By 12.30 Roy began to feel human but he was more tense than he could ever remember being. He would have given anything to speak to Joan but she would be teaching. He opened his wallet and looked at her picture; it threw his mind into complete turmoil. Any clarity of thought became a complete maelstrom. Images of happy times blended with the horrors of the Gulf, Joan's smile contrasted with the anguish he had wrought. His mood changed. He slumped into a seat questioning himself. He had to carry on. He focused all his thoughts on the photograph, convincing himself that he had done it for the best; even though he might never see her again, he had done it for what he believed in, what he was convinced was justified. The thoughts cleared like fog in the sun and that seemed to give him a boost. He flicked on the stereo and loaded a CD. Bob Seger bellowed, causing Pippa to flinch, as the earpiece filled.
He had left all his kit ready; the packed black clothing, gloves and balaclava might seem over the top but he could not predict whom or what would be waiting for him. In his bag was a change of clothes, a passport and the night sights. He checked his wallet and then dressed.
He left the flat, mentally checking that he had everything that he needed. He loaded the bag into the boot and drove away.
"He's moving!" called Pippa.
They collected their things and found the blue Vitara. Bob climbed into the driver's seat and swung the car in front of the hotel entrance. Pippa was not far behind and hopped in.
"He's on the Nicosia Road, there's no need to go too quickly.” Traffic was never bad. They were soon out of the centre and travelling along the plain. It was 14.35. Some five kilometres ahead was Roy, cautious but totally unaware of the vigilance.
Turning off the main road, Roy swung left following the signs for the capital, Lefkosa, a divided city for the past twenty-five years. He pulled up in Ataturk Square and nudged the car into a small space. The centre of the square was dominated by a large Venetian column surrounded by a small garden. He crossed the road, entered the travel agent's and purchased a single ticket on the late ferry to Tasucu under the name of Eric Miles. He left the office and moved towards the market where he bought bottled water, dried fruit and chocolate.
Bob and Pippa had found the car but were unable to find a parking space. Bob had jumped from the car and waited by the bank on the corner, a position that allowed him a view of the square. He could not fail to notice the large bust of Ataturk mounted high on the opposite building, dominating the area. A shoe cleaner set up stall next to him, the highly polished brass of his box catching the sun. Bob turned and raised his shoe onto the box. He waited.
Roy walked casually into the square and opened the car boot. He noticed the tourist with the shoeshine boy, it made him take another look. Tourists seldom used them, there was a fear of being overcharged or mugged whilst standing with their back to the passing people. He took a careful look at the man's face and Bob turned instinctively, knowing full well that Roy was looking directly at him.
Roy eased the car out into the square and returned along the road on which he had entered. He travelled only slowly and pulled in watching the tourist who had, on his departure, paid and run across the square to a waiting jeep. Roy moved off again. His senses prickled and he was concerned. He immediately pulled sharp right and sharp left into a cul-de-sac and stopped the car. Roy climbed out and slipped down one of the narrow passageways. He could now watch the road. In less than a minute the blue jeep turned in.
"Oh shit! Is this a fucking set up? Let's just get the hell out of here and wait!" screamed Pippa. “We shouldn't be this close anyway."
"Pull up and stay calm, he's not onto us. Trust me."
Roy had witnessed the farce from the moment they turned the corner. Although he did not get a clear look at the driver, Bob's face confirmed his suspicions and the obvious strong exchange brought a satisfying smile to his lips. What would they do now? He had time to make them wait but it was really his chance for them to orchestrate the next move.
The passenger door opened and he saw Bob slip out and walk across the road towards his Vitara before disappearing down one of the side roads. Pippa reversed her car towards the traffic and drove away. Roy knew these lanes well and checked on Bob's progress. He was obviously on the search.
Swiftly returning to the car Roy removed his bags before leaving the area in the opposite direction from Bob. He stayed clear of the main street where he believed the blue Vitara would be waiting and then hailed a cab.
"Girne," was all he said initially, before throwing his bags into the back of the yellow Mercedes. He jumped into the front. The taxi pulled away into the traffic and before long was heading away from the centre. Ahead Roy noticed the Turkish flag painted large on the mountainside. He would, in one hour, be over on the other side.
Pippa watched her GPS e-mailer for a communication from Bob. Nothing came and in the end she pulled back into the cul-de-sac and waited.
Roy was approaching Girne. The taxi pulled into a garage and Roy paid and removed his bags. The garage had a number of cars for hire and he only hoped they would have a 4x4 and a dark one at that.
Pippa was growing frustrated with the wait, something was wrong. She typed in the short message and pressed ‘send’. Ten minutes later she received the answer, Bob was returning. Walking towards the black Vitara, Bob again looked inside before shaking his head and crashing his fist onto the roof. The space that had contained two bags when he had first looked was now empty. He ran to the jeep.
"He's away. He had bags in the back when I first looked but now it's empty. I take it he was watching us all the time and just waiting for you to leave."
"There's still time to approach the castle road. He's got an appointment, remember?"
