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Chapter 1
Liam Casey was in a black depression.
If this is civvy-street, you can stuff it, he thought, as he lay on the single bed in his grotty bed-sit.
After three months of fruitless searching for a job, he was definitely regretting leaving Her Majesties Forces, although he had not had any say in the decision. The last tour in Northern Ireland had seen to that. His thoughts returned to that day.
They were out on yet another patrol when they came under sniper fire. Marty, the radio operator had just moved level with Liam when he took a shot to the head; he spun around under the impact of the high velocity bullet. Fragments of bone and blood spattered over Liam, Marty was dead before he hit the ground.
‘Over there’, Lieutenant Kirby shouted. At the same moment opening fire on a boarded up shop on the corner of the street. The rest of the patrol followed suit, pouring a barrage of fire into the building.
They knew that the chance of the sniper still being there was remote.
But at worst it gave vent to their fear and anger, at best, it would keep the sniper’s head down if he was lining up for another shot.
A cry of pain came from inside the building.
‘We've hit the bastard’, Liam yelled, as he ran a zigzag across the road to the shop.
Rolling across the pavement, he came to a stop against the shop wall. From inside came a low moaning. Liam carefully raised his head; just enough to see through a gap in the boards that covered the space where the window had once been. In the dim light inside the shop, he could just make out a figure lying on the rubble-strewn floor.
‘Move and I'll blow your fucking head off’, Liam shouted at the sniper.
‘For Christ's sake, yiv shattered me leg, I'm not goin anywar’, the man screamed in obvious agony. ‘I surrender.’
Liam kicked open the door of the shop and went inside, keeping the man covered with his automatic rifle.
‘That was a lucky shot that got me, otherwise I would have been long gone.’ The terrorist snarled.
‘But at least I got one of you bastards.’
Liam saw again his friend Marty, with half his head blown away. A killing rage overcame him.
Without any compunction, he put the barrel of his rifle to the killer’s head.
A look of terror replaced the hatred on the sniper’s face as he realised what Liam intended.
‘I've surrendered,’ he screamed, gasping from the pain of his wound, his mouth wide.
Liam put the muzzle of his rifle into the open mouth; the sound of the shot cut short the killer’s screams.
A pink halo of blood and bone surrounded the killer’s head before fading away.
The man convulsed, his heels beating a tattoo on the littered floor.
‘Fuck you,’ Liam snarled.
Hands gripped hold of Liam and wrenched his rifle away. ‘Have you gone fucking mad,’ the Lieutenant shouted. ‘You've really screwed yourself this time, Liam boy.’
He had been lucky to get away with only three years in the glass house, and a dishonourable discharge. The Government, and the Army, as usual, preferred to hush up this type of incident whenever possible. It never even made the media, thanks to the inevitable ‘D’ notice.
Chapter 2
His mind returned to the present. 'I'd do it again,’ he said to the ghosts of the past.
Picking up the newspaper he had bought earlier, he studied the situations vacant column, as usual there was nothing for him.
At thirty-three things were looking decidedly grim. He had started his working life serving an apprenticeship as a lift engineer. As soon as he had finished his apprenticeship, he had decided to join the army. Now with the advances that had been made in computer controlled lifts, he didn't stand a chance of resuming his trade, even if the idea had appealed to him, which it didn't.
His eyes idly scanned the personal column; it consisted mostly of thinly disguised adverts for prostitutes, and get rich quick schemes.
His eyes came to a stop at one of the inserts.
Fed up? Under worked? Under paid? Bored? Need some excitement in your life? If the answer to these questions is yes, Phone Joe on --------, it was followed by a Liverpool telephone number.
Sounds interesting Liam thought, what have I got to loose, apart from the cost of the call. He got off the bed, put on his leather jacket and went in search of a call box.
Liam walked into the bar of the Black Lion public house it was just across the street from his bed-sit.
‘Hi Liam.’ The barmaid greeted him as he entered. There was a lot more warmth in her greeting than you would have expected, even for a big spender, which he certainly was not.
Liam smiled, then blew her a kiss.
'Enjoy yourself last night?’ He inquired. A slight blush coloured her cheeks.
'Shush or you will get me into trouble,’ she hissed.
'I thought I did that last night,’ he replied with a lecherous grin.
Although Liam could not be termed handsome in the style of a pop or film star, he did have a certain way of smiling, and a ready sense of humour. Add to that, a naturally athletic build in a six foot frame, meant that he did better than average where women were concerned. Jean, the barmaid, was just another in a long line of conquests. She began to pour him a Guinness, without being asked.
'Will I see you tonight?' She asked him.
'Maybe, maybe not. It depends on the cash situation. I'm a bit strapped at the moment.’
Jean thought for a moment. 'We don't have to go out.’ She said. ‘There's a good film on telly tonight, and I could bring some bottles home with me. My Mum’s going to our Betty's, to baby-sit. She always stays the night there, so we would have the place to ourselves. You could sleep over if you wanted.’
