by Jack Freeman
There was a strong possibility that the RPI planned to dispose of him and Azar anyway, one way or another, even before the Berlin events had completely unfolded and caused them to be fingered as unreliable elements. The RPI could well have decided Max was a double agent right from the start and played him along, with Azar as a hostage to keep him in line. All in all, this seemed most likely to him. The sell out to the HVA may have been a late improvisation by the RPI. As the realisation that the RPI had been playing him for a dupe to be used and disposed off, grew to a conviction, Max felt a strong surge of anxiety. Maybe Azar had already been liquidated? Even if the story about using the HVA for safe passage was true, it was extremely likely that the Inner Circle had planned that this journey back to the safe house would be his last ride. Max sensed the weight of the Luger which was now in his inside coat pocket and decided to wait until Azar’s fate was clear before killing Ali and then hunting down the Inner Circle. Unless, of course, Ali did something to hasten his own demise. He could kill Ali without bullets. The Luger was a heavy item and made a good cosh in an emergency. Meanwhile, Ali believed the Luger was still loaded and was being compliant.
As the plane broke through the low clouds, into the drizzle below, Max noticed a tall column of thick black smoke coming from a patch of woodland, near Heathrow, somewhere in the Green Belt around London.
Chapter 5. Safe house
It was still mid-morning when their plane landed in a light drizzle. At Customs and Passport Control at Heathrow, the immigration officer quickly waved Max through on the strength of the “Right to remain and work indefinitely” stamp in his US passport. Max had often thought that the stamp could be duplicated by a child’s toy printing kit, but it wasn’t his place to advise the Brits about their methods for letting people come in and go out. Ali was delayed for longer as the official scrutinised his British subject’s passport thoroughly and quizzed him in detail about how he had obtained it, where he was born, how long he had been in Britain and what he had been doing while in Britain. Eventually Ali was allowed in and he explained to Max that the immigration people always thought he was a Pakistani here illegally even although he felt he was clearly lighter skinned and in no way looked Pakistani. As a Persian, he should not have to put up with these indignities. Didn’t these people know that Persia was a mighty and sophisticated empire when the Brits were running around in blue paint and living in caves? Having got this complaint out of his system, Ali seemed to calm down and led the way to the parking area where Max spotted the now familiar white van.
“This time can we do without the blindfold, do you think, Ali?”
“Hah,hah, no need for that , now you’re one of us. There will be no need for a blindfold for you on our little trips anymore. And anyway, the Luger says, you’re the boss.”
They then left Heathrow in the van and began a meandering journey around narrow back roads in the airport’s hinterland. It always struck Max as strange that fields, cows, trees and farmhouses should be so close to the airport and the city. The rain had ceased and a perfect rainbow emerged in the eastern sky. Finally, the van was on a straight stretch of rough single track road, at the end of which was a small woodland and out of the woods was rising a thick column of black smoke which now obscured the rainbow.
Ali suddenly halted the van. He had become pale and was visibly tensed as he stuttered, “Oh shit! Now what‘s going on? That smoke is from where the safe house is.”
Max squinted through the smeared window into the sun which was low on the horizon behind the house and tightened his grip on the Luger, now in his right hand outside coat pocket.
“Looks like more than a chimney fire, for sure,” he said. His main thoughts were to wonder what had happened to Azar? Could they have killed her and torched the place? But why? It wouldn’t be a good idea while he and Ali were still on the loose. Unless Ali knew this would happen and he’s faking surprise. Maybe they got word from Berlin that something unplanned had happened and panicked?
The gate to the rough track up to the house was open and the van slowly rolled in and bumped up the path. Coming around the last corner they saw that the house was a blackened shell the inside of which had been completely burned out. Firemen were picking through the smoking debris. An unpleasant complex smell, mixing wood smoke, petrol fumes and something like burned pork meat was in the air. Ali began to gag and clutched at his mouth.
In the yard, in front of the destroyed farm buildings, were two fire engines and two black vans, but no police were in sight. Ali jumped out the van and ran over to the fireman who seemed to be in charge. Max got out and heard Ali asking what had happened to his friends who were renting the house. The officer replied that they didn’t know at this stage, however a number of human remains could be seen in the ruins, but had not yet been recovered.
When Ali came back, Max took him firmly by the arm and saying that there was something he must see, made him come behind a brick outhouse. Once out of sight of the firemen, Max pulled out the Luger pistol and put it to Ali’s left temple.
Max said, “OK. Time to spit it out. What’s going on here? Did your guys kill Azar and torch the place? I suspected all along you were going to dispose of us once the big operation was over, one way or another. This gun is still loaded and I will use it on you, or maybe save bullets and just beat you to death with it, if Azar isn’t ok.”
“No, no…I don’t know anything about that. I never heard such a thing. As you know, we operate strictly need to know, and I never heard of any plans to get rid of you and Azar. The fire guy said a number of remains were found so if she is dead in there, it’s not only Azar. Maybe she got out, who knows?”
