A Wooden Heart

Peter didn't have a need to do any of this, but he thought he should show willing and chose a girl who looked vaguely like Jenny. She didn't speak very good English, but she was very skilled at her trade. The young man acted in a way that he thought she would expect him to. When he entered her, he was surprised at how easy it was. He kept up a slow methodical rhythm, intent on giving pleasure. The prostitute had never had a client like this; in fact she prided herself on her ability to bring a man off very rapidly, every time. But this one seemed to go on and on for ever. Her mouth opened in an 'O' as she realised that he was bringing her to orgasm -- something that no male client had ever achieved before.

The last to return to the lounge bar of the brothel was Peter. The others were impressed by what they perceived of as his stamina. They left and started a tour of the bars again.

Monday dawned and as the sun rose the group were leaving a bar in search of somewhere that they could put their heads down and get a couple of hours sleep. They found a cheap hotel and paid for twelve hours (that's just how cheap it was), and slept until the afternoon.

Roddy went out at just before 4pm. He returned half an hour later with a big smile on his face. "Got it!" he said.

From inside of a carrier bag he produced a parcel wrapped in newspaper. Inside was a kilo of heroin -- already divided up into small enough amounts to each be sealed in a condom. There were forty in total.

"OK, so that's ten each, right?" he said. "I've brought some more beer to help them slip down." He opened a can a then took one of the packages. He put it into his mouth a swallowed twice, before taking a swig of the drink.

Roddy burped loudly. "Nothing to it, "he said.

The brothers followed suit. They didn't find it easy but they managed to get the condom down. Peter popped one in his mouth and washed it down with beer. It took two cans to get the ten packets down. The others took a while longer, but achieved the desired result.

The group quickly left the hotel and then rushed to make it in time for the ferry to Ijmuiden. They made their way onboard the Newcastle bound ship for the North Sea crossing and found their cabin. Collapsing on their beds they slept for the next few hours, watched by Peter. He was thinking about the brothel, wondering why he had remembered Jenny at that time. He had no answers to his question.

The ferry docked the next morning and the men waited patiently by the motorbikes, looking for the crew's signal to leave the ship. When they did, they made their way to the area that they had been directed to in order to be checked through by Customs and Excise officers.

"Good morning gentlemen, can I see your passports please?" The officer took the documents and passed them to a colleague to study. Meanwhile he asked some rudimentary questions. "You've been out of the country for three days; can you tell me what you have been during that time?"

Roddy spoke for them all, "We've been on a bit of a stag do. Er... Steve here's getting married this weekend and we thought; what better way to celebrate than a trip to Amsterdam?"

"I see, and have you anything to declare? Alcohol perhaps or cigarettes?"

"Um... no. Nothing."

This was where the plan began to fall apart. Any normal group of young men going on a bachelor party to the continent would stack up on cheap booze and tobacco on the way back -- even if they were on motorbikes. They had been so single-minded that this hadn't occurred to them. Precisely the kind of suspicious clues that experienced Customs and Excise men were looking for.

"Would you come this way? I'd like to interview you while my colleagues inspect your bikes."

Each of the men were questioned separately and then asked if they would agree to a 'rub-down' search. As they were carrying nothing in their clothing, they readily agreed. Within half an hour the men had been told that they could go.

During that period of thirty minutes, the senior customs officer had picked up his telephone and dialled a number that was pinned to the board in front of him. "Detective Inspector Whale, please," he said into the mouthpiece.

A voice came on the other end of the line. "Detective Inspector Whale? Marsh here from Newcastle Customs and Excise. I think we've just picked out the men you were looking for."

He listened for a while as Whale talked. "Well, if that's what you want us to do, then OK. But don't blame me if you lose them."

The connection was suddenly terminated.

Neither of the two drivers was aware of the single, powerful motorbike following them at a safe distance. Even if they had, their suspicions would have been allayed when after some distance it turned off of the road they were on. But by this time another motorbike had joined the dual carriageway ahead and was keeping an eye on them in his mirrors. In this way the group were followed back to their base in the small village.

