before when Emily's claims were first being investigated.

"Made a good job of convincing the officers in charge of the case that Emily was lying right from the beginning. It was all down to the timing and quite honestly the whole damned set-up must have cost a bomb. That yacht was at sea when Emily claimed those guys were trying to blackmail her.

"They were on the yacht when it left port and there just happened to be film footage taken by a local TV company of them leaving the harbour, and they were still on the thing when it arrived in Port Charlotte In Florida. Somewhere they must have gotten off the yacht, flown all the way to England, had that interview with Emily and then all flown back and gotten back onto the yacht before it arrived at Port Charlotte."

"The boat must have stopped off somewhere," I said.

"No chance. From what it says here, there just wasn't enough sailing time. It takes a long time to fly to England and then fly back again. That yacht needed every hour it had at sea to make the run. No, they must have got off just after it sailed and re-boarded somewhere off the Florida coast."

"But surely it must have cost them thousands to set that kind of thing up. Was it worth it to blackmail one woman for sex? It just doesn't make any sense," I commented.

"Think about what you've just said. That's exactly what the officers in charge of the original investigation must have thought at the time. But then think about it again. How much money you would spend to keep yourself from having to serve a long jail term at Her Majesty's pleasure for blackmail? We've got no idea what their long term plans for Emily were if she'd gone along with them, so we have no way of knowing how much money was involved.

"What we do know is somehow those five men got off that boat. Probably a speedboat or something picked them up and took them back to the shore. Then I would suggest a private jet flew them to England. Look, those guys have plenty of money; they fly around the world all the time. Anyway they tried to blackmail your wife and she wouldn't play ball; so they send the tape to you and are on their on their way back to the yacht probably before you have even seen the damn thing. 

"By the time we go looking for them, they are sailing into Port Charlotte after a nice week's cruise. Who's going to believe Emily's story after that? Now if it had been just one man out of the five, well, it might have looked a little bit suspicious, but as it was all five of the buggers, there was even less chance that Emily would ever be believed."

Inspector Morris shuffled around the papers that he'd been looking at as he spoke.

"So how are we going to prove that they were in the country?"

"At the moment I haven't got the slightest idea. But looking through the file, there are some avenues that weren't looked into at the time. Mainly I assume because I don't think Emily was ever believed from the beginning. To me it looks as if they just went through the motions. I've made a few friends in the FBI and with some American drug guys over the years. You know there's a lot of drug smuggling on around that area, besides the people who escape from Cuba who get into the States through Florida. I'm wondering how long the authorities over there keep records of the surveillance they do on off-shore shipping. It could be that someone saw something and has a record of it tucked away, but it's a pretty long shot. I'll have to see who owes me some favours.

"Thanks, inspector. I'm not sure what I would have done without your help. Have you by any chance found out where Emily is yet?"

"I'm sorry, no, nothing so far. But it's early days on that one yet. Give it a week or so to get right around the system."

+++++++++++++

I had to wait almost another two weeks before Inspector Morris called to tell me he had managed to discover where Emily was working and, from there, where she was living. It turned out she was living in a rather less than affluent part of the city that the developers hadn't got their mucky little hands on yet. 

After some discussion, he had kindly asked me whether I would like to make the first approach to Emily. I'm not a hundred percent sure that he was doing me a favour there.

On the early morning drive across the city, the inspector told me that the laboratory had come back with a report that the original tape had definitely been faked. It was a combination of two different recordings, possibly made easier to manufacture by the fact that the fixed nanny cam of questionable quality had been used to take both the original recordings. Apparently the poorer the original recording, the less obvious the tampering is.

The experts thought that some quite common techniques that the film industry uses had been employed in its manufacture. The inspector didn't go into the technical details, so I'm not sure that he understood then himself. He did add that the experts had said it was very high quality work and that it would probably fool most people. You have to remember that the video was made before the digital revolution had become commonplace.

The inspector finally stopped the car outside a small 24-hour café and looked at his watch.

"Emily serves the night shift and her relief should have just taken over from her. The local beat bobby tells me she normally has her breakfast right after she goes off duty, and then she walks home. She's apparently living in a bed-sit about half a mile down that way." The inspector pointed down the road. "With any luck, you should find her sitting on her own at the rear of the café. By the kitchen door, the beat man said. I'll wait here and give you some time to break the ice, before I come in and have a word with her. Good luck!"

I thanked the officer, then getting out of his car walked up to the café's door. Through the window that was misted with condensation, I could just about make out a woman that I assumed was Emily sitting with her back to me at the rear of the café.

"Come on, you Prat, get your act together. Time to eat some humble pie!" I said to myself. For an instant I wished I'd brought my daughter or even Stella along for moral support. But there comes a time when a man has to stand on his own feet and take what's coming to him.

I entered the café without Emily noticing me. For a few moments I stood watching her. I could see that she still had her fine figure, but maybe she wasn't looking after it as she had done in the past. Her hair was much shorter and didn't show any sign of the hairdresser's skills that had always been her trademark whilst we had been married. And her clothes - they looked like hand-me-downs or something. Definitely fitted where they touched, if you understand me. 

I purchased a cup of tea from the lady behind the counter; then I carried it to Emily's table.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" I asked when I got there.

"There's plenty of empty...." Emily stopped speaking when she looked-up to reply and realised who it was standing there.

"Well, may I sit down, Emily?"

"Why?"

"Because I need to speak to you?"

"Why?"

"Damn, you're making this hard, Emily. Look, we could keep this up all day. Now may I sit down? I have something I need to talk to you about."

I took the nod of Emily's head to have given me permission to sit with her. As I turned to sit down, I noted that several of the early morning patrons were looking in our direction.

"What do you want?" Emily asked, without taking her eyes off of her breakfast.

"To apologise to you."

"What for?" Emily sure had turned into a conversationalist.

"Everything. Calling you a cheat. Divorcing you and for taking our daughter away from you. And for not having the faith to believe you."

Emily had stopped eating, but she still did not look up at me.

"What are you trying to pull this time?" she demanded in a quite loud voice.

"You all right back there, Emily?" An Irish accented voice called from somewhere in the café.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Pat. It's just my husband popped in for a visit. I don't expect he'll be staying long," Emily called back

"Now don't you be upsetting our Emily there, mister, or we'll be having something to say about it!" the disembodied voice called back. 

I glanced over and saw several rather large men sitting at a table near the front of the café. If those guys got nasty, I was going to be in real trouble. 

"When I need your help, Patrick, I'll ask for it. Thank you. In the mean time, I'll be asking you to mind your own business please," Emily called out to him, then in a quieter voice to me. "So what are you after, Tony?" 

"I'm not after anything, Emily. I'm trying to tell you that I was completely wrong. I know now that that videotape was a fake and I'm damned sure it was your boss Harcourt who had it made. I know that he was trying to blackmail you into having sex with the company's clients. In a nutshell, I know you didn't lie, you didn't cheat and that I was a bleeding arsehole to you, for which I am truly sorry." 

Emily now looked me in the eye. "So what brought about this sudden change of heart?"

"Another videotape, Emily. Someone sent me a tape of that meeting where Harcourt propositioned you and you told him to stick it up his own arse."

Emily blushed. I knew that she was no stranger to strong language, but I had forgotten for the moment what Harcourt had said to her at that meeting.

"So you believe that I wasn't lying now?"

"Yes, I do."

"And now, what's supposed to happen? Am I supposed to fall at your feet and be grateful?"

"No, I wasn't expecting you to do anything like that. If anything it should be me falling at your feet and begging you to forgive me. But for a start, if you haven't got anyone special to go home to, I'd like you to come home with me and live at our house with our daughter," then as an after-thought I added, "and me."

"What, just like that! Forget all that's happened?"

"No, no, good god, girl....

"Don't go calling me girl, Tony! I'm not a child, I'm nearly forty years old," Emily snapped back at me, her sudden outburst taking me by surprise. Funny how you forget things. Emily never did like me calling her girl.

"Sorry, sorry. No, Emily. I'd like for you to move into our spare room. Bridget has been without her mother for a long time. I'd like you to move to our house and.... Damn it, Emily, cut me some slack here. Bridget needs you and, Christ, I need you to at least try to forgive me."

"Bring me another tea will you please, Martha?" Emily shouted over her shoulder. "Okay, your forgiven! Happy now?" she added and went back to eating her breakfast.

"What, just like that!"

"I said forgiven. I haven't said anything about forgetting that you didn't trust me or that you've kept me away from Bridget."

"I'm sorry, Emily!"

Yes, yes. I'm sorry too. But being sorry won't give me back ten years of not being with my daughter as she grew up. Being sorry won't wipe out ten years of loneliness and being sorry will never make up for my so-called loving husband, not believing in me.

As Emily was saying that, I was relieved to see Inspector Morris entering the café. As he walked up to the counter, several of the customers must have recognised him as a policeman; they suddenly decided there was somewhere they needed to be, very urgently, and left.

The inspector got himself a cup of tea from Martha and came back to join us, taking a chair on the next table. Having become aware of his presence as he sat down, Emily glanced in his direction.

"Mr Morris. Oh, I am a popular woman today!"

"Hello, Emily. I'm going to need your help."

"And why should I help the police. They didn't help me when I needed them. They just tried to put me in prison."

"Emily, there's nothing I can do or say that's going to change how you were treated back then. But with your husband's help, I can get that conviction reversed and with any luck we can put the people who really did this to you behind bars. But without your co-operation I doubt if I can do anything."

Emily was back to eating her breakfast and didn't even appear to be listening to him. But it was apparent the inspector wasn't put off by that.

"Believe me, Emily, I'm sorry for all that has happened. You know I always thought something didn't add up. But as policemen, we have to go on the evidence, not on personal feelings." 

"Somehow I always thought you might have believed me, Mr Morris," Emily said but still without looking in his direction.

"I didn't know what to believe, Emily. This might not make sense to you, but I just couldn't get my head around what I thought you believed. I'll admit I thought you must have been delusional or something. I never did believe that you were the type to intentionally lie. 

"The one thing that has always played on my mind was your little girl. In that tape the woman was in obvious distress some of the time, but the little girl didn't react in any way at all. I mentioned it at the time to the senior officer on the case; he thought that it was probably not the first time the child had witnessed the same scene and she had grown accustomed to it. I still don't know why I never bought into that idea, but now I've been proved right."

Emily showed no emotion as she picked up the tea that Martha had brought her. "So where do we start?" she asked looking at the inspector and now apparently ignoring me.

"I need you to come into the station and make a new statement, or at least go over the statements you made all those years ago. I want you to think of the names of everyone you saw or spoke to in that building that day, when Harcourt propositioned you. Someone who knew what happened has had a bad attack of conscience and sent a tape of it to Tony.

"There must be other tapes. Other women that they have tricked or blackmailed into doing what they wanted you to do. One of the men in that room said, 'We knew this could happen someday,' after you turned them down and left the room. So they must have done the same thing before, and they are probably still doing it to some poor woman now. You knew the other women working for the company. Is there anyone who you think they might have tried the same trick on?"

Emily looked thoughtful. "There were a couple of girls who were working there when I first started; they just kind of disappeared from the office after a while. But now I come to think of it, I believe I saw them a few times at conferences and things. I just thought they were working for the competition. But I get the feeling I saw them talking to a couple of the directors. It was a long time ago and they held no interest for me at the time, so I could be mistaken."

"Emily, I know Tony wants you to go home with him."

News to me. How the hell did Morris know that I was planning to ask Emily to move back home? Don't tell me, a copper's nose, I suppose.

"I need you to rack your brain, Emily. See if you can come up with names for those girls, and anyone else in that firm you think might have been approached. And the men in the room that day - was there anyone there that you remember who might have looked like he wasn't comfortable with what was happening? Anyway you think about it and Tony can set up a time when we can get together and talk properly."

"Tony, head down now. Don't go doing anything that will let them know that we are back on the case. I don't need you chasing after anybody's blood and giving the game away," Inspector Morris suddenly said to me.

For a few seconds the inspector's little lecture confused me. After all I'd had a good idea of what Harcourt and the rest of his cronies had done for over two weeks. Why would I suddenly go after him now? Then I realised that it was for Emily's consumption, Inspector Morris was trying to help me get into Emily's good books, by suggesting I was out to get revenge for her.

After some further discussion, it was decided that Emily would come home with me for the time being at least. The Inspector left us at the café as Emily and I needed to get her gear from her bed-sit. I would call a taxi to drive us home.

Emily's bed-sit was a dump to say the least. She kept very clean and tidy, but you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Even Emily couldn't work those kinds of miracles. Emily went into the communal bathroom to shower and change, and she came out looking a lot different to the woman who went in. She had done wonders with her hair but she was still not as elegant as I remembered her. I must have been staring at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked looking at me with a frown on her face.

"Aren't I allowed to look at a beautiful woman?" I replied.

A statement I regretted making the moment it came out of my mouth. It left me open for retaliation, remember I'd let this woman down badly even if I hadn't intended to.

"If you start that bullshit with me, I'll stay here and you can go home alone," Emily spat at me.

"Emily, it's the truth. You might not have all those elegant clothes anymore, but you always have been a beautiful woman." I tried to flatter her.

"Tony, give it a bloody rest. I've been getting that kind of crap from the boys down at the café for the last five years and I'm not the dumb blond everybody takes me for. And your bullshit isn't going to have any effect on me, that I can promise you. I'm coming home with you so that I can be with my daughter. There's nothing between you and I anymore. Understand?"

"Yes, Emily."

"Well, come on, call that bloody cab."

"Its outside waiting. I called it whilst you were in the shower."

+++++++++++++

"Where's Bridget?" Emily demanded the moment we entered the house.

"At school. Where did you think she'd be?" I replied.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think. I'm impatient to see her."

"I'm sorry, of course you are."

"Christ, Tony, stop all this 'I'm sorry' lark every time I say anything. I'm not used to having a school child in the house, that's all. This is a nice house by the way."

"I'm glad you like it. Perhaps you will make it your permanent home."

"Tony, I loved you once. But ten years ago I learnt that I couldn't trust any man. Even the one who professed that he loved me. So don't go expecting me to go falling gratefully into your arms. It just isn't going to happen."

"The thought never crossed my mind," I lied. "Emily, I just want you to have a proper relationship with Bridget."

"Right, just so we know how the land lays. Now if you'll show me my room, I suppose I'd better get some sleep before Bridget gets home. What time does she usually get home from school." 

"About four. You get some sleep and I'll make sure to wake you before Stella gets here with her."

"Stella, your secretary? Why is she bringing her home?"

"Well, normally I take her to school and pick her up on my way home. But I didn't know how today was going to go, so Stella is doing the honours. Stella has been a great help to me with Bridget."




The Video Tape Ch. 03



"Oh, I'll bet she has, but what does your company say about you two swanning in and out whenever you like?"

"Stella is my private secretary now, Emily."

A somewhat strange look came over Emily's face. But I ignored it and continued.

