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Copyright 2001 by Madeline Bell.
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for satirical purposes.
All rights reserved.
Furthermore,
This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult
concepts, and possibly sex. If you are legally not allowed
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Change to Live Part 2
By Maddy Bell
Chapter 1
After the Maddie episode I did get a job on the local rag
and eventually my career started to take off. Sarah and I
talked about marriage but we never got further than talk.
As my time on the paper increased I got better jobs, then a
column, eventually getting syndicated across a couple of
counties. This is where the real story starts.
I had made a bit of a name for myself in rooting out rogues
and petty villains who preyed on my readership. Until this
point we really were talking about the bad plumbers and con
men, your common or garden bad boys. As you might guess I
hadn't been making a lot of friends at that end of society
although I had gotten to know a couple of old rogues quite
well.
I tried to keep away from drug's stories but sometimes you
couldn't avoid it. This was one such instance and if I
could turn the clock back I surely would as it resulted in
my current predicament and nearly caused Sarah's death. It
all started one spring morning...
"Mark you've got to do a story on this."
"What's that Sarah? I wasn't listening."
"This street crime, you know another pensioner was robbed
in the high street today?"
"Yeah I heard. But what do you want me to do? We know its
mostly kids, that's hardly an expos?, we can't identify
them as they're too young, all we can do is promote
awareness of the problem."
"But there must be a mister big or two involved, a fence or
someone. They're not just taking cash but jewellery and
cards as well. You're not telling me those young thugs can
get rid of all that themselves, there has to be a
mastermind."
"I'm sure you're right but I'm not sure I should get into
this, the kids are mostly after drug money and that starts
getting into places I don't want to go."
"That sounds like an excuse rather than a reason to me."
"You saying I'm scared to get involved, well your right I
don't mind admitting that. I do care about the muggings and
stuff. If I go on the warpath over one, I get dragged into
the other whether I like it or not."
"Look Mark, I didn't mean to make it sound so much like an
ultimatum."
"I know, but the problem is I know that I should be doing
something, I'm not sure just what."
I decided I had to do something and set about devising a
plan. I didn't tell Sarah or my bosses at the paper what I
was about so I guess I must take the blame for the shambles
that followed.
It took me several weeks before I made any real progress
and then things took off big style. One of my contacts gave
me a name and my disastrous episode was set to start. You
don't really need to know all the little details so I'll
give you the edited high (low) lights.
My contact was willing to name names, places, details and
so on provided when the shit hit he wasn't in the line of
fire. Well I guess the result dictates the means so I went
with it. We had a couple of meets in various unsavoury
locations before he was willing to pass on the info.
Well I guess my luck was holding, further investigation
based on the new information was turning stuff up and I
managed to form a convincing cover and insinuated myself
into the lower echelons of the operation. (I guess the
local rag was not approved reading or I might have been
sussed). Over the next couple of months I acted as gofer /
driver for the cartel and gradually gained some trust
within the organisation, which I now knew to be much larger
than I had originally thought.
I had become a 'face' whilst still keeping even Sarah
unaware of what I was up to, being a feature writer had
it's advantages. I was secretly keeping careful notes to
cover myself and I set up an account, which all proceeds
from this dirty work were deposited in. I figured that I
could keep a clear conscience that way, however every new
mugging or drugs related offence had me asking myself what
I was really up to.
Well I guess this double life went on for about six months
before things progressed further. A shooting incident left
some 'vacancies' higher in the organisation and I was
'promoted' to the position of co-ordinator for part of the
'territory'. This was the first time I met Mr Big, a guy I
knew by name but as an upstanding businessman in legitimate
circles.
As things went luck was again on my side. The papers
stopped printing pictures of the hacks some time during
this period so although I knew that the bosses did read the
locals, there was nothing to tie me to the newspaper hack
who continued to fight the fight against the rogues in
society.
Chapter 2
At this new level of involvement it was soon apparent that
I was in quite deep and I was now going to extra ordinary
lengths to cover my own back. I had so far managed to keep
my two lives separate but it was starting to prove
difficult keeping the two apart.
I had been doing this 'job' for a few weeks when, in
hindsight, I made my first error. One of my expos?s was of
a gang member whose legitimate business was as a plumber.
