Free Ben Bracken: Origins (Ben Bracken Books 1 - 5) by Robert Parker Page A

in it’s entirety, and knew exactly the layout of the pub without ever having had to set foot inside. He’s been on the roof before dawn. He’s been in the alley at the back. He’s looked through the downstairs windows. And today, as soon as he has definitive proof that The Turn-Up is inside, he’s going inside for a quiet pint. Or at least it will start quiet. If he gets in there, and the numbers look alright, he intends to get his hands on that lowlife piece of gutter-waste and get a confession out of him. Ben checks the mic on the inside point of his right shirtsleeve cuff, right by the button - still there, still fairly unobtrusive. He checks the dictaphone in his jacket pocket, which is connected to the mic via his sleeve. Also perfect - batteries charged, levels checked. Argos had come up trumps. The idea is to press record, get in, and make conversation. He’ll pretend to be hammered if he has to get those words, or he’s also prepared to dish out a hammering if it means he gets those words on tape.
    Ben’s role at present is not one he is comfortable with, but has accepted. He knows he has no place in this society. He knows that this society would never respect him. Service men don’t always occupy a high place in society post-army, let alone disgraced servicemen like Ben. However, despite himself, he can’t find himself to turn his back on this society. At times he hates this society with a flaming passion, and is outraged at how much he has given with so little in return. But he can’t not care for this society - he seemingly can never forgo it’s protection. He has no idea why, but he will bleed for this society. He will give everything for this society.
    For Ben, it is a horrible marriage, but at least he has made peace with it. He believes that the problems in society comes from it’s influences and undercurrent. Case in point, the culture of fame and celebrity. And that has begot a sense of entitlement in society, that we all should seek the trappings of such a lavish lifestyle. Now people want to be somebody just because it appears that that’s what everyone aspires to. The desire for fame has never been so fierce. It sickens Ben. Seeing these girls who want to marry footballers, with no interest to careers. Seeing these lads get caught up wanting to be on reality tv, because it gets you famous. It’s hopeless, Ben thinks. He can think of hundreds of examples where society is being flushed down the bog in slow motion, each more garish and unsettling than the last.
    Ben often sits and wonders why he feels he owes such a pitiful society his protection, and he wracks his brains solemnly. Then he remembers the badge, the name, the honour of his position (well, at the time) and the simple word: England. Dear England, with it’s history so rich and it’s democracy so febrile. Dear England, with it’s green hills and industry. Dear England, with it’s dear Queen. When Ben thinks like this, he chastises himself quickly for being so maudlin. The romance of England is long gone - all that remains is the broken-down shell of a once thriving empire, with a bickering government trying to steer a disenfranchised and disillusioned populous out of the cave of economic uncertainty and ever-growing debt. Some ideal to fight for that is.
    Ben is quickly snapped out of his thoughts by man tottering along in his rear view mirror. The street is very quiet, but this man wearing a black jumper and cream khakis seems to fill it with his charismatic, jaunty walk. He ambles along at a fair rate, but looks very much like he is loving life. He might as well be singing ‘Oh What A Beautiful Morning’ as he goes, thinks Ben. Ben has a suspicion as to the man’s identity, and it’s a suspicion that is confirmed by a couple of small observations. The red-top rag under one arm... The sparkling earrings in the left ear only... The shock of unruly black hair (so black that only an obvious bludgeoning dye-job can be