"Stella has children of her own who are at school as well, so it's helpful for both of us to share the school run sometimes. Both of us only work part time now. I'm the chairman of the board and can virtually do as I wish." 

"Congratulations. When did you become chairman?"

"About five years ago. I didn't know you didn't know."

"How could I?"

"I'm sorry."

"If you say I'm bloody sorry one more time I'm going to brain you." 

I showed Emily to her room and left her to get some sleep. Several times during the day I looked in on her but she didn't stir until I woke her about a half past three. She took another shower and came down wearing a snug fitting pair of faded jeans and a white blouse. Although I pushed a cup of coffee in her hand, she spent the next fifteen minutes pacing the lounge like a lion in a cage. When Stella's car finally pulled up outside, I thought Emily was going to have a fit.

"How do I look?" she asked me, smoothing her hair and clothes as she looked in the mirror.

"Like a beautiful mother waiting for her daughter to come home from school," I replied. Emily's face broke into the first proper smile I'd seen for some years.

"Thank you." She grinned at back at me, but added, "But I told you, I don't need your crap."

Emily stayed in the lounge as I went to open the front door, which Bridget came through like a tornado. Seeing the open door to the lounge she made straight for it without acknowledging my presence.

"Mummy!" she screamed, and ran into Emily's waiting arms.

"You knew I was going to be here?" Emily asked Bridget.

"Daddy told me this morning that you were probably coming back to live with us today. I've been so excited I've nearly wet myself."

Stella came in the door with her two little ones, and I lead them through into the kitchen. Stella's children ran straight out into the garden to play. They had spent a lot of time at my house over the years and tended to treat it as their own. Stella herself began the task of preparing our evening meal. Look, I never have been that much of a cook and when Stella and her family visit she takes over in the kitchen. Self-preservation, she calls it.

"How is she?" Stella asked me once the children were out of earshot.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I'm her favourite person."

"I'm not surprised. What did you expect?"

"I haven't got the faintest idea what I expected. How can one plan for something like this happening?"

"You can't. You are going to have to take things one day at a time."

"Easily said, Stella, but I've got one big problem," I retorted.

"Only one? I thought you had a whole great list."

"There's only one burning one that I'm worried about." 

"Oh, shit, you're still in love with her, aren't you?"

"So that's why you've worked for me so long, because you can read me like a book?"

"Probably. I do know in advance when to keep my head down. But, Tony, you know she might not love you any more and who could blame her?"

"I know, I know, I wasn't born yesterday. I'm going to have to eat humble pie until I can make her forgive me and then fall in love with me again." 

"Good luck to you!"

Suddenly Stella's two children appeared at the back door demanding to know where Bridget was. Emily must have heard them and she came into the kitchen with Bridget. It was plain to see that they had both been crying.

"Go play with your friends, Bridget. I want to speak to Stella for a little while."

Somewhat reluctantly Bridget went outside with the two little ones. For a moment Stella and Emily looked at each other, then completely to my surprise Emily walked over to Stella and they gave each other a hug. Stella looked into my eyes as they were doing so and I got the message to make myself scarce.

But I didn't go far! Not sure whether I was doing the right thing, I slipped into the dining room and stood out of sight of the kitchen beside the serving hutch.

I could hear the two women crying for some time and then Emily said that they had better get on with the children's meal. For a long time they got on with the business of cooking and catching up with - well, mainly - Stella's life. Emily asked about her husband the children. 

I waited impatiently; eventually I knew they would get around to the subject I wanted to know about. Stella teased out of Emily that there had been no men in her life since the divorce, which I was pleased about. But Emily said she was never going to trust men again. Which I wasn't pleased to hear, but it was only to be expected.

"What about Tony, Emily?"

"He's the father of my child, but I can't trust him any more than I can any other man." 

"You know he loves you."

"No, I don't think so. I doubt he ever did love me. He loves his pride. He loved having me hanging on his arm, when I was beautiful. But all I was to him was a piece of window dressing that he threw away when he thought it was stained."

"No, you're wrong. Tony has been an extremely eligible bachelor since - well, for some time now. He's had some very impressive and wealthy women make a play for him over the years. If it was a trophy wife Tony was after, he could have chosen from the best, but he's shown no interest in any woman to my knowledge." 

"You don't see everything, Stella."

"Emily, I know your husband maybe better than you did yourself before... Anyway the reason he took everything the way he did was because he loved you so much. He couldn't believe that tape when he first saw it. Emily, if those windows hadn't had those safety locks on them he would have been splattered all over the street that day. I had to call security to stop him doing it, you know."

"I never knew that he...." 

"Not something that he was very proud of. I think there's only me and a couple of the security staff who do know. But I can assure you, if he could have got that window open you'd be a widow now, not a divorcee."

There was silence for a few minutes, except the sounds of the meal being prepared.

"Emily, please don't tell Tony I told you that. He'll kill me if he finds out I did!"

"No, no, I won't say anything to him. But it's such a shock to hear it. Tony's so... so in control of his emotions."

"Not when you're concerned, Emily. He never has been. Why do you think he pushed you so far away? Didn't you understand why he wasn't ever at those visits you had with Bridget?"

"No, I thought he hated me and making me visit Bridget at his brother's house was just... oh, I don't know... I thought he wanted to make me travel all that way just because he could." 

"No, it was because he couldn't bear to see you. His heart was broken."

I could hear both women sobbing again, but they had to get themselves under control when the children came inside demanding to be fed. Stella called out to me as I slipped through the connecting door into the lounge. I couldn't afford to be caught eavesdropping.

Stella's husband turned up just as we were sitting down to eat. I have never been able to work out how he manages to do that. Stella and he must have a built in telegraph.

He was introduced to Emily and knowing what had gone on, he acted as if her being there was nothing out of the ordinary. After we had eaten Stella and her family went home, somewhat earlier than they normally did and somewhat to the consternation of the children.

Once they had gone Bridget retreated to her room to do her homework. Emily went up with her for a while but then came back down saying that she had been dismissed until Bridget had completed her school tasks.

"She takes after her father," Emily said as she entered the lounge. "She gets on with the job and doesn't want any distractions."

"Well, the sooner she has it finished the sooner she can come down again," I replied.

"That's what she said," Emily commented. "It could have been you talking."

Emily then asked if she could use the phone. I told her she didn't have to ask. It was her phone as far as I was concerned. She chose to use the handset in the kitchen. When she came back she told me that she wasn't on duty at the café that evening, but she'd called her employer and told him she wouldn't be in for the next few nights either.

I'd like to be able to say that life at home dropped back into the normal happy home we'd all like to have, but it didn't. Under the circumstances it wasn't surprising. The following day Stella turned up to take Bridget to school rather early. I was surprised as it was really my turn. But Stella told me she wasn't going to be in the office that day, because Emily and she had something on.

Then just before the two women left with the children, Stella pulled me to one side and demanded, "Credit card please?" Oh, this wasn't so unusual. When Bridget needed new clothes or anything, Stella would make the same demand. How do these guys get on who don't have good secretaries? 

I kind of kicked around the offices that day and made a nuisance of myself. Well, I couldn't get my head around much in the way of work. Anyway, without Stella around, I had little in the way of a program for the day. Oh, yeah I had a couple of appointments in the diary but really I wasted a day.

I called Inspector Morris -- again. I bet he was getting fed up with me calling - he said he had no news, but he did ask me to bring Emily into the station the following morning. 

That afternoon when I got home - I'd knocked off early - I got the surprise of my life. A complete stranger was coming out of the house with Stella on their way to collect Bridget from school.

Emily's hair looked like it had cost a fortune - which it probably had - and she was dressed in a dress that had definitely made a hole in my credit limit. Not that I objected.

"Are you coming?" Stella asked.

"Don't see why not," I replied.

"Right. We'll all go in your car, since it's bigger," Stella said, opening the front passenger door.

Emily went to reach for the backdoor handle.

"No, Emily, you sit in the front with your husband; I'll ride in the back." 

Emily did as she was told. Whether the husband comment had hit home or not, she didn't apparently react.

The evening, up to a point, was a repeat of the day before. But this time when Bridget went up to do her homework Emily remained in the lounge with me.

"Your hair looks nice." I tentatively offered to Emily expecting a sarcastic reply.

"Thank you." She smiled back at me.

"And you looked wonderful in that dress." I almost said beautiful but chickened out.

"I should do; this dress has cost you a fortune."

Still no sign of any attack from Emily, I decided to push my luck.

"It doesn't mater how much it cost. If it wasn't on a beautiful woman it would look like a rag."

Okay I'm not a bleeding poet; I was doing the best I could.

"What are you after, Tony?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to tell you, you're as beautiful as you ever were." 

"Tony, you make a god awful liar; you always have. Now don't I remember you saying that to me once?" 

"Emily, I...."

"Emily nothing. Just get it through your thick head I'm here for one reason. My daughter! I'll be civil to you. Damn it, I'm quite happy to spend all your money for you, if you'll let me. But don't ever think you are going to mean anything to me again. And it'll be a bloody cold day in hell, before I ever get back into bed with you, if that's what you're thinking."

I was still trying to think of what to say to her as she closed the door.

End of Chapter Three...

*

 Please note

I'll repeat what I said in the forward to the first part of this story the chapters will be submitted at seven-day intervals or as close as circumstances will allow. I've been asked why I'm doing it this way and the answer is "because I wish too". Damn it, some stories are posted with months between the posted chapters, why should anyone get out of their pram because I'm leaving seven-days between each chapter of this one. No one is twisting your arm and insisting you read it.

Yeah, I'm just about as pissed off as Emily is! 



The Video Tape Ch. 04



As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. As always I'll also add that we don't always see eye to eye with each other, and often play around with a story after they have read it. Consequently I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Clarification: The Boys = euphemistic term used by some of the Irish community in London to refer to the Irish Republican Army during the recent unpleasantness.

Chapter Four

Life around my - our - house was a little strange for the next few weeks. Bridget seemed to take the weird situation in her stride. And Emily? Well, Emily took every opportunity she could to rub my nose in it. She was polite and even pleasant some of the time. She - once having replenished her wardrobe at my expense - dressed to kill most of the time. There wasn't a day that, when I came home from work, I didn't have to take a deep breath when I saw her.

I brought her a car as quickly as I could and organised credit cards and things for her. We even went out to dinner together a couple of times in the first week. Afterwards I realised that that could have been a mistake. It could be that I was trying too hard. So when we went out after that I made sure that we were always in company or had Bridget with us.

It was those little digs that got to me more than anything else did. "Have you put a limit on this card? Are you sure you can trust me not to spend too much?" Emily asked when I gave her credit cards to her. 

The coldest reaction I got was when her BMW was delivered. The damned delivery guy, whilst familiarising Emily with the car, explained about the tracker anti-theft system. These systems had only just come onto the market and very few people had even heard of them at the time. Emily completely misinterpreted what the system was all about and thought that it was a way of me keeping track of her movements. 

Luckily I was away at a business meeting that evening. Bridget, Stella and her husband explained that the system was all about the police recovering the car quickly if it was stolen.

Emily apologised for the cryptic and somewhat interesting phone call I'd received from her at the office that day. I knew Emily was no stranger to strong language, but I don't think I've ever heard that many blasphemies strung together in one sentence before. Actually she kissed me - on the cheek - when I got home the following morning and told me how much she loved the car.

+++++++++++++++++++++

"Well, I think we've found our mole, or at least the man who sent that second video tape to you," Inspector Morris said as I entered his office.

"The only problem is he isn't going to be much assistance to us; he's left the country again."

From elation at the inspector's first greeting, I felt suddenly deflated. Inspector Morris went on to explain that they'd managed to track down the taxi driver who had delivered the tape. He'd been on the rank near the railway station waiting for the late night train bringing revellers back from the city centre when the man had approached him and paid him to deliver the package to my office building. He went on to explain.

"With the taxi driver's description, it didn't take us long to find out what hotel the guy had been staying in. He was calling himself John Carter - by the way, that's an alias. His real name is Peter Garfield."

I gave a start.

"I thought that would pique your interest. He's the nephew of Phillip Garfield who was one of the five men that Emily had identified as being in that office that day. It appears that Phillip Garfield is in hospital and from what I've been able to ascertain is shortly about to be meeting his maker. Peter Garfield flew in from Ireland a couple of days before that tape was sent to you. We've managed to find out that he went to visit his uncle in the hospital and then the same evening he sent that tape to you. The following day he flew back to Ireland."

"Are you going to question Phillip Garfield?"

"We can't. I'm afraid he's in a comma following a heart attack and the doctors don't hold out much hope for his recovery. Look, we are keeping a low profile. We don't really want the others to know that we are back on their case."

"What about this Peter Garfield? Are you going to question him?" 

"Eventually I think, but not for the time being. In the mean time we've been looking very closely at the other four men. They're a strange bunch, all of them so called entrepreneurs and very rich. These guys seem to play at being businessmen more than anything else. I doubt that you will know that they had all sold their holdings in the company Emily worked for within a year of that first tape showing up."

"No. Why do you think they did that?"

"I should imagine that the debacle with Emily put the fear of God in them, so they distanced themselves as much as they could. Anyway less than two years later, the company went into receivership; I've gotten in touch with the fraud boys over that and a couple of my friends over there are nosing around. We can't do anything too high profile at the moment. Slowly, slowly catchy monkey with those sorts."

"I can't understand why you aren't going to question this Peter Garfield about the tape. Surely he must know something?" I asked. 

"Because the other four spend most of their time out of the country nowadays. They meet up every couple of months or so at a hotel that Peter Garfield owns in Ireland. If we speak to him, then it might tip-off the others that the fraud squad and I are looking into their affairs. Look, apparently my colleagues in the fraud squad have been interested in these guys for some time now and I'm afraid the fraud squad take priority in this. As far as they are concerned Emily is just a side show."

"Well, she's not a side show to me!"

"I realise that and so do my colleagues. Don't get me wrong. They are just as interested in what happened to Emily and you. If she wouldn't mind, they would like to speak to Emily as well. It's one thing that ties all the five of them together. I believe the fraud boys will want to arrest all five – well, four - conspirators at the same time. So they are looking harder at things than I can. If they can, they will build a case that involves all of them. The fraud boys are playing their cards quite close to their chest so I don't know how big this really is."

The inspector went on to tell me that his enquiries Stateside had not exactly turned up trumps, but a couple of his FBI contacts had shown a lot of interest in the yacht the five had been on or rather the yacht's owner at the time. As far as he could make out the guy who owned it wasn't a known criminal, but he wasn't exactly kosher either. He was one of those guys that the FBI were sure was up to something. They just couldn't figure out what. Apparently the IRS, the American income tax people, were also interested in him.

A couple of days later, some officers from the fraud squad were leaving the house when I arrived home with Bridget. Emily told me they had just run over the whole thing again with her and asked her what she remembered about the goings on in the company when she had worked there. But as it was many years ago Emily couldn't remember much that she thought they would be interested in. They showed her lots of pictures of people but she only found a couple who were vaguely familiar.

