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Chapter 37
Fuel for the Fire
1612 – SAS Garrison Hereford, UK
Spanner approached his boss with a questioning expression as Elvis pulled a face.
"Georgie OK?" He asked.
"Yeah…fine…yeah."
"You're not I take it." Spanner observed.
"She didn't like the name."
"What name was that?"
"Gunner."
Spanner grinned and said. "Gunner Harte." Elvis' eyes challenged any further comment.
"I agree with Georgie." Was all Spanner said.
"Well I didn't ask ya did I?" Elvis said as his lieutenant laughed and moved to the desk.
Elvis shrugged. Two strikes against him. He shook off the disappointment and joined Spanner. Not to worry…he had other ideas.
"Look mate. I understand how ya feel not bein there for Toni." Elvis said.
"I'm sure you do Elvis. I just want it to be over for her. Having Adam Jones finally answer for his crime is sweet, but wanting to bring that raping bastard down has plagued her for years."
"It will 'appen." Elvis said pressing a hand onto Spanner's shoulder. "Let's start goin over Spunky's surveillance photos." He said as both soldiers plopped down at the desk. "Spunks had the feelin Evans was not happy sitting in that car park."
Xxxxx
….. Five days later
1030 – MoD – London, UK
Dave Warner stared at the email notification he just received on his laptop. It was from Major Brad Evans. He sat back and calmly opened it with two quick finger taps. As his eyes scanned the words he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed as he absorbed every word. The revelation contained in the memo surprised him.
Xxxxx
1530 - Hoddesdon, UK
"Georgieena." Nonna said softly entering the lounge.
Georgie was sitting comfortably on the sofa. She had just ended a call with her mum. Grace was ecstatic about the couple securing the cottage and had been back to Lesters twice to look at nursery furniture. Georgie looked up and smiled, then noticed a bundle of ecru lace in the older woman's arms. Nonna sat down next to her and patted Georgie's thigh.
"I have something for you Nipotina." She began to partially unfold the bundle in her hands. "I made this tablecloth many years ago." She said, and Georgie's eyes became as saucers. "I want you to have it."
"Oh Nonna! ….I …"
"It is my housewarming gift to you and Elvis."
Georgie reached a hand to touch the intricate lace. "This is absolutely beautiful. I have never seen anything this lovely."
"It will be nice for your first family meal in your new home."
"We will cherish it. Always." Georgie said, kissing Nonna's cheeks. "Thank you so much. Grazie mille."
Nonna smiled. "Prego. It was my husband Paolo's favorite." She said, her heartfelt memories evident in her voice.
"Aww Nonna, don't you want to keep it then?"
"No. Elvis was very close to his nonno. Paolo took him under his wing. Elvis was always getting up to something."
Georgie grinned. "I'm not surprised."
Nonna laughed. "He was a good ragazzo, but headstrong. When he wanted to join the army, Paolo encouraged him. Elvis made his nonno very proud." She said happily. "It meant so much to Paolo when he became a capitano."
"I'm sorry I never had the chance to meet him." Georgie said sincerely.
"Me too. He would have liked you, and he would be happy that you have this tablecloth. You and Elvis can always remember Paolo and me when you use it."
Georgie admired this woman. Family was so important to her. She reached a hand to touch the lace again, smiling at Nonna and wanting to know more about Elvis and his grandfather.
Xxxxx
1400 – Military Corrective Training Center = Colchester, UK
He never looked up, even though he knew someone was standing there. He arrogantly waited…
"Wake up Jones! You're appearance is being requested." Sergeant Hawkins barked as he motioned for the cell door to be unlocked. Adam Jones finally looked up, eyes first, then he lifted his head.
"Who is it?" He said roughly.
"Your nan for all I know. Get your arse moving!"
The guarded walk to the interrogation room did not take long. Soon Adam Jones found himself seated across from Colonel David Warner from Internal Affairs. He willed his gut not to wrench, wondering how it had come to pass that Warner was here.
"Lance Corporal Jones." Warner began.
"Yes…..sir."
"You have certainly established a reputation for yourself." Warner said.
"How so colonel?"
"You allegedly assaulted a fellow soldier and are …."
"That's right!!" Alleged. Nothing has been proven yet." Jones interrupted brashly.
Warner would have none of his insolence. "And…..it has come to my attention that you know something about a missing cache of heroin."
Jones released a breathy laugh. "What?! Who told you that?!"
Warner stared at him, holding back his response, gauging Jones' reaction. "Oh, I think you know."
"Do I now? That is total rubbish! I don't know anything about any heroin…what did you call it? Cache was it?"
"I think you do…No, wait…..In fact, I know you do." Warner said.
