The ARC Chronicles Collection

Chapter 5

The bus pulled up outside the DCU convention center and Eva decided to get off the bus. “A word of advice if this is your first time in town,” he said as she stepped down, causing her to pause. “Be careful if you are in a hotel round here. I’ve been round here a lot over the years, and delegates come in two types. Those here for work, and those here for play. You stay safe, and keep to the first type.”

“I’m not planning on any type right now,” she answered, flashing a grateful smile, “but thanks for the advice.”

With a wave, Eva stepped down and crossed the road to the nearest hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn. Still nervous about her husband, Eva checked in under an assumed name and booked a room for the foreseeable future, paying a premium in cash, but unmindful of the cost. She had money to spare. Taking the elevator to the fifth floor, Eva let herself in and bolted the door of her room shut.

Letting her bag drop to the floor, Eva curled up on the bed, and wept. Great sobs racked her chest, and she gave into the despair and let it all out. Never had she felt so alone.

Perhaps an hour later, after a brief sleep, Eva felt a little better. The rage mixed with grief and sense of betrayal had left her feeling rather whimsical. Taking a shower, Eva luxuriated in the heat, using the experience to wash away her fears and emerge clear-headed once more. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders; Eva felt free for the first time in years. There was no way Brian would contact the police, not to have them come looking at the house. He had little imagination, so he wouldn’t even know where to begin looking.

As if the thought was a trigger, her phone buzzed into life. It was Gideon. Eva answered and held the phone to her ear. “Gideon?”

“Is everything alright Eva? Your husband just left the hospital. He came looking for you, saying you hadn’t returned home.”

The feeling of dread sprang anew. “What did you tell him?”

“That I haven’t seen you since you left.”

“Nothing else?”

There was a slight pause. “No Eva, nothing else. Any professional disagreements we might have stay at work. They aren’t the business of ‘significant others’. For what it’s worth, and bearing in mind what transpired, I now believe you were right to suggest prudence. You are a good judge of character.”

“Thank you, Gideon. I am fine. I don’t believe I can say the same for my marriage. Just make sure Brian doesn’t come anywhere near me.”

“You have my word. Where are you staying?”

The question caught Eva off guard. She wasn’t ready to divulge her whereabouts just yet. “I am safe. I’m in a hotel. I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for the concern, I appreciate it.”

Not giving Gideon a chance to pry further, Eva ended the call, and for good measure switched her phone off. Brian would only plague her. “What to do with you.” She said to her reflection in the bedroom mirror. On a whim, she tied her hair back, swapped her sweater for a jacket, and went out for a drink.

The hotel bar proved a little spacious and somewhat impersonal, full of delegates from the local trade convention. They were intent either on securing business deals or a bed with other individuals for the night. With the bus driver’s words weighing on her mind, it was easy to see who was who.

The game didn’t last long, and soon Eva found herself leaning on the reception desk, looking at a map of the city.

“Help you, miss?” came a voice from her right. One of the concierges, a large black man bearing the name ‘Vinnie’ regarded her.

“Maybe. I was trying to figure out if there was a decent bar somewhere other than here. Something cozy.”

“Oh that’s easy, miss.” Vinnie beamed. “Try Moynagh’s up on Exchange Street. Place is homely as you wouldn’t believe. Hasn’t changed in decades. Down Commercial Street, first right, and it’s up the hill on the left.”

Eva flashed the man a grateful smile, and made for the exit, the thought of some old-fashioned comfort dispersing any worries about her husband.

Outside, the afternoon had given way to the slate sky of dusk. As Eva crossed the busy road in front of the hotel, she considered how her life had changed so radically in the space of a few hours. Her professional, dispassionate observations made her shake her head in disbelief. At the same time, she very quickly came to accept that if there was ever just a time to move on; this was such a time. What did she have in the house she was willing to lose? The contents were Brian, through and through.

Eva mulled this over as she passed the monstrosity of the convention center, its delegates scurrying in and out like bees in a hive, before turning up Exchange Street. She did not have far to look. Moynagh’s sat, nestled on the corner, amongst the much larger buildings. Indeed, it looked as homely as the concierge had implied. Eva wasted no time in getting out of sight of strangers.

Inside the bar, infused by the warmth of the place, Eva began to relax. A crowd of perhaps thirty people, of all ages, gathered round the bar, avidly watching a television. The bar was old wood panelling, evidently once part of a bowling alley. A framed liquor licence hung above the bar, proclaiming the establishment had been there since the days of prohibition. The rest of the bar was old, dark wood, and the atmosphere reached out to her.

Eva moved around the edge of the crowd trying to get a glimpse of what was so enthralling. Suddenly, as one, they threw up their hands and let out a groan, some of them ripping up paper and throwing it to the ground.

“Here now,” called the bartender, a bearded man who appeared to be in his early thirties, “make sure you pick that up!” He regarded Eva, who stood at the fringe of the crowd. “Help you, miss?”

“What was all that about?” Eva asked.

“Keno, it is sort of a lottery on the television. They like to play it in here. Always have. To be honest, I thought everyone played it. Are you not from around here?” The barman began to eye her suspiciously. Clearly, he was cautious towards outsiders.

