2
A few weeks later a pair of gloved hands opened the door swiftly. A man with dark, cropped hair entered the Baker’s house carrying a leather briefcase. He had waited in his rented car across the road for the couple to leave. He calmly walked to the front door as they disappeared around the corner, and using a master key, it gave him easy access to the house.
Afraid to attract attention the intruder closed the curtains in the living room. Next, he switched on a pair of dim lights. Their glow gave enough light for the man to see what he was doing.
The man opened his briefcase and removed several small items and placed them on the coffee table. When completely satisfied how each piece should fit, the man went into the kitchen. Keeping a flashlight ready, he cut off the electricity. With the aid of the flashlight, he finished his work.
Tired and somewhat intoxicated, Anthony and May returned home around midnight. Long after one o’ clock the couple prepared for bed. Waiting for his wife to finish up in the bathroom, Anthony watched TV in bed.
Once in bed as well, May switched off like a light. Except for May’s breathing, the room was quiet. Turning himself around for the fifth time, Anthony heard something hissing. It seemed to come from the other side of the room. Leaning on an elbow, he strained to hear what it could be. Certainly it couldn’t be the radiators, since this time of the year they didn’t use them. It wasn’t May either.
Is there somebody whispering, or is it my imagination? He thought.
These were not the voices that he normally heard in his head. If they were voices at all, they sounded more like humming. Perhaps the music of the party still rang in his ears?
Anthony rested his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. His thoughts returned to a cold day in February 1987 when he attended a boarding school in England, the day the world around him collapsed. His mother, suffering from bowel cancer, passed away during the night.
The hate he felt for the illness of his mother and the inner pain he experienced from losing her had made him deeply depressed. During the disastrous night he heard one of the boys in his room talking.
“We all lose our mother one day, be strong and you’ll get over it. Work hard in school and you will forget your pain.”
“Who said that?” Anthony asked. The three occupants in the other beds remained silent. None of the boys stirred.
“Who is there? Come on now this isn’t funny.” Confused and exhausted, Anthony fell back onto his pillow. However, no matter how tired he was, he could not catch any sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. Why did the other boys in the room pretend they were sleeping?
The next morning at the breakfast table, he studied his room mates’ faces one by one. When the meal was nearly finished, a staff member came over to their table and said, “Come Anthony, I’ll take you to the airport.” He rose to follow the woman. The boys at the table mumbled their well wishes. A watery sun appeared from behind the grey clouds when Anthony and Mrs Brighton got into her car. She was very kind as they drove to the airport. He liked her very much. Since he entered boarding school, she’d become a second mother to Anthony. The way she played the piano during music lessons and her voice sounded like a nightingale when she sang.
Her face was soft while she manoeuvred the car through the traffic. It was hard not to look at her.
“Your uncle will be waiting for you in Dublin,” Mrs Brighton informed Anthony. She didn’t speak much while she drove. His constant staring at her made her feel uncomfortable.
This was by far the longest journey Anthony had ever undertaken in his life. Everything seemed to take at least twice as long as normal. At the airport the queues seemed endless. While he waited to get his passport checked, a man spoke a few words into his ear. Turning around to see who talked, Anthony noticed a family with three young children. It couldn’t have been one of them, or could it?
More than 19 years had passed since the death of his mother. From that moment on the sleepless nights began, especially after he drank a couple of beers. Lately, even a few pints kept him up half the night. For some reason he got these flashbacks from his youth.
Anthony listened to the calm breathing of his wife. How could she sleep?
She probably dreamt about Anna. He’d seen how May looked at her, her eyes lighting up, twinkling like stars. He didn’t really blame Anna for wanting some company after her husband died. Her family who lived in County Mayo had come over for the funeral and her mother had stayed for a month. It had been some tragic accident. He’d fallen from a rooftop. He was dead on impact.
The hissing noise Anthony heard earlier had disappeared. I am right after all; the noises are the aftermath of the music ringing in my ears.
“May deserves to sleep. He doesn’t. He is lazy. He does nothing the whole fucking day.” The voices in his head spoke.
“A long walk will do him good. He might sleep a little when he returns.”
“Shall we let him?”
“Only if he walks far enough.”
He had to obey the voices; Anthony sat up in his bed and quietly dressed himself. Fully dressed except for his coat and shoes, he descended the stairs. As he turned on the kitchen light, it saw it was 2.25 a.m.
He took his coat from a chair and heard one of the voices say, “He doesn’t need a coat; coats are for people who have earned them. He hasn’t.”