Liam took a long slow pull on his pint, looking very thoughtful. Her eyes pleaded with him.
'I've bought some sexy underwear, just for you.’ Liam grinned.
'How can I refuse an offer like that. Sold to the lady with the thirty-six DD.’ He put his glass down. 'Now be a good girl for now, and pass me the phone.’
Jean looked triumphant. She had plans for this man, which started with a ring on her third finger left hand. Like most women she thought that what she had inside her pants gave her a power over men, and like most women she did not realise just how transient that power could be. She was young, and she would learn, just as the rest of Liam's women had.
Liam dialled the Liverpool phone number. As he waited for it to be answered, he wondered again what it would be. Probably insurance selling or the like. The line came alive.
‘O.S.S limited,’ a very sexy female voice answered.
‘I’d like to speak to Joe please.’
'One moment please,’ replied the voice. Canned music came over the line.
After a long minute, a man’s voice spoke.
‘Joe here, what can I do for you?'
Liam took a deep breath.
'I'm inquiring about your advert in my local paper. I'm out of work, and thought I would find out what it is you are offering.' Liam decided too lay his cards on the table.
'Not wishing to be offensive, but I don't want to do any selling of any sort. I just thought that I would explain that, so as not to waste your time.’
‘That's just as well,’ Joe replied ‘The position on offer has nothing to do with selling of any description, and hopefully you get more exercise than jumping to conclusions.’
Shit I've blown it Liam thought.
'In fact, it's nothing like that at all. May I ask where you are calling from?'
'Preston.’ Liam answered'.
'I take it that you are not looking for an ordinary run of the mill job, and if that is the case the best thing to do is to send me your C.V.’
Joe gave Liam the address to send it to and broke the connection.
'Wow! It gets stranger by the minute,’ he thought aloud. Finishing his beer, he walked out of the pub without a backward glance. Still trying to figure out what it was all about.
That night Liam arrived as promised at the barmaid’s home. The speed with which she answered his knock made it seem as if she had been waiting behind the door, which in truth she had.
‘Come in love.’ He walked through into the living room. 'I'll pour you a drink and put some music on. Is there any thing in particular you would like?'
'Not really bothered.’ He replied. She poured him a scotch.
'I'll just slip upstairs and put my things on for you,’ she said, as she handed him his drink.
'Don't be long,’ Liam murmured, his mind still dwelling on the prospect of a job. I will make sure I send off my C.V. first thing in the morning, he thought.
The sound of ‘Simply Red’ was coming from the stereo as the door slowly opened and Jean walked into the room. She was dressed, or rather nearly dressed, in a tiny black bra with lacy edging. Her large dark brown nipples showing through the filmy material. She wore matching open crotch black briefs, which showed a great deal of black pubic hair, with suspenders and stockings to match.
She was also wearing four-inch black high heels, and looking very self-conscious.
Liam looked, and smiled. 'You will never convince anybody that you are a true blond if they saw you like this.’
She looked immediately down cast.
'Don't you like my outfit? I bought it especially for you.
'You look good enough to eat, In fact that's just what I'm going to do.’
Suiting actions to words, he pulled her towards him and buried his face in her hairy haven. After about five minuets of this foreplay, Jeans legs slowly gave way and she sank to the floor.
Kneeling in front of him, she hurriedly slid his zip down.
'Now it's your turn,’ she said huskily, as she fondled his rampant manhood. Lowering her head and filling her mouth with his pulsating flesh
The following morning Liam slipped away before she awoke. Never did like goodbyes, he thought.
On arriving back at his bedsitter, he got to work on his C.V. He used an ancient word processor. Not brilliant, but at least they will be able to read it.
In general, he told the truth. Lying only by omission. Not mentioning as he saw it, the execution of the I.R.A. killer that had led to his discharge.
Sticking a first class stamp on the envelope, he hurried to the mailbox to catch the midday post. Here’s hoping, he thought, as it dropped through the slot.
He spent the next few days anxiously waiting for a reply. The weekend came and dragged itself slowly by. Even Jeans loving attentions became no more than a distraction.
In fact, he was very rapidly becoming bored with her and her continual hints at an engagement, and a ring on her finger.
I guess that's what happens when they take seriously, what's poked at them in fun, he thought. Still she is bound to find some other sucker to give her what she wants.
The following Monday morning the landlady pushed a letter under his door. It was addressed to him and bore a Liverpool postmark. Tearing it open, he read.
Dear Mr Casey, we would appreciate your attending an interview at our Liverpool office on the twenty-first of this month.
Detailed instructions of how to find the office followed. Also enclosed was a second class return ticket.
It requested that the ticket be returned if for whatever reason he decided not to go.
Liam re-read the letter. It was headed O.S.S. LTD., and it was signed J McKay. There was still no clue as to what the company were all about.
Stranger and stranger, Liam thought. Although he did not realise it then, it was to become a lot stranger than he could ever have imagined.
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