Jhun Thai O: The Fall Of Thomas Brady

Jhun Thai 0 Epilogue

Thomas nodded quickly. "That's about the size of it," he confirmed. "I know it sounds crazy and I know I should be doing something about my current predicament. I know I screwed things up. I brought shame on the family, but I can make things better and I will put things right, I promise you that. I just need you to trust me on this".

Travis looked into Thomas's eye's. He saw the sincerity in them, but at the same time, he also saw some of the arrogance in Thomas's eye's as if Thomas was only doing this for his own personal gain. He knew that recent events had changed Thomas, knocked him down a peg or too and made him think about things that most mattered. He knew this from the text messages and voice mails his brother had left him. But there was still some the old Thomas in there, the Thomas that wanted to take on the world again and prove just how tough he really was.

But if he could find this master and perhaps learn from him, would it change Thomas completely, perhaps make him a better man?

"This is crazy," Travis said to Thomas. "It's more than crazy, it's insane. Are you leaving tonight?"

"My plane leaves in three hours," Thomas said to Travis. "I ain't got much in terms of money, probably enough for my flight there and back and some for acommodation for a few nights at a hotel, but if I can find this man, track him down, I mean an address from the book I was reading and it's a start".

"Hong Kong is a big place," mentioned Travis. He told Thomas to wait for a second and then came back out with his jacket and a wad of notes, giving Thomas at least three hundred pounds in money.

"What is this?" he asked his brother, looking at the wad of bills in his hand.

"Extra money to help you get by," Travis told him. "How did you get here?"

"By taxi," replied Thomas. "The taxi cab is waiting for me to take me to Manchester Airport".

"I'll pay him off and then I'll take you myself to the airport," Travis told Thomas. "You do know you are one crazy sod and I do hope this wild goose chase will lead somewhere".

Thomas picked up his bags and followed Travis down his drive to his car. Travis paid off the taxi driver, before getting into his car. Thomas climbed in after him, putting his bags down in front of him.

Travis saw how small it was. No bigger than a knapsack.

"You don't have much luggage," noticed Travis.

"I always like to travel light," said Thomas. He breathed in again, giving a nod to Travis that he was ready to go. "I promise you, I will put things right," he assured him.

"Then I hope you will find what you are looking for," said Travis, starting the engine up. "You ready for this...?"

Thomas grinned as his brother drove him off to the airport. "Ready as I will ever be," he replied. "Ready as I will ever be...."

Jon Portland looked across at the three men sat opposite him. The office he was in was dark and the features of the men facing him were partially obscured by the shadows in the office. There was only one overhead light, and it was shined directly on him. It made his eye's hurt and he had to squint a few times to adjust himself to the glare.

Two of the men sat opposite the desk were dressed in dark suits. One of them was an elderly man in his mid sixties. Portland recognised him as a Tory MP and a minister for the government for Sport, a Mr Jacob Hingley. Hingley was the kind of man with the highest connections to people in power. He was also one of the few people who was in charge of the criminal activities that happen in sports, the rigging of events in football, boxing and even Olympic games. The other guy next to him, he had never seen before, a man in his early thirties, with olive tanned skin and short dark hair. Portland figured he was secret service like MI5 or CIA. Standing next to him was a tall and well muscled man. He wore ripped jeans and a white vest. His arms and chest were covered with tattoo's, and Portland knew him as Tyrone Bigely. He was an old friend and a man you did not want to cross. For Bigely was also a master criminal as well as a expert fighter like himself.

"This is disappointing Mr Portland," said Hingley. "We had invested so much in Mark Tudor and had big plans for him. Now he is of no use to us thanks to the actions of this one man you supposedly beat the same night he beat you up, a Thomas..." His voice trailed off as he tried to think of the mans second name.

"Brady," said the young man next to him. "Thomas Ian Brady, a resident of the city of Stoke-On-Trent. Worked for the company Syntech Ltd, was local kickboxing champion under Angus Williamson. Many describe him as cocky, brash and arrogant".

"Unfortunately, he has cost us a significant amount of money," said Mr Hingely. "This cannot be allowed to go untouched".

"I can easily arrange something," the big, thickly muscled man called Tyrone said. "I can get some of the boys together and have him taken out, clean, without any finger prints. We can make it look like an accident. But seriously, he just a guy".

"And he put my friend Tudor in a coma!" snapped Portland. "He embarrassed me as well. That title I won from him was stripped from me by the British Kickboxing board".

"Ohh, looks like he really did a number on you," chuckled Bigely. "Big, strong fighter like you. It surprises me how a local pretty boy from the Potteries did a number on the two of you and got away scott clean from the authorities without so much of a blemish on his record".

Portland ignored Bigely's remarks, trying his best to keep his emotions under check.

"He was fined a significant amount of money," pointed out the young man in the black suit. "He also lost his license to fight in the ring as a result and is jobless. I don't think he will be of any threat to us. Reports have also indicated that he is out of the country".

"Where has he gone?" enquired Hingley.

"Hong Kong," replied the young man. "He booked about a weeks stay, though we are uncertain what his motives are".

"When he comes back, I'll be waiting for him," said Portland. "With your permission, I would like to deal with this problem myself. I feel, I owe it to Thomas to repay him for the pain and embarrassment he has heaped upon me and it will be justice for my friend Tudor as well. I don't want no rematch with him. I just want to kill the fucking bastard".

Mr Hingley thought about it for a while before finally nodding his head. "Okay, if you really insist on revenge against this man, you can have it. We will provide you with a few men to help you out on this". He motioned with his hand at Portland. "You can go now".

Portland nodded, stood up and left slamming the door behind him as he did.

"I still think Thomas is not a problem," said the young man to Mr Hingley. "He's practically broke and has big problems of his own. I doubt he will pose any threat to us".

"Portland wants revenge so we will let him have it," replied Mr Hingley. "Besides, it will be his chance to redeem himself and prove his worth. Nice simple assignment like this shouldn't be too hard".

"I think you should have let me handle this," butted in Bigely to Hingley. "Portland is too emotionally involved with this and he could end up making his own situation worse. I know the guy. We go back a long way, and he's the type of the that lets his heart rule his head".

"Which is why we want you to follow him, to make sure he does not mess up," said Mr Hingley.

"Just keep watch and report anything that happens to me," said the young man. "We need to make sure Portland does not end up in the hands of the local authorities and somehow ends talking and exposing us".

"If that should be the case, kill them both," ordered Mr Hingley. "I trust you can handle these situations well Mr Bigely".

Tyrone Bigely grinned at this, rubbing his hands together as if with glee. "Consider it done," he told them.

The End.....