Postcards to America (6 page)

Liam sat in “‘Dan’s Diner” with “Corner” O’ Connor. After his visit to the Institution he avoided public transport and walked to the diner to clear his head. Now he sipped his coffee.

As “Corner” wrote, Liam cast his mind back to the day they first met. Liam had popped in to the diner for a quick snack. On that particular day, all the seats were occupied. As Liam stood there, coffee and sandwiches in hand, a patron stood and vacated a seat in a corner of the premises. Liam moved to the vacant seat and asked the person opposite if he minded.

‘No,’ the young man with the wild blue eyes answered. His blue eyes were set in a face that could be described as looking youthful and innocent. A single earring adorned one ear. Jet black hair contrasted sharply with the young man’s pale complexion.

Liam, seated with his back to the door, faced the young man who sat with his back to the wall. As Liam watched, the young man sipped tea and began filling in postcards. Every few moments the man would look up and scan the diners.

Dan’s Diner stood on a corner. Large panes of glass covered two sides of the diner giving patron’s unrivalled views of passing pedestrians. Liam later learned that the young man selected the diner for this reason.

Liam munched sandwiches and sipped coffee.

‘It’s nice to keep in touch. Millions of people out there never receive a postcard. We owe it to ourselves to spread a little happiness. Can you imagine the pleasure these cards will give when they are delivered?’ The young man spoke without lifting his head.

Liam agreed with the sentiments expressed. However, one thing puzzled him. How were the recipients going to keep in touch? He could see no return addresses on the postcards.

‘Must cost you in postage?’ asked Liam by way of conversation.

‘Exemption.’

Liam thought hard. He had never heard of exemption from postage requirements except perhaps by politicians.

‘How do you spell Milwaukee?’ The postcard sender asked.

‘M…i…l…w…I do not know how to spell Milwaukee. Why not try Boston or Chicago? Why Milwaukee?’

‘I like the name Milwaukee. It has a nice ring to it. Like a Red Indian name. I have already sent cards to Boston and Chicago so those two cities are out.’

‘OK! Let’s forget about Milwaukee. Give me some other American cities.’

‘Austin, Denver, San Francisco, Miami, Washington…’

‘No! No! I can’t use Washington. It would e too confusing.’

‘Why too confusing?’ asked Liam innocently.

The young man looked at Liam as one would look at a child.

‘I can’t address the card to Washington Street, Washington.

Liam wondered why not.

‘Then there is Sacramento, Pasadena, Las Vegas and Reno.’ Liam continued.

‘I will use the cities out west. Folks in Denver, Austin, Reno, Sacramento and Pasadena will only are too happy to get a card from me.’ Liam watched as the young man addressed a card bearing a picturesque landscape to Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith, 107, Washington Street, Sacramento, USA.

There are saner people in the institution I just left, Liam reflected as he sipped his coffee again.

The next card the young man addressed bore the legend:

Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith, 27, Washington Street, Reno, USA.

The young man finished writing and lifted his head. ‘In what part of America did the Apaches live?’

Taken aback by the question, Liam shook his head.

The young man looked disappointed. He gathered up his postcards and with a nod to Liam made for the door. Liam turned in his chair and watched the departing figure. Through the glass, the young man could be clearly seen as he stopped by a municipal bin and deposited the postcards.

*

After that episode, curiosity made Liam return to find out the full story. Piece by piece Liam gleaned additional facts about the young man and his behaviour. His name was Sean O’Connor and he came to Dan’s Diner and sat for a few hours. Dan’s Diner made a suitable location because of its large plate glass windows. He always sat in the corner, which allowed him unrestricted views of his surroundings. Instantly Liam nicknamed him “Corner”, a name that rhymed with          O’ Connor. At first “Corner” read newspapers in the diner to pass the time but not being a great reader soon got bored and the owner of the premises began to cast glances in his direction. The perfect solution came into the diner one day in the most unlikely of guises - a party of American tourists. “Corner” watched fascinated as the tourists sat for what seemed like hours drinking coffee and filling in postcards to send home. The next day he bought some postcards and started not sending them. Providing he bought the occasional cup of tea then the owner of the premises ignored him. Gradually Liam and “Corner” became friends and “Corner” became part of the group. Try as he might, Liam could not discover details of “Corner’s” family or why people would want to follow him and possibly do him harm.

‘Why are you writing “Washington Street” on all your postcards?’ asked a puzzled Liam eventually.

‘Name the first president of America?’

Liam knew that one. ‘George Washington.’

‘Right. George Washington, the soldier who led the fight for independence and went on to become the first president of the United States of America. Therefore, every city in America will have a street named after him.’

‘You don’t post the cards so why does the address matter?’

