Authors: Duncan Whitehead
Hong Kong, Six Days after St. Patrick’s Day
Peter Ferguson stared out of his office window, a cup and saucer in his hand contained his favorite tea. He raised the cup to his lips as he admired the view. Hong Kong was a wonderful place. He loved it here. Being fifty floors up in a tower block and having a corner office meant that he had a magnificent view of the harbor and the city. At night, as it was now, that view was even more impressive. He took another sip of his tea before returning to his desk. He opened his laptop, donned his reading glasses, and began to scroll down a list of files on his desktop. The resulting white glow illuminated his face, with his reading glasses mirroring the reflection of what he saw on his computer screen in the otherwise darkened office.
He rubbed his forehead as he read. He clicked on his mouse pad and opened a sub-file: Elliott Miller. He scrawled through the document, reading intensely, shaking his head at times, and sometimes smiling. Eventually, he leaned back in his chair. He hit the delete button, sending the document into his recycle bin where he again deleted it from the system. He leaned forward and reached for the phone on his desk.
“The Miller file is deleted. It is permanently closed. No action required now, or ever.” He placed the phone back on his desk and opened up another folder on his desktop entitled, ‘Dermot Lynch.’ He did not open this folder, nor did he read any document. He deleted the file, and as before, permanently erased it.
Ferguson leaned back in his chair once more, raised his head, and took a sip of tea. Returning his gaze to his computer, he located another file to erase: Doug Partridge. Once complete, he closed his laptop and rose from his desk. Carrying the laptop under his arm, he walked back to the window. For a second time that evening, he admired the view before sliding open his office window. The noise of the city below filled the room and he looked down onto the streets below. It was midnight. He lifted the laptop and then deliberately dropped it out of the window, by his own admission a stupid thing to do. Out of character for a member of the Organization, but it was symbolic, for him at least. He was out, and it was his final act as a member of the Organization. He watched as it fell fifty stories to the ground. He listened as it crashed on the concrete below. He then smiled, and closed his window.
On the ground, the laptop lay in a hundred pieces and beyond repair. A street cleaner, alerted by the crash, looked up at the tall office building but saw no one. Shrugging, he walked over to the mangled pieces of metal, plastic, and glass brushing the debris into a pile before collecting it a pan and dumping the contents into his cart. He glanced to his left; usually the city was deserted at this hour but he had been sure he had seen a shadow near the entrance of the building from where the laptop had just fallen. He shrugged again. He must be seeing things, maybe it had been a ghost? As he continued to sweep the streets, he could smell the distinctive odor of cigarette smoke. Odd, he thought, there seemed to a menthol tint to the smoke…….
Two Years Later
Betty Jenkins hadn’t known it be this cold in Savannah for years. Everyone knew that Februarys could sometimes be brutal, a stark contrast to the hot and humid summers. However, this year had been one of the bitterest winters on record. She wrapped a scarf around her neck, placed her warm winter coat over her shoulders, and called the dogs to heel. It was going to be a cold weekend.
Fuchsl, Paddy, and Walter all jumped to their paws at the sound of their mistress’s voice and the noise of clanking leashes. It was walk time, and the cold air didn’t bother them one bit. Betty smiled as the dogs made their way towards her. They were not as sprightly as they had once been. In fact, Betty wasn’t sure how old they actually were, but she guessed that her adopted pets probably didn’t have too many walks left in them. Betty opened the door to the house she had once cleaned, the door to the house she now owned as it was bequeathed to her by her former employer Heidi Launer, much to the disdain and protestations of Steven, and shivered. Despite her coat and scarf, Betty still felt the cold, and her breath created a fog in front of her face as she exhaled into the night.
“Come on boys, let’s head to the park. Keep close,” said Betty as she led the three dogs to the park for their nightly routine of a frolic as well as a last chance to toilet before Betty locked the doors, turned off the lights, and spent an hour reading a good book before falling asleep. Gordonston, as it usually was, was quiet, still, and peaceful. The routine walk to the park would take less than a minute, and in that time, Betty hardly ever saw another soul. Sometimes though, she would see the ex-police chief, Sam Taylor, and his wife, drive by in their RV, usually returning from another vacation. He would always wave and smile. Oftentimes, she would spot Kelly and Elliot Miller on their porch, laughing and joking, but of course that was only on weekends and public holidays. Once or twice, she had seen Robert and Jeff Morgan holding hands as they walked their dogs, a Bassett hound named Frank and their two Chihuahuas, Elton and John, around the outside of the park railings, but never in it.