Max said “I think you are a lying little bastard” and then struck Ali as hard as he could across the back of the head with the pistol butt. As Ali fell unconscious on to the muddy ground, Max felt a gun barrel in his back.
“Easy there, partner” said a Boston accented voice, “We want him in one piece for a little Q & A session. Cousins, take our RPI friend to the mobile unit and see what he can tell us.”
Three men in long beige Burberry coats and black trilby hats picked Ali off the muddy ground and carried him by the legs and arms toward one of the black vans.
Max laughed, and said, “Jesus, Jack , things are desperate here but you have a way of brightening them up. What the hell is going on here?”
“We’re trying to piece it together. When you were brought here those times before, we had a tail on you and so we knew to keep an eye on this place. Now, before you ask anymore, come with me.”
Jack led Max to the second black van and opened the back doors. Inside, sitting on a stool amid a muddle of wires from communications equipment, wrapped in a blanket, was a soot blackened Azar, sipping a mug of heavily sweetened black tea.
“Oh, thank God! What happened baby? Your hair is singed and eyebrows aren’t what they were, but you look pretty good in the circumstances,” said Max.
“Come on in Max, honey, and I’ll tell you. And then we want your story.”
Max and Jack crowded in to the van and Azar began to speak,
“The day you left, Max, they made me leaflet again at Oxford Circus, then they brought me back here. It was the same again the next day. But yesterday, the Inner Circle left while we were out leafleting and there was just me and the weightlifter s at the farm house. Those big guys began to bother me. They started staring at me and making curvy shapes with their hands. When they thought I couldn’t see them they would make erection gestures and point at me with creepy grins. I got really worried when the one who took me up to my room for the night after the crap dinner they fixed, smacked my bottom hard as he pushed me into the bedroom. But he didn’t follow through, as it were, just locked me in as usual and went back downstairs. Then the weightlifters began to hit the cases of Famous Grouse down in the kitchen. I could hear they were getting loud and loose tongued, boasting about previous operations and what they’d do next and how much they’d like to sc
rew me and all the ways that might be done between them. They really favoured multiple simultaneous entry scenarios. They made it clear that they thought I was a weak little thing and no threat, so I was never checked on. I had to do something. Turned out that picking the lock on the bedroom was no problem. They had never checked my boot heels for the useful tool kit I keep handy in there. So, I got out from my room easily and from the stairs I could hear more details of their after dinner conversation. It began to get bad, as they got on to who would strangle me, when the time came, which would be around noon after you had got back here today. At least none of them seemed all that keen to kill me, which was quite nice, but a job was a job. It was pretty clear there would be raping for fun then strangling as a job to be done. They weren’t concerned about killing you, Max. That was to be just routine and real easy. But they didn’t feel too good about strangling a poor little woman with their bare hands. So, maybe they weren’t completely all bad…but were bad enough, I would say.
I heard them say that the house was to be torched afterwards and that petrol aplenty was in the yard outside. I had heard more than enough by then and hoped it wouldn’t somehow spoil your plans, whatever they were, but I had to act.
So, I went back to my room, closed the door, reset the lock from the inside and snuck out the window, dropping to the ground without any problem. Then, I waited under the kitchen window for a while. Finally I heard loud snoring from the kitchen area. The whisky had done its work and they were all completely out of it, sleeping off the booze on the floor or heads on the table. Next, I committed arson in a big way. I got a couple of jerry cans of petrol from the yard and put a good amount through the letter box opening which went on to the hall way floor. Thanks to my small smoking habit I had a lighter and a cigarette to start the fire off. Just as the last of the petrol went in I heard someone stirring inside and begin yelling about the petrol smell. So, I had to light up and put the cigarette through the opening double quick. I didn’t expect the blast that came after the lit cigarette went through the letter box and it blew me and the door into the bushes back there. When I came round from being concussed, I saw one of the weightlifters coming out of the blazing building. He was actually on fire and screaming about killing me. I was still groggy and couldn’t seem to move. He kept coming towards me although he was badly charred and skin was hanging off him in huge strips. Luckily he slipped in some cow-shit and never got up again. I had to finish him off with a wooden baton I found in the yard. I had to smash his thick skull which was not easy, believe me. I threw up when the grey stuff oozed out of his cracked skull and afterwards I must have passed out again because the next thing I knew there was a plain clothes cop shaking me. He had apparently been keeping watch on the place through binoculars from a distance for the whole time and it took him a while to get here after he saw the explosion. Soon after I came to, the fire brigade were here, and then Jack showed up and introduced himself. I knew you were due back here this morning, so we lay low until you showed up in case some bad guys turned up first and that’s my story. What about your story?”
Max said “Hey, you did a great job Azar. I can’t feel sorry for the weightlifters. The thought of them all taking turns with you, every which way, ugh, makes me feel ill. Thank God you could get them first. The one you finished off deserved all he got.
