Quid Pro Quo - An Example of My Work

I've had a few requests to release the work I wrote for my University course.  My research for this involved interviewing an Anatomical Pathology Technician from the Manchester Royal Infirmary who gave me the medical terms and details of the procedure involved in autopsy.  Given the criteria for the assignment, the opening chapters aren't that gruesome, so you won't find it offensive, if that sort of thing puts you off! Note that my efforts are focused on another (I think better) book/saga at present, but I may return to this story in the future.

Quid Pro Quo

Prologue

When I was a kid, I used to dream about what I wanted.  Like most of my nine year old peers, I wasn’t prepared to make any sacrifices, and I possessed a pre-planned image of just how good my life was going to be.  I wanted it all.

So when an enthusiastic business man came knocking at my door wearing an Armani gold cuffed suit with my favourite top of the range red Ferrari parked in the street, it was hard not to ignore his sales pitch.  This young, fashionable, get-to-know-you kind of guy looked like the dream of the future I had as a kid rolled up into one vision; a vision I had lost along the way after turning eighteen.  Of course, a lot of people might argue that at eighteen, you still have your whole life ahead of you, but not me.  I’d already planned my millionaire status by the heady heights of 25, and at that point in my life, I couldn’t see beyond 30.  When my average education got me into an average job in an average office, signing on the dotted line back then was just easy.

But now I’m 59.  These days, I want to be one of those people that look back on their lives and say they didn’t make any mistakes.  Well, I’d be lying.  I made just one – the day back in 2019 when that wolf in sheep’s clothing came to call.

I might walk with a cane now and my brown hair might be aged white, but the insides are still good.  I know – I had my final medical at the Corporation last Friday.  Vicky has no idea what’s coming.  Neither do the kids and my grandkids won’t even remember me.

The last few months I’ve started to look back and realise what I’ve been through and I am amazed at my strength.  When a boating accident took the life of my youngest and Vicky cheated on me I thought I wouldn’t survive.  But then I didn’t know those trials were coming. 

Today was my last Tuesday.  Soon it will be my last morning, my last sunset, my last glass of single malt.  I’m relishing the taste and smells of everything now.  The smell of fresh sea air outside our beach house and the salty taste on my lips is just heavenly.

I am going to die on my sixtieth birthday next week.  Only the Corporation and I know.  The kids are coming over tonight for lobster and chips and to get them all here I’ve bought them presents.  There’s a diamond necklace I’ve been saving for Vicky too.

If I’m being really honest, I don’t think anyone is going to miss me.  I’m amazed at how quickly I’ve come to terms with next week’s final day.  Part of me expects the reality of it all to catch up at some point, like grief does, but for once in my life the future is determined, and at this stage, I can accept that. 

My family won’t support the decision I made all those years ago, but there’s nothing they can do.  They might even hate me for it.  But I’m past caring.  This is my legacy; it’s my gift to society and probably the most selfless thing I’ve ever done.  I’m going to die a hero. 

Chapter One

‘Evening Officer Carlucci.’

‘Good evening, Moira!’

‘Officer Penzance.’

‘Moira.’

Officer Carlucci picked up the radio, and placed it so close to his lips, it looked like he was about to start eating it from the corner of his mouth.

‘Moira hun, how you doing?  It’s been two days, Moira – two days – and Penzance here is starting to smell.  You sure our Runner’s going to show?’

Penzance raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

‘Officer Carlucci, rules are rules.  Ninety per cent always go home.’

Officer Penzance snorted. ‘I had more fun chasing the remaining ten per cent.’

A muffled crackling emitted over the radio which sounded like laughing.  Penzance looked at his cocky colleague, who sat with his elbow resting on the door interior of the battered green Ford Escort.  He was young enough to make cheeky jokes about his new partner, big enough to stand up for himself in a fight; and flirtatious enough to find favour with their pretty boss.  Penzance didn’t like him.

‘Oh come on Moira, we shouldn’t tease the poor guy.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’

‘Right… right… Look, we’ll report back soon.  We’re due to hit the two day deadline in a few hours; we’ll call you when we’re done.’

‘Okay, Officer Carlucci.  I’ll wait to hear from you.  Stay safe guys.’

Penzance stretched out his legs in the passenger seat one at a time to try and ease the numbness that had settled in his lower back.  Looking ahead, he saw tiny yellow wet blobs forming puddles on the windscreen, blotting out their view of a street light.

‘You shouldn’t take it all so seriously.’

Penzance picked fluff off the trousers of his Officer uniform.

‘Easy for you to say.  I shouldn’t be here.  Playing the waiting game with a newly qualified.  Not exactly the best use of my skills, is it?’

Carlucci rubbed the stubble on his chin before responding.

‘Well… maybe you just need a little refresher training. You can’t expect to have it all your own way.  If you’re in the ten per cent team then you… you have to be on form.’