It had been over a year since Jeff Morgan had resigned from the Savannah Police Department and announced that he was gay, as well as that he had been in a relationship with Robert Thompson for six months. Robert, who had overcome the tragedy of having his previous partner die in his arms, owned several bars and nightclubs in the town. After Morgan’s shocking resignation and then their marriage, the couple had become local celebrities. They opened businesses together, including a moped rental shop and a liquor store on River Street, adding to their growing portfolio of local companies.
During the day, though, the park had become a bustling and active place. Meredith Keyes and her friends had expanded their unofficial and unrestrictive dog-walking club. Many from outside Gordonston would show up, and for thirty minutes or so, they would exercise their dogs in the park along with Gordonston residents, who were more than happy to share the park. It was nice, thought Betty, that everyone and not just the residents of Gordonston were using the park. Though the signs still warned that it was private property and that the park was for residents only, nobody cared. Nobody policed the park, and nobody was excluded. It was, thought Betty, how it should be. There had been enough exclusion, enough segregation in this world. To argue and fight over the exercise of dogs was pointless and futile, like all things that aimed to separate and divide human beings.
Tonight though, the streets were empty. All was still and not even a car passed as Betty crossed Edgewater Road and entered the park, bending down to unleash her charges to let them run freely, cock their legs against trees, and to enjoy their exercise.
Betty took a seat on the park bench, the park bench adorned with the plaque that read, ‘In Memory Of The Gordonston Ladies Dog Walking Club. Thelma, Heidi, Cindy and Carla. Protectors of the park and lovers of dogs.’ As she did every night, Betty could not help but let a wry smile creep onto her face before she relaxed. Each night, she watched as the dogs played in the wooded area, chasing each other along the wood-chipped path or sniffing the earth as all dogs did, before they became distracted by something far more interesting.
The former housekeeper clapped her hands together to create some heat, the noise of her hands coming together and echoing in the emptiness that was the park. Not many people ventured there at night; stories of ghosts haunting the park, exaggerated by kids, passed down from sibling to sibling and friend to friend, seemed to have deterred kids from using the park when it was dark. The most popular story was that the ghost of Tom Hudd would rise up and wander the park looking for his dog, only to stop at the main gate and stare at the Miller house before vanishing into thin air. Other stories designed to scare the neighborhood kids included tales of old women, walking their dogs, one with her head hideously mutilated by a bullet wound, her features distorted, and her companion foaming at the mouth. All just make believe.
Betty smiled to herself. The thought of ghosts didn’t scare her. Nothing really scared Betty. As she continued to sit at the park bench, she planned her next trip to Arlington, where she would place fresh flowers on Andy’s grave and maybe treat herself to a stay at a fine hotel before driving back to Savannah in her brand new car. Not only had Heidi left Betty her home, but she had also left her loyal housekeeper a considerable part of her financial estate, which had made Betty Jenkins a very wealthy woman. Of course, as was expected, Steven Launer had not been pleased. He had contested not only the bequeathing of the house, but the money too. Luckily for Betty, and Steven, the Launer family came into even greater wealth, an inheritance from Austria. It was something to do with a jeweler. It had been millions, and quite rightly, Steven had dropped his claims against Betty and settled for being a multi-millionaire rather than just a millionaire. Their relationship, though at first strained, had become pleasant, with Steven often coming by whenever he visited Savannah. No, everything had worked out just fine.
