Chapter 28 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

28

The individual is handicapped by coming face to face with a conspiracy so monstrous he cannot believe it exists.
J. Edgar Hoover

Alb and Gerry had worked tirelessly with a bit of help from Tom, Wilf and Harry to bring chairs in from the dining area and these were now interspersed between the recliners and wing chairs in the communal lounge. Gerry had over done it and was suffering quietly in a corner, his face mottled and his breathing erratic. Alb was concerned but was pretending not to notice his friend’s distress; unless he took an obvious ‘turn for the worse’, as always Alb supported his friend's right to suffer stoically.

The room had filled slowly and the residents sat chatting desultorily, waiting for the promised guest to arrive. Alb had been deliberately vague about what they should expect, although he had linked it to the conversations they'd been having.

The door at the back of the lounge opened and Mackie shambled in. He was wearing an unseasonably warm, dark navy coat, the collar of which was up round his ears, almost as a cover for his face. Incongruously a rucksack was slung from one his shoulders. He was pushing another man in front of him, this one hooded and with his arms behind his back. Mags took up the rear, eyes darting from side to side, smiling indiscriminately. Alb got up and moved to meet them, his face an amazed question mark; this had not been part of the plan.

"Who in heaven's name is under that hood?” Cynthia’s voice was rich with outrage.

Mags took the floor, her hands in front of her, imploringly, "Okay everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Mackie, an old friend of mine." There was a hint of panic in her eyes, visible to those at the front. "Mackie has seen service at the very top of the chain and is privy to some very sensitive data. I've invited him here today to help guide our deliberations."

“Cynthia’s right,” said Esmé, her Greenham Common instincts coming to the fore, “who's that other chap and why is he restrained?”

“Who involved Mags at this level?" whispered Val to Vera, "Who said she could go around inviting any old body to our meetings? This is very serious; we're getting involved in some dangerous activity. What if he goes and tells the police, or what if he even works for them as some kind of snitch or something?"

“More to the point, who’s he got under that hood? It’s all so unexpected.”

"I agree," said Doris, "she's always poking her nose in trying to boss everyone around and organise everything."

"What's happening, Gil?" whispered Morty, his eyes wide. Gil shook his head and shrugged, waiting for enlightenment.

"Well, I've heard rumours about Mags," said Lenny, leaning across to Dave who was sitting open-mouthed, "seems back in the day she was a spook."

"And you're telling us this now?" Gray shot back, never quite as relaxed as Gil.

Alb found his voice and gesturing to Mackie, he spoke with more authority than he felt, "Thanks for meeting up everyone," his eyes skittered round the room, taking in the general atmosphere of shock and disbelief, it wasn’t often they had a hooded prisoner in the lounge, after all, "I’ll hand you over to Mackie who can explain everything."

He walked over to sit with Gerry, who was still a quite unhealthy colour but had a sparkle of amusement in his eyes which Alb took as a good sign. Mags felt her legs growing shaky and sat down before they gave away the level of concern she was feeling.

Mackie appeared completely unfazed by the explosion of mutterings that accompanied his entrance. He took the back pack from his shoulder and removed his coat; this action revealed his face. His eyes were twinkling under bushy eyebrows and he gave them an almost merry smile; ever the showman, he was enjoying himself. He dragged a couple of chairs over and guided the hooded man into one, settling him down with a not unfriendly shove. Then he reached into his backpack and produced a bottle of scotch and two glasses.

"If I'd known there was a bottle of old malt going around," Wilf whispered to Dave, whose mouth had dropped open on Mackie's arrival with prisoner in tow and had yet to close, "I'd have brought me own glass." Almost alone in his equanimity Wilf was ready to be entertained.

"Okay," said Mackie, lifting the hood with a theatrical flourish. The man thus revealed was dishevelled, red with anger, his mouth gagged. He looked to be about eighty, give or take a few years. "This is Bob."

There was a confused buzz around the group.

"Bob is an old associate of mine …say hello to Bob, everyone.”

There was a muted response from the room, a few did as they were bid but for the most part there was a recalcitrant silence.

"Bob is going to explain things to you."

Bob shot Mackie a hard stare.

"Don’t be like that, Bob," said Mackie, removing the gag, "what difference does it make to you?"

"What the fuck are you playing at, Mack?" demanded Bob, his voice a growl, and his eyes wild, "You won’t get away with this. This is kidnap, you bastard."

"Sounds like a Yank, to me," said Wilf, loudly.

"Bob, face facts - you're a retired operative; no-one in the CIA cares about you anymore. The minute you didn’t call in they wrote you off. Collateral damage. They won’t look for you." He paused and sloshed a generous measure in one of the glasses, "You’re peripheral to their games now; they just like to keep you in the loop so they can keep tabs on you."

Bob snarled, showing his teeth.

"He’s a bit feral, isn’t he," whispered Vera. Val nodded, eyes stretched wide. Ken clutched her arm, too shocked to speak.

"Don't worry about Bob," said Mackie, "that’s just his show face, you know what Americans are like. He’s a pussy cat really, aren’t you, Bob."

"See, I said he was a Yank," Wilf said, even more loudly.

"You just let me loose and you’ll see how….."

