Porter Island Chapter Eight (standard:action, 1483 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Dec 20 2024	Views/Reads: 36/11	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Agent Betty McCloud, alias Amanda Thornton, is reassigned to service to face her most difficult operation yet.

Chapter Eight 

Betty's next step was to check the Porter Island registry and search for
any details of Mahoney or existing relatives. She returned to her car, 
consulted the Porter Island map, and saw that the statistics office was 
situated along the promenade, opposite the police precinct. 

It would put her in plain sight of the police headquarters should anyone
be observing. That was something Betty knew she'd have to chance, but 
then she also realized that the longer her mission continued, the 
greater the chance of exposure. 

That possibility took a giant step forward, with the statistics clerk
refusing to allow Betty access to the records without some form of 
identification. 

Faced with no other option other than flexing her muscles again, Betty
flashed her FBI details, risking, of course, the clerk passing her 
details onto the police department across the road. Betty placed her ID 
back in her pocket, uttering, “This business is confidential, 
understand?” following which, the clerk nodded, and she obtained the 
information on Mahoney's death. 

He had passed away at The Pines Residential Home, some two miles out of
Porter Island center, a check in the records indicated. Evidently, the 
powers that be hadn't been able to erase every detail. 

Leaving the statistics building, Betty turned toward the promenade
junction with Main Street on her way back to the limo. Out of the 
corner of her eye, she saw a figure emerge from the police precinct and 
cross the road toward the building she'd just left. Turning into Main 
Street, Betty glanced back, and sure enough, the figure, not definable 
from this distance, was making its way up the steps. Coincidence or 
otherwise? Betty couldn't be sure, but she had little doubt that if it 
were to be connected, the clerk she'd spoken to might quickly divulge 
the purpose of her visit. 

Storing it to memory, Betty crossed to the limo, intent on making the
two-mile journey to The Pines and hopefully obtaining details of 
Mahoney's relatives. 

The limo's sat nav pinpointed the location as off the circular coast
road that fringed Porter Island's shores. Firing the ignition, Betty 
joined the promenade, traveling away from the police precinct. In her 
rearview, she caught sight of a black four-by-four pulling out of a 
layby close to the Strategic building. 

It meant nothing as yet, of course, but time would tell. However, the
mist, which seemed to be a perpetual visitor to the island, was thicker 
closer to the coast, and the black four-by-four soon became enveloped 
in it. Betty reduced her speed; the hazy lights of approaching vehicles 
on the two-lane highway were as much as she could see, but the sat nav 
indicated that the turn-off for The Pines was nearing. 

Betty slowed further, turned as prompted onto a makeshift track that
seemed a mixture of sand and gravel, momentarily picturing the 
chauffeur, Hands' face when she returned it filthy, and allowing 
herself a smile at the thought. 

The track arced into a crescent with a grass centerpiece begging for
attention. 

The Pines looked to be another old colonial-type building, but unlike
The Hurst, it was clearly in need of renovation, judging by the peeling 
frontage. Inside the surprisingly small and confined foyer, Betty 
approached a woman sitting behind a Perspex screen. The slim woman, who 
appeared to be middle-aged, looked up and frowned. “Yes?” 

In an equally brusque voice, Betty stated, “I'm looking for the
administrator. Where might I find ...” 

“Have you an appointment?” 

“I don't need one,” Betty replied flatly, flashing her identity. The
woman sniffed and narrowed her eyes. “I'll see if she's available.” 


Click here to read the rest of this story (112 more lines)