Working from some half-remembered geography, Stone left his car on a dirt road near a wood. He walked through a small coppice, hopped a fence, and eventually found himself to be on a hill overlooking the farmhouse. Below, and a little to the right, he could see the area where he and Charles had spent many happy hours practicing their shooting. It was cold and wet standing on the exposed hill, so Stone huddled under the shelter of a tree and thrust his hands deeply into his pockets.
For an hour, he stood just staring at the estate below, allowing his mind to wonder freely through a cobweb of reminiscences. Memories of friendship and of parties, memories of laughter and companionship, memories of happier times, and the best friend anyone could have. Sometimes it seemed that the images were so powerful, so vivid that Stone almost had to brush them away with his hand. Stone stood under the tree for an hour paying his final respects, until his tears were spent and he was shivering uncontrollably from the cold.
Back in his car he put the heater on full, turned up the CD player and drove a little too fast towards Colchester. Charles’ lawyer wasn’t available until the following week, Stone’s senior karate instructors had taken over all of his classes for the foreseeable future, and Carter had asked for the few days up to the weekend for Megan to do her research. With no work to do, or meetings to attend, his diary was now clear. Stone was accustomed to training every day, but after almost a week of inactivity, he felt that he was bursting with pent up energy and frustration, so he headed directly to his dojo.
Stone began his workout with three rounds of pushups, sit-ups, and star-jumps — fifty of each, just to get his body warmed up. Then he dropped to the floor and executed a full routine of stretches, until he had his breath back under control. Next, he began performing the Wado-Ryu karate katas; strict forms, like choreographed battles with imaginary opponents. Using almost every style of karate kick, punch, and block, they were an excellent way to practice and sharpen technique. In Wado-Ryu karate, there are fifteen Katas. Stone performed each in order, beginning with the easiest called ‘Pinan Nidan’, through to the most demanding and complicated called ‘Jion’.
Finally, he moved to the heavy punching bag, where for five minutes he worked his arms, before switching to kicks. His workout finished with a frenzied attack on the punch bag, using a dazzling array of punches, kicks, elbow strikes, and flying kicks. Gradually building the speed, he moved faster and faster, until his hands and feet were just a blur. The attack climaxed with a blistering combination of powerful punches, and ended when Stone gave a mighty roar and delivered a vicious spinning back-kick that almost detached the punch bag from its chain.
After he showered and changed, Stone spent an hour in his office catching up on some mundane administration. The club’s public liability insurance was up for renewal, and he had wanted to check that he was still getting the best deal. There were certificates to sign for those students that had successfully achieved their next karate belts. Finally, he scrubbed the toilets and showers, swept the dojo, and tidied the equipment away. Eventually at 4.30pm, he realized that he had run ways to fill his time, so he locked the dojo and set off for home.
He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and a short while into the journey he became aware that he was ravenously hungry. If he was dining alone, Stone preferred to eat at home, but he knew that he was running short of supplies, so just outside Braintree Town, he stopped at a large supermarket to stock up.
Like many men, Eric treated shopping as a necessary chore. One that was best completed with maximum speed and efficiency. Today he was feeling starved for company, and so he took his time. Wondering aimlessly around the store with his shopping cart, he selected items almost at random, or when his growling stomach told him to. He was just considering treating himself to a sticky Danish bun, when a silky voice behind him whispered into his ear.
“A moment on the lips, and a lifetime on the hips!”
Stone turned to see who had spoken and stopped dead. He was utterly dumbfounded. The voice belonged to Linda Smart, the beautiful woman that he had rescued in the bar’s parking lot. Yet again, he found himself staring open-mouthed and lost for words. Linda squinted and gave him a suspicious look.
“I hope you aren’t stalking me, Stone — Eric Stone?”
“Err… NO! Err… I live near here,” Stone stammered, slightly panicked. However, Linda Smart gave him a bright smile and a light punch on the chest.
“Relax, hero. I’m just joshing with you!”
“Oh… Good… Err… Hi! How are you?”
Linda spoke to the side, like an actor talking to someone off-stage.
“Not a great conversationalist. But cute.” She smiled again and answered his question, mocking gently. “I am fine Eric, how are you?”
Stone could not help but smile.
“I’m feeling much better for seeing you today.”
Linda spoke to the side again.
“He’s getting the hang now.” Then she looked at him again. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I am doing here?”
Stone was pleased with the opportunity to prolong the conversation.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live near Sawbridgeworth, but I was over here looking for a place to rent so I can expand my business. I was on my way home and I decided I was hungry… ” She waved her hand at the basket by her feet. “So I stopped for some shopping.”
“Well it’s lovely to see you again… ” Stone mumbled self-consciously.
Linda rolled her eyes dramatically and then spoke off-stage again.
“Oh no, he’s losing it! Perhaps he’ll redeem himself by asking me out.” She turned and nailed Stone with a wide smile and her stunning emerald green eyes. Stone took a deep breath, smiled and dived in with both feet.
“Linda Smart, will you go out with me?”
Her smile broadened noticeably.
“I thought you would never ask! I’m starving. Let’s pay for this, and then get something to eat. OK?”
Stone’s heart danced a little jig inside his chest.
“Good idea, but it’s still a little early for a restaurant. What do you like to eat?”
“Anything vegetarian, and I’m ravenous!”
“Ha!” he laughed. “Me too.”
She bit her lip and regarded him cautiously.
“As long as you promise to be a gentleman, how about we go to your place and I cook a meal?”
“That would be wonderful!” Stone said, smiling like an idiot. “I’ll buy some wine.”
At the Wrecking Crew’s headquarters, The Fixer was waiting for a phone call. It was a call he had been expecting, ever since he had heard about Rathbone’s suicide. It was not a call he was looking forward to receiving. He was not worried about what the caller was about to say; his organisation had become so powerful these days, that he seldom feared anyone. The Fixer simply hated admitting defeat. Even though the work of the wrecking crew had been exemplary throughout, in the end, the Charles Rathbone contract had been an unmitigated disaster. Apologizing to the jumped up little arsehole that had given them the contract would be a new experience for The Fixer, and he was not going to enjoy it.
The Fixer had a name, just an ordinary name that had once belonged to an ordinary kid, but he preferred the title because it epitomized everything that he had become. As a schoolboy, diminutive, polite, and quiet, The Fixer had been an easy target for bullies — and for a while, his life had been quite unpleasant. The only child of wealthy academic parents, he always had money in his pocket, at least until the bullies got to him.