Officer Penzance watched as the windscreen wipers revealed a dark, desolate piece of road, swamped by a deluge of rain.  What irked him most was that his colleague was right.  He had let himself go.  The growing paunch had settled for months onto his waistline, and he had ignored its increasing size.  Locating the Runners and being unable to chase them, despite being more than fifteen years younger was embarrassing for him and the Corporation. 

‘Penzance.’ 

The Officer’s blue eyes flitted back to reality.

‘There…’

Officer Carlucci touched Penzance gently on his arm.  They watched a solitary figure, weighed down by the rain, tiptoe toward the manicured lawn surrounding a Georgian style detached mansion. 

Keeping his eyes on their target, Carlucci picked up the radio.

‘Moira, target’s in sight.’

‘Confirmed, Officers.’  Moira now sounded curt and professional.

Turning to the back seat, Penzance retrieved two metallic suitcases.

‘It never ceases to amaze me how idiotic they can be.’

‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.’

Penzance inhaled a sharp breath.  ‘I never had you down as a religious nut.’

Taking a waterproof overall and climbing into it, Carlucci pulled the black hood over his head.

‘Moira said it.  They always come back.  Life in the real world is too tough.’

Office Penzance exited from the passenger seat into the rain.  He left his hood down.  The water felt refreshing on his close shaven head, cleansing, as if allowing him to be resolved from what he was about to do.

‘Let’s go.’

The pair moved at speed toward the imposing house, feeling the rain slick off their backs.  Standing at the solid oak front door, lavishly inset with stained glass, the clean smell of holly wafted across the porch. 

‘Prepare for the worst night of your life.’

Carlucci’s words caused Penzance to shudder.  He did not know why his partner held so much pent up anger, but he could see it was going to interfere with his job at some point.  The solidness of the 9mm hidden beneath Carlucci’s rain jacket did nothing to deter the short tempered testosterone-driven man.  Only serious time in the job allowed the realisation of what they were doing to seep into the conscious mind, bringing with it the compassion required for such work.

Penzance counted three seconds as he pressed the doorbell.  

A shadowy figure passed the dark reddened glass.

Penzance pressed the bell again.

‘Police!  Open up please.’

Strictly speaking, the Officers were not the Police.  But saying they were always made people feel safer.

‘You have five seconds to open this door or we’re coming in!’

A trickle of rain water slid down Penzance’s unshaven face as he craned his neck to listen for a response.

‘Five!’

Penzance never liked using his gun, but he retrieved it, just in case.  

‘Four!’

‘I don’t think he’s running.’

For once, Penzance agreed with Carlucci.

‘Three!’

‘Two-’

The outline of a shadow grew bigger through the glass.  With a gentle click, the front door prised open.

‘Hello Ma’am. We’re looking for Michael Saunders.’

The lady opened the door and her pale face beamed like moonlight from within the dimness of the hallway.

‘He’s not here.’

She looked frail, desperate and petrified.  A white nightdress flapped around her bony ankles, fighting against the dampness coming in off the porch. 

‘Look Ma’am.  Let’s not be daft.  We saw him a minute ago.  We know he’s here.’

Penzance always seemed to resort to his northern accent during moments of tension.

‘He’s-’

‘Mairead.’

The sound of her husband’s voice caused her eyes to glass over.  Her hollowed out gaze pleaded with Penzance’s face and ignoring her, he replaced his gun in its holster.  Stamping a leather clad boot into the hallway, he entered the house.  She did not protest.  

‘Sir.  Are you Michael Saunders?’

A portly looking man, not too dissimilar to Penzance’s frame stepped into view. 

‘I am.’ 

Officer Carlucci approached the man and began to pat him down to check for weapons.  Nodding confirmation to Penzance, he turned to Mairead and repeated the procedure.

Despite Michael’s laid back attire consisting of smart Italian leather shoes and expensive designer jeans, Officer Penzance saw that he was unable to control his shaking hands.

‘I need to take a fingerprint and DNA sample to confirm identity.’

Officer Penzance pulled out a FID, otherwise known as a Fingerprint Identification Device, which he plugged into his mobile phone and offered to Michael.  Mairead refused to look at her husband.

‘Place your finger here.’

Penzance guided Michael’s index finger to the device and hid the man’s hand with his fingers.  Penzance had enough experience to know that Michael would not want his wife to see how scared he was.  The waiting husband and wife fixed their stares to the screen.

A screeching sound from outside the house interrupted the quietness of the scene.  A flash of car headlights mimicked lightning, illuminating the hallway.

‘Incoming.’ 

Focusing on their respective roles, Penzance waited for the FID to confirm a positive result.  Officer Carlucci raised his 9mm and stood poised by the front door. 

‘Dad! Dad!’

A slam of a car door followed by squelching, pelting footsteps signalled the arrival of another family member. 

A skinny girl, pale just like her mother, but dressed in a pink baggy cardigan which hung heavy round her jutted out shoulder blades appeared at the front door.

‘OLIVIA!’  Mairead rediscovered her voice.

