well.’
‘Yes.’
‘The bomb in your house is like one of those IEDs they use against our troops in Afghanistan.’
‘IED?’
‘Improvised explosive device, it’s a NATO acronym.’
‘You’re serious aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, it’s like my brain’s been reconditioned.’
‘Reconditioned?’
‘You know, like the cars on Discovery Channel. These people buy a heap of junk, like I used to be, and they recondition it. They rebuild it and sell it for thousands of dollars.’
‘So your brain’s worth thousands of dollars?’
‘No, you know what I mean. I can’t stop wanting to learn things.’
He patted his jacket pocket. There was a thick paperback book in it. He pulled it out and handed it to me. I read the title in the poor light, Engineering Mathematics: A Foundation for Electronic, Electrical, Communications and Systems Engineers .
Full of suspicion, I flicked the book open to check that it wasn’t some collection of porn. It contained a mass of diagrams and formulae. I glanced at the information on the back of the book. It said the text was useful up to second year honours degree level.
‘Honestly, Mr Cunane, I have to keep reading. It’s like a disease. I’m afraid that if I stop my brain will go back to what it was before.’
‘God, Tony, your brain really has been reconditioned,’ I said, handing back the book. ‘It must be turbo charged if you think this is light reading.’
‘All right then, I’ll be off,’ he said.
‘Be careful, Einstein.’
‘I will be. You keep your ears open for a bang … just joking. It should be easy but I need to be there sharpish. They may decide to put up more cameras.’
He opened the passenger door. I grabbed his arm.
‘I can’t let you go. I can always rebuild the house but…’
‘No, listen, Mr C, I need to do this for myself. I don’t want to become a nerd who only knows things in books. I’ve wasted a lot of time out of my life and now I need to do things, hard things. If there’s an anti-handling device on this IED I’ll cope with it. Believe me, I’ll be perfectly safe.’
He pulled free and began jogging up the lane. His slight figure quickly merged into the long early morning shadows.
Ten minutes later I was parked nearer Topfield Farm waiting to hear whether No-Nose had achieved death or glory. The alternative of phoning the police had occurred to me. I like to tell myself that I’m not that different from a normal citizen.
Lew’s warning not to trust the police rang in my ears like the Crack of Doom. Thinking of him brought on a twinge of guilt. I persuaded myself that there could be good reasons why he hadn’t answered his phones.
It was hard to believe that just twenty four hours earlier I’d been sleeping in my bed with just a routine Monday morning in front of me. No, that wasn’t right; I had the coming baby to look forward to. The ups and downs of family life had become my focus. The days when I would charge around Manchester thinking I was some sort of latter-day Robin Hood were long gone.
Or were they?
I was allowing poor battered No-Nose Nolan to risk his neck and his ‘reconditioned brain’ to save my property. I’d accepted the flimsiest of evidence that he’d suddenly become a bomb-disposal expert and let him go ahead.
I cursed myself for allowing myself to be taken in. No-Nose had probably got all that stuff about IEDs from films or science fiction books.
I could only put my weakness down to delayed shock about the night’s events.
Then the sound of gentle snoring from the back seat penetrated my frantic mind. Clint had mastered the seat belt and was curled up with his feet doubled up across the seat. He took up as much room as three large people. His gaunt face was completely relaxed. He was smiling in his sleep.
Traffic was starting to move as early morning commuters set off to Manchester and the Cheshire towns. No red Mini-Coopers but plenty of four wheeled drives passed us. The intermittent
‘Yes.’
‘The bomb in your house is like one of those IEDs they use against our troops in Afghanistan.’
‘IED?’
‘Improvised explosive device, it’s a NATO acronym.’
‘You’re serious aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, it’s like my brain’s been reconditioned.’
‘Reconditioned?’
‘You know, like the cars on Discovery Channel. These people buy a heap of junk, like I used to be, and they recondition it. They rebuild it and sell it for thousands of dollars.’
‘So your brain’s worth thousands of dollars?’
‘No, you know what I mean. I can’t stop wanting to learn things.’
He patted his jacket pocket. There was a thick paperback book in it. He pulled it out and handed it to me. I read the title in the poor light, Engineering Mathematics: A Foundation for Electronic, Electrical, Communications and Systems Engineers .
Full of suspicion, I flicked the book open to check that it wasn’t some collection of porn. It contained a mass of diagrams and formulae. I glanced at the information on the back of the book. It said the text was useful up to second year honours degree level.
‘Honestly, Mr Cunane, I have to keep reading. It’s like a disease. I’m afraid that if I stop my brain will go back to what it was before.’
‘God, Tony, your brain really has been reconditioned,’ I said, handing back the book. ‘It must be turbo charged if you think this is light reading.’
‘All right then, I’ll be off,’ he said.
‘Be careful, Einstein.’
‘I will be. You keep your ears open for a bang … just joking. It should be easy but I need to be there sharpish. They may decide to put up more cameras.’
He opened the passenger door. I grabbed his arm.
‘I can’t let you go. I can always rebuild the house but…’
‘No, listen, Mr C, I need to do this for myself. I don’t want to become a nerd who only knows things in books. I’ve wasted a lot of time out of my life and now I need to do things, hard things. If there’s an anti-handling device on this IED I’ll cope with it. Believe me, I’ll be perfectly safe.’
He pulled free and began jogging up the lane. His slight figure quickly merged into the long early morning shadows.
Ten minutes later I was parked nearer Topfield Farm waiting to hear whether No-Nose had achieved death or glory. The alternative of phoning the police had occurred to me. I like to tell myself that I’m not that different from a normal citizen.
Lew’s warning not to trust the police rang in my ears like the Crack of Doom. Thinking of him brought on a twinge of guilt. I persuaded myself that there could be good reasons why he hadn’t answered his phones.
It was hard to believe that just twenty four hours earlier I’d been sleeping in my bed with just a routine Monday morning in front of me. No, that wasn’t right; I had the coming baby to look forward to. The ups and downs of family life had become my focus. The days when I would charge around Manchester thinking I was some sort of latter-day Robin Hood were long gone.
Or were they?
I was allowing poor battered No-Nose Nolan to risk his neck and his ‘reconditioned brain’ to save my property. I’d accepted the flimsiest of evidence that he’d suddenly become a bomb-disposal expert and let him go ahead.
I cursed myself for allowing myself to be taken in. No-Nose had probably got all that stuff about IEDs from films or science fiction books.
I could only put my weakness down to delayed shock about the night’s events.
Then the sound of gentle snoring from the back seat penetrated my frantic mind. Clint had mastered the seat belt and was curled up with his feet doubled up across the seat. He took up as much room as three large people. His gaunt face was completely relaxed. He was smiling in his sleep.
Traffic was starting to move as early morning commuters set off to Manchester and the Cheshire towns. No red Mini-Coopers but plenty of four wheeled drives passed us. The intermittent
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