Once inside the house, four beers were opened in order to celebrate. By the time they were finished Roddy had decided it was time to make a phone call. He pulled out his mobile and selected a stored number.

"Hi. It's me Roddy. We just got back. Yeah it all went fine. Just have to wait a day or so now, until nature takes its course," he smirked. "Yeah, I'll call you."

Having tailed the group to their current location, DI Whale had very quickly got a surveillance van into the area in order to monitor such phone conversations. Technically it was illegal to tap a phone without a warrant, but this was an openly broadcast call which anybody could have picked up. The most important thing was that they now had a contact pinpointed. He set a team the task of finding out just exactly who he was and then keeping tabs on him.

Meanwhile, Whale considered that he had enough evidence to take the four young men into custody. It may have only been circumstantial, but he had been told by a very reliable source that a group of four 'mules' were coming into Newcastle port from Amsterdam that morning. Customs and Excise spotted them easily and the telephone conversation merely reinforced their suspicions.

The police moved in and made their arrests.

While each of the four men was being interviewed, the others were being kept in separate cells. They had been read their rights, but none of them asked for a lawyer. They maintained that they were innocent and therefore didn't need any legal advice. The police were patient, knowing that they had twenty four hours before they had to either release or charge them. Of course, the officers appeared to be very understanding; making sure that the men were fed regularly. The food was surprisingly good and the portions were big. The questioning didn't seem too onerous and they began to enjoy themselves.

Too late they realised that eating too much was the worst thing that they could do. Sooner or later they would be forced to defecate -- and the cells only contained a glorified bucket as a toilet.

Danny was the first to crack. He hadn't relieved himself since long before he had swallowed the heroin packets and became desperate. No sooner had he finished before the door was opened and officers took the evidence away. To their credit, Danny, Stan and Roddy wouldn't implicate any of the others and refused to answer any more questions. Peter had been told to tell only of the events relating to the stag trip. He too held his silence when asked anything more than this.

The three men had been charged already, but Peter appeared to be holding out. They couldn't understand it; even now he seemed to be unconcerned and when offered another large meal he simply wolfed it down. With sixty minutes left of the twenty four hours remaining the police were beginning to admit defeat. But then DI Whale had an idea; the local Accident and Emergency department was only five hundred yards away, and he was owed a few favours by some of the executives at the hospital. A quick phone call set things up and Peter was driven straight there.

All they had to do was prove that Peter had packages in his stomach and they would be able to get an order to detain him further. That was the plan. The reality was different however; after three attempts to capture an image time had run out. Essentially, x-rays pass straight through wood and create a slightly opaque image. As for the packages -- and food -- there was no sign. Whale didn't even have time to get him back to the station, but had to let him go there and then.

When the police officers arrived back at the station, one of the younger members of the team spoke up, "Boss, there's something that's been troubling me; this passport may be fake."

"What?" said Whale.

"Well it says here that he's five ten." He held up the passport, "But I'm six two and he's taller than me."

Whale closed his eyes and covered them with a hand "Bollocks!" he screamed. He opened them again and pointed at two of his detectives. "Get out there and find him. I want him back here now."

He turned to one of the female officers, "Josie, get an order typed up."

*****

Chapter 12

Peter left the hospital and when out of site immediately began to jog. By the time the Detective Inspector had sent his men back out, twenty minutes had passed. The young man maintained a steady six minutes per mile and was already over three miles away, travelling along small roads avoiding the traffic. After an hour he slowed to a walk, now ten miles beyond where the officers were searching. He kept walking until dusk.

Sitting in an isolated and run down barn, Peter found himself thinking about his life so far. He had a hunger for learning, but the thing he couldn't learn was how to feel. He had no real sensations in his body, merely perceived ones. Humans had emotions; he knew this because he had observed laughter, anger, tears, ecstasy. But he was incapable of the expressions himself. Emotions were an alien concept.