++++++++++++++++++++

Another month or so passed and to me it appeared that nothing was happening where the police were concerned. So I decided to take things into my own hands, as far as I could.

I'd made a good few friends in the city and I started asking questions, as subtly as I could. I was to learn that the five men were a strange bunch. They were known to have control of vast sums of money, which they invested all over the place, sometimes taking over companies whose stock had the unenviable habit of rising once they bought in and falling rapidly once they had sold out again. But whether that was by luck or for some other reason, no one would speculate.

I then resorted to a private detective, but he only stayed on the case long enough to tell me the Fraud squad had warned him off. Apparently they soon heard that he was sniffing around. Thinking about things I decided that I needed a different kind of assistance with my investigations and asked the detective to research some other people for me.

+++++++++++++++++++

At the same time as this was going on, Emily had started talking about gong back to work at the café. This I didn't want and I couldn't understand because she was quite capable of working in an office, somewhere that would have much more sociable hours. I spoke to my personnel department and they came up with a list of vacancies, but Emily would have none of that.

Eventually Stella put Emily in touch with an agency that she knew. All right, yes, that agency did supply a lot of staff to our company and we did lean on them to place Emily into certain temp jobs that were with folks who owed me favours. You've got to remember that Emily's confidence wasn't what it should have been and I was just trying to smooth the path. Eventually an old friend called me on the phone and told me Emily had accepted a permanent position with his company.

Make no mistake here, Emily had earned that offer off of her own back, but if she ever found out that I'd manipulated things the way I had I was pretty sure she'd have killed me. I know she was quite pleased to be in what she felt was satisfying employment again. And it did wonders for her self-esteem.

Stella and I had to be very careful not to let on that we knew she'd been offered the position when she told us about it that evening. My friend apparently did a good job of hiding the fact that he knew me as well. Just what was going to happen if and when we all met up socially God only knows; we'll have to play that by ear.

+++++++++++++++++++

One Friday evening found me entering the public bar of a small Public House in a not too affluent part of the city, not very far from the cafe where Emily had worked, called "The Royal Oak." As I entered I was immediately aware of the throng of Irish voices going quiet. You could have heard a pin drop as I ordered a pint from the barman. Then I turned and looked at the sea of faces watching me. Picking out the man I was looking for, I looked him in the eyes for a couple of seconds and then nodded towards an empty table in the corner of the room.

As he began to stand, I turned back to the barman who was waiting for me to pay him.

"And a refill for Pat as well please," I said to him. 

That statement was like someone turning the volume back up and everyone in the place resumed their conversations. Taking the two pints, I went over to the table and sat down. Patrick sat down opposite me.

"Now what would a fine gentleman be wanting to talk to me about?" he asked.

"You know who I am?" I replied.

"You're Emily's husband. I saw you with her at the café."

"That's almost correct. I'm her ex-husband. But I'm trying to correct that little mistake."

"Sounds like a big mistake to me mister. Where would anyone find Emily now, do you know?"

"Yes, she's living at my house with our daughter. I'm trying to persuade her to forgive me for the wrongs I've done her." 

"So where does a dumb Irishman come into your plans?"

"Well, Patrick - you don't mind me calling you Patrick, do you?"

"Most call me Pat, but it makes no difference to me."

"No, I know that isn't your real name," a slight change of expression came over the man's face. "Wow, don't panic, Pat. I don't care what you choose to call yourself; what I need is your help."

"And why should I help you?"

"Because you like Emily. I saw the way you looked at her in the café."

"She's a fine lady, much too good for the likes of me." 

"Pat, if you don't mind I will not comment on that, as I'm trying to win her back myself. But I'm sure you know how to treat a lady."

"In my day I could woo them all off their feet. But how can I help you and why should I?"

I went on to tell Pat the complete story, after swearing him to secrecy that is. Then I told him what I was planning to do.

"You know they could send you down for a long time for this, don't you?"

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"Well, with an accent like that, you can't go wandering around over there without standing out like a bloody sore thumb. I think if we do this right, people will think that's it's the boys or one of the breakaway groups. They'll do anything for money."

"That's what I was hoping."

"Give me a couple of days to find some more help. I know few boys who, for the right consideration, will most likely help us."

I gave Patrick one of a pair of new pay-as-you-go mobile phones that I'd managed to acquire which I'd registered to fictitious addresses. I thought we shouldn't make contact on any of my normal telephones. We were about to overstep the bounds of legality.

"Don't you be going saying too much over those things," Pat warned me. "You know, with all the troubles and that, there's folks who spend a lot of time listening in on them. Tea will mean the café, beer will mean here. You understand me."

I understood Pat completely. Just about anyone with an Irish accent at the time could be suspected of being a member of the IRA. There had been more than a few bomb attacks on the mainland.

"Yes, I think so."

"And it'll be a few days before I call you. I've got my own checking out to do before I can do anything. Goodnight to you, Mr E."

Pat got up and returned to his friends. Feeling very conspicuous as an Englishman sitting in an Irish bar, I finished my pint and left quite quickly.

I know that it was at short notice for Patrick and he obviously had to check me out. But the old Ford Transit pick-up wasn't the best vehicle for his guys to use to follow me. I can only assume that it was the best they had available at the time. I made sure they didn't lose me, as I needed Pat's help.

+++++++++++++++++++++

"You're late. Your dinner is ruined," Emily chided me when I got home that night. "Why didn't you call me to say you'd be late."

"Emily, I had some things to do and there weren't any telephones around. Look, I got some things on and I need you to not ask too many questions for a couple of weeks. I might have to go away at short notice. And ... Well, please just don't ask too many questions."

"Why? What are you up to?" Emily demanded.

We beat around the bush for sometime, before I gave up trying to keep it completely a secret from Emily that I was taking matters into my own hands. 

"Lets just say I'm fed-up with waiting for Morris and his friends to sort those bugger out. I'm going to take some unilateral action."

"What are you going to do?"

"I told you please don't ask, Emily. The less you know the better. Now I'm going to get showered and changed."

That was the first day that Emily came into my bedroom. She stood outside the bathroom door and pestered me with questions about what I was up to, but I refused to answer her. After a while she gave up and left me to shower in peace.

When I got back down stairs again, I found Emily - now accompanied by Bridget, who had obviously finished her homework - cooking me a new evening meal.

"You couldn't eat the one I made earlier. It was burnt to a cinder," she said.

"Hmm," I thought to myself. "Is the ice maiden beginning to melt." Up to now it had been 'you're late and your dinner is ruined; that's your bloody problem.'

End of Part four.



The Video Tape Ch. 05



 As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. Also for the speed in which they both turn around the chapters of this story. As I often play around with a story after they have read it, I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.  

* * * * *

Chapter 5

Over the following few days there was a quantum change in Emily's attitude towards me. The trouble was it had been so long since we'd been together, I'd forgotten so much about how Emily operated. Come on, we've all got our little foibles in life and how we go about getting our own way. I very rapidly began to suspect that Emily intended to know what I was planning and I suspected that she was buttering me up so that I would tell her.

For all the apparent softening in her attitude towards me, I had my reservations. Her questions were subtly put, but they were there. After about a week, when I told her it wasn't going to work, she finally lost patience completely.

"Tony, if you don't tell me what you are planning to do, I'm going to see Inspector Morris and tell him you are up to something."

"Well, if you do that, I will most likely finish up in jail, Emily. Perhaps you'd prefer that to having those bastards locked away?"

That was a lie again on my part. The advantage of not telling Emily what I was planning was that she couldn't rat on me to the police, as she had no idea whether my plan was already in motion or not. Nothing illegal had happened yet, so if she did wish to take some personal revenge against me, by reporting me to the police; well, there wasn't anything they could touch me for. Yet!

Look, I'm not exactly daft. If anyone had treated me the same way as I'd treated Emily ten years before, well, I'm pretty sure that I'd be looking for some form of revenge. I loved the woman; I always have, even when I thought she'd been cheating on me. But my injured pride had made me do some very vindictive things to her. Emily had made it very clear that she didn't love me anymore and who can blame her. So her sudden concern about my welfare I had to treat with more than a little suspicion.

Strange attitude on my behalf? No, I don't think so. To quote Emily, "Just get it through your thick head, Tony, I'm here for one reason. My daughter! I'll be civil to you. Damn it, I'll spend all your money for you, if you like. But don't ever think you are going to mean anything to me again. And it'll be a bloody cold day in hell before I ever jump back into bed with you, if that's what you're thinking." Or something like that.

Now if I went down for a stretch, who would get custody of Bridget? Yeah, you've got it - Emily. So I had to be careful about what I told her. Look, I've found myself in a very unusual situation that left me trusting very few people. Regretfully that included the one person who I wanted to trust me again. You try to get your head around that little problem?

+++++++++++++++++

It was about three weeks after my first meeting with Pat in the Pub that his phone call came. Although I'd told him to use the new mobile phones, it appeared he didn't trust them and he called me on the pay phone outside my office building. Quite clever really, I came out of the office one evening; as I was walking past the telephone box, a young lady opened the door to it. Holding the handset out to me, she said, "Mr E, there's a call for you!" She handed me the handset and before I'd realised what was happening she had disappeared into the crowd on the street.

"Hello," I tentatively said into the handset.

"Mr E. Tea at five in the morning. Make sure you're not followed and try not to stand out like a sore thumb this bloody time. You'll find a donkey jacket beside your car; wear that."

The line went dead.

I'm going to admit that I had butterflies in my stomach. It appeared the game was on and, although I knew I had to go through with it, I wasn't completely sure I had the nerve to finish what I'd started.

In the car park, I found the well-used donkey jacket lying on the floor below the driver's door of my car. For one awful minute I was unsure about picking it up. I knew that Pat and his friends had close connections with the kind of people who where in the habit of blowing-up folks they didn't like or trust. And Patrick did know that I was aware he wasn't who he claimed to be.

After staring at the coat for some time and with my heart in my throat, I gave the jacket a little kick. The coat moved, but nothing else happened. I was still alive, so I picked the jacket up and threw it into the back of my car.

++++++++++++++++

That evening Emily's attitude was the same as it had been since she'd discovered that I was planning to take matters into my own hands. By that I mean that she wasn't being as hard on me as she had been, but she wasn't all over me either. We were effectively two people sharing the same house, albeit we had our daughter there. I suppose there must be lots of people who live like that. You know, live together because they are married but are not in love with each other anymore. In our case, I knew I loved Emily, but I had no idea how she really felt about me. I had no idea how strong her hate for me was.

Whilst Bridget was doing her homework Emily again tackled me about what I was planning, as she did almost every night, but I refused to tell her. She hadn't threatened me with the police again after the one time when she had though.

++++++++++++++++

I slept very little that night and I arose early without disturbing anyone else in the house. I left the house wearing my normal business suit. But I drove to a quiet spot where I changed into some denim jeans and my old gardening boots. The Donkey jacket was quite thick, so I figured my tee shirt would suffice under it.

Taking a mystery tour to ensure that I wasn't followed, I parked in a side road near the café and walked the last few hundred yards.

As I entered, I saw Pat sitting on his own at the back of the café. There were some other guys there who were sitting kind of strung out across the place. Having joined Pat at his table, I noted these other guys had moved their seats slightly. Getting anywhere near where Pat and I were sitting would be extremely awkward for anyone.

"Right are you sure you're wanting to go on with this?" Pat asked.

"Pat, after what those arseholes did to me and mine. I'm prepared to do anything to make sure they pay," I answered with my fingers crossed.

"Look, you've got to understand that the people we're going to have to work with don't play games. They do what they do for many reasons. Some because they want the six counties to be part of the republic. Some because they want money and they will do just about anything to get it - those buggers hide amongst the believers. And then there's some who just want power and control over other people. They know that if you can get people hating each other then you've got power over them." 

"There is an old saying: 'Divide and conquer'. It's true and it's been used for thousands of years. The Nazis used it and it has been used in South Africa and the USA. Get one part of the community hating some other part of the community and you can use their fear of each other to put yourself in control."

"But I thought you were a republican. Which grouping do you fall into?"

"Now there we have it, I was a believer. I still am in my heart. I believe that Ireland, all of Ireland should be ruled by the Irish. But I discovered to my cost that all hate does is to destroy innocent people. The troubles have cost me my family, my mother, wife and sister. And it wasn't the loyalists who killed them. It was my own people, when a bomb factory in the flat below my mother's blew up. What were they doing making bombs amongst their own innocent women and children?

"That's when it came home to me and I washed my hands of the struggle. They didn't care about who lived or died, providing they got what they wanted. I couldn't be working with that kind of people for a political cause. So I came over here and tried to get on with my life." 

Pat sat back in his chair. I gathered that he was collecting his thoughts.

"These people we are going to have to use. You have to understand that they are only interested in money. I believe we are justified in using them, because the men we are after are also only interested in themselves and money. But I can't be sure we can trust the guys we are intending to use either. You must understand that!" 

"I think I do!" I replied.

"Good, because the moment we get over there we are placing our own lives on the line. Be sure you are willing to take that risk."

Pat went on to explain how we were going to get into Ireland without anyone knowing we were there. Whether this was to protect me, or because the authorities were looking for Pat over there - or come to that, in England - I don't know. But a week later we were in the Republic.

I'm not going to be specific on exactly where for obvious reasons. There's extradition agreements in place between the Irish and British authorities.

We'd arrived at a farmhouse during the night and I'd have had no real idea where we were if Pat hadn't told me. As soon as it was light, Pat came into my room carrying a tray with my breakfast on it, while also laying on the tray was a handgun.

"Have you ever used one of these things?" he asked.

"No, and I'm not sure I want to," I replied.

"Now look, Tony, when we meet these people later you are going to be carrying this gun. You are going to know how to hold it and how to shoot the damn thing. These guys are not really to be trusted; they have got to think you can handle yourself and are someone to reckon with. Do you understand? Any weakness will be spotted and for god's sake don't mention the troubles. If they think you are a spy then we are all in deep shit. This is a money deal and that's all they think we are interested in."

"Okay, Pat," I said, gingerly picking up the gun.

"And don't go pointing that bloody thing at anyone! You don't know if it's loaded."

"Sorry, Pat," I said as I marvelled at the weight of the thing.

"Eat your breakfast, then we'll go over to the barn and I'll show you how to handle it. The neighbours are far enough away for you to let off a few rounds."

Having eaten and gotten dressed, Pat took me to the barn that to my surprise had a proper shooting gallery inside. Well, all right it was a kind-of Heath-Robinson one. Pat showed me how to fire the gun and reload it. He explained how the safety catch worked and we spent most of the time with me learning how to flick the safety on and off quickly. 

"How many times have you seen that one used on the films?" Pat asked. "Some fool points a gun at the hero and he says you forgot the safety catch. The fool looks to check the safety catch and the hero takes the gun from him. You make damn sure that if you have to use that thing, you know that the catch is off. And make sure the damn safety is on when the thing's in your pocket." 

