Ah, the glory which was Greece, the grandeur which was Rome, the smouldering wasteland which was Port Talbot. Mordor by Sea, some called it, but without the magic volcanoes. Except of course the version I now gawped at open mouthed, wasn’t. This version of Grandad’s home town could have given Greece and Rome a run for their money; it could have thrashed them, picked them up off the floor and thrashed them again just for shits and giggles. To use a local idiom this place made the Hanging Gardens of Babylon look simply hanging by comparison.
For starters ancient Athens lacked the bustling space port where the docks should have been, giant twinkling passenger liners floating through the dusk. And instead of the grimy steel works the gleaming halls of the massive Jones Corp J-Drive factory stretched for endless miles into the blue-grey distance. All the way, in fact, to Kenfig Hill, where the gleaming spire of the Howard Marks World Trade Centre thrust through the crimson clouds like a glittering needle shooting-up the sky.
On the western horizon across the bay Swansea’s skyline was busy putting Florence to shame. Vast pyramids of crystalline glass sprawled in profusion, nestling amidst clusters of domes and burnished spires, all vying in their brilliance with the setting sun. I didn’t know where to look. Wherever my gaze fell exotic craft filled the sky, drifting through the dusk in a complex kinetic ballet. How they avoided a pile-up I’d never know. Our tacsi was in a holding pattern, circling high above Bryn, as we awaited a slot in the city’s busy air traffic gyratory system. The supercomputers running the show must have been very good. I cast my gaze far out to sea.
‘Are those oil rigs on the horizon?’
Gwen chuckled. ‘No need for oil anymore. Not with J-Drives shipping by the ton. That’s where the refugees are housed – the poor sods fleeing the war in Patagonia. For all the talk of liberation doesn’t seem the Government wants them rubbing shoulders with us natives.’
My mouth did fish impressions as we received our traffic slot and dropped to a lower altitude. ‘So where is it we’re heading?’ Years ago Grandad had lived down this way and I knew my way around, more than a little.
Gwen pointed to a small grotty building, out of place amidst the glittering metropolis. Even by the standards of that day I was taken aback. I squinted in the direction she was pointing.
‘But that looks an awful lot like Taibach Rugby Club. The version I know from back home.’
She seemed to think I should be impressed. ‘Yes, I know. Don’t stress, I can get us in – we’re on the VIP guest list. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.’
Gwen clambered into the pilot seat and took manual control, against the shrill protests of the onboard AI. Seconds later we were coming in for a hair-raising j-hook landing on the green next to St Theodore’s Church, as the hysterical autopilot squawked about the dangers of ‘unauthorised landings’. My companion paid the fare with a thick wad of Monopoly cash, before bundling me out the clamshell doors. She remembered to yell the traditional ‘Thanks Drive’ behind her, but I think the generous tip went further to placate the jabbering machine. The robotic voice was still wittering on about ‘no change being given’ as it lifted into the gathering dusk. I didn’t get time to study my surroundings. Gwen grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a dark line of trees.
‘That was risky, but it’s best we avoid municipal landing pads. Besides, there’s never anyone around here – can always trust a churchyard to be quiet in this sleazy town.’
But I’d had enough of being pulled around like a bag of spuds. I was sure this wasn’t the way it was meant to be. Catching her by surprise I struggled out of her grip. It was time to stamp my little foot down in authority.
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‘Look luv, I appreciate what you’re trying to do.’
Gwen’s gaze would have stopped me in my tracks, that’s if my feet hadn’t already been planted to the floor. Her answer was ominously quiet. ‘Do you really know what’s going on – what’s at stake?’
I let out a weary sigh. ‘Thanks for saving me from those nutters back in Aberdare, but I didn’t sign up for this. I’m very much a stay-at-home type of guy. Need to get back – Mum should be getting my tea on about now. That’s if she puts in an appearance today. Fish fingers on a Tuesday.’
