Blacker

Someone was hammering on the flimsy plastic panel of his bedsit door. MacGregor blinked and coughed. He was lying on top of the little bed, still fully clothed. He rolled onto his side and struggled to his feet. He staggered for the door, tripping over Fraser’s sleeping body and crushing beer cans underfoot as he went. Fraser moaned as Jackie’s palm continued to slap against the plastic panel.

“It’s four o’clock in the effing morning!” Her voice was an angry whisper. “This is getting ridiculous, John! Come on, open up!”

His mind reeled. It occurred to him that he’d set off yet another small fire, but the air did not smell of smoke and the fire alarm was not beeping. He reached the door and fumbled with the lock. It opened. Jackie pushed past him, but of course, it wasn’t Jackie. Heavy boots clumped into the room. There were more footfalls belonging to a second man, a man of smaller stature. This figure moved past MacGregor more carefully.

“John!” It was Jackie’s voice. She was still outside. “Who are they, John?”

Jackie was trying to get into the room. But someone was pushing her back out. It was the big man, MacGregor realized. The door was closing. Jackie was pushing against it from the outside, grunting quietly. MacGregor leaned forward, finding the door handle. He tensed the once powerful muscles of his right arm.

“The lady doesn’t need to be involved in this.” The big man’s voice was a gravelly, working class Londoner’s, but every word was very carefully pronounced. MacGregor couldn’t decide if the man had speech problems or if he was trying to sound menacing.

“She’s already involved,” MacGregor said.

The push and pull contest went on for a few more seconds. Then MacGregor sensed movement from the center of the room. The smaller man had made some kind of signal or gesture. The pressure on the door disappeared. Jackie moved into the room.

“Jack.” It was Fraser’s voice. “What’s going on?”

“The situation has changed.” The second man was certainly an American, possibly a New Yorker even if MacGregor hadn’t heard many American accents. This man was younger than the middle aged mountain with the heavy boots. “Mr. MacGregor, my name is Braverman. Jack Braverman. We must leave immediately.”

“What situation?” Jackie asked. “You’re leaving? Leaving for where?”

Fraser was staggering around, empty cans of beer rolling and falling from the bed. There was a thud -the ashtray hitting the floor.

“John?” Jackie pushed. “What’s going on?”

“Miss, I’m afraid that this is not any of your business.” The big man said. “Do you mind leaving the room so we can—”

“Thank you, Sharpe.” Jack Braverman’s voice had quiet authority. “Let’s just keep things nice and calm. Now, you’re Mr. MacGregor, I presume? I’m Jack Braverman. This is my associate Taylor Sharpe. We need to leave right away. Please, would you come with me? I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t catch your second name.”

“It’s Glenn,” Jackie replied. “Jackie Glenn.”

“Well, Miss Glenn, this is what we would call a matter of national security. I’m not sure how much Mr. MacGregor has told you—”

“He’s told me everything.” Jackie lied.

Fraser coughed. MacGregor heard the sound of the brass lighter working. He reached an arm out towards the sound, feeling the heat from the Zippo’s flame. The lighter snapped shut again. Fraser handed him the lit cigarette. MacGregor brought it to his lips and inhaled greedily.

“There’s to be no smoking in the car,” Sharpe groaned.

“We’ll toss them before we get to the car,” Fraser said. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“What car?” MacGregor’s throat closed as he spoke, making his statement end in a croak.

“I’m coming too. I know everything about this already, anyway.” Jackie spoke with solid confidence. “So I’m coming with you guys. Whether you like it or not.”

“How can you know everything about this?” Sharpe laughed. “I don’t even know everything about this!”

MacGregor heard Jackie draw a slow breath. She didn’t know what to say next and was making a little time for herself. In the end, she didn’t need the pause.

“I’m sorry, Miss Glenn, but that won’t be possible,” Braverman said. “I wish we did have room for everyone, but we don’t. Now, Mr. MacGregor, will you come with us?”

Suddenly, MacGregor felt a strong arm hooking under his elbow.

“Time to leave,” Sharpe grunted, pulling MacGregor towards the door.

“For fuck’s sake!” Fraser said. “You can knock that off. We’re coming.”

“Cigarettes out!” Sharpe snapped.

MacGregor relaxed his arm enough for the big man to loosen his grip. Then he pulled it away with a swift motion. He stepped away from the big man, raising his hands in tight fists. He felt Fraser’s hands on his shoulders.

“Easy pal,” Fraser said. “Sharpe, just get the fuck away from him. We’re coming. But we’re going to finish our smokes first.”

“John, I want to come with you!” Jackie said.

MacGregor turned to her. He frowned. He didn’t understand why she wanted to come.

“It’s alright,” he said. “If there isn’t room, you should stay here. Besides, I don’t know where we’re going.”

MacGregor felt Sharpe’s fingers touching his elbow again. Then there was a rush of air in front of his face as Fraser’s hand left his shoulder. He heard Sharpe gasp in shock and anger.

“I said leave it,” Fraser snarled, “I meant it. For fuck’s sake, Jack, can’t you control your dog?”

“Alright.” Braverman sounded impatient. “We’re wasting valuable time here, Sharpe. Smoking or non-smoking, it doesn’t matter. Let’s all of us just get out of here while we still can.”

Braverman’s words had an interesting - immediate - effect on Sharpe. He stomped out of the flat, not uttering another word or grumble. The outer door creaked open and Sharpe’s boots thundered down the concrete steps.

“Gentlemen?”, Braverman said, “shall we please get on with this? I know enough to tell you that we really are running out of time. Mr. MacGregor, you’ve obviously agreed to help us out. Well, if you’re going to be of any help at all we need to leave immediately.”

MacGregor smoked his cigarette. A long, hard drag. He could feel the heat from the burning edge close to his knuckles. Fraser’s left hand was still on his shoulder. He felt the long fingers tapping him there.

“I’m ready when you are,” Fraser said. “Nice meeting you, Jackie. Goodbye, Jackie Glenn!”

There was something strange in the way Fraser said the last part, MacGregor thought.