What did he want? To learn. What did he want to learn? How it would feel to be human. This was what he wanted and, if he had had dreams, of what he would have dreamt. Surprisingly, when he asked himself what he would do if he achieved his aim he found that he wanted to tell Jenny about it.

His mind wandered into a world where Jenny was with him always. This he couldn't understand. He could say that he liked her, but how could he say more than that?

The next morning he set off again, heading south. He didn't know precisely where home was, but he had all the time in the world. He had noted the route when the Circus had been driving north, so could get himself back to the general area by locating the road numbers. Once there, he wandered back and forth across the region until he recognised something. The field where the Circus had been was almost recovered now and the grass was a uniform colour, but he remembered it clearly.

Peter walked back towards his father's cottage, but instead of walking through the gate he walked on, feeling that the time was not yet right. He took the path that led into the woods. He knew where he was headed now; back to where he had originally come from.

The stump had aged dramatically and was rotting steadily. Peter stood looking at it for some time before speaking. "What am I to do Mother?" he asked. "How can I live like this?"

The air above the truncated shaft began to shimmer and the birds and insects fell into silence. Tiny glimmers of blue light began to move and rotate around one another, moving faster and faster. As they circled they left tails of mist. These gradually formed into a shape; the shape of a woman clad in a flowing blue dress. To Peter's eyes she looked beautiful. He instinctively knew who she was. It was his Mother.

Sapphire Fay spoke, "What is that you want Peter?"

"I want to be real. I want to be human. I want to be able to feel."

His Mother smiled, "Are you sure Peter? Are you ready for what you will experience? The joy and the pain?"

"Yes. I cannot live without it."

"Very well," she said. "Go on home to your father now. He's been worrying about you."

Peter walked away, but then turned back, "Will I see you again?" But it was too late; the image of his Mother had already vanished.

George couldn't hold back the tears when he set eyes on Peter. "I thought that I had lost you forever," he said.

"No father. I was always going to return. I'm sorry I had to go away, but this will always be my home. I think that I would like to go to my room now."

Peter lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He thought about being real. He dreamed of Jenny.

When the singing of the birds awoke him in the morning, Peter was confused that he couldn't recall the last few hours. He could hear his father downstairs making breakfast, so he left the bedroom. Long before he reached the kitchen he stopped. He was experiencing an unknown sensation. It was in his head, yet it was coming via his nose. It was a warm feeling that seemed to coat the inside surface of his nostrils.

He walked through the door and the smell became stronger, he was able to sense where the sensation was coming from and his eyes came to rest on some toasted slices of bread that lay on his father's plate. By now the scent had been accompanied by the rich fatty aroma of butter. He picked up a piece and held it to his face and breathed in. He felt the warmth of the bread and the butter trickling down his chin. He placed it in his mouth and bit a piece off. He chewed and found the swallow reflex came automatically.

A tear rolled down Peter's cheek to mix with the melted butter. George smiled, somehow understanding that his son had changed. He handed him a roll of kitchen towels to wipe his face.

The sensations of being a real human came at him from all directions - and all at once. It was truly overwhelming. Taste, touch and smell were now a part of him. He ate and drank everything in sight, just to see what they were like. Inevitably, he discovered that drinking a lot of liquids has a side effect. His bladder full, he hurried to the bathroom to relieve himself. As he watched the golden stream pouring (seemingly) endlessly down the pan he began to laugh at himself. He remembered how Jenny had laughed and suddenly felt emptiness deep inside.

When he returned to the kitchen his father sensed his mood change, "What's wrong Peter?"

"I'm not sure father." He thought for a moment and then tried to explain, "I met someone who needs my help and I think I will have to go and find her."

Peter told George about Jenny, explaining that it was she who had persuaded him that he should escape the Circus; where he was being used for profit by Joe. From the way his son spoke, the old man could tell that he had developed a deep affection for the girl.

"We need to think this through properly, Peter. For a start, we don't know where she is now. Of course, if we wait long enough, the Circus will return here."

The pained look on his son's face told him that this was not an option.