‘Dad, Dad!’

‘MISS!’ 

Officer Carlucci stepped into the centre of the hallway and pointed his weapon at the frantic girl. Stuttering to a stop, Olivia watched as Penzance produced a cotton bud to swab her father’s mouth.  With his back turned to her, Penzance started to speak.

‘Olivia, I want you to think about what you’re doing. I know you’re feeling torn between your parents.  But the best thing to do is to stay calm.’ 

‘Murderer!’

Penzance ignored her.

‘I understand it’s bloody awful what we’re here for.  And I know you’re struggling to understand the conflicting emotions going on inside your mind, but you have to stay calm.’

Penzance secured the DNA sample into a test tube and hooked it up to his mobile phone.  Shaking the tube, he waited for the phone to beep confirmation.

Turning, he acknowledged Olivia’s presence with a slight nod.  Olivia kicked off a tennis shoe and attempted to throw it at him. 

Carlucci intervened and took hold of her arm.

‘Miss.  I will shoot you.’

She tried to take a step toward Penzance.

‘MISS!  I will shoot you!’  Officer Carlucci moved his whole body in front of the girl and directed the barrel of the gun onto her sternum.

‘OLIVIA!’

The frenzied shout of Mairead’s voice startled both father and daughter.  Olivia started to sob.  A confirmatory beep from Penzance’s phone signalled a result.

‘You’ve matched our records as being Michael Saunders.’ 

Olivia began to sob harder.

Michael cleared his throat.  ‘Where do you want to do this?’

‘It’s up to you.’

‘I… I think the conservatory.’

‘Smashing.’

After performing a body search of Olivia, Carlucci joined Penzance and they followed Michael toward the back of the house.  

‘Michael.’

‘Yes.’

‘You need to say goodbye now.  Once we sterilise the room, your family can’t come in.’

‘Okay.’

The Officers stepped away from the scene; a scene they had seen many times before.  Penzance felt sorry for Michael.  In a moment of weakness, he had made the decision to run, and in doing so, had lost everything.    

‘Two minutes.’

Penzance liked to limit the number of final goodbyes.  He did not like giving grieving loved ones time to think too much.  It was not good for them.

‘Time’s up.’

‘No! No! Noo…’

This time it was Mairead who clung to her husband as he pulled away, trying to keep his head held high.  Olivia had reverted to a tiny child, hanging on to her mother’s nightdress, heaving out shaking sobs.

As Penzance bent to pick up the two suitcases, he felt the plastic rim of Olivia’s tennis shoe scuff him on the head.

Gun in hand, Carlucci lunged at Olivia and pushed her to the floor.

‘You’re going to pay…’

With one hand rubbing his head, Penzance held out his other and grabbed his fellow Officer’s arm.

‘No, Carlucci.  It’s okay.’

A flash of anger crossed Carlucci’s face. 

‘You try anything funny like that again…’

‘Or what? You’ll kill me too?’

Officer Carlucci sniffed and pushed Olivia’s father into the conservatory.  Ignoring the watching family, Carlucci slammed the door shut.

Penzance placed a hand on the door handle and gave a final look at Michael’s family.

‘I’ll make sure it goes well.’ 

Shutting the door behind him, he began to speak in a soft voice.

‘Michael, can you close the blinds and switch on the lights for me please?’

Flicking open the first suitcase, Penzance removed the flat packed sterile plastic sheets and began to cover the stone floor.   Once the area was sprayed down with disinfectant, the Officers changed into packed plastic scrubs and gloves.  Only Penzance wore an over gown and apron.  Michael sat on the sofa watching a ticking carriage clock on the mantelpiece.  His lips moved but no words could be heard.

‘Scalpel, PM40, rib shears, head saw, bone saw, Stryker saw.’

Wishing Carlucci had the sense to relay the list more discreetly, Penzance grimaced and placed a finger on each instrument as he counted.

‘Check.’

‘Ready?’

Penzance nodded and turned to Michael who looked away from the clock.  Carlucci assumed a position by the door.

‘It’s twenty past five.  Will I make it to six?’

Penzance checked the time on his watch.

‘No.’

Unsteady, Michael pushed his hands on his knees to stand.

‘Will… will it hurt?’

‘No.’

Michael began to unbutton his shirt. 

‘Lie down, Michael.  We will do that for you.  After.’

Word count: 2,569

Plot summary

The story occurs in a futuristic world where up to the age of 21, people can elect to live a life of luxury, on the proviso that at 60 years old, they commit suicide.  Their organs are then harvested to extend lives of the rich and powerful.  Officer Louis Penzance is tasked with capturing the ‘Runners’ who fail to report to the Corporation on their sixtieth birthdays.  The plot focuses on Penzance who originally became a donor but changed his mind.  Twenty years’ service buys freedom, but the Corporation change their mind, forcing Penzance to become a Runner himself.   

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Author update - you can now purchase my debut novel 'Where Were You When the World Ended?' from the Amazon Kindle store.