Stream of Consciousness Sunday: The Accumulator, part forty three.

So, we’re back in fiction mode, after last week’s sojourn into geekdom, and today’s SoCS post continues this story using Linda G Hill‘s prompt;

” “motive.” Use the word “motive,” in any form, in your post. ”

Sounds reasonably simple, let’s go…

The Accumulator, part forty three.

Scene: A hospital maternity department. It is forty two years ago.

A man wearing a black trench coat and black leather gloves, holding a tightly furled umbrella, stands at an observation window and watches as a nurse enters the nursery and approaches a pair of cots which are separated from the others by a curtain.

She checks the charts on the end of each and turns to look at the man outside. He nods and the nurse moves to the left-hand cot, gently picks up the sleeping baby and, gathering the blankets around it, carries it out of the room and hurries after the man as he strides down the corridor and through the double doors.

The camera stays on the doors until they swing shut after the nurse, then slowly pans round to the observation window.

We move closer, until we are at the window, then the shot tightens on the only occupied cot behind the curtain and suddenly, by the magic of editing, we are directly above it, looking down at the baby, whose eyes are now open and staring straight back up at us.

And now we move closer, the shot tightening until the baby’s face, then just the eyes, then one, pale blue eye fills the screen. The director holds on this image for a couple of seconds, then the shot slowly widens, soon revealing that we’ve been tricked by another fancy bit of editing.

The blue eyes are now those of the woman who looks like Cathy and who is looking coldly at Dorn from across the desk.

“Judging from your report, it seems that this collection of thugs and criminals have managed to repeatedly outwit and evade your own department, several police forces here and in Europe, Interpol, Special Branch and the intelligence services, did I leave anyone out?”

“No, sir, I think you have the gist of it.” (he had only made the mistake of calling her ma’am once)

“And you understand my motive for wanting these dangerous terrorists brought to justice?”

“Yes, sir, I do, it was just unfortunate that…”

She doesn’t let him finish, her hand suddenly slams down on the desk, she fixes him with those icy blue eyes and speaks in a low, flat voice

“I want the man who murdered my sister, do you understand me? I don’t want to hear about mistakes or listen to excuses, I want you to find them and bring them to me.”

“Of course, I can only apologise for the delay. As I say, we have them now, they will be picked up this evening, a team has already been despatched.”

“Then I need not detain you any longer, unless there was something else…?”

“No, no, thank you, that’s all.”

Dorn stands up and nods respectfully to the woman, who has looked down at a file on her desk and seems unaware of his continued presence. He retraces his steps across the room to the door, which the guard already has open for him and steps out into the concrete hallway. The heavy steel door clangs shut behind him and he lets out a sigh before glancing at his watch and heading for the door at the far end of the corridor and his waiting driver.

“With any luck, I might even make it in time for the end of the shoot…”

************

To be continued (using next week’s prompt {which can now be found HERE})…

Pingback to Linda G Hill

Advertisements

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: The Accumulator, part forty two.

It’s time to dip our toes in the waters of another SoCS post, getting back into the swing of things with this strange and meandering tale, inspired this week by Linda G Hill and her prompt;

” Start with “WHEN.” Write whatever you’d like, but begin your post with the word “when.” “

Hmm, fair enough…

The Accumulator, part forty two.

Scene: Inside Dorn’s car.

“When we get round the next corner, put your foot down, we’re being followed.”

We see Dorn turn from looking out of the rear window and lean forward as he speaks to his driver.

“I don’t know who it is, but they’ve been with us since we left the pub, do you see them?”

The driver replies without even glancing in the mirror.

“A tatty looking heap with three men in it, about fifty yards back? Yes sir, I’ve been keeping an eye on them.”

Dorn sits back with a relaxed smile, congratulating himself on how well trained his personal staff are, feeling the surge of acceleration as the powerful car leaps forward and their followers disappear from view round a sharp bend.

A hundred yards ahead, a junction; the entrances of narrow country lanes barely visible amongst the hedges on each side of the winding road, but Dorn’s car doesn’t reduce speed, in fact his driver pulls out into the right hand lane, as if overtaking an invisible vehicle.

Dorn shows no concern at this unexpected manoeuvre, he simply opens the armrest at his side and presses a single red button underneath, just as the driver swings the wheel hard to the left and yanks on the handbrake.

Suddenly a section of hedge on their left, thirty feet from the crossroads, drops straight down into the ground, timed so that when the skidding car comes level with it and the driver floors the accelerator, they shoot across the road, through the opening and down a ramp, the camouflage springing back into place behind them.

The shot remains fixed on the hedge for a moment, as the foliage sways to a standstill, then we hear the sound of a car approaching and the camera turns to look back up the road.

We see the battered hatchback accelerate as it comes round the bend, Patrick obviously panicking at the sight of empty road in front of him, and we follow the car as it passes us then skids to a halt at the junction up ahead. After a few seconds, the car speeds off in the direction it was heading and we watch as it vanishes around a long curve in the road.

The camera pans back round until it is once more focussed on the dappled shade of the woods opposite us and the gently rippling leaves of the hedge, then the scene slowly fades to black.

*****

Scene: A long subterranean corridor, concrete, starkly illuminated by florescent lights.

A door opens halfway down and Dorn steps through, closing it behind him and walking purposefully towards us. The camera follows him as he passes and we see him heading for the only other door; a heavy steel one in the end wall, with armed guards positioned on either side.

As Dorn reaches the end of the corridor, the shot cuts to a close-up of the door, but it is only when it opens and we see Dorn standing there, that we realise the director has pulled a fancy editing trick on us and we are already in the room on the other side.

The shot now pulls back and we see a black suited guard holding open the door as Dorn steps through, nodding curtly at the man as he steps into the room.

In contrast to the corridor outside, the room is warmly lit, comfortably furnished and has richly coloured wood paneling on the walls, there is even a log fire burning under an imposing stone mantlepiece, with leather club chairs on a richly patterned hearth rug.

Dorn walks past the camera and as he passes, our POV slowly moves round behind him. He heads for a desk at the end of the room, but now the angle of the shot makes it impossible for us to see who sits behind it. When he stops, however, we cut to a front view of Dorn from the other side of the desk.

We see him nod at whoever sits there, before lowering himself into a chair, where he folds his hands in his lap and purses his lips thoughtfully.

“It seems your little team of reprobates has become quite resourceful. They very nearly caught up with us, after the meeting with DCI Paddick this afternoon, I’m glad I had Howells driving me today, it was touch and go there for a minute.”

“Yes, I was surprised you let them get so close, did you not suspect the police report was a set-up? Never mind, at least we have them now, they won’t get far.”

The female voice from behind the desk seems oddly familiar, our memories search for a reference, but the director doesn’t give us the satisfaction, he cuts straight to Dorn’s POV and the Big Reveal.

The last thing we see is a shot of the woman sitting behind the desk and we see that it is…

…Cathy.

Fade to black.

************

To be continued (using next week’s prompt {which can now be found HERE})…

#SoCS

Pingback to Linda G Hill.

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