"OK then, let's work this out; by now they will have moved onto a new area. So, if you were in the North East, where are they likely to be headed next?"

Peter was blessed with a good memory and recalled what Joe had told him on that first day. "The North East was the last area of their cycle, so now it starts all over again. They'll be moving to the South East."

"Did any of them mention where the sites were? It's a big area. Kent, Sussex, Essex -- in fact the whole of East Anglia!"

"Well, Joe mentioned moving to the opposite end of the country. That may be significant. It may mean south of London rather than north of it."

George said, "Well that narrows it down a bit. Can you think of anything more that might help?"

Peter frowned as he thought back over the conversations that he had heard. Then, suddenly, he recalled an amusing story that Jenny had told him; the convoy was heading along the coast towards Eastbourne, when Joe had felt a desperate need to urinate. He pulled the vehicle into a lay-by and jumped out. The steady stream of urine began to spatter on the bush he was standing against, when a group of hikers suddenly appeared on the path from behind it. It was impossible to stop in mid-flow, so the Circus man simply carried on, smirking at the appalled looks on the faces of the women in the group. She had roared with laughter as she told him about one female who couldn't take her eyes off of his penis. She had reddened and licked her lips, before being dragged away by her partner.

"Eastbourne," he said.

"Eastbourne?" George replied.

"Yes, or in that area at least."

George told Peter to start packing some things to take with him. Fortunately he had two good sized rucksacks for them to use. His plan was to travel down to Eastbourne and the start making enquiries there. If they had already been, then perhaps they could find out where they were going next. If not, they would have to wait until the Circus turned up.

*****

Chapter 13

Folkestone wasn't the most profitable of places for the showman, but he usually had some little profit-making schemes to help him along. Jenny's hire wasn't cheap, but plenty of men (and some women) were willing to pay. Shortly after arriving, one of his previous customers approached him with a deal. Very simply, he was to be the Best Man at a friend's wedding and was charged with organising the stag party. He was so impressed with Jenny that he thought that she would make good entertainment for the evening.

"So you want to hire Jenny for a whole evening?" asked Joe, the cash registers of his brain already beginning to ring."

"The whole evening? No, mate. I want her for as long as we party. For the whole night, in fact."

Joe wasn't the slightest bit interested in what was going to happen to Jenny. He knew she would do as she was told. The one time she had tried to escape, she had been quickly tracked down and dragged back to him. The beating he gave her was both vicious and clever. He made sure that he didn't leave marks that would be visible when she wore her costume. Of course, he couldn't hire her out for a while, but he knew she wouldn't try to run away again.

"That's gonna cost you a pretty penny. And I don't want her damaged, right?"

"Forget all the conditions, how much?"

"Five thousand."

"Five thousand quid? In your dreams mate! I'll give you a thousand."

Joe's face didn't change, but his voice became quieter. "Don't waste my time son. You said no conditions. Four thousand."

"Fifteen hundred."

"Four."

"Two."

"Four."

The man took a deep breath and then paused, before saying, "Two and a half is as high as I'm prepared to go. If not, I'm walking out of here and I won't come back."

Joe stared at him for twenty seconds, trying not to reveal his amusement. "Done," he said.

*****

"I've got a job for you tomorrow night. I'll drop you off after the show."

"How do I get back?" asked Jenny.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," Joe replied.

"You mean I have to stay the night?" Jenny wasn't particularly worried about this. She'd done it once before for a client. The man was pretty easy to deal with and fell asleep after an hour and a half. She actually got a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed for once.

"It's... a party," said Joe.

Jenny didn't catch on. She assumed that she would be accompanying the client to a party (which would probably be a bit of a wild one, e.g. an orgy). She didn't realise that she herself was to be the 'party'.

"A bachelor party."

It took a moment for what Joe had said to sink in. Then she realised what he was expecting her to do.

"No! I can't! I mean, I've only ever been with one man at a time!"

"Listen, you're going to do it whether you like it or not. This is a good earner. You'll even get two hundred out of it for yourself. You can buy yourself some clothes or something."