by Steve Reeder
I shook hands with the ex-Mrs Rodber who looked frankly frail and habitually miserable, and said hello to Tarryn, then turned to Inspector Hammil. The Rodber women would have to wait even though the elder women seemed keen to have a word with me.
“Have you become a motor racing fan then, Inspector?” I asked. He shook his head and indicated we should take a walk. I left Mrs Rodber looking annoyed with me and we strolled casually through the garage to the rear parking area.
“It’s a funny thing, inspector. I keep telling myself how this is not really any of my business, and yet you keep turning up and wanting private conversations when you should really be talking to Julia or Rodber’s ex.”
Hammil stopped, and looked around as if to check we could not be overheard.
“The thing is, Mr Roberts, we rather think we know where Rodber is.” I looked at him in surprise.
“So why aren’t you busy getting him back?” I asked. I didn’t tell him we had our own ideas on Rodbers’ whereabouts.
“Well now, here is my problem. If I’m correct, and don’t ask me how I have come by this information, because I won’t be telling you, then Josh Rodber is being held hostage at the embassy of the Islamic Kingdom of Saudi.” He paused then continued. “Bloody impressive name for a two by four shit hole if you ask me, but then there you go.” I nodded, just to show him I was listening but said nothing.
Personally, I had never heard of the Islamic Kingdom of Saudi and I don’t suppose more than one or two dozen people outside diplomatic circles had either. Hammil drew a deep breath before continuing again.
“My problem is this,” he said. “The bowler hat brigade in White Hall wants me to keep my nose out of this business because the Sultan seems to be more important than I would have given him credit for, and Rodber seems to have annoyed the Foreign Office types.” He paused and scowled at a teenager dawdling past with an autograph book clutched in his hand.
“To put it bluntly,” he continued, “he has a patent of a process for something ingenious in the petroleum exploration area, which he should have given to the Sultan. The Sultan is now the major shareholder in Rodber Enterprises Plc and Rodber has, contrary to popular belief, little or no share in the listed company at all.”
I nodded my understanding. Some things were making sense now, except how this involved me. Hammil continued again. “For some reason known only to the politicians they want this Arab fellow to have the technology and think Rodber is being a major pain in their collective rear-ends.” He turned to face me. “Which is where I think you may be useful.” I looked at him doubtfully but kept quiet. “You see, Mr Roberts. We, that is me and my two sergeants, know all about your prison breaking efforts in Zimbabwe in July 1989. I’ve even interviewed one of the men you rescued. He’s living happily in Nottingham now and working as a diesel mechanic. He seems to think highly of you and your two companions.”
“You’re not really a policeman are you, Hammil. Or, at least not standard issue.”
Hammil nodded. Reluctantly, I thought.
“I and the two sergeants with me are with Special Branch.”
We regarded each other for a moment.
“So what exactly are we going do with this startling insight into my past, Inspector?”
“Do you think you could do it again?” he asked.
Chapter 9
Michele found me sitting at the kitchen table sipping on a Virgin cola.
“Dave says to tell you they have finished unloading everything. I think he expects you to have a talk with the team before they all disappear for the night?” she said wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. “Everyone is wondering what they’ve done to the big chief to annoy him?”
“They’ve done nothing to upset me, sweetheart.” I smiled. “I’ve just been wrapped up in something else. That’s all.”
“Well I think it would be a good time to go and tell them, don’t you?” she said.
“Yes. You’re right. I’ve been selfish.” I hesitated, and then continued. “There is something I need to talk to you and Julia about later. Mrs Rodber too, actually,” I replied as I pushed the cola bottle away and stood up. “But let’s have that team pep talk first.”
The day had gone very well from a motor racing perspective. Both riders had put in over seventy laps at race pace; the engineers had pronounced themselves satisfied with the days work and no one had broken an expensive motorcycle. Russell’s number one bike had turned out to have a brake problem. We fixed the problem and checked the other three machines as well without finding fault.
Now I gathered all the lads together and congratulated them on a good day’s work. They looked chuffed with themselves. We discussed briefly the plan for the following day, which was going to be much of the same with some testing on a couple of engine parts which may or may not make the bikes go faster. If we had time, or could fit it in at the same time, we would be testing some different tyre compounds as well. That’s what race development is all about: Testing, testing and more testing.
Dave then distributed drinks all round, non-alcoholic for Brett and Russell, although Russell looked wistfully at the pint Dave was downing with some haste. Rodber’s stock of beer was taking a fatal beating.
As the group broke up to go their various ways I drew Julia and Brett aside. “Julia, there is something I need to talk to you about along with your Mum,” I said. “Is she planning to stay over?”
Julia frowned and said. “Unfortunately she is.” There would certainly be no problem with space, but Julia was obviously not happy to see her mother. “I need some time with Mum first Simon, and then perhaps we can get together in the living room?” She asked, “Is this something to do with Dad?”