Anthony knew what the voices demanded of him was ridiculous. However, he could not go against their orders. If he did, he might harm himself. If he didn’t, terrible things were about to happen. He didn’t want that on his conscience. Respectfully, he took off the coat.
Carefully closing the door behind him, Anthony commenced his walk through the night.
“I really feel this is the only option we have left,” Anthony remembered his father saying to his mother while he walked. He’d hidden behind one the banisters on the stairs.
“Is there no other way we can solve the problem?” His mother asked. Anthony knew who the problem was; they didn’t have to mention one word about it. He’d grown into a badly behaved child. Why else did his father always say, “You’re no use, the only thing you’re good at is annoying us.”
“I’m sorry but I have already sorted out a place for him in England,” his father said.
“You’re acting as if you’re glad to get rid of him,” his mother said.
“If you believe he can live here any longer, than you have another thing coming,” Father raised his voice.
“So I don’t have a say in the future of our child?” Mother cried.
“Don’t be silly old woman, put your tears away, I’m not going to change my mind because you’re crying.”
“But why England?” Mother asked.
“I want him as far away from us as possible. I’m sick and tired of his behaviour. See it as an investment in his future.”
Well after four o’clock Anthony arrived back from his walk. Tired, he crawled back into bed beside his wife. May still slept like a log.
A few hours later the voices woke him up.
“Switch on the computer, come on switch it on.”
“Yeah, let him have a look at his emails.”
Obeying the voices, Anthony switched on the computer. He followed the instructions in one of his email messages.
The next morning May Baker scanned the Irish Independent for news at the breakfast table.
“Virus attacks office workers,” she read aloud.
“A pugnacious computer virus holds the country in its grip,” she continued reading while she took a sip from her tea.
“We are lucky at work our computers are well protected and we have no access to the Internet. That’s how you get them, isn’t it a virus?” May gazed hopefully at her husband. A big part of her knew she spoke to him in vain, the part of her which still believed in him, diminished by the day.
The next sixty seconds felt like an eternity. May jumped when Anthony mumbled, “I better check my emails.”
Nothing much occurred during the weekend. Anthony only received a few emails. He became particularly amused after reading one of them. Due to the good news, he invited May for dinner at the local Chinese restaurant. When they arrived back home they were well fed.
“That was sweet of you, darling,” May said to her husband when she switched on the living room light.
“Well, I think we deserved it.” Anthony answered.
Later as they watched CSI Miami the doorbell rang. May stood up, but Anthony said. “Let me, I don’t want you to answer the door so late.” In fact Anthony didn’t want her to talk to any of her friends without him knowing what they said.
A few moments later Anthony re-entered the living room with two men, who were dressed in suits.
Not long after Anthony’s computer had been taken away by the law enforcers the same men came knocking on the Baker’s door once more. May had just returned from the local supermarket and was unloading the shopping bags from her car. She walked up to her front door holding a plastic bag in each hand.
She put the bags down at the door and asked, “aren’t you the men who took my husband’s computer the other day?”
“We are indeed. If you don’t mind we like to have a word with your husband,” one of the men answered.
“I’m not sure if I want to do this.” May said. She looked sceptical at the man. What did they want from Anthony?
The second man produced a large envelope and pulled the contents out. “We have a warrant for his arrest.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. My husband isn’t a criminal. I’m not going to fall for this. For all I know you’re thieves. Get out of my way.” May pushed the men aside using her elbows.
“Anthony help me, help me please,” she yelled. The house stayed quiet.
“Calm down Mrs. Baker we are the real deal.”
“Where is your uniform then?” Or didn’t your wife do the laundry on Monday?” May was staring hard at the men. She began searching her handbag for her mobile phone.
A significant time past before a bolt was removed from the front door and a key turned, a man in a white fleece top and black corduroy trousers stood on the threshold.
“Anthony Baker we are arresting you on suspicion of terrorism.” The man grabbed Anthony’s arms and in a quick move hand cuffed him.
“Wait a minute not so fast,” May protested. “Show me the warrant.”
“They want me to come with them to the Garda station,” Anthony said, to clear up some misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding”? May asked. She looked at the men in astonishment.
“What is he talking about? And who are you? “What are you doing with my husband, he’s no criminal.”
“There are a lot of questions,” one of the men said. We’re Detectives and we have reason to believe your husband is involved in a crime.
“Where is your proof”? May asked.
“I’m sure we’ll find it here,” replied the other Detective. He stood near the desk where Anthony’s computer stood. He unplugged the machine and the hard drive box from the monitor and keyboard.