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It wasn’t that bad an outcome I had decided. I was after all here at an exclusive beach resort in Fiji taking in the rays and from this distance the method of my departure from Manchester, and the means by which I had come by the money I required to stay here seemed rather remote.
But the facts remained unchanged, I had been caught money laundering for the boss of an illegal Belgian Chocolate cartel, I’ll always swore that I wasn’t guilty, and the evidence never amounted to much but I had been put in prison, Strangeways. I had been put away on December 3rd 2002, and four days ago I had escaped.
I won’t go into how I got away but it suffices to say that I had access to a lot more money than either the British Government or the Belgian Chocolate overlord had actually ever seen. And a quick new identity and a first class ticket to first Hawaii, and now Fiji and I was away.
At least I thought I was. I caught sight of a day old English paper, and the details seemed a little close to the bone so I decided to move on again. But where was going to get help ? I got up, went to the bar and began a conversation with a man I’d never met before, and it changed the course of my life.
The guy I got talking to turned out to be a football manager, and, I have to admit, I didn’t see how he could help me, but he made for some stimulating conversation and I soon made a mental note to put off the search for a new identity until morning and to let myself relax a bit. He told me his name was Bruce Parker and that he was on his way to Australia to become manager of A-League side Melbourne Victory, and that how has was totally unknown in Australia, having come from Burscough Town how he had nothing and no-one to go home to and how he’d have about a month and a half before the season proper began.
The night wore on and we drank more and more, me sticking to the local beer but Bruce knocking back the cocktails like there was no tomorrow. We drank until the early hours, and were the last ones to leave the bar. I offered Bruce a hand as he seemed pretty incapable of walking but he refused. As we walked back past one of the resorts many pools he slipped on the edge, went in, but knocked his head as he fell. It was a straightforward task to fish him out, but when I did, he was dead.
My mind raced, and quickly I came to the rather uncharitable solution that here was my ticket out of here. Bruce had said it himself. He’d remarked on how alike we looked, and it was undeniable, same age, roughly, same height, weight and hair colour and even similar looking faces. So I gathered Bruce up in a fireman’s lift, rather as you would do for a passed out buddy and let myself into his room. I picked up his passport, documents and amongst other things the invitation from Melbourne Victory FC. I planted my passport and wallet into his pocket, carried the body to a quiet cove, commandeered a small boat and took the body out a way into the water where I dumped it.
Then, having changed into some dry clothes (and having binned the wet ones) I went straight to the airport and got myself on the first flight to Australia, into Perth. Bruce’s passport had the necessary stamps and visas and I was let in without any question. I picked up an internal flight to Melbourne.
Brit yes. I don't think anyone who isn't a brit has ever heard of Chester City, never mind actually admit to being a supporter of them.
As for local accuracies I'll do my best, but I was disappointed to note that the Victory's ground move (is it 2008 ?) isn't in the database. And I'm not one for hacking about the DB, not after I've started a story anyway.
I’d phoned ahead on landing in Perth, using Bruce’s mobile. And there to greet me at Melbourne international was Gary Cole the director of football for Melbourne Victory. He took me to my hotel and told me I had today and tomorrow to get over any residual get lag and that there would be a press conference at Olympic Park (the home ground) on Saturday morning. Just before I went to bed I picked up an English paper the front page story caught my eye.
Quote:
The Daily Telegraph
Prison Escaper found dead on tropical island
Reports suggest that convicted money launderer and recently escaped convict, Denton Patch has been found dead on a beach in tropical Fiji. It appears that Patch, who escaped from Strangeways on the 4th of June had been struck by a speedboat whilst swimming in the tropical paradise last Wednesday evening, and that his body had been found on the beach on Thursday morning. Quite how Patch came to be fully clothed has not been explained by the Fijian police who nevertheless have closed this case as one of death by misadventure. Denton Patch had been serving 15 years in Strangeways on the money laundering charges prior to his escape in a laundry truck last week. It can only be speculated how he managed to get to Fiji but reports do seem to be certain that this criminal is dead.
And so I was in the clear. I was now Bruce Parker. And on that note I went to bed.
I woke quite late Friday morning. And the first thought that struck me was ‘How do I get to the money now?’ Denton Patch was gone, and with it the fortune I had squirreled away. Any attempt by me to get the cash would be like a red rag to a bull, the authorities, not to mention the hoodlums, would know that a) Denton Patch was not dead but also that b) Denton Patch was in fact acting as Bruce Parker and he was managing an Australian football team. But there wasn’t any time to mope. I fired up the laptop I had liberated from Bruce Parker’s (my!) room, defeated the password protection, and started looking through files. I learnt an awful lot of what I needed to know in that session as fortunately Bruce had been very assiduous in keeping records about himself.
Later on, over a schooner of VB in the hotel bar overlooking the Yarra River, I read through my contract. The bar was one of these chrome and glass jobs, quite hideous to my mind, but hey, here I was, and wasn’t life just looking a whole lot rosier. The contract stated that I would be on a salary of £4,400 a week, and with that my worries about the money just disappeared. I could leave the stash where it lay. Chances were it would stay there unmolested and I’d have a chance in a few years to go and reclaim it, and in the meantime I had a job managing a football club to keep me busy.
Escape To Victory 
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