Simon Green: The Dark Side of the Road

With the radio off, the roar of the heater filled the car; it was doing its best to take the edge off the cold and mostly failing. The best you could say was that it was probably warmer inside the car than out. Any normal man would have known better than to be out in conditions like this; but I’ve never been a normal man.

I clung grimly on to the steering wheel and kept my foot down hard on the accelerator. Because I was determined to reach remote Belcourt Manor, even if I had to drive through hell itself to get there.

My first meeting with the man who called himself the Colonel was almost fifteen years ago now. In one of the better bars, in one of the better hotels in London. Full of well-dressed people, looking very prosperous. Lots of friendly chatter; none of it aimed at me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and they could tell. I was just hiding out in the middle of a crowd, trying to figure out how best to disappear from the bar and the hotel without paying my bill. I couldn’t risk using any of my credit cards, with any of my current names, for fear of attracting attention. And I was going to need what cash I had on me.

I hadn’t made up my mind where I was going yet; preferably some small and understanding country, with pleasant weather and no interest in extradition treaties, and a flexible attitude towards people who just wanted to be left alone. There used to be a lot of places like that, when I was starting out; but the world is a shrinking place, these days.

The Colonel appeared out of nowhere. Just sat down beside me at the bar and fixed me with a cheerful smile. I looked steadily back at him. There aren’t many people who can sneak up on me. I’m really very hard to surprise.

He nodded briefly to me. ‘Hello, Ishmael,’ he said. ‘I’m the Colonel. I’m here to offer you a job; or perhaps, more properly, a position.’

‘Not many people know me by that name,’ I said. ‘And most of them are dead.’

‘I think that says more about you than anything else,’ said the Colonel.

I looked him over, taking my time. He was a big man, just hitting thirty. Broad shoulders, powerfully built, holding himself with easy confidence and a practised casualness. Sharp features, piercing cold blue eyes, a quick and mostly meaningless smile. An expensively tailored suit, though he wore it like a uniform. And perhaps, for him, it was. The closely-cropped blond hair and severely-trimmed moustache suggested a military background. Or, at least, ex-military. He looked like a man who’d had blood on his hands, in his time.

He ordered a single malt whiskey, with water in a separate glass, and the bartender jumped to obey. The Colonel had that kind of voice. He raised an eyebrow at my empty glass, so I seized the opportunity for a double brandy. Alcohol has no effect on me, but I’ve learned to enjoy the taste. The Colonel and I just sat and looked at each other until our drinks arrived, like two fighters in a ring checking each other out before the bell rings. The drinks arrived, and we toasted each other, and drank.

‘So,’ I said. ‘You’re not here to kill me?’

‘No,’ said the Colonel. ‘Or you’d be dead by now.’

‘Then you can buy me as many drinks as you like,’ I said. ‘And as long as you keep on buying, I’ll sit here and listen.’

The Colonel dropped a generous bribe in front of the barman and gestured for him to disappear for a while. The bartender made the money vanish, and then made himself scarce. Several people trying to order a drink raised their voices in protest. The Colonel looked at them, and they went away too. And they hadn’t even noticed the Colonel’s concealed gun. I’d spotted it the moment he sat down. I wasn’t worried. I have secrets of my own.

The Colonel looked me over, like a racehorse he was thinking of buying, or at the very least, placing a decent-sized bet on. ‘I have heard, my dear Ishmael, that you are no longer working for Black Heir.’

‘Not many people know me by that name,’ I said. ‘And even fewer have heard of that very secret organization. Heard, you say? From whom?’

‘Word gets around,’ the Colonel said easily. ‘Especially in our line of work. Secret agents gossip like teenage girls, just because they know they shouldn’t.’

‘You do know what Black Heir does?’ I said.

‘The United Kingdom’s very own department for alien affairs,’ said the Colonel. He sipped carefully at his drink, as though it might surprise him. ‘Real aliens, that is. Visitors from Beyond, and all that. They will keep coming here, even if no one on Earth knows why. Someone has to clean up the mess they leave behind and cover up the damage when things get out of hand. The general public is much better off not knowing who and what walks among them, unseen. I was given to understand that you had a really good track record at Black Heir. A real gift for tracking down those who had gone … off reservation. And for keeping a lid on things, with a deft and only occasionally violent hand. So I have to ask, why did you walk out on them, Ishmael?’

‘I don’t approve of their new direction,’ I said steadily. ‘Someone higher up the political food chain decided that the old ways, of containment and observation and handing out the occasional spanking, just wasn’t good enough. So from now on, official policy is: kill the aliens. Friend and foe and everything in between. Then dissect their bodies and steal all their belongings. I told them this was a bad idea, and they told me to shut up and do as I was told. They should have known better.’

‘Too tender-hearted?’ said the Colonel.

‘I don’t believe in making unnecessary enemies,’ I said.

‘What a very sensible attitude!’ said the Colonel. ‘Why can’t we all just get along, eh?’ He gave me a thoughtful look. ‘I have to tell you that the current directors of Black Heir are very unhappy with you. They really don’t like it when one of their own goes walkabout. Especially given all the things you know, and all the things you’ve done.’

‘I know there are people looking for me, with bad intent,’ I said. ‘I’m safe enough here. Black Heir won’t risk trying anything in plain sight. Because they know it would get messy. My leaving shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. I did make my feelings perfectly clear. I won’t kill something just because it’s different. Whatever name I use, and whoever I work for, there’s always a line I won’t cross.’

‘So I understand,’ said the Colonel. ‘You’ve worked for a great many subterranean organizations, down the years.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I said. ‘You’re just guessing.’

‘Perhaps. But these are educated, informed guesses. Come and work for me, Ishmael. I could use a man like you.’

I smiled. ‘There are no men like me.’

‘Exactly!’ said the Colonel. ‘That’s why I want you.’

‘To do what?’ I said bluntly.

‘To search out secrets, investigate mysteries, and shine a light into dark places. And, now and again, punish the guilty that no one else can touch. Pour encourager les autres . I know, dear boy; sounds almost too good to be true, doesn’t it?’

‘Most things that sound too good to be true usually are too good to be true,’ I said, meeting his guileless gaze with one of my own. ‘What if you and I were to have a difference of opinion, at some point, over whether something really needed doing. Or whether someone really needed killing. What then, oh my Colonel?’

He shrugged easily. ‘On every occasion, I will see to it that you are provided with all the information you need to do the job. I will never ask you to do anything you’re not happy with. I represent a large Organization, with a great many agents. I always make it a point to fit the right man to the right mission.’