Roy had succeeded in hiring a rather old Suzuki, in red. It had to be inconspicuous and this was the best they had. It had not been washed for weeks and the colour had darkened significantly. He signed the forms and left a deposit. He had secured its dubious services for three days. He pulled away and headed back out of Girne onto the forestry roads that he had previously reconnoitred. He found himself whistling for the first time in days. He must be on top of the game.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The single Land Rover had broken away from the convoy as it left the Turkish barrier. The money had been loaded into the Bergen in the Ledre Palace Hotel, once a beautiful Nicosia hotel, now the headquarters of the UN. Its walls and general façade were pock marked by the fighting of '74. Dressed in UN clothing were Colin and Stan. Colin was the passenger. He was wearing very dark goggles that shielded his eyes from daylight. They knew the route. Toes had been aware of their role and had, to date, reported his sightings. In the back sat the standard SAS Bergen rucksack holding the two million pounds. They drove carefully, aware of the time; they did not want to be early. It was 17.10. The sky was turning the colours of evening, the first stars were beginning to appear as they started the climb into the mountains. The overhanging trees brought an early darkness, they would have light for another ten minutes, if they were lucky, and no more.
The mountaintop was eerie as the white Land Rover's lights blazed the narrow road. Toes could see the treetops illuminated as it swung round corners before blackness returned and then another area of trees came into view. Within minutes its lights were clearly visible running past the jousting area then twisting towards the castle car park. From his vantage point it looked like a child's toy. The car park and the castle were totally deserted. Toes knew he would not be the only person watching the Land Rover’s progress. Somewhere out there would be Roy Hanna, if only he knew where.
Stan let the engine tick over whilst they organised themselves out. Once ready they switched off the lights. Colin removed the goggles and was rewarded with immediate night vision. His partner would struggle to achieve the same depth of vision in the time they were out. Colin lifted the Bergen onto his back and started the uphill walk to the drop point. Toes, from his vantage point and with the aid of the Eagle long-range nigh
t vision device, could see quite clearly in the green, hazy field of view. So accurate was the device that he could tell who was carrying the Bergen. He constantly swept the castle, eager for any sign of Hanna but so far there was none. His partners kept disappearing into the ruins as they threaded their way along the inclined path to the spot marked by the 'X' on the map; it had to be exact.
Roy deliberately stayed low, away from the ridge. He had seen the headlights search the now-dark sky on more than one occasion as the UN vehicle threaded its way along the twisty roads and made its climb to the castle. He pictured the two soldiers moving through the ruins. He was happy to wait until the lights signalled their departure and then he would delay again. He was in charge, no matter who or what was out there, he would control the moves.
***
Bob and Pippa could not compromise the operation that was now taking place around the castle. Although they were not party to the details, they knew they had no business near the castle so close to the drop time. They had returned to the hotel, crest-fallen. Their role now would be to monitor the apartment for his return. Reluctantly, Bob called England and reported the situation. The displeasure was clearly indicated in the conversation. Bob said little after the initial report only listened, raising his eyebrows at Pippa occasionally. They both had a strong drink before organising the listening watch for the night.
***
Colin looked at Stan and nodded. This was the place; even in the dark they recognised it as the drop point from their earlier sortie. The Bergen was placed in the middle of the flat area.
"It's a lot to leave to the dark and the elements." Stan patted it before they both retreated into the ruins and began to follow the descending path.
On reaching the Land Rover they both instinctively looked across to where they knew Toes would be watching before climbing into the white vehicle and moving off down the twisting road. The whole valley seemed to light up and for a moment, the huge increase in light through the night sight dazzled Toes. Roy too noticed the lights filter white into the sky as the noise of the diesel rattled the still evening away in the distance. Roy waited, confident that no one would be in the castle in the dark.
He moved back to the jeep that was nestling in the pinewoods; his eyes were accustomed to the darkness and he moved quietly. From the bag he removed his black clothing and dressed quickly. The balaclava and gloves were the last items he retrieved. Over the top of the balaclava he placed a face mask onto which he clipped the night vision goggles. They were lightweight and comfortable. He flicked them on and the whole area brightened into a green, clear world.
The walk up the northern side of the castle was quite steep but the path that Roy had planned was known to him and he moved with confidence. As it grew steeper he needed to use his hands more, even the injured hand was an advantage to none at all. His breathing deepened and he began to sweat. He had climbed this same route three or four times over the previous few days, often in the full heat of the day, and had not felt like he did now. He checked upwards and the crest was close.
Breaking over the ridge, he was immediately faced by the crumbling castle wall. There was no need to scale it, he simply moved through one of the many holes. He took a breather.
Toes continued to scan. He moved further away from the castle searching outcrops of rocks, trees and bushes for the smallest movement, hoping for a glimpse of his man, but so far nothing. "Come on, you greedy bastard, show yourself!" he muttered to himself over and over again. A slight movement wavered and stopped in his peripheral vision; it was he. He could not be sure at first but when he swung round and focused all his attention on the figure, he knew it was his man. "If I had my weapon now, you'd be a gonna, pal," Toes thought as he continued to watch the figure creeping along the edge of the wall. It only took him three minutes from first sighting to Hanna getting to the Bergen; he moved well for a man in the dark.
