Chapter Eight

Eldon Fracks

Eldon Fracks orders a continental breakfast and strong, black coffee to help wake up his wine-befuddled brain. He is a creature of habit, and this particular coffee shop has become a favourite haunt.

Coffee in hand, Fracks reflects on how his whole life has changed. At first, he thought this was a disaster, but now Fracks sees that his life has made a dramatic turn for the best. As the former chauffeur of the head of the Network, Fracks was privy to a great deal of information. All of which he’d managed to keep to himself. Like everyone else, he’d feared Mr Beech, but Fracks had been an expert on ‘making like’ the three wise monkeys: though he saw and heard everything, he never spoke of the Network’s evil. For this he’d gained the unquestioned trust of Beech and his associates.

But now Beech was gone: shot down by a task force who brought his private assassin training house down around his ears in the process. And Fracks had been able to avoid capture, all because Beech had sent him off the property on some petty errand. Fracks didn’t even recall what it was that Beech had requested, he only knew, as he drove away from the large mansion, standing in several acres of land in the heart of Alderley Edge, that there were helicopters and army trucks heading directly towards the house. He saw them, just as he made the decision to turn left instead of right, and he passed the assault team as he did. There was no way he would complete the task Beech had given him because he was not going back to the house.

He’d contemplated calling it in, but Beech might have demanded his return. Fracks reasoned that the outcome would be whatever it would be, no matter what he did. So, he decided not to intervene and kept on driving, eventually ditching Beech’s limo and heading off towards Manchester airport.

He heard about the raid on the radio app through his phone which was tuned to a local station. Beech wasn’t mentioned by name but enough was said to let Fracks know that his employer was dead. It was, as he’d suspected, time to get out of Dodge.

As he always kept an overnight bag and his passport in the boot of the limo, along with a holdall stacked with cash that Beech used as an emergency fund, Fracks had jumped onto the next flight to Germany. There, using Network contacts he’d heard of, but never revealed he knew about, he obtained several new identities. Everything was easy when you had money. At the time he’d just planned to lie low until the organization regrouped, but it wasn’t long before he realized how privileged he was to have escaped unscathed not only MI5, but the Network itself. This could be a whole new opportunity. A whole new life. A clean slate, leaving behind the Network and all it stood for. A rarity for anyone who had dared to become embroiled in their machinations.

But Germany was not a safe place for Fracks, since it was a Network stronghold. The grapevine revealed that someone was looking for him, and so he did the only thing he could to avoid detection: Fracks travelled. Never staying long in any one location, he kept on the move. It helped that the Network, having lost their illustrious leader, were thrown into total chaos. Fracks had banked on this too, understanding more than most just how much control Beech had over the other committee members.

But there was one assassin who’d aspired to be more and had set out to move up the ranks. When Fracks heard that Vasquez was looking for him, he went to ground as low as he could get.

That’s when he ended up in Belgium.

In Brussels he hired a cheap studio apartment. He wasn’t flash with money, and made every effort not to be noticed. He lived very simply. The money he had from Beech’s stash – a mere £250,000 – wouldn’t last if he was too frivolous and he had no legitimate way of earning more. He accessed his own savings, transferring further funds to a Belgian bank called KBC to use when he was certain they’d given up looking for him. Then he heard that Vasquez had ‘disappeared’. Fracks breathed a sigh of relief at this news. Rumour had it that the upstart assassin had been erased by the Network’s committee. Fracks didn’t enquire any further for fear of drawing attention to himself.

After that he stayed in Brussels. As time went on, he stopped checking on the dark web platforms for signs of his name being mentioned. With confirmation of Vasquez’s death, he was sure that no one would remember or care about Beech’s driver. What was he in the scheme of this great machine that controlled governments, and destabilized economies? Nothing. Not even a cog anymore.

Walking back from the coffee shop, his stomach rounder from his newfound pastry addiction, Fracks is relaxed and happy. The thing that had once frustrated him now pleases him. Who among those he’d driven around would even remember the face of one chauffeur? He’d been like a piece of furniture to them all, even Beech, which was why they hadn’t been careful around him. And now he is anonymous. He is free. And he can leave those awful people behind.

He stops off at a little bookstore on his route home. Here the owner has imported books in English to loan for a small price. Fracks chooses from some of the new arrivals. He likes history and drama but he avoids thrillers – it’s too close to the life he once led and his reading is for pleasure.

The bookstore owner packages up the books, wrapping them in tissue before putting them in a bag.

‘Three weeks to return,’ he says in pidgin English.

Fracks nods, pays him and takes the bag.

Reaching the small block of flats where he lives, Fracks walks upstairs to his studio apartment. He’s never lived anywhere so small before, but the lack of possessions is freeing, and he has no urge to buy anything that isn’t essential anymore. Sometimes he thinks back to his nice apartment in London, the full cabinet of fine brandies and whiskies that he opened on special occasions. The expensive furniture that populated the rooms and the superking bed that he’d slept on – at times with someone else he’d picked up for the night. But all of that is shallow and he’s learned to appreciate the simple things, which, more than anything means that he remains hidden.

He opens the apartment door and goes inside. As he expects, all is quiet. He fixes himself a coffee, after lunch the wine will be opened, but for now, Fracks’ retirement also means time to read and relax.

He sits down in his favourite chair by the window and watches the world go by.

He drains his coffee mug and then reaches for the bag of books. Yes, life is good, and Fracks will enjoy losing himself again in the fictional historical dramas he loves so much.