Probably because my two lives were becoming closer, I
revealed more about my victims business than I should have
legitimately have known. It was a great article that
produced results but unbeknown to me it sowed the first
seeds of infiltration with Mr Big himself.
I have to admit that both my personal and business
relationships started to suffer about this time. The stress
of my involvement and keeping two personas going was
starting to show and I should have eased back. But no, I
had to keep going.
Bridges were constantly being burnt and I guess it was
after one such incident that Sarah moved out. As a boss it
now behove me to order reprimands by way of beatings and in
this particular case it turned out to be a young girl on
the receiving end. She had been trading a bit but tried to
pocket more than her share of the proceeds.
As a business this couldn't be allowed to continue, so my
mobster persona ordered a warning to be given. Naively I
was thinking in terms of a bit of a slapping but 'my'
enforcers had their own ideas. When I first found out about
the punishment I didn't believe 'we' were responsible. The
girl was found beaten, knee capped with her face carved
with 'SLUT', she would recover but she would wear that
knife work for the rest of her life. When Sarah started on
at me one evening after photos were put in the rag I guess
I just lost it a bit. I as much as said that she deserved
the treatment. Not exactly PC or Mark the caring and
righteous writer, but instead Mark the mobster.
Well Sarah just went ape shit! What was I turning into! I
was obviously just a shit pretending to be caring. She'd
seen through me and she'd had enough of my blas? attitude
to the drug related violence around us. Now I really,
really love Sarah, I would do anything to avoid hurting her
and I came, well I came very close to spilling my cover
that night.
I tried to calm things down as best I could without giving
myself away but it only delayed for a few days the unwanted
split.
Chapter 3
When the love of my life left I was disconsolate, it was as
if a bit of me had been amputated. My writing started to
suffer and my other employer noticed a change too.
I threw myself into my mob persona; I started to get a
reputation as Mr Hard. Although I made sure that there was
no repeat of the severity of the girl's treatment, even
minor infractions were likely to result in broken bones.
This got to a point after several weeks where my 'boss'
actually ordered me to ease up as the police were starting
to take more than their usual interest in the beatings.
I realised then that if things didn't follow my plan it
would likely take me down too, something that wasn't in the
game plan.
My relationship with Sarah was just still alive; she was at
least still willing to talk to me. I had been undercover
for best part of a year; I had enough evidence to
effectively destroy the local mob. It was time to put it
all together so I could play my coup de grace, the expos?
which would move my journalistic career upward and, I
dearly hoped, get Sarah back.
I toned down my activities and started writing my
masterpiece. I had decided to go to the police, I still
retained contacts there, then immediately file my story so
that by the time it was in print the villains were in
clink. That's when it really went and left me up shit creek
without a paddle.
My timing with the police was lousy, they were short
staffed and although I secured personal immunity they
couldn't act immediately. My plans were starting to go
askew.
Mr Big had his doubts about me and the tail he had on me
saw me go into the police station. When next day the sting
started I was suspect number one. This nearly caused me to
lose Sarah forever.
Any business likes to know about its employee's and the
local gangsters reasonably like to know that bit more. So
it turned out that not only did they know about Sarah and
me but when she left they kept tabs on her still.
The police had convinced me to hold filing the story for a
couple of days, which was quite long enough for Mr Big to
act. I had been fingered, as the pigeon so even though I
was now too public to hit directly, Sarah was easy meat.
The same day that the story hit the newsstands Sarah was
abducted.
The mob was angry and I received Sarah's ring finger
complete with engagement ring next morning, I and Sarah
were I deep doodoo. I was now between a rock and a hard
place, how could I save my girl and my neck. Well I
couldn't come up with anything and contacting the police
was out. I couldn't give Mr Big what he wanted, things were
beyond that.
Usually the drug cartel was less than subtle but this time
they decided that a softer approach was needed. They would
get me but not before they made me suffer. The finger was
just the first instalment.
The police picked up Mr Big but inevitably some members
missed detention and despite searching many sites, Sarah
remained missing. I was safe for the moment with the chief
protagonists behind bars, but even I knew that couldn't
last.
Three weeks later and an unconnected search for Sarah was
drawing blanks, trial dates were set and I was regretting
starting this particular course of events. I was certain
that Sarah was already supporting a bridge or similar. I
had heard nothing more until another package was delivered.
