Deviants

Theodore Gospin

Description

DEVIANTS is a thriller that starts in the flawed and ordinary lives of ordinary and flawed people that grows into an international adventure. It takes upon governmental and commercial strategies and ranges from the UK to the Middle east to the USA, following their adventure.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris UK
• Date de parution: 30 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781664118690
• Langue: English

Extrait

Deviants
 
 
 
 
 
Theodore Gospin
 
Copyright © 2023 by Theodore Gospin.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2023901638
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6641-1871-3

Softcover
978-1-6641-1870-6

eBook
978-1-6641-1869-0

 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Rev. date: 01/27/2023
 
 
Xlibris
UK TFN: 0800 0148620 (Toll Free inside the UK)
UK Local: (02) 0369 56328 ([phone] from outside the UK)
www.Xlibrispublishing.co.uk
849159
Contents
PROLOGUE
PART ONE
1
2
3
4
5
PART TWO
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
PART THREE
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
PART FOUR
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
PART FIVE
42
43
44
45
46
47
PART SIX
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
PROLOGUE
G LEANING THE STREETS of Edinburgh.
Maybe not the most rewarding form of behaviour and certainly not one that he would have considered, even in a feasibility study, two years ago. But adaptation was the first principle of survival, and survival was not negotiable. Instinctive and irrevocable, it seemed some almost-supernatural quality to existence kept him alive. God alone knows there had been a time when his survival had not been down to his endeavours. Scotch whiskey—over a bottle a day at his height, until he could no longer afford it. Then over time he had gotten better. He had heard that the liver is the only internal organ that is capable of repairing itself, of regenerating when it is injured. Well, he had certainly injured his liver. Paradoxically, some may think, it was poverty that had repaired him.
Not his first choice. He reminded himself as he bent to pick up a particularly generous cigarette end that someone had discarded. He was careful that no one saw him. Probably that didn’t really matter. What if they did see him? If anything, he was doing them a favour, helping to keep the streets clean. And what could they think of him? That he was pitiable? That he was despicable? So what? He’d probably agree with them.
Someone had seen him, and that was exactly what they were thinking. He looked up. The woman was standing by the window of a solicitor’s suite three stories above. Her face, to his tired and alcohol-damaged vision, was little more than a blur, a pale blob against the darker background inside the office.
It was a woman though, he could tell. You could always tell whether it was a man or a woman. Something innate maybe? She felt . . . sorry for him.
He wasn’t sure he liked that. He could stand general classification because that was inane. This, however, was almost personal. She felt sorry for him without recrimination or question. She genuinely felt sorry for him . She measured him as a person and not one of the people —most unusual.
He hurried on, somehow exposed by the pathos he had caused and resolved to be more careful in future. He was letting his guard down. That was a result of the tablets, he knew. The doctor had explained that they would have this effect.
All the things will still be going on, but you will be better able to cope with them.
Dubious. He had been very dubious of this. Surely the analogy was that he was complacent because he was desensitised in some way. No . The doctor had explained these new drugs didn’t work that way. They controlled the chemicals in the brain that lead to high anxiety, panic attacks, and consequently, the physical results to the body that can prove so damaging.
He had come to realise that ease for the bitterness of self-recriminations for unworthiness and remorse was what he had been seeking in whiskey. In fact, he had learnt a lot more about himself, life, and people lately.
The rain started, heavy drops like the initial reconnaissance before the invasion. Looking up, he thought, there’s a deluge to come .
With a sigh, he took the coffee jar from his pocket and secured the lid. On a good day he could almost fill it with the khaki-coloured tabs that people discarded onto the streets. Back at his lodgings in Morningside, he would dismember them carefully, spilling their guts of golden-brown tobacco onto a plain sheet of paper, mixing and blending the rough with the fine until he had something he could use, something that was almost decent.
He felt the shadow accompanied by a chill awareness that came upon him like a ghost wind.
It was the two men again.
He was aware they had been stalking him for three days now. What he didn’t know was who or why.
They must be Social Security spies , but surely they did not suspect him of being a benefit cheat. If they did, what did they expect to learn by following and watching him? He was exempted from work because of a mental condition; he was not faking a bad back or some other physical disability. He was not about to inadvertently relapse into revealing he was shamming by forgetting himself for a moment. So why their interest?
He had heard about these fraud officers, and he could easily understand that if they caught someone who said they could hardly walk running to the bookies to catch the 3.05 off , then that person’s claim for benefit was questionable. Did they think they might apply the same scenario to someone suffering bipolar disorder? Could they say, This person walked five miles today without becoming angry, crying, or attempting suicide. Therefore, his claim is bogus ?
They were coming closer, there was an intensity, a focus that was new. Turning, he saw their big black car drawing to a standstill at the curb adjacent to him. Was he about to find out what it was they wanted, why they were stalking him?
“Excuse me, sir.”
The man leaning from the window of the big black car sounded just like one of the actors in one of those American action series on the TV. He was quite taken aback by this; it was not something he had expected. But then, why should he?
“We seem to have gotten ourselves a little lost here. I wonder, sir, could you direct us to Morningside?” He flicked the pages of an A to Z, indicating it seemed useless to him with a palms-up gesture.
The rain was getting heavier by the moment. The day seemed to be darkening. They had certainly picked the worst time to effect this contact, but perhaps he could use that to his advantage.
“Aye, but it’s not easy to direct from here. Where in Morningside do you want exactly?” He shoved the coffee jar, which he had been hiding, back into his coat pocket.
“Mid-, Midmar Drive, I think it is. I don’t know how you say it.” The American referred to a piece of paper he’d held between his fingers as he leafed through the pages of the book.
“Aye. Midmar Drive. Well, it so happens I have to go that way myself.”
There was a moment of awkwardness as the passenger spoke in subdued tones to the driver then he turned back, the driver turned away, obviously in disagreement.
“Well, why don’t we drop you en route, friend? You can direct us from there.”
“You’re very kind.” He climbed into the back of the Land Cruiser. “What brings you to Scotland anyway? I take it from your accent you’re American?”
“Oh, it’s business.”
“Really? You’ll not find much of that happening this side of the Atlantic. There’s thousands been put out of work every week.” He realised that they weren’t moving. “You can go straight on, drive. I’ll tell you when we’re near.”
The driver looked generally ahead, and although the road was clear, he made no move to proceed. The rain was lashing down the windows now, but for some reason, the driver turned the wipers off and the view down the Coniston Road quickly became a blur in the streaming water.
“Did you not hear me? You can carry on straight ahead.” He felt very real stirrings that something was very wrong, not just the duplicity of these two.
They took their seatbelts off slowly and turned to face him. “The truth is, Jock , our business is with you.”
“Ah! So you’re getting to the point then, so come on then, boys. Let’s be having it: What’s your business with me?”
PART ONE
1
W HEN THE WIND blew, she always felt this way: kind of dreamy, not scared any more. The fear seemed to be under control now, thanks to Dr Handson and his magic pills. All in all, she was coping much better, with everything. OK, so she no longer had a job, not at the moment but that was of piffling little consideration given that this time ten months ago she had seriously contemplated going to the railway lines and lying down.
No, that was not the truth, not really. She had never actually contemplated it. It had b