“Yeah, I live over near the bio-med center. I don’t get to watch a lot because of my job.”

“And that is?”

Eva leaned forward on the stool she had chosen to occupy, putting her elbows on the bar. “Doctor.”

Upon hearing she was local, the barman appeared to relax. “Get you a drink?”

“Sure, what’s good?”

The barman indicated several taps. “Ales, from the motherland. Guinness, if that’s your thing. Several Irish whiskies. Most of this lot only drink Jameson’s. Not a lot of calls for anything else in this place. The only new drink we have introduced in the last ten years is the ‘Passion Plunge’”.

Eva could not help the grin that spread across her face at hearing the name. “Sounds perfect. What’s in it?”

“Sour mix, orange juice, ice, dash of soda and of course a double shot of Irish whiskey. I made it in honor of the charity event we always send a team to.” He indicated news clippings behind the bar; a team of people were diving into the ocean to raise money for the Paralympics.

“Absolutely. I think I will have one of those. And add the change to the charity jar.” Eva handed over a fifty-dollar note, welcomed and warmed by the atmosphere and the barman’s affable nature.

“Thanks! You should come join us.”

“I think I’ll be just fine keeping my feet dry, especially, if your event is in February.”

The barman moved off to make her drink. The crowd had dispersed into smaller groups around the room once the Keno had finished. A young couple and a slightly disinterested blonde woman occupied seats further down the bar, but otherwise, Eva was alone. Hearing the sound of the evening news coming on, she found her attention drawn to the screen at the end of the bar.

Moving down a couple of seats, toward the television, Eva took her drink, and absently nodded thanks to the barman. Her attention was already focused on Jeanette Gibson on the screen.

“Thank you for your kind response to the coverage of the mysterious events reported earlier today. This station has decided to continue the coverage as more details emerge.” Jeanette shuffled some papers and Eva took a sip of her delicious Passion Plunge. She nodded her appreciation at the barman, who winked back at her, before he resumed his conversation with the blonde. The bar door opened, some people entered while others left. Eva noted a dark-haired man, well-muscled, and a salacious gaze which settled on her. Eva turned back to the television; she had had enough of such men for one day.

“Tonight’s top story is one that has been reported on widely in Jamaica: that of the missing driver.” The screen shifted to scenes of Jamaica, kids playing cricket on dirt roads, old dreadlocked men smoking, the red, gold, and green of the Rastafarian movement displayed on clothes and flags everywhere.

“Six months ago, what started off as a standard attempted bank robbery in the area of Montego Bay, Jamaica, has become one of the biggest mysteries the island has ever seen.” A map appeared on the screen, a red line detailing the route. It reminded Eva of the red line in the Indiana Jones movies when they tracked the adventurer’s movements whenever he was on board a plane.

Indiana Jones“The high speed chase was seen by hundreds of passers-by, involved most of the Montego Bay police force, and ended when the getaway car landed in the ocean.” A montage of scenes followed, showing a column of squad cars behind an unmarked vehicle, obviously filmed from a helicopter. The car attempted to avoid a roadblock, hit the curb, flipped and dove into the sea. Eva winced as she watched it do so.

“As it transpired, underwater rescue specialists were on hand in case such an event occurred. Within a minute or so of crashing, the police apprehended the perpetrators. All of them, except the driver. All of the doors were shut. Windows adjacent to the driver were shattered, but local police were on scene. In short, there was nowhere for him to go. Yet, he has simply vanished.”

“What makes this case even stranger is that none of the other occupants of the car can remember what he looked like, or if he was even there.”

The scene cut to a police interview showing a swarthy Jamaican, one arm in a sling. The name ‘Turell Banks’ appeared on a banner at the bottom of the screen.

”Man, I tellin’ you, me dunno!” The man was clearly agitated, confused. “We had us a wheel man. Him just up and gone. No name, no face. Him vanish like a ghost.”

“The other members of the gang have offered similar explanations. They all know they had a driver, but they were all unable to provide the police with a description. Polygraph tests on all three men indicated each man was convinced he was telling the truth. Whoever the mystery driver is, he has kept his identity well hidden. Jamaican police were satisfied with one outcome, however; the apprehension of a local underground drug lord.”

Again, the scene shifted to the man from the previous interview, a particularly evil-looking man, in an orange jumpsuit, his face a mixture of rage and confusion.

“As a result of Bank’s capture, our mysterious gang member became a hero in the eyes of the authorities through his choice of escape route, although many admit confusion when it comes to an explanation of his disappearance. One thing is certain; the legend of the disappearing driver is sure to grow. Coming up next: a man in Georgia claims to have seen a demon walking on the streets. More, after these important messages.”

The screen flicked to an advertisement and Eva lost interest. Above the growing hubbub, she heard a voice speaking to her. She had been so engrossed in the newscast she had been unaware the seat next to her had been taken, Eva said, “Excuse me?”

A strong voice, full of confidence replied. “I said: it’s all a load of Hoodoo. African magic. They say the Jamaicans have been practicing it for generations. Many believe the man was removed from the car by magic.”

Eva turned to look at the source of the outlandish statement. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she was sure her heart was going to stop.