The Survival of Thomas Ford by John A.A. Logan

Author:John A.A. Logan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Thriller
Publisher: White Butterfly Press
Published: 2011-12-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-five

Jack McCallum turned the ignition key back and the Subaru engine died out.

They were parked on the opposite side of the road from Thomas Ford’s house, but much further down than Jimmy and Robert had been the night before.

“We can’t see anything from here dad eh?”

“We can see enough.”

They had just spent two hours parked outside Lorna’s flat, waiting for her to come home. Every few minutes Jack had sent Jimmy into her building to rap on her door in case she was in and asleep or just not answering. Then, on the way to Thomas Ford’s house, Jack had taken a detour to pass Robert Ferguson’s house and Jimmy had clearly seen Robert and his mum sitting in their living room, ghostly shadows from Coronation Street flickering across their white visages.

Jack had grunted and said coldly,

“They’ll keep.”

Now Jimmy was staring at the pavement outside 16 Cromwell Drive. A woman passed suddenly with a dog and Jimmy recognised the dog from the night before. Jimmy was cursing his weakness now. Something about being in Thomas Ford’s garden had broken him, seeing the man there in the kitchen. He still hadn’t recovered. The fall-out from that had been landing on him ever since. That was why he had told Lorna everything.

It had only taken 24 hours for it all to come apart and now here he was stuck in the Subaru with his father. The worst thing about Jack McCallum tonight was the cold calm that had entered him. Jimmy had grown used to verbal abuse and beatings. But this calm iced demeanour was difficult to get used to.

Jack sniffed. Then he said,

“We only need to be close enough to see if someone comes or someone goes. And without us getting seen. You got too close last night. You don’t ever get that close, Jimmy, not unless you know exactly what you’re going to do. You had it all arse backwards. But maybe it’s for the best.”

Jack tapped the steering wheel rhythmically with his forefinger. He looked up and down the long, broad road of Victorian and Georgian properties. This was the cream of the city’s real estate. Jack himself owned three of the larger properties on this road, under a company set up using the alias, Graham Farnham. As Graham Farnham, Jack was a respected shadow or sleeping partner in a good percentage of the city’s business, and all without any conflict of interest charges ever arising. Often Graham Farnham’s company would acquire land one week that Jack McCallum started building on the next. These Poles who came and went, even the clever ones like Jack’s foreman, Lanski, they didn’t have a clue what they were getting involved with in this city. Same went for men like Radthammon or even that other doctor, Nissen. Jack regarded them as only half-men, a form of transient adolescent flashing across the landscape. They wouldn’t last. Only men like him lasted and made a mark on their time and place. Now the boy had done something stupid and threatened the edifice somewhat.

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