What she did next took me by surprise. Too fast to follow, Gwen stepped up into my grill and grabbed me by the throat, her hand jamming around my windpipe. What she did with the other could have been interesting under other circumstances, but here was just excruciatingly painful. Looking deep into my eyes she whispered, ‘Bull me no shit, you blathering bag of wank – without me you wouldn’t last a second, not here or anywhere else in this crazy mixed-up world. If I’m curt it’s because time is a factor. I don’t want us both ending up dead. I get no bounty on a corpse.’
I was sensing a touch of push-back at my very reasonable suggestion. Momentarily something flickered in her eyes, as if she’d said too much. Struggling to regain my breath I was just able to rasp, ‘Perhaps it’s best I do let you take the lead, after all.’
Her grip loosened just a little. ‘I’ve tried to be polite, thus far. But let’s just remember this is not a democracy. Think of it more as a…’ She struggled for the right word.
Ever the gentleman I helped her out. ‘A kidnapping?’
Her face brightened. ‘Yes, that’s right – a kidnapping – means you do as I say. Capisce?’
I nodded fast. ‘Can you at least tell me where we’re going? I respond better to gentle persuasion.’
Her eyes narrowed, as if sizing me up. She must have come to a positive conclusion, at least partly, because she let go of my windpipe. ‘There are… some people who want to keep you safe. They learned you were in imminent danger – mortal danger. They sent me to help.’
I loosened my collar as my feet once again took my weight. ‘I noticed that back in Aberdare.’
Gwen went on, never once taking her eyes off mine. ‘These… interested parties badly want to meet you. They’ve contracted me to take you to them. I’m a courier.’
She sounded more like a people trafficker to me, but I kept this observation to myself. ‘And you do this for a living – pick up unsuspecting guys from libraries? Why didn’t you just email? My diary is not exactly bursting.’
Now it was Gwen’s turn to scoff. ‘Come off it – I think we both know you’re not the sort to spring into action without a massive kick up the jacksy. Think of me as the boot gently parting your cheeks.’
I did my best to look hurt, but Gwen didn’t seem to notice.
‘Besides, you can’t get emails through a gate, nor telephone or radio for that matter. Sensitive messages, or commodities’ – she actually had the nerve to nod in my direction – ‘need a courier to take them through. When you have a delicate job you hire the best.’
I was a tad unnerved by her nailing my character after so short an acquaintance. ‘And that’s why your friends sent you – you’re the best?’
Her answer held no trace of doubt. ‘Yes, I’m the very best – totally elite.’
There was a pause, in which I decided I could well believe her. Gwen continued, ‘And they’re not my friends – clients maybe, for the time being, at least.’
This was all too much to take. I was rapidly developing one of my headaches. How I longed for the safety of my bedroom and a nice quiet lie down. ‘So who were those guys back in Aberdare – the ones with the attitudes and Kalashnikov loyalty cards?’
My mysterious, smoking-hot kidnapper turned away as if to go. She didn’t look happy; I knew how she felt. Gwen’s voice was flat. ‘There are other forces at play. We were jumped by more than one faction, as I’m sure you noticed. Could be the Newport Triads, or the Russian Mob out of Tredegar. Every hitman and bounty hunter between here and Blaenau Ffestiniog seems to want to use you for target practice – well, not on my watch.’
I sensed she didn’t really believe what she was saying. There was more to this than she was letting on. Never mind, for now. Perhaps we both needed a fresh start.
‘Well, if I’ve not had time to say it yet – thanks for keeping me safe. I appreciate it.’
Gwen half turned and shrugged. ‘I’m a professional, just doing my job.’
‘You do it very well.’
She forced a smile. On cue the sun broke from behind the evening clouds, bathing us in pale golden light. For some reason her eyes wouldn’t meet mine.
‘Those bad guys want to stop you meeting my clients – stop you with extreme prejudice. I’m not going to let that happen. Come on Nogood Boyo, we really have to go.’
Meekly I followed her towards the shadowy hedge line. What other choice did I have? Some unseen hand had lashed me to this mad roller coaster – might as well try to enjoy the ride.