As I was trying to get at least one bullet somewhere near the target, I suddenly became aware of a movement off to my left. I stopped firing and turned to see a woman standing there with a smile on her face.

"My god, Pat, you'd better give him a sawn-off. He couldn't hit a barn door." 

"It's not as easy as it looks in the films," I retorted.

"Bloody Englishman," she replied. 

Then taking the gun from my hand, she put the remaining four bullets into the centre of the target. Before I'd finished studying her marksmanship, she'd ejected one magazine and slipped in another, putting a further four bullets in the same area.

"Damn it, Pat, I think it would be better if this young lady kept the gun and acted as my bodyguard," I said to Pat jokingly.

"Kathy is your bodyguard!" Pat replied. 

"I'm not expecting any trouble but just make sure you don't shoot her or me if things get messy. Wherever you go over here, Kathy will be with you. Don't speak to anyone unless she gives you the okay. If Kathy tells you to run, you run and if she shouts down, you get your bloody head down quickly. You got that?"

"Whatever you say, Pat. You know what you're doing better than I do," I replied. 

"Good. Now, Kathy, see if you can get him to put a bullet somewhere near that bloody target. I don't need to be shot in the backside. Now I've got some people to see."

Both Kathy and I laughed as Pat left the barn, although if this turned out to be a shooting war, I did wonder what side I would be most dangerous to.

"Dad said you've only got to look like you know what you're doing with a gun. So don't you go worrying yourself too much. Really we are not expecting any real trouble of that kind," Kathy said when we were alone.

"That's a relief. I hadn't planned to play Jessie James or anything. Did I just hear you say that Pat's your father?" I asked.

"Damn, I'm not supposed to tell you that, so don't you be going telling him I did."

"No chance; I don't need Pat upset about anything. I need his help here." 

"He's a good man. He will do what he can to help you and your wife," Kathy replied.

"You know about what happened and why we are here?"

"Fa.... Pat told me last night. I was wondering what he was up to; the people he's gone to see are not very nice but they owe him a debt. But I'm wondering, what debt does Pat owe you?" 

"None that I know of, I just asked him for his help and he offered it. Although I think he could be sweet on Emily."

"He always has been a sucker for a pretty face. Is your wife good looking?"

"About as beautiful as you, if just a few years older."

"Now don't you be trying your city blarney on me."

"Kathy, I'm not, but there's the most uncanny resemblance between you and Emily when she was younger and had her hair long. You know, I think that Pat has noticed as well and that's why he feels so protective towards her." 

"Ah, now, you could be on the right track. I'm told I have my mother's looks so perhaps he sees her in your wife."

"I suppose it would explain his willingness to help me," I replied.

My gun lessons lasted until Kathy decided that it was time for us to eat again. Back in the farmhouse, I saw signs that other people lived there, but I didn't see anyone except Kathy. We ate lunch and sat around talking about Emily, Bridget and my attempts to build a new life together.

I realised later that Kathy was keeping me talking, I wondered if I was really showing how afraid and out of my depth I was. I wondered whether she was trying to keep my mind off of things. When we began to run out of things to talk about Kathy went over to a dresser and got out a photograph album. She looked through a few pages and then stopped and stared a one particular picture.

"Here, that's my mother," she said, as she turned the album so that I could see it. 

"Oh, my god! She is the image of Emily," I commented.

I'd been struck by Kathy's similarity to Emily. The woman in the photograph could have been Emily.

"I think we do know why Dad's helping you then. He misses her so much."

"How old were you when it happened, do you remember your mother?" I immediately felt I was intruding the moment I asked the question.

"Kathy didn't answer for a few seconds.

"My mother was carrying me when the explosion happened. My mother died the same evening; they performed an emergency Caesarean and I survived. I was a month premature so they kept me in hospital for a while. After what had happened, Pat couldn't handle looking after me. So he brought me down here to my uncle and his wife who have raised me. Father went off to England - he could earn more money over there - to help his sister look after me. And he was further away from people he might have taken some revenge on."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What is it with these people?"

"Hate. That's what father says. They are so busy hating that they don't think about what they are actually doing. My father tries his best not to hate anyone nowadays, even those people who were responsible for that bomb factory. It's taken him a long time but I think he's getting there."

"I don't know him that well Kathy, but I think he's a good man." 

"I know he tries to be and he'll do everything he can to help you. Tony, you can trust father and me."

The day dragged by and Pat didn't return. I was beginning to get worried about him, when the telephone rang. Kathy answered it.

"There'll be a car here to pick us after it's dark," she said, as she replaced the receiver. "Things have gone rather faster than Pat had anticipated. I know that he had something in motion, but it must have worked better than he thought." 

Kathy poured me a rather large whisky (Irish) to calm my nerves. She would only let me have the one because she said I was carrying the gun.

It was very late, about eleven o'clock, and extremely dark outside when a car pulled into the farmyard. Kathy told me that the man driving it was one of her father's people; he wasn't introduced to me, as it wasn't prudent to know too many names. Kathy and I got into the car and it sped off into the night.

"Now, listen," the driver said. "Whatever happens now, hold your nerve. Say nothing and don't react whatever happens. Take your cue from Kathy and listen to what she tells you," the man said to me as we pulled into a decrepit looking factory estate.

The place was all in darkness from the outside; the man led us into a building and down a corridor lit by a single light bulb. But it did appear quite bright after the darkness. At the end of the corridor, another man handed us all woollen balaclava helmets with just small holes for our eyes and mouths, which we all put on.

Then he opened the door to a large dimly lit warehouse and led us inside. The warehouse was empty except for two chairs about fifteen feet apart and several people standing in the shadows. Sitting on the chairs were a well-dressed man and a young woman. The man was apparently tied to his chair and gagged, but I could not make out if the woman was restrained in any way or not. 

"Good, you're here. Now we can get on with this," Pat's voice said from somewhere in the room. "Take that gag off."

Another masked man stepped from the shadows and removed the gag. All of the men in the room now closed in towards the sitting man.

"Now we have some questions for you." Pat's voice again said, "You would be sensible to answer them truthfully or, I can assure you, you will be very sorry. We do not wish to hurt you, but we will if you do not give us the information we require."

The man, who looked extremely scared, didn't say anything; he just looked from one masked face to another.

"Are you going to be co-operative?" Pat asked.

But before the man could answer there was a movement on the other side of the room. This happened very quickly and I have some difficulty in remembering exactly what happened. The young woman, who apparently hadn't been restrained in her seat, must have decided to make a break for it whilst everyone was concentrating on the man. I was suddenly aware that she had gotten up from her chair and was running towards the door. Suddenly there was the loud retort and flash of a gunshot. The woman let out a little scream; she stumbled a couple more steps and then collapsed to the floor. I didn't see who fired the shot.

"Damn it, I told you to watch that little bitch," Pat exclaimed angrily.

One of the other men went over to where the girl was lying; crouching down beside her he turned to look back at Pat. 

"She's dead!" he announced.

End of part five 



The Video Tape Ch. 06



As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. Also for the speed in which they both turn around the chapters of this story. As I often play around with a story after they have read it, I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

Clarification: Garda is the name of the police force in the Republic of Ireland. Its full name is "An Garda Síochána" which in English means "The Guardians of the Peace". May I take this opportunity to say that on my travels I have found the officers of the Garda amongst the most pleasant and helpful police officers that I have come across in Europe, if just a little laid back about things on occasions!

"She's dead!" he announced.

"Teach her to hang around with a slime-ball like this. Get her the fuck out of here," another voice said.

I didn't believe what I had just seen happen. I think I went to move or say something, but Kathy who apparently had been watching me closely, grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks. I really hadn't expected anyone would actually get seriously hurt, let alone killed, especially a woman.

"You've killed her!" Peter Garfield exclaimed. The man's eyes were as big as dinner plates as he stared at the inert body of the girl for a few seconds and then he appeared to try and look at everyone else in the warehouse at once. Like me, he was having trouble believing his own eyes and understanding what had just happened.

A man who'd been standing beside Pat went over and joined the one by the woman. He bent down and felt for the girl's pulse, then looked at Pat shaking his head.

Damn it, that was unnecessary." Pat said, "You better get her out of here and put her somewhere where she won't be found. Wait now, you'd better use this bugger's car."

Between them the two men hoisted the girl's body and carried it out of the warehouse. A little later we heard a car drive away.

"Unfortunate and unnecessary, she just had to be patient whilst we had out little chat with you and then the pair of you could have gotten back to whatever you were doing when we disturbed you," Pat said, turning his attention back to the man tied to the chair. "Now let's get down to business. Are you going to be co-operative or do we have to get all unnecessary with you as well?"

"I don't know what you could want with me?" Garfield replied.

"Just the answers to a few questions. A couple of months ago you went to England." Pat said.

"I go there often... to do business."

"Ah, but on this trip you used an alias. You used the name John Carter. Are you with me now?" Pat asked.

Garfield looked like he was thinking for a few seconds and then said, "Um, yes. I went to see my uncle. He's very ill and he asked me to do something for him."

"What?"

"Nothing much. It's personal family business; it was nothing important," Garfield replied.

"Not to you maybe, but let's say it could be important to me. Now what did you do for your uncle?

"Nothing. I told you I just collected a package for him and had it delivered."

"Where?"

"I don't remember the address. It was already written on the package and I just gave it to the taxi driver to deliver. That's all there was to it."

"What was in the package?"

"I don't know. It could have been anything."

"Now I know you're lying to me and I don't like that," Pat retorted.

Without Pat saying anything, a man stepped forward and to my utter horror, placed the muzzle of the biggest handgun I'd ever seen in my life against Garfield's knee. 

"Let's just kneecap the bastard, that'll loosen his tongue," the man said as he did so.

Once again I went to intervene but Kathy held my arm firmly. "They know what they are doing. Leave them to it," she whispered to me.

Don't be so bloody daft, you mad bugger. You'll blow his bloody leg off with that thing," Pat retorted. "Who's got a nine-millimetre? We'll start on his ankles first."

The man with the big gun stepped back making a comment that showed he was disappointed. Then another man went over to Garfield and pointed a much smaller gun at his ankle and I watched him make a deliberate show of pulling back the hammer. But before he fired Garfield began whimpering.

"The bugger's pissed himself!" The man suddenly proclaimed.

"No, don't shoot me! I'll tell you anything you want to know. It was a video tape," Garfield hurriedly blurted out through his tears.

"What of?"

"I don't know. I never looked at it," Garfield mumbled. 

To me Garfield looked like he'd suddenly turned into a mental wreck and was completely terrified. Mind you, I can't say that I wasn't near needing a change of underwear.

"Why did your uncle send it?"

"I don't know that either. He just asked me to get it from his office at one of his companies and then have it delivered.

For the next hour or so the questioning went on. Garfield told us that he'd picked up the tape from the premises of a small film production company his uncle owned. This confused me somewhat because, through my investigations on the mainland, I thought I knew every company that the five had connections with. To my knowledge this film company wasn't on the list. I had to wonder if it was the company that had produced the video. 

Garfield went on to say that the film was in a safe in his uncle's private office at the company's offices. We also learned that there were many more tapes along with a lot of files in the safe and that he had instructions to post off several of the other tapes after his uncle had passed on. All the rest of the stuff in the safe, he was to bring back over to Ireland and pass on to a man called Harcourt, when he visited Garfield's hotel.

Pat shot a quick look in my direction and I nodded back to him.

"You know this man Harcourt?" Pat demanded of Garfield.

"Yes he's one of my uncle's business associates. He stays at my hotel often and has conferences with some other men.

"List the men's names to me?"

Garfield suddenly turned non-co-operative again. "I can't talk about them! They are powerful men with connections. They could have me killed!"

"And you think we won't kill you if you don't tell us what we want to know?" Pat asked. "Look, we've no interest in hurting you if we don't have to. Unless you tell these people, they will never know where we got the information. So they will have no reason to kill you. We on the other hand have reason to make your dying very slow and painful if we don't get the information we require."

Again without Pat's prompting the man with the nine-millimetre had stepped forward and even through the balaclava we all could see the smile on his lips as he bent down towards Garfield's ankle and pointed the gun.

"All right, all right, I'll tell you. But no one will ever know I told you?"

"You have my word as an Irishman," Pat replied. 

Garfield went on to list the other three men who been in that interview with Emily. He claimed he had little knowledge of their business dealings. He did volunteer that he thought that amongst other things, they had some connections with drug smuggling. Sometimes people from certain South American countries visited the hotel at the same time as the four men. And they were often in private conference with each other.

Somewhere during Pat's questioning, Garfield had mentioned what he called the women.

"Tell me about these women?" Pat suddenly demanded.

Garfield looked confused, as he obviously thought the women were pretty unimportant. "They're just women that they bring along, you know, for entertainment."

"What? Hookers? Prostitutes?" Pat asked.

"No, I wouldn't say that they were on the game. I'm pretty sure of that. They're not the type. And besides I don't think any of them wanted to be there or be treated as they are."

"You're not explaining yourself very well," Pat said.

"Look, they weren't tarts. They were ladies, housewives and the like. They don't normally dress like tarts or behave like them until they are made to."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the women - sometimes they have their husbands with them - would turn up at the hotel on their own. You know not with Harcourt and his crowd. They even pay for their own rooms. Then when those four and their associates turn up the women would be sent to whoever wanted them. One night I heard one of Harcourt's men order one woman to strip naked in the bar and then he had some other woman's husband fuck her from behind whilst she gave her husband a blow job. The poor woman was devastated and so was her husband, but they did as they were told. They do that sort of thing all the time."

"What? Are they perverts or something? Why would they degrade people like that?"

"Because they can. That's what you've got to understand about these people. They are very powerful people and they get their kicks out of making people do anything they want them to do."

Pat turned and looked at me, but he didn't say anything. We both realised how close Emily had come to becoming one of their victims.

"Is it always the same women?"

"No, I'm not sure how many different ones I've seen. Certainly I've seen over fifty and could be as many as a hundred. They aren't all English either. There have been Americans, Germans, and French; well, I think they've come from just about every country in Europe and Scandinavia. But there's been no Irish that I have noticed. Although it isn't always obvious who is one of their victims, if you understand me. They don't wear a badge or anything and often the husbands are with them. Or someone who purports to be the husband anyway."

Pat looked at me again. I think he was wondering if there was anything else we needed to know. I thought we had just about all that Garfield could tell us and shook my head.

Pat looked over at one of the other men, gave him a nod, then turned and walked away from Garfield. As the other guy went up to Garfield, I could see the look of concern come back onto his face.

"Now we did this one earlier, so you know there's no need to get overly concerned," the man said, showing Garfield the small bottle and cloth he was holding. "You will not tell anyone - that includes your four friends and the Garda - what has happened here this evening. Your going to have a little sleep now and you will wake up safely in your car a little later. 