Lost in her thoughts Betty didn’t notice the car pull up to south side of the park by the gate that led onto Gordonston Road, nor did she he notice the occupants exit the car. She probably wouldn’t have noticed them entering the park if it hadn’t been for the sound of the old Iron Gate creaking open. It really did need oiling, she thought, as she glanced over toward the gate. Raising her head, Betty watched as the two figures entered the park. Odd, thought Betty, no one ever came to the park at night and especially on a night like this. Walter, Paddy, and Fucshl were also alerted by the new arrivals and bounded over towards them – excited by something, something Betty hadn’t seen yet. Betty strained to see better, but still couldn’t make out much, just a taller figure next to a figure that was shorter, maybe a child or possibly even a teenager.
“Hello, hello you guys, you want to play? Be careful he is only small.”
The voice of a girl, a girl who was stroking and making a fuss over all the dogs as the taller figure looked on. She was holding something in her arms and Betty could see that it looked like a puppy. The pair, the child and the taller person, who Betty could now make out was a man, headed eastwards along the wood-chipped path. The girl was now leading the puppy by a leash as Walter, Fucshl, and Paddy followed, curiously sniffing the smaller dog and probably wondering if he wanted to play.
Betty stared as the procession of humans and dogs disappeared behind a clump of trees at the furthest end of the park. Betty strained to see them, but it was dark, and she hadn’t brought her glasses However, he could see now that it was a man and a young girl.
“I hope they aren’t bothering you--my dogs,” said Betty politely as the pair and the quartet of dogs reached the west gate where she had entered the park. The man and girl turned to face Betty and walked towards her, as Walter, Fuchsl, and Paddy bounded towards their mistress and the puppy followed behind.
“No, they are wonderful,” said the girl, now coming closer into the view. The man, however, remained at a distance underneath the shadow of a tree. All Betty could make out was that he wore a baseball cap and sported a beard that covered most of his face. Betty returned her gaze to the girl who was now stood directly in front of her.
“You have beautiful dogs. They are very playful, and they aren’t bothering us at all, are they Daddy?” The girl turned to face her father, who didn’t speak, but just nodded his head in agreement. “See?”
Betty nodded and smiled at the young lady, whom Betty guessed was probably about twelve or thirteen.
“Well, we have to go. Thank you ever so much for letting my puppy play with your dogs.”
Betty looked down at her feet. The girl’s puppy was wagging his tail and staring up at her. It was a German shepherd.
“Oh, its’ no bother, child,” said Betty, “Your puppy can play with my dogs anytime he wants.”
“Thank you, but we are just passing through, just visiting. Well, nice meeting you.”
The girl walked towards her father, the German shepherd puppy following behind on his leash. Betty watched as the group reached the south gate. The girl turned around to face Betty and waved, “Goodbye. Goodbye Walter, Paddy and you too Fuchsl, thanks for being nice to Bern.”
Betty’s eye widened. Her skin suddenly felt cold, not due to the evening chill, but something else. Something strange. Something odd. She watched as the car the man and girl had arrived in moved slowly from the curb and turned right onto Goebel Avenue and out of Gordonston. She knew their names. The girl had known the dogs’ names. How? She hadn’t told her and not one of them had a nametag. And the puppy? A German shepherd. Bern….
As Betty Jenkins collected her dogs and made her way to the park gate, she shuddered. She opened the gate, dogs following, and crossed the street towards her home.
“Evening Betty, cold one isn’t it?”
Startled, Betty turned her head. Elliott and Kelly Miller were sat on their porch drinking hot chocolate. Betty nodded. “Sorry to startle you, just thought we would embrace this crisp evening. It’s fresh, to say the least. Much colder than Atlanta. Would you like to join us? For a mug of cocoa?” offered Elliott.
“No, no thank you, Governor. Time for my bedtime,” said Betty who seemed to be distracted, uneasy, maybe even a little confused.
“Are you okay Betty?” asked Elliott, who along with Kelly, had arrived in Savannah a few hours earlier, home for the weekend before returning to the Governor’s mansion in Atlanta. As he stood from the porch and walked towards Betty, Kelly watching as her husband checked on their neighbor.
“Yes, yes, I am fine, just…. just nothing really.”
“Are you sure Betty?” asked Elliott “You look like you have just seen a ghost.”
Betty looked at Elliott, and then stared back into the park, then over to where the car carrying the little girl, her puppy and her father had just departed.
“Maybe I did Elliott. Maybe I did.”