Well, now for my story. I guess I can tell you all here. To cut it short, first they had me bump off that Makki guy. No great loss to the world there. It was a smooth operation even if I say so myself. Then we headed off to Berlin and met a man called Murphy who runs a Research and Development service for world class terrorists. He gave us the materials for a bomb plot against the Shah who happens to be visiting Berlin today. We planted a harmless device above the Shah’s room at the Hilton and unknown to our RPI friends I planted a large device in Mr Murphy’s building for tonight, to go off just seconds after the bomb aimed for the Shah’s room. So, the Shah may get woken early but Murphy and his operation will be destroyed, if all goes well. Oh , and while planting the bomb aimed at the Shah, a security man came by and he somehow had a fatal fall from the top of the high rise hotel. Hope that’s ok with everyone, but I had to do it to protect the operation and he happened to let me know he was some kind of war criminal, so it was a belated execution really, anyway. Next, Murphy tried to sell me on to the East German HVA. Made out it was agreed with RPI that we go back via East Berlin. But now, I think that was a crock of shit, given what Azar has just told us. Anyway, Jack, you’ll have to get the Berlin Station guys to deal with a black Zil with Sov plates in the Tegel parking structure. There are two HVA bodies in the trunk for disposal.”
“Good work, you both” said Jack. “The Company will be duly grateful. No matter about the security guy. Collateral damage. We got a report that you were in a car with Soviet plates but couldn’t understand why. So, that’s cleared up. We’ll sort out the HVA car and corpses. That’ll never make the news. They’ll know and we’ll know but Joe Public, never. The weightlifters, well, bit players really and they had it coming, I would say. Yeah, we had wondered about how that Murphy character fitted in with an RPI action. We realised after a bit he was an ex-IRA man that we had some notes on. To be honest, we weren’t all that interested in him while he was just making a local nuisance of himself with the Brits and all that free Ireland stuff, but now we know he’s been getting to be buddies with the international terror bunch, we have got interested. So, he buys it tonight and the Shah gets a loud wake up call but nothing serious?”
“That’s right. Maybe you could suggest to the Berlin station that the Shah be steered to take in a very late cabaret tonight and be out well past 3 a.m. I hear he likes high end joints with plenty wine, fancy women and song…”
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep him out and up late but we won’t say anything detailed till the last minute. His entourage are leaky as hell and we suspect RPI moles are right in there,” said Jack.
At that moment, an MI5 officer looked in.
“Mr Johnson, Sir, we’ve got some intel out of that RPI character.”
“Hey, quick work guys. A little electricity, a little water, a big bribe. It works every time. So, what’s the picture?” asked Jack.
The MI5 man replied:
“The RPI high ups very much suspected our friends, the Blues, here, as doubles, but were willing to use them for a bit and then dispose of them later. So, the idea was that after Mr Blue got back here, he and Mrs Blue were both to be killed by strangulation and the whole place torched with their bodies inside. With the amount of petrol involved here, there would have been very little left of you both.
The RPI bosses, known as their Inner Circle, left last night for another safe house they have in Italy. This one is on a tiny island called San Sergio, in the Venice lagoon. The whole island, or islet really, is a single small estate with only one house on it. The Inner Circle are travelling commercial airlines with a change of plane in Paris and are due to arrive at San Sergio this afternoon. Murphy is to phone them there after the Shah attempt, to report results. Meantime, and this is interesting, there will be no communication with the London end. The weightlifters and Ali were to torch the place about noon and then make their ways individually out of the country by sea to France and then on by rail to rendezvous within four days in Belgrade.”
“So, little Ali knew more than he claimed to me. Next time, I won’t go so easy on him,” muttered Max.
Jack whistled and said “Hey, this is good news. We have a Company jet not far away from here at Northolt military airfield. If we take off in the next couple of hours we can be at a US Air Force base near Venice and get to that island well before 3 a.m. We’ll capture or kill the Inner Circle before they learn about the great Shah scam. These guys have a very tight cellular structure so there’s a good chance that nobody will be left in the RPI that will know about Max and Azar’s involvement in this, so when its done, they will be clear and free.”
“This is a great break. Now,
I insist that I must be in on this” said Azar. “After I spruce up a bit, naturally.”
“Me too, obviously, I must be on this op,” added Max , “We both have a great incentive to see this through. I think I’m spruce enough as I am. I just need more ammo or a better weapon than this old Luger. An automatic pistol and a machine gun would be good.”
“Absolutely, guys, we’ll sort all that out. Now, let’s head over to Northolt. I can call them up from the field telephone in this van and have everything ready to go as soon as we get there. It’s only about 30 minutes away, just a bit north east of here. Meantime, Mr Smith, Sir, please keep friend Ali under tight lock and key. We’ll take him off your hands in the next few days. That was the agreement for our joint op.”
“That’s fine with us, Mr Johnson. He’ll be safe in our hands. We’ll strip search him and then keep him in a padded cell at Paddington Green under suicide watch till you want to collect him at your convenience. There are some records of this gentleman entering and leaving the UK, and he has been here for many years as he says, even got citizenship somehow, so first we will delete all records of his being in the UK, destroy all evidence of his citizenship, and his eventual departure won’t be recorded either and so, officially he will never have been here. We can skip all that extradition baloney,” replied the MI5 man, Smith.