"Just to ensure that you don't forget to keep your mouth shut, when you're asleep we are going to put the gun that killed the little slut in your hand and fire it. That will leave evidence that you've fired a gun on your clothes. We'll make sure yours will be the only fingerprints on the gun and the ammunition inside it. If you decide to forget what I've told you and talk to the Garda or anyone, then the tart's body and the gun will turn up somewhere where the Garda will be sure to find it. And you, my friend, you will go to prison for a very long time. The boys used your car to take her body away from here, so I suspect there'll be some of her blood in there as well, so you might want to get rid of that car."

"One more thing," Pat said. "If we need anymore information from you, we'll call you. Don't be going telling us any lies now, or the girl's body will show up. Do you understand?"

Garfield nodded at Pat to affirm that he did.

"Okay, put him out," Pat instructed.

The man put the cloth to Garfield's nose and in a few moments he was unconscious. 

With a gesture of his head, Pat told Kathy and me to follow him. He led us outside, where we got directly into a waiting car. 

"Well, you know what you're dealing with now. I should think that all you need to know is in that safe in that office in London. Are you going to tackle it yourself or let the police deal with it?" Pat asked.

"The police I think. But, Pat, was shooting that girl really necessary?" I asked. To be honest I was feeling very uncomfortable and guilty about that.

I didn't like the slight smile that came onto Pat's face. "Yes and no, but we really needed your reaction to it, to convince Garfield that we were serious. Don't worry; he saw the way you reacted and that scared the shit out of the bugger."

"It scared the shit out of me as well, Pat; I'm responsible for that girl's death. I'm not sure I can live with the memory," I replied.

"Ah, now, don't you go worrying yourself about that girl. The memory will soon fade. That I can promise you," Pat commented in an off-hand manner.

"Father! That's not...." Kathy began to say, but Pat interrupted her.

"Not now, Kathy. There's a right time and place for everything," He said to her.

From then on, the journey back to the farm was quiet until Pat said, "You'd better give me that gun now. I'll arrange to have it well cleaned. We can't have your finger prints all over the place, can we?"

Few moments later the car pulled into the farmyard. The three of us got out of the car without speaking and the driver drove off again.

"Well, did I do well?" A female voice asked as we entered the house. I was shocked and pleasantly surprised to see the young woman who'd been shot earlier sitting at the table drinking tea.

"You deserve an Oscar for that performance, Margo! Your timing was perfect," Kathy replied. "You didn't hurt yourself when you fell, did you?"

"Well, I could have a couple of bruises and the boys weren't too gentlemanly when they carried me out. I slapped Billy for having a little grope, the little pervert. I was more worried that I'd made a convincing show of it."

"You had Tony here convinced," Pat said. "When Garfield saw his reaction, he was totally convinced."

"Did you find out everything you wanted, Tony?" Margo now turned her attention to me. 

"Sorry, I'm still in shock, young lady. I thought you were dead. But, yes, thank you, I think we know all that we need to."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Pat said. "We had to have you convinced that there could be some violence. That was why we played out that little charade with the gun this morning. Garfield saw how you reacted to Margo apparently getting shot and took his cue from you. If you hadn't been nervous and shocked, he might have not fallen for it."

"Shocked! I nearly had a nasty accident."

"Don't worry. Garfield did have an unfortunate accident. You didn't have to stand as close to him as I did," Pat said, grinning from ear to ear. Then he went on. 

"Tell me, Tony, how are you going to tell your inspector Morris about that safe at the Film Company. Don't you think he's going to be interested in how you got hold of the information?" 

"I haven't worked that one out yet. But I'm going to have to do it quickly. There's nothing to stop Garfield from flying over there and emptying the safe tomorrow."

"Oh, he won't be leaving the country for some time I can assure you. But if you'd like, we can get the information to your police inspector first thing in the morning and it will not be traceable to you."

"How could we do that?"

"Well, one of those guys in masks - the only one with a gun loaded with live ammunition - actually was a detective with the Garda. He was just there as an observer and to make sure we that didn't actually injure Garfield. It pays to stay on the right side of the Garda. He can contact your inspector and tell him that he had picked the information from an informant if you'd like. It would keep you right out of it."

"Go for it, Pat. It would save me answering some very awkward questions."

Pat picked the telephone up and walked out of the room with it. When he'd gone Kathy spoke.

"Now, Tony, I'm sorry but its payback time. Margo here would like to move to London. Do you think you can find her a decent job in that big company of yours? I think she's earned that much, at least," she explained.

"Of course I'll find you something, Margo. But what about you, Kathy? Didn't you say earlier that you were thinking of moving over as well? You'd be closer to your father."

Kathy's eyes lit up. "Yes, I've been thinking about it, but I'll have to speak to Pat."

Pat came back into the kitchen carrying the small travelling bag he'd had with him on the journey over to Ireland. He put it on the table and reached inside.

"Here you go, Tony, your change - £4000," he said, pulling the four bundles from his bag and throwing them on the table in front of me.

"A thousand? Is that all it has cost?"

"Two hundred each for the five guys," Pat replied.

"But what about yourself? And Margo and Kathy?" I asked in astonishment.

"Ah, now, Margo's got a favour to ask you." Pat grinned back at me.

"I've already asked Tony about Margo," Kathy interrupted, "and he's fine with the idea. But, father, Tony's invited me to go over as well. What do you think?"

"That's up to you, Kathy. It would be nice to have you near. We'd see a lot more of each other."

Kathy threw her arms around her father's neck and kissed him. "I'll go and pack!" she said and left the room.

"Just a minute, Kathy," I said. She stopped and looked at me.

"You'll need some money to get yourself set up in London. Here, you need this," I said, throwing one of the wrapped £1000 to her.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Of course I am. I expected this little party to cost me much more than it has. Here, Margo, you have this one. You definitely deserve it after your performance. And Pat, you keep the other two. You called in some debts to lay this all on. You deserve your fee," I said, throwing the last two bundles to him.

"I did this for Emily, not for money," Pat said.

"So you did but you shouldn't be out of pocket for doing a good turn."

"Okay, Tony, if you insist. Here, girls, one each, but be careful how you spend it," Pat said as he threw the two bundles to the girls.

Margo came over to me, put her arms around me and kissed me. "If only you weren't married," she said.

"I'm flattered but I'm much too old for you, Margo," I replied smiling.

"I think there's plenty of life in you yet," she replied.

"Hey, cut it out, Margo. I saw him first." Kathy said laughingly, and then she disappeared to pack her bags.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Tony! Tony, wake up! Where have you been and who are those women in your bed?" Emily demanded, as she almost shook me hard enough to dislodge me from the sofa, where I'd settled myself when we'd arrived at the house during the night. 

I sat up to see a very concerned looking Emily, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa.

End of part six.



The Video Tape Ch. 07



 As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. Also for the speed in which they both turn around the chapters of this story. As I often play around with a story after they have read it, I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story.

I regret that the posting of this chapter has unfortunately been delayed by circumstances outside of my control. 

"Tony! Tony, wake up! Where have you been and who are those women in your bed?" Emily demanded, as she almost shook me hard enough to dislodge me from the sofa, where I'd settled myself when we'd arrived at the house during the night. 

I sat up to see a very concerned-looking Emily, kneeling on the floor beside the sofa.

"You know I told you I had some things to do, Emily, and those two young ladies gave me some assistance. They needed somewhere to stay in London until they find a flat or something so I've invited them to stay here in 'my' house for a few days," I replied.

"Where have you been and what have you been doing?" Emily asked, looking surprisingly concerned to my mind.

"Please, Emily, I asked you not to enquire. What you don't know is better for all concerned. But believe me, I did it for you as well as myself."

Emily sat back on her heels and stared at me for what appeared to me to a long time. Then she suddenly got up before asking.

"Do you want any breakfast now, or are you going to sleep a little longer?"

"Yes, I'm quite hungry actually. I'll see if the girls want anything yet."

"No, you won't. They're still in bed. I'll ask them. What are their names?" Emily replied with a look on her face that I couldn't really discern.

"Margo and Kathy," I replied and Emily disappeared in the direction of the stairs.

I went into the downstairs washroom to wash the sleep out of my eyes.

By the time I got into the kitchen Emily was busy frying and Bridget was eating her cereal.

"Morning, Dad," Bridget said as she stood up to give me a kiss as if I hadn't been away. Then, "Where have you been and who are your two friends?" 

Then she gave me a strange look and gestured with her head and eyes towards Emily, who had her back turned towards us as she worked at the stove. Bridget finished her little display off with a wink. I had no idea what she was trying to tell me so I had to let it go. I just gave her a quizzical look and shrugged my shoulders at her, but she just shrugged her shoulders back at me again. This sign language conversation was getting us nowhere so I gave up.

"Well, who are they?" Bridget tried again.

"Just a couple of young ladies who need somewhere to stay in London for a few days, Bridget. Nothing for you to worry your head about." 

"Oh, I'm not worried, Dad!" Bridget replied and went through the same little routine again. I just shrugged back at her. As I still didn't have the faintest idea what she was on about.

Suddenly Kathy appeared at the kitchen door followed by Margo. So I did the formal introductions as they sat down to eat the breakfast that Emily had prepared.

"Are you driving me to school today, Dad?" Bridget asked, in a tone of voice that said that I was, whether I had planned to or not. I looked at Emily but she had a neutral face.

"Sure, Bridget, if that's what you want. Just let me finish eating. Do you want to come along for the ride, girls?" I asked Margo and Kathy.

I'm not sure but I think something passed between the two girls and Bridget. Look, I'm not into what goes on inside the female mind, but I was sure those young women and Bridget communicated in some way.

"No, we're still a little tired, Tony. If you don't mind, we'll take it easy for a while and see you later," Kathy said.

As the girls weren't coming, I told Emily I'd go directly to the office after dropping Bridget at school, just to see whether there was anything I needed to deal with. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

"Okay, young lady, what was all that about in the kitchen?" I asked Bridget after I'd backed the car out of the drive.

"Kathy and Margo are two very pretty Ladies!" Bridget replied.

"Yes, they are!" I agreed.

"Very pretty and very nice!" Bridget repeated.

"Yes, they are."

"And you've been away with them for nearly a week."

"Come on, Bridget, I was only away for fours days."

"Well?" Bridget said to me. I gathered that was a question, but I had no idea what Bridget was asking.

"Well what?" I replied.

"Crikey, Dad, what was mum so up-tight about? Is one of them your girlfriend or something. Oh, or are they both your girlfriends? Is my dad going to have a harem of women chasing after him?"

"Bridget, what the devil are you talking about? Kathy and Margo are just a couple of friends of mine."

"Well, Dad, I believe that's not what mother thinks." 

"How would you know? Anyway your mother doesn't care what I do. You know she hates me really."

"Dad, Mother does say she hates you, I'll give you that. Only she never says it when she thinks I can hear. But for someone who hates another person, she sure does a lot of worrying about you. And she gets terribly jealous that Stella spends so much time with you as well." 

"I think you are misreading your mother. She gets angry that Stella has been my secretary for so long and that I came to rely on her so much." 

"You think what you want to think, Dad, but I believe Mother's jealous of any woman that gets anywhere near to you. And, boy, was she up-tight when she saw Kathy and Margo in your bed this morning."

"Oh, Bridget, she was probably just surprised to find them sleeping in my room. Damned thoughtless of me really. I could have called your mother from Holyhead last night and warned her what was happening."

I dropped Bridget at her school and then went into the office where I made arrangements for Kathy and Margo to meet with our personnel manager. I told him to make up his own mind where they would fit into the company, but he was to find them worthwhile positions. I hadn't asked either girl what experience they'd had, so it was up to him to find all that out.

In the privacy of my office I vaguely told Stella about the week's events. She scolded me terribly for going over there, but then congratulated me on being successful. Stella also enquired about Kathy and Margo. She'd overheard my telephone conversation with the personnel manager.

Stella informed me that Emily hadn't been to her job whilst I'd been away. Emily's boss had called Stella because he was worried about Emily and wondered what was going on, as she had asked for a few days compassionate leave. 

You know, it hadn't even entered my head that Emily wasn't getting ready to go to work that morning.

There were a few things for me to look over in the office and a couple of people I had to see. Stella, who was really acting as my personal assistant by then, had kept most things up to date. Around two in the afternoon after having lunch with Stella and a couple of the directors, I went home to see what was happening there.

I arrived home to an empty house; there was no sign of Emily or the girls. This I found worrying, but I don't know why. I unpacked my suitcase and was in the middle of putting the put-you-up up in my office-come-den when the telephone rang. It was Emily; she told me that she and the girls would pick Bridget up from school.

They arrived home with Stella's children in the car as well and then all hell broke loose in the house with the children playing. I'm not too sure I'd liked the idea of all six of them jammed into the BMW but they made it home safely.

Kathy and Margo seemed to get on with the children like a house on fire. As it was raining outside they were playing indoors and being very loud about it. I thought boys played noisily and girls played like little ladies. Shows you what I knew. 

Emily demanded my assistance in the kitchen whilst she cooked a meal for nine. Stella and her husband would be there later. We were still in the habit of whoever picked the children up from school cooked the evening meal. It had become a tradition by then.

Actually I'm not too sure that I was of much assistance to Emily in the kitchen. I think I've said before that my cooking skills are not far short of being lethal, but Emily kept finding me menial tasks to perform.  A couple of times Kathy and Margo offered their help, but they were politely told by Emily that they were guests and would not be needed.

It could be that I noticed a slight atmosphere there that evening. But later I thought I must have been mistaken, because Emily and the girls appeared to get on so well together. Over the next few days Margo and Kathy spent most of their time with Emily. She took more time off of work so that she could take them to their interview with my personnel manger and she took them flat hunting. It was only after about three days that I realised that I hadn't been alone with either of the girl's since I'd returned from Ireland; Emily always seemed to be around.

On my fifth day back I received a call from Inspector Morris. He told me that unexpectedly some significant progress had been made. There had been a police raid on a small film company's premises the previous day. Apparently quite a lot of interesting evidence had been recovered, but he said he couldn't enlarge at the time. 

He went on to say that the investigation into the five men had turned now into an international affair with law enforcement agencys in several countries taking an active interest. He wouldn't say which ones though. But he added that he was no longer the senior British officer on the case. Although I'd known that the fraud squad had outranked him already. I think he was really telling me that he couldn't keep me abreast of what was going on in the future.

That afternoon just after I got home from the office, Kathy said she'd like to go visit her father that evening. I, of course, said I'd drive her and Margo over there. I really wasn't expecting the reaction I got from Emily or the girls, when I offered. The girls at first said they'd find their own way, but I wouldn't hear of them going to that area of London unescorted - well, not until they knew the ropes. Emily's tone was extremely sharp with me, right up until the girls and I left the house.

"I think we need to find somewhere to live quite quickly." Kathy said as we drove over to the pub.

"Oh, there's no real hurry girls. Wait until you find something you really like," I replied.

"I'm thinking that Emily will be climbing the walls by then!" Margo added from the back seat.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Tony, Emily has been very kind to us while we've being staying with you. But she's extremely jealous where you're concerned, and she certainly does not like either of us being alone with you."

