A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

for a father. Mum... she thinks it will ruin your chances in life.’

The cheap excuse didn't stand up – it was an old one and overly used. ‘I prefer honesty to duplicity, Dad,’ said Mark. ‘Tell me, did you set me up with Haydocks? Did you want me to unearth the laundering?’

Bill jerked, levelling his head with Mark's. The flash of daylight that crept in through the barred windows lit up his eyes. There was the spark, the fight Mark wanted to see.

Bill licked his lips and glanced around. ‘You found it? The money?’ he whispered. ‘It was you?’

Mark nodded. ‘I cleaned them out.’

His father grinned. ‘Good,’ he mouthed.

‘Why didn't you tell me, Dad?’

‘Tell you what?’

‘That Henderson’s a crook.’

Bill perched on the edge of his seat and folded his body over the table, keeping his back hunched. He spoke to the table, not Mark. ‘I wasn't sure, I suppose. Whatever happened, you'd have a job at Haydocks; a start in life.’

Mark scratched his chin and gaped at the explanation. It took a few seconds for it register. ‘Seriously? That's your logic. Just dangle this lure and hope the bait works, that I'll been drawn into finding out the truth?’

Bill scratched his stubble. ‘You’re a canny lad. I had nothing to do with the money side. It was always others who handled that stuff. I took my cut…’

The prison jacket was too large for Bill. The weight loss was more apparent during this visit; when he shrugged, the jacket slipped off his bony shoulders. Bill's gaze swept around the room.

‘The walls listen here. They listen everywhere.’ He lowered his voice. ‘If I pleaded guilty, they'd assume I was paid to do it. Get it? I'm not that kind of man, you know that.’ His voice was fracturing.

‘I know, Dad. It was because of the girls.’ It would break his heart if Bill knew how close Ellen had come to being one of the lost ones. The way things played out wasn't all Bill's fault, even if he had planted Mark in Haydocks; it had been Mark's choice to blow the operation apart.

Bill found his voice again. ‘I left you a breadcrumb trail. I knew your mum wouldn't lift a finger beyond begging for help. She's broken. I can't fix her. Once... maybe.’

The hollowness of his eyes intensified. Mark despised his mother even more for not seeing this man; afraid and dislocated from the world outside, and with Zustaller out there waiting, Bill was stuck in a grim hole of his own making.

‘She's still hoping for some magical resolution to all this.’

‘It ain't going to happen, son.’ Bill settled back, appearing more relaxed.

Mark folded his arms across his chest. ‘So, you're not going to co-operate with the police?’

‘Nah,’ Bill said, louder.

Mark closed his eyes. He felt no empathy, not unless it was creeping up on him in the guise of pity. But he couldn't leave his father believing there was no hope. He opened his eyes and leaned right across the table, seizing the attention of the lacklustre guard, who waved him back. Mark stayed poised, halfway, neither in his seat, nor touching his father. He spoke quietly. ‘Dad. I've got a friend who’s willing to provide you with a lawyer. And I mean a very good lawyer, if you change your mind and tell them everything, all the things you did back them, names, places, they’ll give you protection. Hide you away.’

‘I appreciate the offer, son. Tell your friend, thank you. But, I'm safer like this, ain’t I?’ He cocked his head toward the guards.

The guard coughed. Mark sat down. While Zustaller was at large, his father wouldn't take any chances. However, Bill's eyes sparkled, something Mark hadn't seen in years. He might not be released on appeal, but now that Mark knew the truth, Bill didn't need to pretend to be anything other than a likeable rogue who was caught up doing bad things and tried to do something good. His father never would be morally sound, but he wasn't evil or a monster. One day, Ellen would understand, too.

‘Bye, Dad. Take care of yourself. The offer remains, if you want to take it.’ Mark rose to his feet and held out his hand. Bill shook it with a firm grip.

‘Thanks, son. You'll write, won't you? I do like letters.’ He grinned; he had lost a tooth. Mark doubted it had fallen out of its own accord.

‘Sure. I'll write.’

Mark’s letters would be full of inconsequential things about football, the weather and maybe a little hint of what was happening outside. But not the ongoing mission to bring down Freddie Zustaller.

He left Manchester without visiting his mother. One day he might find room in his heart for her, but not yet, not for a long while.

His journey wasn’t finished. Instead of returning to London, he turned north to Scotland.

  36

Julianna

Julianna had bought a new car, a sporty BMW. Her rusty friend had been confined to the rubbish heap. The beamer wasn’t a great car in the city, but driving to Cornwall to visit her parents, it purred like a new-born kitten. Unlike Mark’s dysfunctional family, Julianna considered her family to be normal, reasonably affluent and broad minded enough not to judge her divorce or choice of career. Her father, a retired officer in the army, had left the forces to become a martial arts instructor, while her mother, an ex-army doctor, worked as a general practitioner in Falmouth.

She let Mark drive to Cornwall because his extra money helped with bills and allowed her the extravagance of buying a car. The journey was long, but worth it. He rolled his eyes every time she criticised his driving technique.

‘I do have qualifications in defensive driving and high-speed evasion tactics.’ She would have the return journey