Four In The Morning

l awoke, sweating at four in the morning. More than sweating; the bedsheets were drenched.

This wasn’t right and my escape, while easy in theory, meant getting past the various checks at Gatwick. If I was successful I’d be home free.

Oh, I’m Steve. On the surface I’m an ordinary guy, smart but forgettable. That’s the point you see, because I’m a con artist. I dabble in fraud too. Normally I keep business and pleasure desperate, but this job means I’m set for life. Let me explain….

A childhood friend, let’s call him Jay, had recently come into a fair bit of money. I shan’t relate how, as I’m in enough trouble already, but I almost managed to relieve him of his not inconsiderable fortune. I say almost, because Jay found out. The night before I was due to leave for America. That’s why I did it, why I knocked him out and set his home on fire. I don’t know if he’ll live, but there’s no turning back now. I acquired a fake passport via the usual channels and there’s a green card, plus a job, waiting for me when I arrive. If only the plan had been perfect.

How did he find out? I got careless. That’s not an option in my line of work, but I was greedy, far too greedy.

My belongings were waiting by the front door, so when the cab arrived it took less than two minutes to be heading for my freedom. The driver was, thankfully, rather quiet and accepted my holiday story with a grunt. I didn’t need the stress, not today at least.

The check in went smoothly, well as good as it could have ever been, what with all the hanging around. Nobody appeared to be looking for me, but I did notice a few pairs of eyes on me. Paranoia I guess but those eyes bored straight past me. It was more likely that I hadn’t bothered to shower or shave before leaving. I’d need to freshen up on the plane.

For one reason or another I fell asleep before take off. Apparently I was in a deep sleep too because I missed the in flight meal. After asking the stewardess for a whisky, neat, I enquired as to the time. I must have looked dreadful when she told me it was four in the morning, because she stepped back and gasped. Adjusting my demeanor, I smiled and tried to pass it off as tiredness and not realizing we were an hour away, roughly, from San Francisco. She smiled at me but looked unconvinced.

Passing through customs I once again had the feeling that eyes were upon me but there were far more people here and a particularly dishevelled looking traveller must have been a break in the monotony. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I was successful in exiting the airport, but my taxi driver this end was anything but quiet. He was talking as I hailed the taxi and, I presume, still talking when he dropped me off at the hotel. He wanted to know absolutely everything about Britain and why I was here. I pretended to be asleep until he shouted that we had arrived and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Everything else was completely normal but, once again, I awoke at 4am. In fact I leapt out of bed, thinking there was someone in my room. There wasn’t, but there had been. On the table there was an envelope. It was empty but the neatly typed words on the front were unmistakable not to mention recognizable. It was Jay’s handwriting and it said, “See you at 4am!”.

There was no point in sleeping now so I went out hoping the fresh air might help. It didn’t as I wasted most of the day thinking I was being watched. Returning to my room with the confused gaze of the receptionist I locked myself in and drew the curtains. The receptionist didn’t need to call and relay that message as the new envelope with “It’s nearly 4am!”, written on the front was where I’d found the previous letter.

So here I sit, at 3.54am knowing the inevitable would happen. The blurry figure sitting in the car opposite my hotel window is still there too. I know who he is, but more importantly I know what The Brotherhood can do. I know, you’re wondering who The Brotherhood are. Well, they can introduce you to pleasures as extreme as they are illegal, delightful yet immoral. They’re hard enough to find, never mind infiltrate, but I did, which is where I met Jay, the most depraved of all. I had offered him the ultimate in perversion for his money, then ran.

But you can’t do that to them. You deliver to these brothers or they hunt and destroy you. Do I, conman and thief, go to the police? No, and not just because the police are involved in The Brotherhood, but because who would believe me?

But I tell you this with a chill in my heart! The figure who just got out of the car looked up at me with a knowing and a malicious grin. Because it’s 4am and that’s payback time……​