"You know, Bridget said something about that the other day, but I can't understand why. Emily and I aren't actually married anymore; you and Margo have been a couple of really good friends to me. Besides if you were anything other than just my friends, there's nothing Emily would have to say on the subject. Let's face it, she doesn't really like me; she's only living in the house to be with Bridget."

"Do you really believe that?" Kathy asked.

"Of course I do! You must understand, girls, I was responsible for some very nasty things happening to Emily. That's why I am after those men; they really messed up my life when they decided to attempt to blackmail Emily.

"As for Emily being jealous, you could be right. But more than likely, not in the way you're thinking. Emily has had a really unhappy time of it and I believe she doesn't like the idea of me being too happy."

"But I thought Dad said you wanted to win her back?"

"Oh, make no mistake about it, I'd love to do that. But it would be safer for everyone if you don't hold your breath in the meantime. I know Emily, remember. Somehow I don't think she will ever forgive me."

I parked in a side street near The Royal Oak, and donning my donkey jacket - much to the girls' amusement - led them on the short walk to the pub. This time when I entered, I wasn't (apparently) noticed, although the girls were. The three of us were standing at the bar when Pat came over and joined us, giving both of the girls a fatherly hug.

"You heard anything?" Pat said to me as we all sat at a vacant table.

"Only that the police have raided that film company," I replied.

"Ah, they've cut you off, have they. My people from over the water tell me that three of the buggers have been picked up, one in the States and two in Spain. They are still looking for the other one. I don't think they'll bother with Garfield's uncle; from what I've heard he's going to be a goner any day now."

"Christ, that was quick!"

"Yeah, apparently there was all kinds of information in that safe. From what I've heard they have arrested them on money laundering charges to start with. But those guys were into just about everything. Drug smuggling, arms dealing, you name it, they had their hands in the pie."

I sat and mulled over what Pat had said whilst he talked to the girls. After a couple of hours, the girls and I left, with Pat telling me that he'd keep me informed of anything that he picked up from his Garda contacts. 

When we arrived home, Emily was still up waiting for us, and she fell into conversation with the girls about what they and Pat had talked about. Emily, although she didn't mention it to me, was apparently well aware of who Pat was and that he'd helped me in some way in Ireland.

A couple of days later the girls moved into a nice flat about a mile away from my house and the following Monday both of them started work in my offices. I saw very little of them in the office, except for a couple of lunch times when I invited them to join Stella and myself for lunch.

Life at home returned to normal. Well, as normal as it could be under the circumstances. Emily was pleasant to me, that's really as far as it went. I tended to like it better when there were other people around, as Emily appeared to be much nicer to me when we had company.

Then one night as I was driving home - Stella was collecting the children that evening so I was going there for dinner - I passed the block that Kathy and Margo's flat was in. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something; I almost didn't see it, but I thought I saw Emily's car parked in the buildings car park.

At the next roundabout I did a U-turn and went back. Sure enough, it was Emily's car but there was no sign of her. I did another U-turn and carried on to Stella's house, and half an hour later Emily arrived. I thought about asking Emily what she was doing at the girls' flat, but then I thought better of it. For all I knew she might not have been in the girls' flat, but in another one. That was a thought I wish I hadn't had.

++++++++++++++++

The fact that the three men had been arrested came out in the newspapers a few days later. The reason given for their arrest was that they were suspected of laundering drug money through companys they owned. To be honest it all sounded a little vague. The papers also suggested that officials were looking into their dealings on the London stock market but that was vague as well.

A couple of days after the story appeared in the newspapers, I came out of my office one evening to find Inspector Morris standing on the pavement waiting for me. I went over to say hello.

"John, there's someone who wants to speak to you. Have you got a few minutes?" he asked.

Then without waiting for my answer he led me to a Jaguar parked by the curb; the inspector opened the rear door and gestured for me to join the man already sitting in there. No sooner had I seated myself than inspector Morris closed the door and the car drove away.

"I'm afraid your little excursion took us completely by surprise, Mr Bartholomew. The inspector asked you to be patient and wait, but you decided to take things into your own hands. You realise you could be arrested for what you did over in Ireland."

Then the man produced a large manila envelope that he passed to me.

"Who are you and where are we going?" I asked. To be honest I was beginning to feel a little worried.

"You don't have to worry about who I am, Mr Bartholomew. I'm a servant of Her Majesty's Government; that's all you need to know. Going to Ireland was a dangerous thing for you to have done. But it did turn up the piece of information that we'd been looking for some time, so there wont be any repercussions for you or your friends. I'm afraid I can't say the same for Peter Garfield though.

"In that envelope are all the written records of your wife's conviction for wasting police time. It has been squashed. Letters of apology are on the way to her in the post. We thought you might wish to burn those files together. I'm afraid no official announcement is going to be made. We believe it could prove too dangerous.

"Although most of the people in question are in custody, I fear some of their associates will not be apprehended. If any of them know about what happened all those years ago, it wouldn't take them long to put two and two together and come up with the two of you. Well, we've enough dead bodys lying around already. 

"Oh, yes, Mr Bartholomew, your action in Ireland did lead to the death of Peter Garfield. He was found shot dead last evening. There has also been a rather futile attempt on his uncle's life as well. Several other quite prominent businessmen and women have been killed in Europe whilst others have disappeared there and in the States. Whether of their own volition or not, we don't know yet.

"Now for what you and your wife will want to know. It could be that you're not going to be too pleased about what I'm going to tell you. The men in custody have been quite clever at what they have been doing, and we believe that the only charges that we will be able to make stick are gong to be for the laundering of drug money. The Yanks think they've got a good chance of getting them on illegal arms trading. And of course the one the Yanks like best, tax evasion. Uncle Sam does like his share of the cake. 

"At the moment the plan is that the three that we have in custody will be tried in the UK for money laundering and some other illegal business practises they have got up to over here. We think they will go down for some time for those. Then the Yanks can have them and they should go down for even longer over there. Quite vindictive, the American courts."

"What about what they tried to do to Emily, and all those other women?"

"Ah, now, we haven't been able to understand what they were trying to achieve there. We know they did manage to blackmail quite a few women over the years. As far as we can gather they used to use the women's services as incentives for people to do business with them. But in later years they don't appear to have been doing that. It seems they were using the women for their own pleasure, and because they liked having control over them. They could be quite sadistic bastards when they wanted to be. 

"Oh, and Peter Garfield wasn't as honest as he could have been with you there. Not surprising under the circumstances. He apparently liked to enjoy himself with those women as well. But I think we'd better not talk about that little excursion of yours and Mr Pat Connolly.

"The trouble we have is that their victims - well, the later ones that we've been able to trace - aren't enthusiastic about giving evidence against them. To be honest, we haven't found one who is even prepared to talk to us. They are all either too embarrassed or frightened of reprisals. Our boys have been moving in some very violent circles in the last few years."

"Now these three and the other one – Garfield - when we find him, are going to spend a very long time behind bars, that I can promise you. The best thing that you and your wife can do now is get on with your lives and try to forget about all that has happened in the past."




The Video Tape Ch. 07



"Wouldn't it be nice if we could do just that," I replied, "but somehow I don't think it is ever going to happen." 

"I'm sorry, Mr Bartholomew, but it's the best advice I can give you. Try to stay away from the courts when they are being tried if you can. At the moment we are pretty sure they don't know about your involvement in their arrest. It's safer for you and your wife if that's the way things remain."

"Did you find out why that second tape was sent to me?"

"We're not sure. Old man Garfield has been ill for sometime. He was the boss-man at one time. We think it could have been that there was a change of leadership in the gang some time back and the old man held a grudge. Then he found out he was dying and there is a possibility that he's been helped along the way, we can't be sure. Maybe something will turn up in the autopsy, but I doubt it.

"Honestly I think old man Garfield wanted you to do exactly what you did do and go to the police. The evidence in that safe was very selective there wasn't much on the old man himself, mainly the other men.

"We found a copy of the instructions he'd given his nephew to follow. He'd given him strict orders on what hotel to stay at and even on what rank he was to find the taxi on, to deliver the tape to you. It seems pretty obvious to us that the old man had intended that the police trace Peter quite easily. Then after the old boy died, Peter was to fly from Dublin to London using the same alias as he had the first time. We believe the old man was expecting us to follow Peter Garfield then and that's when he thought we'd get our hands on all that evidence."

"But surely by doing that, he would have implicated his nephew." I said.

"There's no honour among thieves, Mr Bartholomew. I can only assume that his nephew had upset the old boy sometime in the past. Now its up to you. I'd suggest you let justice take its course from now on and leave everything to us.

"By the way, you might like to inform Mr Connolly that, providing he keeps his nose clean, we are no longer interested in the whereabouts of Sean MacBride; Mr Connolly will understand what I'm talking about. Tell him what happened all those years ago is water under the bridge as far as we are concerned. The decision has been made that it would not be in the public interest to charge anyone over the event."

"I don't understand?"

"Don't worry, Mr Connelly will. Just make sure you tell him what I told you. Sean MacBride is one person we don't want to see or hear of again." 

I suddenly realised the car had stopped beside my own car in the company car park.

"Well, good night and good bye, Mr Bartholomew. It's been so nice meeting you." The man said, holding his hand out for me to shake as at the same time the driver got out and then came around to open the door for me. "And remember, leave the rest of this to the professionals."

I stood there and watched the black Jaguar drive out of the car park followed by Inspector Morris's car. The inspector gave me a knowing look from the passenger seat as his car left.

Out of context here, the fourth man, Harcourt, had done a complete vanishing act and was never found whilst he was alive. Several years later, he turned up dead or more likely executed in Argentina. I learned of his death in an English language Argentinean newspaper that arrived out of the blue, in the post one day.

++++++++++++++++++++

I was late home to dinner that evening - Emily had collected the children from school - everyone else was eating when I entered the house. Both Emily and Stella were very curious as to where I had been, but I didn't want to discuss it over the dinner table in front of the children. 

After dinner whilst Stella's husband kept the children busy in the lounge, I went though most of the afternoon's events with Emily and Stella in the kitchen. 

"So they are not going to be charged for what they did to me?" Emily said when I had finished.

"No, I'm afraid not, Emily."

"Probably for the best, since the press might have gotten interested," Emily said almost nonchalantly.

"Who was this man?" Stella asked.

"I haven't got the faintest idea. He must work for the government but he made it plain that he wasn't going to tell me. But he did give me this," I said, pulling the file the man had given me out of my briefcase. "He said we might want to burn it together."

Emily looked through the file and I could see her face getting angry. Then she slammed the file shut and demanded that I get the Bar-B-Q lighting fluid before storming out of the back door. I looked at Stella for a moment but she nodded that I should do as Emily asked.

"Have you read this?" Emily demanded when I arrived at the Bar-B-Q.

"No, I haven't had the time," I replied.

"Good," she replied, then taking the lighting fluid from my hand she poured it on the file that was lying in the Bar-B-Q.

"Well, light it then!" she demanded.

So I set the papers alight and we watched the file burn to ashes. Emily cleaned out the Bar-B-Q afterwards and she was to never mention the incident or the file again.

But someone else was to tell me what that file contained, a year or so later. 



The Video Tape Ch. 08



 For reasons that were completely out side of my control the completion and posting of this chapter was delayed, for which I apologise to the readers. 

As usual I thank my LadyCibelle and Techsan for their patience, proof reading, editing skills and of course encouragement. Also for the speed in which they both turn around the chapters of this story. As I often play around with a story after they have read it, I take full responsibility for the content and any cock-ups in this story. 

*

Chapter eight

I'm not sure, but I thought I noticed a slight change in Emily's behaviour towards me in the days following the burning of that police file. I wouldn't say her attitude softened; it was more like she was somehow frightened of me or nervous about something anyway. Really it is difficult to explain. When we spoke to each other about anything, she appeared to take a quick glance back at me after turning away, as if to check the expression on my face. 

I know that Bridget picked up on this nervousness in Emily and asked me a couple of times whether Emily and I had had an argument, but I could only tell her that we hadn't. Looking back now I'm surprised that I never tied Emily's strange behaviour to the damned police file and her haste to destroy it. The look of relief on her face when I said I hadn't had time to even look at it, should - I suppose - have registered in my mind at the time. But for some reason I'd put it down to her knowing she no longer had a police record.

Something else that should have registered in my mind was that civil servants don't normally destroy records or hand them over to anyone else to destroy. Unless they've made a huge cock-up somewhere in the works, so whatever the guy in the big black limo claimed, I should imagine there's a copy of the file he gave me kicking around in London somewhere.

After a week or so, things at home returned to their strange normal. But I was beginning to think that we couldn't go on like that. In the end surely our strange home life was going to have some effect on Bridget. I'm not sure when I started making plans in my head, but it was a month or so after the file burning incident that I started covertly looking for a flat.

Asking Emily to move out of the house just wasn't in the cards. I thought it was only fair that she lived in the house with Bridget and I moved into a nearby flat from where I'd be quickly available for Bridget. This was one of the few times that I didn't discus my plans with Stella but she very quickly picked up that I was up to something. Stella could read me like a book, but, with everything that had gone on, I found it quite easy to fob her off though.

I'd found that I'd started going out on my own some evenings, I think to get away from the strange atmosphere in the house, and it could be that's when I first thought of the idea of moving out. Or it might have been the regular presence of Emily's car outside in the same block that the girls lived in. They had never mentioned that Emily was visiting them and I didn't ask, so I could only assume that she was going elsewhere. I can't be sure why I didn't ask the girls; maybe I didn't want to know the answer to that question.

I met up with Pat a couple of times for a quiet drink. The first time we met, I told him about what the man in the Jag had told me about Sean MacBride. Pat asked to repeat the message several times, then he sat back and smiled.

"Well now, that's something I never expected to hear, John. Sean MacBride died many years ago, but its nice to know that the police also consider him dead and buried and aren't looking for him any more. It puts a closure on things that should never have happened."

I asked Pat who Sean MacBride was, as I suspected that it was Pat's real name. But Pat, politely refused to answer my questions. I think I told you earlier that I knew that Connolly was not Pat or Kathy's real surname.

Pat asked me how things were going at home between Emily and myself; I could only tell him that they weren't going well. I almost let him in on my plans to move out of the house, but for some reason I didn't. Strange that, as I trusted that man more than anyone else in my life at that time. But I didn't even tell him of my plans.

I made sure that Emily, Bridget and I went out together - for a meal or to the cinema - at least twice a week. I was still hoping that Emily's attitude would change, but it didn't appear to in my opinion.

About four or maybe five times over the following few months Emily went out straight from work on Friday evenings. Other than asking her whether she'd had a nice time, I didn't enquire where she'd been, or whom she'd been with. I didn't think it was my place to. 

But Bridget did in my hearing on a couple of occasions and she received - what I took to be - some very non-committal answers from Emily.

Then I began to notice that a couple of times, when it was Stella or my turn to pick up Bridget from school, Emily would turn up late for dinner. And on those occasions I didn't get the impression that she'd just come from the office either. After a few weeks I began to notice that this happened regularly every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon.