“Corner” looked seriously at Liam before he replied, ‘It may not matter to you or I but it certainly matters to George Washington.’

And who could argue with that logic thought Liam.

“Corner” spoke and brought Liam back to the present. ‘I may have to give up sending postcards to our American friends.

‘Why?’ replied Liam, humouring his friend.

‘The Internet.

‘The Internet?’

‘Yes, the Internet. I’ve learned that the number of people sending postcards has fallen dramatically. It appears that people are communicating instantly via the Internet to several of their fellow citizens. It seems as if the age of the postcard is ending. Now all I have to do is to find out how this Internet thing works.’

And not send them messages, Liam thought, remembering the postcards in the municipal bin.

‘One thing is certain, Liam.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The decline in postcard sending and the rise of the Internet is going to spell the death knell for the Pony Express.’

The most prestigious car dealership in the area belonged to Ryan’s Motors Ltd. Even the second-hand cars they sold cost more than a new model from a different manufacturer. The value of the cars parked in the showrooms and on the forecourt amounted to many millions of Euro and a man constantly cleaned them to keep them in pristine condition.

Because Ryan’s customers were prepared to spend more to satisfy their motoring whims, they were treated differently than an ordinary car buyer.

On entering the showrooms, they were greeted by an attractive girl who offered them tea, coffee, biscuits and newspapers and showed them to a comfortable chair. Connection points were also available to those who wished to use their laptops.

Despite selling very expensive vehicles, Ryan’s Motors buzzed with activity. Potential buyers, those who wished they could be potential buyers and those who just came to dream.

The brother applied the fake tan to his face, making sure that the tan covered his face up to his hairline. Next, he fitted the very expensive hairpiece, making sure it fitted properly, especially at the sides and back. Satisfied, he donned a pair of square framed, gold spectacles with plain glass.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror one last time, he noted the day’s growth on his face - this fitted in with the latest fashion trend.

Donning the coat of his well-cut pin-striped suit the young man slipped the forged documents and bank cards into his inside pocket and set out for his destination.

Gordon Bailey, head salesperson at Ryan’s Motors, had reached that position after twelve years’ service to the company. Twelve years spent in perfecting the art of selling cars, which essentially consisted in fawning on customers and pushing them gently towards signing the contract. A very large percentage of those people who sat in the chair opposite him were already committed to purchasing a car and just needed to be taken by the hand and coaxed that extra few feet.

Gordon worked for a flat monthly wage topped up by a commission for every vehicle sold. In truth, Gordon needed to sell as many cars as possible. Gordon, married for just two years, was presently building a house on a piece of land purchased years ago and his cash reserves were depleted.

The young man drove within the speed limit along the motorway, indicated at the appropriate sign, then turned into Ryan’s forecourt and switched off the engine. Before leaving the vehicle, he removed the pair of thin plastic kitchen gloves he wore and placed them in a pocket.

When the brother entered through the automatic doors, he accepted the offer of black coffee and a newspaper, which he pretended to read. Looking over the top of the newspaper, he noticed Gordon Bailey in conversation with a potential client. He also noticed the camera mounted high on the wall recording all the activities in the showroom.

Presently the man being spoken to by Gordon Bailey stood and bade goodbye. The look of disappointment on Bailey’s face signalled that no sale took place.

The young woman approached the brother and said, ‘Mr. Bailey will see you now, sir.’

The brother followed the woman, opening his jacket as he did so. Reading the name sign on the desk he extended a hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you, Gordon.’

‘Robert…Robert Craig.’ He handed Gordon a business card, which read: Robert Craig, International Business Software. A list of telephone numbers for offices in London, New York, Hong Kong and Paris followed.

‘How can I help you, Robert?’ asked Gordon. He took in the perfectly groomed hair, the tanned face and the perfectly tailored suit.

Robert told him of his interest in a top of the range model.

Gordon stood and guided Robert to the chosen model and spent a considerable amount of time going over the merits of the particular vehicle. Robert pretended to listen to every word and asked pertinent questions at relevant intervals.

‘Looks like an excellent car,’ Robert said at last when they finished walking around the car for the fourth time.

Gordon didn’t like the sound of the words “looks like”. He needed this sale.

‘We can give you a top trade-in allowance on your old vehicle or a discount if you want to pay cash,’ proffered Gordon.

‘If I decide to buy,’ the brother said, emphasizing the word “if”, ‘then I will be trading in my present car. That car has given me great service and I will be loath to lose it. But I have to consider my image, you understand?’

Gordon said that he did.

Robert handed over the keys of the large car hired two days earlier from a car hire company at the opposite end of the country. All stickers advertising the company’s services were removed and the car extensively cleaned. False documents were prepared and the number plates were switched to match the documentation.

