Smithy's Cupboard by Ray Clift Read Free Book Online Page B

cellmate with an expression which was begging an answer. He pursed his lips. ‘Thought you might know something about it…’
    Smithy did not reply.
    Bill went on, not letting go, it seemed to Smithy, and needing a reply. ‘Shot with a crossbow, pinned against a door, they say.’ His lips formed another phrase. He looked down and away and plucked up courage. ‘Raped kids, they say,’ he probed, his question still hanging in the air.
    â€˜Still, justice comes like a north wind, like the Aboriginals say.’ Smithy looked directly into Bill’s face.
    â€˜Sure does, Dave.’
    Smithy ended the dialogue, which he knew had not satisfied Bill. He shook the frail limp fingers as gently as possible and walked away after saying, ‘Take care.’
    Bill watched as the gap widened. He surmised, based on information he had gathered from ex-army friends, that there went a man who belonged to that unknown world of power. He whispered, ‘He’s capable of materialising from shadows into open spaces. He has honour yet I wouldn’t like to cross him. Have I putmyself in harm’s way by too much probing?’ As an afterthought, ‘So what, I’m going to die soon anyway. Rather be shot and get it over with.’ Little did he know how accurate his assumptions were.
    However, Smithy was held in the grip of forces beyond his control. He belonged to the world of power brokering and the covert monitoring of citizens, the buzz of which had never left him. He knew he was soon to return to the world from which he was powerless to escape. Guidance and a hand on the tiller were marking him for a return, and he was comfortable with the entrapment which followed. Yet there were small times in his cupboard when the word perdition poked its head up. ‘I wouldn’t hurt old Bill, though…despite his guessing games,’ he muttered His assumption circled for a few seconds.

11
    The Return
    In his office in Langley, the CIA headquarters, Brigadier General Jack Curtis read through a file marked Top Secret.
    The one-star matched the relatives in his family, going back to the ones who fought with the South in the Civil War. His career had been mapped out from the day he was born. He removed the yellow tab which reminded him to ring an old Australian military comrade from their days when the two Aussie SAS men attended the US Navy Seals course. Great guys, and their beer wasn’t too bad either.
    Captain Stephen Howlen belonged to the team of agents which had been assembled under friendly country agreements and led by a two-star general who was senior to Jack. The captain picked up the phone after four rings, which was the current code, and answered promptly, ‘Howdy, Jack. Been a long time, mate.’
    â€˜Fine, Stephen, fine,’ the soft Virginia drawl coming through which led the listener to think of Teddy Roosevelt when he declared, ‘Walk softly and carry a big stick.’
    â€˜I heard about our friend Smithy. Did some time in Pentridge for threatening life.’
    â€˜He doesn’t need to threaten, he just does.’
    â€˜You kept a low profile, I hear, Stephen.’
    â€˜Best, I thought. How did you find out?’
    â€˜The judge helps us from time to time. He’s connected with our legal service team.’
    â€˜Bloody hell.’ Stephen never new the full bag of tricks whichthey possessed. ‘Smithy kept his head down. Pleaded guilty, didn’t want the lawyer to speak about the SAS.’
    â€˜I know, I know. We haven’t used him for a while. Thought it best for him to really get over Joan. I sent one of our guys to the funeral.’
    â€˜He told me so and was grateful.’
    â€˜I’m told he went feral for a while.’
    â€˜He’s OK now. My mate from the police kept an eye on him. Another vet– but not SAS. A grunt in ‘67.’ A pause followed and Stephen guessed the next subject.
    â€˜A