Some subtle enquiries made of Emily's employer who, as I've said before was a friend of mine, informed me that Emily was making full use of the flexitime working arrangements that had been initiated in his company. Respecting Emily's privacy, he wouldn't divulge to me Emily's actual working hours, or any time off that she had been taking during the day. Remember although he and I were friends, Emily and I, although we lived in the same house, were not married and he was well aware of that fact. 

I think I made a mistake by asking him. Probably if I'd asked Stella to enquire, I would have discovered more; Stella can be a little subtler than I can. But we tend to think of these things after the fact, don't we?

I'm not sure when the idea came into my head but I was pretty sure that Emily had found someone at her place of employment that she was getting close to. I was also convinced that whoever it was, most likely lived in the same block as the girls. The fact that the girls blanked me when I made - what I thought - were subtle enquires about Emily's car being parked outside their block convinced me that I was on the right track. After all what would have been the problem in them telling me that she was visiting them.

Just to make sure, one evening when I knew the girls were going straight over to meet Pat from work, I swung past their flat on the way home. Sure enough Emily's car was parked in the car park and she arrived late for dinner at Stella's house again that evening. That was the clincher as far as I was concerned. It was time for me to go.

Well, then I had the unenviable task of telling everyone that I was moving out of the house. I believe I made a mistake there as well. I told Emily and Bridget when we were having dinner together one Sunday. Emily just sat and stared at me, whilst for a little while, Bridget - who didn't speak either - just sat looking from me to Emily and back for a long time before she spoke.

"Why, Dad?" Bridget asked.

"I'm sorry, Bridget, we can't go on like this. Your mother and I are two different people to who we were all those years ago. After what happened I don't think that we can ever be a family again like I'd hoped, and it's only fair that I go. Your mother has missed so much of your growing-up and I think she's the best person to guide you through these next few years."

Bridget went back to her looking between the two of us again; Emily hadn't broken her silence yet.

"Mother, you can't let Dad leave," Bridget finally said to Emily.

Emily looked at our daughter but still didn't say anything. Then she suddenly jumped out of her seat and ran from the room. I heard her run up the stairs and slam her bedroom door.

"I'm sorry, Bridget, but this just isn't working. Your mother and I need to move on with our lives now; whatever I feel in my heart, I have to let her go."

"But you love her, Dad!"

"Yes, I do, but she doesn't love me, Bridget. I've told you a thousand times I let your mother down very badly and I don't think she will ever be able to forgive me for doing that."

"But I'm sure that Mother does love you, Dad."

"Even if she does Bridget, love isn't everything. You have to have trust and I destroyed any trust your mother had in me many years ago."

"I'm going to talk to Mother," Bridget announced and left me alone with all the half-eaten meals.

I'd lost my appetite as well, so I cleared away the dishes and washed up. Then I went to my room and completed the rest of my packing. I'd been furtively packing my stuff up for the previous week.

Both girls were in Emily's room when I'd finished loading the car. They must have heard me carrying my bags down the stairs, but they didn't come out. I knocked on Emily's bedroom door quietly but neither answered me.

"I'm leaving now. I've left my new address on the kitchen table," I called through the door.

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I started making my way down to the car. I had no sooner got to the bottom of the stairs, when Bridget came dashing down after me.

"Dad, wait! Don't go, please?" she begged.

"Bridget, I'm sorry but I have to. I've tried, but it just isn't working," I replied.

Then I kissed her and left for my flat.

+++++++++++++++++++++

"What the hell sort of game do you think you're playing?" Stella demanded as I walked into my office the following morning.

One look at her told me that Stella was really on the warpath. She had obviously heard from Bridget or Emily and I was in for the full works.

"Stella, it just wasn't working so I...."

"What wasn't bloody working?" Stella demanded.

"Well, you know, Emily and me."

"Christ, you know you're a bloody moron sometimes, Tony. What the hell did you think you were doing announcing that you were going to move out, and then ten minutes later you're gone."

"It wasn't quite that quickly."

"Not far off it, from what Bridget told us. Kathy, Margo and I've been round your place all damn night with Emily crying on our shoulders. Blimey, John, both Emily and Bridget are crying their eyes out. You know you can be a dammed insensitive bastard sometimes."

"But I...."

"None of your bloody buts. We are going to your house right now and sort this mess out. Don't you realise, in Bridget's eyes, its going to look like Emily has driven you away. And Emily is never going to forgive herself for separating you from Bridget."

"But that's not what I intended. I was giving Emily space and the opportunity to be with her daughter."

"What the hell does Emily want space for? She's not a bloody teenager."

"Well, she's not comfortable with me around, I'm dammed sure of that! And I think she's got more chance of finding someone if I'm not there than she would have if I was."

"Find someone! Who the hell is she supposed to be looking for?"

"Well, someone to love, I suppose!"

Stella stood up and went over to my office door. She opened it and stared at the sign fixed to it for a couple of moments. Then she looked back at me.

"Anthony Bartholomew, Company Chairman." She read out-loud. Then she slammed the door shut again.

"Tony, how did you manage to become chairman of this damned company when you can't understand your own wife. Don't you think that Emily had all the bloody space she needed in the last ten years? Did you ever hear her talk of any of her conquests whilst you two were apart."

"No. But...."

"What is it with you and these buts all the time. Tony, Emily, no matter how she behaves towards you, is still your wife in her mind and she loves you. I'll give you that there is something troubling her, but you'd better believe me, she still loves you. She always has!"

"I know what is troubling her, Stella. She can't trust me. Emily needs to find someone she can put her trust in."

"Total codswallop, Tony. Emily has being doing her best to sort her problems out and then you... you walk out and bloody abandon her again. Damn it man, didn't she come running home the moment you invited her to? After the way you'd treated her, didn't you find that even the slightest bit surprising?"

"No. Well, if you think about it, it was surprising. But by living at my house, she was close to Bridget and could get back into her life." 

"Look, Tony, Emily's been seeing a counsellor for months now. He's been trying to help her sort out her problems."

"What, a psychiatrist?"

"Yes. No. Well, I suppose so. I'm not up on these things. She's been seeing him on Tuesdays and Thursdays every week. Didn't you ever wonder why she was late those nights or why it worked out that I always picked the children up."

"Don't tell me his office is in the same block Kathy and Margo live in."

"No, the building next door, I believe. Margo told me that she fixed it up for Emily, although I believe the guy lives a couple of doors away from the girls' flat. From what I've heard he's taken quite a shine to Margo."

"Oh, hell, why didn't anyone say something to me?"

"Because Emily asked us not to, I should imagine. She asked me not to tell you. As to why she chose not to tell you, only Emily can answer that question for you. So I think we'd better go to your house and you can ask her."

"But what about those evenings she's being going out?"

"So what's your problem there. Emily goes out for a drink with Kathy and Margo, and a bit of a laugh. Don't you ever go out of the house in the evenings?" 

"Well, yes, you know I do."

"And you aren't chaperoned by two of Emily's friends, are you? What the hell are you worried about there?" 

"She never said who she was going with."

"Did you even ask?"

"Um... no, I didn't. Emily's got the right to do what she wants. It wasn't really my business."

"Perhaps if you had asked, it would have shown her that you care. And then you just up and move out of the house. Didn't you think there was a slight possibility that Emily thought you were meeting someone when you were out on your own in the evenings. That's obviously what you thought she was doing. Now come on, let's get back to your house and sort this mess out."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I pulled into the drive Bridget came running out of the house and threw her arms around me the moment I got out of the car. Stella got out and went into the house leaving my daughter and I standing there. After Bridget had calmed down a little I managed to extract myself from her arms and we followed Stella inside.

Kathy and Margo were coming down the stairs as we entered. I'll not discuss the looks both girls gave me, neither actually spoke. Kathy put her arm around Bridget and led her into the lounge. I gathered that Emily was upstairs so I made my way up there. It was then that I realised just how insensitive a person I really was. Emily wasn't in her own room; she and Stella were in mine. 

There was significance in their location, which suddenly hit home to me. That room had been my space in the house and Emily had chosen to be in there. Emily had chosen to be as close as possible to me.

I entered the room slowly. I'm not sure that Emily had any idea that I'd arrived. With a gesture of my head I asked Stella to leave us alone. Emily who was lying on her stomach on the bed did not look up until she heard Stella close the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, Emily," was all I could think of to say.

Emily looked at me with tears streaming down her face but didn't say anything. So I lay down beside her and took her in my arms.

Emily still didn't speak; she just placed her head on my shoulder and lay there crying for a long time without saying anything. After some time her sobs grew quiet and she fell asleep. It was not a restful sleep for Emily; she did a lot of mumbling but I couldn't make out what she was saying. 

It was lunchtime when Stella brought up some coffee for me and tea for Emily. Stella and the girls had looked in several times during the morning. But I signalled them to let Emily sleep; from what Stella had told me she hadn't slept much during the night. 

Emily was woken by the sound of Stella closing the door. She sat up and looked at me.

"I've made a real mess of it, haven't I?" she finally said to me.

"I'd say we've both made a mess of things for a long time now Emily. I wanted you back into my life and maybe I went about it all wrong."

"No, I couldn't let go of my anger until..." Emily stopped talking and looked sort of vacant for a few seconds. "Until I realised that you were gone again."

"I thought that was what you really wanted, Emily..."

"No, Tony, I just want all of this never to have happened. But there was so much hurt. I couldn't let go of it. Do you know I've been seeing a counsellor?"

"So I gather, but why didn't you tell me? I misread what you were being so secretive about, Emily. I thought you'd found some..."

"No, Tony, I could never do that. You've been the man in my life for so long."

"After what I did to you?"

"You didn't do that. Those animals did that to both of us. It hurt me that you didn't believe me, but when I..." Emily stopped talking again.

"When you what, Emily?"

She looked into my eyes. "Tony, I love you. Can't we forget everything that's happened in the past?"

"If you want to, Emily, I'd only be too pleased to have you back as my wife. It's you who has to be sure, not me."

"I'm sure, Tony," Emily said and lent forward to kiss me.

It might sound odd to some people, but that was all there was to it. Well, almost! For the next hour or so Emily and I were rolling around the bed like a couple of teenagers. Complete with all the usual fumbling around. Suddenly the last ten years and what had happened were not important anymore. Or at least they didn't seem to be. Needless to say the tea and coffee went un-drunk and got cold.

+++++++++++++++

We were prompted to finally leave the bed by the sound of an extremely noisy vehicle exhaust as it pulled up outside the house. I'm not sure what made me look out the window, but when I did, I saw Pat getting out of his old Transit pickup.

"It's Pat Connolly," I replied to Emily, when she asked who it was.

"What's Pat doing here?" She asked.

"Probably come by to kick my arse for me. I think everyone is after my blood now. Come on, we'd better have a shower and go downstairs, so I can face the music."

"Together?" Emily asked.

"Can you think of a better way?"

What I can only call a wicked grin came on Emily's face. 

"Sounds like fun, but I thought the idea was to go down a see what Pat wants." She grinned back at me.

"Don't go thinking of getting too kinky, girl. The on-suite shower cabinet in here isn't that big."

"We'd better use the family one then," she replied, still smiling.

"Not today, Emily. If you like I'll get a bigger one fitted in here in the long term. But we can't go running around the house naked with Bridget and everyone here."

We had a quick shower together, in that tiny cubical - albeit with the pair of us giggling like school kids. Then we got dressed and went down to face Bridget and our friends, who were all in the kitchen drinking tea and coffee.

Emily was firmly attached to my right arm when Bridget noticed us and came running over, almost knocking everybody else's drinks off of the table as she did so. Surprisingly no one said very much. I think all that needed to be said was conveyed by facial expressions. For which read big grins on everyone, but Emily and my faces. The two of us, I think, were looking quite embarrassed as it was obvious to everybody in the room just what we'd been doing for the last hour or so.

"Hi, Pat. To what do we owe the pleasure of you company?" I finally asked. Well, someone had to say something.




The Video Tape Ch. 08



"Kathy was saying that you might be having a nice little flat to sub-let and I was thinking it might be in a nicer part of town than where I live now. And, of course it would be closer to the girls," Pat answered, still grinning at me.

"Kathy could be right there, Pat," I replied.

"Good. Give us your flat keys and we'll go and get you stuff in Dad's truck, It'll save you going," Kathy said holding out her hand.

"But you don't know where it is."

"Flat 12, Victoria Place!" Margo announced. "If Stella hadn't brought you home, we'd have been waiting there for you after work. Now let's have those keys and we'll get going."

+++++++++++++++++++++

Well, they did. They had me moved back into the house in a couple of hours. Stella took Bridget home with her that night and left Emily and me alone together. Like a second honeymoon.

There were a lot of things that Emily and I should have discussed, but we didn't. For the time being at least we'd put everything behind us and looked only to the future. And for the next eight or nine months or so everything did look like it was working out wonderfully for us. Well, I thought so. I know I was as happy as I had been when Emily and I had first married.

It was very strange to get back to regular love making with the woman you love, especially when she'd been so close, but so far away for sometime. 

Over the following months Emily was reintroduced to all the members of my family, with a lot of embarrassment on my family's side and a very forgiving and willingness to forget attitude on Emily's behalf; things went quite smoothly. Bridget always made sure she was in attendance and with the help of Kathy and Margo who she always managed to rope in when the occasion required. The girls managed to work in some extremely subtle changes to the subject being discussed sometimes.

Things didn't go anywhere near as smoothly with Emily's family though; there was a strained atmosphere when her own family visited us. They came over quite often to see their grand daughter. It wasn't surprising really; they had taken my side in the divorce all those years ago and had virtually cast Emily out. 

I know they hadn't been around when Emily needed them. But then again, neither had I. But I'm pretty sure Emily is never going to forgive their behaviour.

Things at home were going pretty good, although Emily was still seeing Margo's counsellor friend, Darren. I got to know the guy quite well as he and Margo had gotten engaged in the ensuing months.

Everything appeared to be going well but! There always has to be a "but", doesn't there? Then the first of the trials for those guys came up and I very soon began to pick up that Emily was worrying about something again. It was those little furtive looks in my direction that I caught now and again, and she had turned very jumpy. Something about her whole demeanour told me she wasn't happy again.

When I asked Emily what was wrong, she denied there was any problem and said it was down to pressure at work. Bullshit, because I'd enquired of her boss and he'd assured me that there was nothing she could be worrying about at the office.

The next obvious person to talk to was Darren. But you know what his answer was: patient confidentiality. He couldn't discuss Emily's case with me and he went as far as saying he was not going to tell Emily I'd enquired. In saying that, it was obvious to me that he knew what Emily's problem was and that it was something she didn't want me to be aware of. I won't go into how I came about that conclusion, but to me it was obvious.

I did talk things over with Stella, Kathy and Margo, and each of them tried to talk to Emily about it, but she wouldn't open up to them either. Darren stonewalled Margo on the subject as well.