I hardly dare open it, when I did I wished I hadn't, it was
an ear, I recognised the earring as Sarah's and it was
fresh, she was alive when it was removed very recently.
A couple of hours later a second package gave me
instructions for a meet. I followed them to the letter.
The factory unit was not large but big enough to drive
into, the clear floor reminding me of so many Hollywood
scenes of just this nature. I waited as instructed in the
gloom for best part of an hour before with a squeal of
tyres a Jag hurtled through the doorway swung round me and
stopped. The rear door was flung open and a body thrown
out, the Jag was moving before it hit the deck.
I raced across to the crumpled heap, the body was not
moving and I feared the worst. The identity was confirmed
when I turned the bundle over, the bloodied head of Sarah
stared up at me unseeing, but she was still alive. The next
few hours went buy in a blur. I got Sarah to the local A&E
where they soon diagnosed a drug overdose. The good news
was that my foresight with her ear meant that they thought
they could reattach that, but whether they could save her
life they wouldn't know for some time.
By now the plods were about, alerted by the hospital, and I
was 'helping with enquiries'. Between concern for Sarah and
the questioning I was fast falling apart. Eventually,
leaving just a guard outside the door, the constabulary
left, leaving me at Sarah's bedside in intensive care.
Whilst the ear was doing well, the rest of her wasn't.
Their tests suggested that the dose of heroine she had
received should have killed her, if she came through she
could have serious brain damage. I barely left that room
for a week but eventually she started to improve, she came
off the ventilator and although they assured me she was not
in a coma she remained unconscious.
Outside in the real world, for you lose all sense of
importance in a hospital, the first trials were due to
start. As a protected witness I didn't need to attend in
person but they would use a disguised video link if need
be.
Chapter 4
The weeks went by and to cut out the monotonous bits, I can
tell you that Sarah did come round and miraculously
suffered no major damage from the drugs. She gave me a
reserved chance at redemption after I gave her the whole
story. She was understandably pissed over her finger and
ear, but she forgave me most of the rest, I purposely and
perhaps inadvisably played down my role in the beatings,
especially that of the girl which sparked our separation.
The court proceedings were going well, my evidence proved
essential in locking up quite a few of the local mobsters.
A few missed jail on technicalities but Mr Big landed
twenty years. His parting words as he left were to haunt
me, 'We know what you look like, you're time will come.'
Sarah returned to our house but we never really settled
there again. Our minds were made up for us when the house
was firebombed, we escaped but with little more than our
lives which is when the police decided to step in to
protect us under the witness protection scheme.
We were moved to the Borders with new identities and some
plastic surgery at the taxpayers cost. I got a job with a
lumber company doing their PR as Pete and Sarah, now re-
christened Angharad as part of our cover had a job with the
local council. We settled in and Sarah/Angharad became
pregnant. It was our undoing however.
Sarah had never liked the prosthetic finger she had been
given; she never forgave the loss of the original. I think,
as much to remind me she never wore her plastic digit and
that was what gave us away. Women missing a finger are not
exactly your everyday occurrence and whilst our cover story
covered the missing finger, lost in a car crash, if you are
looking for something you will not be put off. The mob was
looking.
Luckily for us the local police took their protection of us
seriously and they knew of the mob's interest almost as
quick as the gangsters themselves. We were 'snatched' and
spirited away to Norfolk, we heard a couple of days later
that our home had been destroyed by a gas explosion just a
couple of hours after our departure.
At least this time we had time to pack.
The authorities were not happy now, word had somehow leaked
of my personal involvement and whilst they insisted that
they would continue to offer us protection they really
would like shot of us. They had a plan; we wouldn't like it
but if we stuck it out for a couple of years they were sure
we could return to some semblance of normality.
Our soon to arrive offspring as a result would but rarely
get to see dad and our personal relationship would be
strained to breaking. I, as Patrick would move to Brussels
whilst Sarah this time known as Anja would live in a small
Dutch town near Antwerp. This time she was convinced that
the prosthetic would be a good idea so she was fitted with
a state of the art device, which was almost
indistinguishable from the real thing.
Part 3 to follow
Maddy Bell
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