Roy touched the bag cautiously. He covered his mouth with a black rag just in case they'd booby-trapped it. He expected to be sprayed with a gas on moving the bag. They had not. Lifting the money onto his back he hauled the weight upwards following the same path and disappeared over the ridge. Toes removed the sights from his eyes and stared into the darkness. He filed his radio report and within the blinking of an eye the message was sent, "Money has been collected. Your man is on the move." The listening station not twenty miles away collected and de-coded it before sending another encrypted message to GCHQ in England.
Roy struggled more than he thought he would. The bag was difficult to carry over the rough, loose terrain and he rested many times. On reaching the car he dumped the Bergen onto the ground and removed his gloves; the night vision goggles remained on. From the bag in the boot of the car he produced a small, electronic, anti-bug device. He switched it on and immediately it flashed. Roy now knew that hidden in the bag was a transmitter. It had been placed so that his moves could be followed. It either sent a satellite signal or someone was rather too close for comfort, ready to monitor his moves. It would not be in the bag for long. He carefully tried to root it out, only to find it stitched into the fabric. He sliced it out and left it in the back of the car; it would be disposed of later.
He lifted the Bergen and moved into the forest, bound for the ruins of the shepherd's hut. The door hung from its lone hinge but the corrugated, rusty roof brought some protection. It was obvious from the plants growing round the door that it had long been abandoned. The door moved after he lifted and pushed, twisting it inwards. Roy stepped inside lifting the bag after him. The place was dry and that was his main concern. He stashed the bag high onto one of the thick wooden rafters, ensuring that it was covered with old hay and straw that he gathered. There would not be much light in the building at any time of day and he felt that it was in a secure place for the three days that he would need. Before he left he rechecked the position of the bag.
The jeep started first time but he left the lights off, relying on the goggles until he was away from the forestry road, only then would he select the full headlights and stow the goggles on the passenger seat.
Toes continued to monitor the area but he neither saw nor heard Hanna again and he settled in for his last night in his eyrie.
Roy drove down from the mountain, pulling in to the side of the road after a few minutes. He climbed out and placed the transmitter he had taken from the bag in the hedge and quickly returned to the car. Girne looked quite beautiful, its streetlights twinkling, the sea, a dark mass, stood out in the darkness, the sky awash with millions of stars. He drove to the old part of town and stopped. He changed in the car before finding a place to eat. His persona was now that of a tourist, leaving Northern Cyprus for Turkey. Two ferries ran from the new port. The catamaran halved the journey time between Girne and Tasucu but he had time to spare. His ferry would be the larger, slower one. It would take, weather permitting, the full six hours. It departed at midnight. Roy looked at his watch, it was 10.30. He parked his car and checked the booking, showing his ticket. He was in a long line of young soldiers who were travelling home on leave. There was little noise apart from the rattle of backgammon boards and voices.
By 11.10 the queues had begun to form at the gates and were soon boarding. Roy followed a group of soldiers. Their uniforms were untidy and ill-fitting and they cared little, a far cry from his time in the army. Once on board he settled on a reclining couch, lay back and drifted off to sleep.
The sea was calm and the ferry arrived ahead of schedule. Roy could not remember the last time he had slept so soundly. He had not stirred since leaving Girne. He found the gate and walked down the steps onto the harbour side and continued to follow the crocodile of soldiers into the customs building. There was a brief look at his passport and little else.
Tasucu had developed with the tourist trade and a number of cafes and bars filled the area. He pulled up a chair outside the first he came to and ordered a coffee. The sky was a deepening blue and the roads were alive with traffic. He watc
hed the movements of the people coming from the ferry terminal, some heavily laden, others travelling with fewer possessions than himself. He felt free. He would telephone Joan; that would be his first task. His second was to fax the list of bomb sites and times. That could wait a little longer.
***
The news had reached Robin Carey, The Director General of the Security Services, that the money had been taken but the transmitter, it seemed, had been discovered. As the signal was static, it had probably been dumped. However, the two operatives were still monitoring Hanna's flat and an SAS officer was still in the field.
"I want that transmitter finding. It may give us a clue as to where he’s been. The bag in fact may have just been stored."
The telephone rang next to Pippa. She answered and immediately swung her legs out of bed. She had not been asleep; it had been her turn to monitor the flat in case Hanna returned. He hadn’t. She would do as instructed immediately. She wrote down the co-ordinates given over the phone and hung up. Bob was awake and read the piece of paper before looking up. Pippa switched on the bathroom light and removed her shirt. Bob continued to stare until she moved into the shower.
***
The phone beside Joan's bed rang a number of times blending with the dream she was having. Only its persistent ring woke her.
"Roy? Where are you? How are you? I've been trying to contact you the last couple of days but you haven't been answering your phone. Is everything all right?" Joan's anxiety flooded out and she burst into tears.
"I'm fine, really." There was a long pause. "When are you coming out here?"
Joan calmed herself and told him about the flight details and times. She would be arriving on the Saturday night. "I'm missing you so much, Roy. I just get so worried when I don't hear from you. You promised to call me every day."
Bridging the Gulf (Aka Engulfed) Page 17