It was Kathy who came up with the idea of me asking Pat to have a chat with Emily, to see whether she'd open up to him. As I said Emily had only tentative contact with her own family. Pat had not only been playing a father figure to Margo and Kathy, but appeared to have taken Emily and myself under his wing as well.

Pat had taken to playing golf with me on most Sunday mornings. Talk about surprise, he'd wiped the floor with me the first few times I'd played a round against him. Certainly made me pull my socks up and look to my game, I can tell you. 

So one Sunday after our game I tackled the subject of Emily with him at the nineteenth. I told him that I was sure that something was worrying her and whatever it was I was beginning to worry that it involved me. I told him I didn't want to lose her again.

Pat said he'd try to talk to Emily about it, when the opportunity presented itself. But he went on to tell me that he would respect any confidence that Emily placed on him. I told him that I would expect him to, but he should impress on Emily that I was worried that something could come between us again and I didn't want that to happen.

A strange atmosphere developed in the house over the next few weeks. I'd already cancelled my morning newspaper delivery, and Bridget and I tried to avoid newscasts on the television. I'm not sure that it was a good idea or whether Bridget picked up the idea from me. I was trying to shut out any mention of the big court case going on, in case it upset Emily. I'm pretty sure that Emily knew what we were doing, but she didn't say anything.

One afternoon I was sat in the office when Stella took a call from Pat. The call was short with Stella, after she'd said hello to Pat, saying little more than affirmatives.

"Pat wants us to meet him at his flat right away. Emily is going to collect the children today," she said as she replaced the handset.

I think I just looked at Stella.

"Sounds to me like he met Emily at lunchtime. This could be what you've been waiting for."

"But am I going to like what Pat tells me?"

"Think abut it, Tony, if it was something that you didn't want to hear, would Pat tell you?" Stella suggested. 

"If it was anyone else but Pat, I might agree with you. But with Pat I'm not so sure," I replied.

"I'm sure he's got Emily and your best interests at heart."

"Emily's I'm sure of! Mine? Well, let's just say Emily's I'm sure of," I replied as I picked up my jacket.

+++++++++++++++

Fifteen minutes later Stella and I were sitting in the kitchen of, what was now, Pat's flat. Stella was watering down the mug of tea that Pat had made us. I'm damn sure you could spread Pat's tea on bread.

"Okay, Tony, I've spoken to Emily and I know what's been troubling her. But before I tell you I want you to tell me some things," Pat said.

"Whatever you want to know, Pat," I replied.

"Oh, it's not what I want to know. It's what you know or think that counts here. Tell me about Emily."

"Well, what's to tell? You know her pretty well by now."

"No, Tony, I want you to tell me about the Emily you married, not the Emily who's living in your house now. The woman you fell in love with and married." 

"Oh, I see. Yeah she's changed a lot, what with everything that's happened!" I replied.

"Well?" Pat said.

I'm not sure why, but I took a quick glance in Stella's direction; maybe I was looking for guidance or moral support, but Stella was poker faced and said nothing. Then I sat back and remembered happier times and the Emily that I'd married.

"Well, she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Vivacious, funny and outgoing; always impeccably groomed and dressed in the latest fashions. Everybody liked her. Damn it, she could have had the pick of any man she wanted, but she chose me."

"What do you mean when you say outgoing?"

"Well, you know, she had every guy in the bloody world trying to chat her up and ... well, she played up to them."

"She flirted with them?" Pat asked as if needing clarification.

"Well, yes, to be honest she did. Emily could be a terrible flirt, but it was just how she was, she was never serious about it. Most guys knew she was just playing around."

"Was she promiscuous?"

Pat's question annoyed me.

"No, she bloody wasn't!" I said angrily. "Before we started going steady, Emily would kiss and cuddle the guys, but that was as far as it went. She was a virgin on our wedding night, I'll have you know."

"Oh, I believe you, Tony, make no mistake. I just want to know what you thought of Emily back then."

"I fell head over heels in love with her the first time I met her."

"Did she flirt with you?"

"You're not kidding she did. But she flirted with all the guys. I know that some of the other girls didn't like the way she could wrap the guys around her finger, but that was Emily."

"After you got engaged, did she still flirt?" 

"Well, yes, but I don't think quite a badly as she had done. I can't say it didn't annoy me a first but kind of got used to it in the end. I knew she didn't mean anything by it."

"So you never got jealous?"

"Oh, yeah, sometimes I did, but as I said, I got used to it after a while. Emily would apologise and try not to do it on purpose. I don't think she could help herself; it was in her makeup. To tell the truth it was quite funny watching the guys running around after her sometimes. I knew none of them would get lucky."

"That isn't what you thought when that first video turned up though, is it?"

"Well, no, but that was completely different."

"So when she was just flirting with guys, you didn't mind because you thought she was behaving herself. But when that tape turned up, you were convinced she did more than flirt."

"Yeah, well, I suppose so. Look, I wasn't an angel by any means; I used to flirt with all the girls, as well you know. But I didn't... I wouldn't have done anything like that and I couldn't understand why Emily would. That's what upset me so much. I loved her."

"Yeah, well, some folks don't think like you do and that's Emily's problem now," Pat said.

"I don't understand what you are getting at."

"Look, I don't really know how to explain this," Pat said, then he thought for a few moments. 

"You know, there's some people who say if a woman wears revealing clothes, like a short skirt or gets drunk, she's asking to get raped."

"Come on, Emily wore the latest fashions, but nothing too revealing," I retorted angrily.

"Let me finish and don't jump to conclusions, Tony. What I'm saying is that people will think all kinds of things. Why do you think those guys thought they could blackmail Emily?"

"I haven't got the faintest idea," I replied.

"Well, do you think it was her behaviour? You know, they saw her flirting all the time and came to the conclusion that she... well, to put it simply, Emily was putting it about a bit," Pat suggested.

"Well, I suppose that they might have assumed that," I replied. "Yeah, I can see that they might have thought she was easy and they thought they could use that against her. But she wasn't easy, was she?"

"Of course she wasn't! But they didn't know that and that's why they probably tried to blackmail her," Pat retorted. "But to make things worse, as far as Emily understands it, most of the women in that office thought she was promiscuous as well. I should imagine most probably through jealousy. Emily comes into the firm and all the guys are running around at her beck and call. You said yourself she was very pretty."

"Yeah, I can imagine," I replied, "she'd have had all the guys in the office running around like lost sheep. She always did have that effect on men," I said smiling to myself now. 

I could remember seeing Emily in action. My mind conjured up the picture of a very pompous and hoity-toity maître de at one of the best restaurants in town - after having told me that there weren't any tables available - melting before my eyes when Emily asked him to find us one. I think we finished up with the best table in the place. And then there was the night I was caught by the police, speeding in the car. Emily flashed her eyes at him and, well, I watched the copper tear up the speeding ticket he'd been writing with a smile on his face.

"Well!" Pat said, bringing me back to reality. "There we have Emily's problem! When she first went to the police with her allegations, the police quite naturally questioned everyone who worked in those offices and the story they got from all the women was that Emily was a slut who'd bedded half the men in the place."

"Do bloody what? You must be kidding me," I said in astonishment.

"No, that's what it said in that police report that you burnt. You didn't read it?"

"I didn't have time. I gave it to Emily the moment I walked through the door. She took a quick look at it and then burnt it," I explained to Pat.

"That's understandable, Emily wanting to do that, but it's a damned shame she did. From what she said, the first things she read were interviews with a couple of the women in the office who accused her of trying to lay every guy in the place. Emily got angry and asked you to burn the file. She didn't want you to read lies like that."

"Are you sure they were lies?" Stella asked.

I looked at Stella.

"Don't look at me like that, Tony. I'm playing devil's advocate here," Stella said in her defence.

"Oh, yeah, Stella, I'm sure they are lies alright," Pat replied to Stella. "Look, Tony, I've known Emily for at least seven years now; ever since she first started working in the café. I'll tell you now that if she had been the kind of woman who'd jump into bed with any guy at the drop of a hat, she wouldn't have been working in a dump like that. More than once, she's had us throw guys out who'd propositioned her. There were plenty of them who wanted to set Emily up in a nice flat somewhere as their mistress."

"You're kidding me?"

"On my mothers grave, Tony. Emily is a fine looking woman, no matter how she tried to dress down. And be-Jesus, if that smile of hers doesn't make any man feel like a king. She could have had the pick of the bunch. Just because it was a working-man's café, now don't you go thinking that all those flash guys with money didn't stop by for breakfast on their way to their fine offices. Or on their way home from a night out on the town."

"Oh, my, poor Emily!" Stella suddenly said.

Pat and I both looked at her, waiting for her to explain her sudden comment.

"I think I've worked out what Emily's problem is, Tony. She's afraid, isn't she, Pat?"

"I believe you're right there, Stella," Pat answered.

"Tony, Emily thinks she brought everything that has happened on herself. She thinks that one day you are going to come to the same conclusion and then... well, her world will fall apart again!"

"You've lost me," I said.

"Pat, Emily didn't flirt with anyone in that café, did she?" Stella asked.

"Not even once to my knowledge." Pat replied.

"Tony, you said yourself, Emily was a flirt."

"Well, so was I!"

"Yes, but your flirting didn't lead to some arsehole - excuse my language - trying to blackmail you into being a prostitute and having your whole world collapse around you. Emily is waiting for the other shoe to fall and she's expecting that something is going to be said in one of those court cases that's gong to make you start blaming her again for everything that happened."

"But that's nonsense, I just want the woman I married back. Damn it, if she'd just flirt once with some guy, I'd be as happy as a sandman. It would show me I had the woman I love back."

"Stella's right on that one, Tony. Emily thinks that any day now you are going to hear about what those girls at the office said about her and then you are going to throw her out again," Pat added.

"But that's ridiculous, damn it! I love the woman. How do I convince her?" 

"I don't think you can convince her, Tony. Self-blame is a bugger of a thing to live with, I can promise you. I blamed myself for what happened to Kathy's mother and the rest of my family for a long time. All you can do is keep reassuring her," Pat said.

"Does she know that you are meeting me today, Pat?"

"No, it's taken me a long time to get her to talk. But I was careful of what I said to her. I didn't promise her I wouldn't tell you. I think I knew what her problem was because I'd felt the same way as she does now, at one time. I got her to talk to me by telling her my story and she told me hers. I believe she thought she was telling me in confidence, but I purposely didn't promise her anything. I hope your not going to let on that I told you."

"I won't tell her, that I promise you, but that doesn't mean she won't work it out at sometime. Anyway I think I know one thing I can do that might help to put her mind at rest. I should have done it sometime back; I don't know if it will work but I'm going to start the moment I get home. Stella, we need to get back to the office. I've got some typing for you to do. Thanks for your help, Pat. Damn it, man, I'm always thanking you."

+++++++++++++++

Stella and I were late for dinner that night, but nobody commented. After the meal Stella told Bridget that she was going home to her house for the night, as Emily and I had things to talk about. After they had all left I could feel the tension in Emily.

Emily was sitting in one of the armchairs in the lounge; I sat opposite her and placed my briefcase on the table.

"Emily, things can't go on like this much longer," I said to her.

I could almost see the tears welling up in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she finally squeaked out.

"Well, you and me living here in sin."

Emily cocked her head to one side and a look of confusion came over her face.

"I think a quiet ceremony without too many guests would be best. What do you think?"

"Are you asking me to marry you again?"

"With a couple of provisos, yes." 

The smile that had started to appear on Emily's face disappeared again.

"What kind of conditions are you making?" she asked.

"Oh, just a little prenuptial agreement. They don't mean much in British courts, but it will make it clear how we both feel. Here, I think you'd better read it before you make any decisions."

I took the agreement that Stella had typed up for me out of my briefcase and gave it to Emily. She read it through slowly.

"But this says here that this house will be mine, all your savings are going to be in my name and you are going to relinquish all parental rights over Bridget to me."

"Yeah, that's about it."

"But why?"

"To prove to you that I love you, and I never intend to let you get away from me again. No matter what happens in the future, or what some people might claim to have happened in the past. Emily, I trust you implicitly no matter what anyone says. Now how about letting me put this on you finger?" I said, taking an engagement ring I'd brought out of my pocket. 

Emily looked at the new ring and began to cry. Then quite suddenly she appeared to get her emotions under control, she jumped out of the chair, ran from the room and upstairs.

"Bugger!" I thought, "We've been here before."

But then I heard her clumping back down the stairs again, in those high heels she always wears.

"Can't we use this one?" she said as she entered the room. Then she handed me the box that contained our original engagement ring.

"Whatever you wish, Emily. But before I put it on your finger I want to ask you something."

Emily looked just a little worried again.

"Is there any chance we might see the fun loving Emily that we used to know? You know, the girl who had the men chasing after her all the time."

"What are you saying, Tony?"

"It's very simple, Emily. When those bastards tried to blackmail you, they had to use forged evidence. Now one has to ask oneself the question why they needed to do that? There's only one answer, isn't there? They couldn't get the goods on the woman they were trying to blackmail because there were no indiscretions to find. I know for sure that with the facilities they had at their disposal, if there was anything for them to find, they would have found it and I'm damned sure filmed it as well. But there wasn't anything for them to film, was there, Emily? That faked up bit of film is the only proof that I need that you never did anything that you shouldn't have.




The Video Tape Ch. 08



"Emily, when we met and married, you were vivacious and fun loving. One of your favourite pastimes was to flirt with just about every guy who came in contact with you and that's the woman I'd like to marry again."

For just a couple of minutes, Emily stared at me without saying anything.

"You really mean that?"

"Yes, Emily, you asked me once if we could forget the past. I will always have trouble living down the fact that I didn't trust you when I should have done. But I would like you to stop thinking that you brought it all on yourself. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with the Emily I married all those years ago.

+++++++++++++++++

Emily and I went before a registrar less than a week later. Then we flew out to Tenerife for our honeymoon. I can't say it's been a smooth ride since, but I know that Emily is happy now.

Margo married Darren in the end. She had the poor guy running around like a tit in a trance for a while. Emily still has the odd session with Darren; Christ alone knows what they talk about but Emily always comes home smiling. 

Kathy? She married a Protestant Irish doctor she met whilst visiting Pat at the hospital when he was in there having a heart bypass done.

Bridget's away at Uni. I worry a bit there, because Bridget's just as good looking as her mother was at her age and she has developed the same vivacious character. Damn it, when she's home for the holidays, she ties up the phone all the time with guys calling her and she appears to con a different guy into driving her home every time she comes. They all seem to have that gooey-eyed look about them that the guys used to get around Emily when we were young.

Emily and I get along fine now, although sometimes I catch her watching me with a far away look on her face. One time when I asked what she was thinking, she smiled and said. "Oh, just how lucky I am to have a man who would risk his life for me."

"But I told you, there was never any real danger when I was in Ireland."

"So you say, Anthony. But from what Pat and Kathy told me, you didn't know that!" she replied. 

Then she got out of the chair she was sitting in and held out her hand to me.

"Let's go up to the bedroom and I'll show you how much I love you."

Life goes on.