Mackie continued his cool dismissal of Bob's value, "They’ll decide someone dispatched you for something you did somewhere down the line. They'll tidy things up. Close the door behind you so anything you might know won't be of use to anyone." He paused and turned his gaze out towards his audience, a long stare that took in the whole room, then calmly continued, "Although you've been non-essential for such a long time I doubt you know anything of real value. They won’t trouble themselves too much. But then, I'm not telling you anything you don't know."

"What's he talking about, Mags?" whispered Alb.

"And what's all this with Bob?" added a confused Gerry.

"Now then," said Mackie, "When Margo called me up the other day I had no idea what it was all about." He smiled at Mags who was sitting looking up at him, attentively absorbing his every word. "In our line of work, once you've retired it's best to stay retired. Not draw attention to yourself. People still in the business can start to worry what your motivation might be."

"What's he talking about?" whispered Val to Ken, "what line of work?"

“Anyway, we met and she explained your current thinking and I must admit I was surprised." Mags fixed him with a look, daring him to tell them he had laughed, praying he wouldn't be so unkind, he winked at her and topped up his glass, "She persuaded me that it would be useful if I came along and filled you in on a few things."

"I could really do with a drop of that," moaned Wilf.

"You don't want to do this, Mack," hissed Bob.

"I was reluctant, besides which I had no idea how to do what she was asking," said Mackie, "I mean, some things are so far off the chart of daily understanding that you can't tell people about them, especially if they've had no knowledge or no interaction with such events."

Alb was beginning to regret going along with Mags on this; he felt patronised and had clearly lost face with the others. This put him so far beyond the pale he'd probably have to move out.

"Just offer us a fucking drink, will ya, you bastard," hissed Wilf, but under his breath.

"But then I had the idea of bringing Bob along." Mackie was completely at ease, apparently oblivious to the consternation of his audience, "Bob is going to help me explain everything to you, he's pretty much going to make everything clear."

"Explain what things?" asked Val. The words emerged louder than she'd intended. This man was clearly unhinged and he was such a large person as well, she didn't feel safe, not even with Ken sitting almost in her lap.

Mackie made eye contact with her for the first time, noting with wry amusement how she shrank away from his gaze, "The world is seen by the majority in its two dimensional form. The thing to remember is that there are the people," he said indicating the rest of those present in the room, "who are moving around, going about their daily routines, running their lives and theoretically making their own decisions based on the concepts of free will.."

He paused, rather theatrically it seemed to Alb who was still feeling patronised, "....and then there are people like me and Margo, who inhabit a level above and who are privy to certain knowledge that makes it clear that things aren't quite as simple, that there isn't such a thing as free will, that we all do what we've been programmed to do, what we are meant to do."

"Pss, Margo indeed!" Val hissed, instantly extremely irritated. She'd forgotten her fear in her annoyance at Mags being included in this strange man's lecture; one thing for sure, she would be impossible to live with after this.

"You really don't want to do this Mack," Bob was insistent, straining forward trying to rise but his arms being tied behind him affected his balance.

"Oh, but I do, Bob," said Mackie.

"I don't understand," said Gerry, "do what exactly?"

"You're crazy," Bob's voice cracked with fear, "you'll be signing your own death warrant."

"Not a big issue for me, old boy," said Mackie, his eyebrows beetling towards his hairline, "inoperable cancer, I only have a short while left," he smiled down at Mags on hearing her intake of breath, “so when Margo contacted me and asked if I'd help, well, it felt like Karma."

"Hah!" said Esmé, with a triumphant glare at Cynthia. She knew what she and Doris really thought of her, and now here was this educated chap talking about Karma, bold as brass.

"What the fuck's any of that got to do with me?" growled Bob.

"I thought you might want to help me clarify a few things for them."

"And why would I want to do that?"

"Don’t you want some credit for your achievements," said Mackie, "before you die?"

Bob scowled and muttered angrily, "I'm not ready to die."

"I suggest you prepare yourself, because whilst I may only have a few months, that's considerably longer than you have, Bob."

"You bastard!" Bob went back to his struggle with his bonds, frenzied now, wriggling so hard he slipped off the chair and onto the floor, writhing, he kicked his legs out and struck Mags.

"Sweet Jesus," hissed Bill to Johnno, who was clutching his chest in rising panic, "what the hell?"

"Come on, Bob," said Mackie, making no effort to pull Bob to his feet, allowing him his desperate but useless struggle. Mags moved carefully out of his reach. "It was always going to end this way for you. We’d do it, the Russians would do it or your own people would do it. Who knows? You know that as you get nearer to the end of your financial security, the people up there," he pointed to the ceiling, "start to worry what you might try and do for money."

"I'm fine for money," spat Bob, looking up at him, "don't go spinning your bullshit, Mackie."

"Come now, Bob," said Mackie, "we both know that's not true. Word has it you've already tried to contact one or two unsavoury characters. Now, if we know that I'm damned sure your people know a whole lot more."

"You can't do this to me," growled Bob, still struggling with his bonds. He got himself up on one elbow and spat out at those nearest him, "What's the matter with you people? Let me loose. You don't owe him a thing."

"Oh, but I can and I will," said Mackie, relentless now. He leaned over and pulled Bob up by his jacket lapels, then turned him round and propelled him back to the now upright chair, pushing him onto it, none too gently, "the only question is how helpful you're going to be in our current enterprise."

Cheers

Arun







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