"You are full of shit! Have you gone through my solicitor to be here?" Jones spat.
"Do you need him here?"
"I thought not!" Jones skidded his chair back and stood. The MP guard uncrossed his arms and positioned to intercede. "I am done talking! Go play detective somewhere else!" Jones shouted, pointing a finger at Warner.
"You are addressing a superior officer." Warner said calmly. "The more you open your mouth, the more charges will be filed against you. So much for someone who is done talking."
Adam Jones clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides. "I want to talk to my solicitor."
"Fine. I can arrange that at this very moment." Warner countered.
"No! I want to make a phone call. I want a private conversation with him."
"Very well." Warner nodded at the MP to escort Jones out of the room to make his call. Once Jones was gone, Dave Warner pulled out his mobile. "Hello, yes. I am requesting a warrant to access phone records at MCTC ASAP. Affirmative. All calls placed up to 1700 hours."
Xxxxx
1900 - Hereford, UK
Brad Evans was an impatient man. He snuffed out a cigarette and tossed back the remaining shot of whiskey, grimacing as the heated liquid seared his throat. He had his fill of Arnold Pettigrew. The bastard was making things far too complicated and dangerous. The cache of heroin had been dispersed. The three had their bank accounts nicely padded and then …..Wes Jones had to cock-up everything for them. How did he ever think he had any say in how the SAS conducted Selection? Evans tapped another cigarette on the table. Where the hell was Pettigrew? The meet up time was 1830. The Pub was becoming heavily populated. He hailed the server to bring him another round. That is what he wanted. Numb the anger before the prick showed up.
Arnold Pettigrew sauntered in. He arrogantly sniffed when he saw Evans hunched at a table coddling his drink. The major had made his choice. He wants out. Well. Pettigrew thought to himself. Be careful what you wish for. Evans looked up.
"There you are! What in fuck took you so long? You are late!" He hissed.
"Am I? I had a previous engagement." Pettigrew said, eyeing Evans as he sat down without a care in the world.
"Engagement?"
"Oh yes. She was lovely."
Evans huffed. "You had better wise up! Keep your head on straight! Any word on the court martials?"
"Now…..see….I am out of the loop Brad. You know the Garrison is off limits to me. Why don't you tell me what you know?"
"I know I want this to be fucking over." Evans said finishing his drink and slamming the empty glass onto the table.
"Oh it will be. I can promise you that." Pettigrew said confidently sniffing and looking around.
"Harassing Harte was never part of this." Evans whispered hoarsely.
"But he made himself a part of it didn't he?"
"It was Wes Jones. He is so fucking delusional."
"Delusional or not. It's Harte who sent the dogs after us." Pettigrew said waving to the server to appear at their table. "What are you having?"
"Whisky…straight." Evans replied.
"Good man." When the server arrived, Pettigrew ordered the refill for Evans and a pint for himself.
"You keep messing with Harte and you will be sorry." Evans said.
"So the wife is not in hospital." Pettigrew said.
"You do not know that for certain."
"I'm fairly confident."
After the server delivered their beverages Evans dug into his jacket pocket for his wallet and placed it on the table. "I'll get these." He said, almost slurring his words.
"That is kind of you."
Evans immediately took a sip and said. "I insist we call it quits with Harte."
Pettigrew smirked and leaned in. "We should discuss this further…..in private."
"What do you suggest?" Evans asked.
"My place…..say tomorrow morning….0700. Better to discuss our closure then."
"Yeah, yeah, alright…..0700 it is." Evans downed the remainder of his drink. As Pettigrew pulled back he slid Evans' wallet away with him under a hand. Evans squinted at his watch.
"Right. I need to get home." He said and waved to the server for the tab. Pettigrew watched as he rifled through his pockets with increasing agitation. "Where the hell is it?!" Evans said with apparent embarrassment.
"What's wrong?" Pettigrew asked, pretending to be concerned.
"My fucking wallet. I could swear I had it ….."
The server appeared. Evans was sat red faced. "Not to worry Brad. I got this." Pettigrew said and promptly paid the tab. Evans berated himself and lit a cigarette. "Those things will be the death of you." Pettigrew said finishing his pint.
"Fuck off." Evans said, skidding his chair back. He had to place a hand on the table to steady himself.
Xxxxx
…..The following day
0630 – SAS Garrison – Hereford, UK
"Catchin me early sir." Elvis said to Dave Warner's image on the laptop.
"Critical intel just came it." Warner said.
"Go on."
"The call Adam made yesterday…."
"Yeah?"
"He did not ring his solicitor. It was to the Midge Drake account."
"You're shittin me?"
"Negative."
"Well, well, well." Elvis said sitting back as the corners of his mouth curled into a smile.