Robert and Gordon went outside and Gordon examined the hired vehicle. He looked at the car’s body, the mileage and ran the engine to test for faults. Satisfied with his checks, Gordon led Robert back inside and after checking with a used car price guide, he offered Robert a price.

Robert pretended to hesitate but agreed to the trade-in price when Gordon upped the amount.

Gordon could already see the commission for the sale on his monthly pay slip.

‘There’s just one thing…’Robert paused for effect.

‘Yes,’ Gordon asked hesitantly.

‘I need a test drive. I need to see how the car handles. At the price I’m paying and with the reputation that this brand has, I’m sure that there will be no trouble…’

Gordon hesitated. After an attempt to steal a car, several years earlier, guidelines were laid down and this stated that all those seeking to test-drive a car must be accompanied by a salesperson.

Gordon looked around. Another customer awaited him and the young man opposite him started to fidget.

‘I only need a short spin out the motorway,’ Robert told Gordon. ‘You have the keys of my car. I will give you my passport and you can ring my business to verify my bona fides. We could have this deal sewn up in less than thirty minutes.’

Gordon looked at the passport, the business card, and the set of vehicle keys and decided to take a chance. ‘Will ten minutes suffice?’ Gordon asked the tanned young man.

‘That will be plenty, Gordon,’ replied Robert.

Gordon handed over the keys and watched as the tanned young man indicated and drove the vehicle on to the motorway. He noted the time and turned his attention to the next customer.

The brother turned off the motorway lane at the next junction and headed back in the opposite direction to that taken when he originally left the dealership. He pushed the car up to the maximum legal speed. As he travelled he discarded the spectacles and wig through an open window when no cars were visible in the rear view mirror. Fishing in a coat pocket he withdrew a handful of face wipes and removed some of the fake tan.

Ten minutes after leaving the garage the brother took a slip road off the motorway and drove a distance up a minor road. He stopped at a lay-by beside a white van. A man stepped from the white van and quickly fixed a set of number plates to the stolen vehicle. Without a word, the man handed a set of forged documents to the brother. He also handed him the documents for a short sea crossing for a vehicle and passenger.

Busy dealing with a customer, Gordon failed to notice that the tanned young man had not yet returned from his test drive.

Minutes later the man who cleaned and polished the cars at Ryan’s Motors got a telephone call purporting to come from the local hospital informing him that a family member had been admitted after an accident. With a word to the general manager, he sprinted away. The general manager, who shortly afterwards left to attend a meeting, thought it not worthy to mention the news to the rest of the staff.

As the car, carrying the cleaner drove away, a man wearing the same type overalls entered the forecourt carrying cleaning utensils. Looking to see if his actions were being observed, the man reached into his bucket and withdrew a small bottle of petrol. He unscrewed the bottle top and poured the contents between the windscreen wipers and the bonnet of a car. Looking around, he lit a match and threw it after the petrol. With a loud sound the petrol ignited.

Looking behind, the man walked hurriedly to the waiting motorbike.

On the motorway, the brother continued to make good time towards the port.

A mechanic, parking a repaired vehicle, spotted the burning car and raised the alarm. Some member of the staff pressed the fire button and the siren sounded. In an orderly fashion the staff evacuated the building and assembled at the fire points to await the arrival of the fire service.

In the excitement, Gordon forgot about the tanned young man test driving the expensive car.

Once, the brother spotted a police car behind him and slowed down to let the car pass. With sirens sounding, the police car passed him and raced towards a serious accident.

It took over an hour before the fire brigade arrived and put out the car fire and things regained a semblance of normality.

Only then, seated behind his desk once more did Gordon spot the passport and the documents left by the tanned young businessman. Leaving his desk, he drove out the route that the man would have driven on his test run. He found no trace of the potential buyer. Returning to the garage, he informed the manager who contacted the police.

More time passed before the police service could spare the officers to visit the garage. By this time, the brother was following the signs that directed traffic to the port area.

By the time the police obtained the description of the tanned young man and driven along the motorway to determine if the vehicle had been involved in an accident or broken down, the vehicle was entering the port area.

The brother stopped just outside the customs area and transferred the vehicle to a businessman with impeccable credentials on both sides of the sea. This businessman would drive the car to its final destination in the Middle East.

Ryan’s Motor’s Ltd. could not instantly dismiss Gordon Bailey even though company rules were broken. Years before, unknown to the management, Gordon secretly joined a trade union as insurance against such an eventuality. However, the company made life so unpleasant for him that in the end he accepted a negotiated payment and left.

Several weeks later the Byrnes brothers received payment and celebrated in style in an out of town restaurant away from prying eyes.