“It is, yes,” I replied. “But I’ll let you talk to your Mum first.” Julia nodded unhappily and strode purposefully after her parent who had established herself in Rodber’s bedroom.
Now I sat with Michele and Brett at the huge kitchen table, the rest of the team having departed for homes or pubs with wives or girlfriends. We were drinking coffee and waiting for Julia to finish with Mrs Rodber. It was obviously not a happy discussion. We tried hard not to hear the heated words from upstairs but the tone was ominous. Minutes before the war of words ended, Tarryn appeared, and helping herself to a cola from the fridge, joined us at the table.
Tarryn was fifteen and bore no resemblance to her elder sister at all. She was not much more than five foot five with a well-rounded hourglass figure that could either turn to fat in her thirties or earn her a fortune in films and magazines. Her face was pretty with a sprinkling of freckles (that would disappear with time) across her slightly stubby nose and her hair was dark and shoulder length.
Right now she wasn’t looking happy, which didn’t seem right as she had a naturally happy bubbly face.
“Why so solemn, Tarryn?” Brett asked.
“Oh. You know. Dad. And then Mum and Julia going at it. I told Mum to stay out of it,” she replied disjointedly. “Mum thinks this a good time to take control of Dad’s stuff. She doesn’t think Julia should be left in charge without Dad around. Now she is pissed off because Julia has told her to take a hike. Good thing too. Mum would make a right balls-up.” We were too stunned to say anything. Tarryn sighed. “You see, Julia got Dad’s brains which is just as well because Mum’s a silly cow.” Brett choked on his coffee. “And all I got were these tits which are too big.” This made Michele blush. “No really. I don’t think a boy’s looked me in the eye once in the past two years.” Silence settled briefly, and then Tarryn was off at a tangent again. “She doesn’t grasp that Dad has sold the company anyway. Keeps going on about a huge amount of money from some Arab prince and that she should be entitled to some of it.”
Uh Oh. I thought. How involved is Rodber’s ex-wife, and can she be trusted in knowing the plan Hammil and I had discussed earlier?
Julia walked in looking frustrated and slightly distressed. Brett stood up to greet her and she almost fel
l into his arms and buried her face against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. They stood like this for a good thirty seconds while we sat looking embarrassed.
When Julia finally stood back she looked up at Brett fondly and said quietly. “Thanks, Brett. I needed a good hug.” She looked at the rest of us and asked: “Have you all had something to eat?”
“We’re fine,” I answered. “What about you? You look exhausted.”
Julia shook her head. “I’m fine really. I don’t think I could eat a thing,” she said. “I know you wanted to talk about something Simon, but could it wait till morning?”
“No problem.” I replied. I was glad of the extra time anyway. I needed to figure out what to do with Rodber’s ex-wife now that she was mixed up in it all. I found out the next morning that her name was Marsha.
“Thanks. I know it’s only nine o’clock, but I’m for bed. I’m bushed.” I almost missed the meaningful glance she gave Brett. “Good night all,” she said. Brett announced he too was going to bed, almost as soon as Julia left the room. I don’t think they fooled anyone, least of all young Tarryn. Silence descended again.
Tarryn looked at Michele and me and said. “Well I think it’s still early, and we should go out for a drink. Before Mum thinks to come downstairs.”
I examined that suggestion for obvious faults, and not finding any that upset me, I took the two girls out for a drink. Non-alcoholic for Tarryn.
We arrived back at the Rodber Racing Ranch not many minutes before midnight. I chased Tarryn off to bed and took Michele upstairs and made love to her for the first time.
By nine thirty next morning we were again back at Brands. Both the number one bikes had been fitted with new ignition systems developed by a local company. One of the more successful teams in last year’s national championship had used the same company’s products to good effect. But they had competed using Suzuki four cylinder machines, which naturally used completely different ignitions from our 1000cc twins. Today’s efforts would give us some indication as to whether we would be using these systems ourselves this year. As I said, it’s all about how fast you can get around the track and even the smallest advantage can make a huge difference.
I had still not got around to that discussion with Julia or Marsha. I was no longer keen to talk to the ex-Mrs Rodber at all. As her youngest had pointed out not so subtly, she really wasn’t that bright. I guessed Rodber had married her for her looks, which had long since faded under the onslaught on alcohol, nicotine and bitterness. Perhaps that’s why Rodber had given her the heave ho.
Still, Julia deserved to know what Hammil and I had cooked up, although I was still not 100% sure I was going to try it. The plan sounded flimsy and fraught with danger. Perhaps I would brief her later.
Now I know what you’re thinking. Here’s a guy who enjoys danger. Motorcycle racing, clandestine military operations in foreign countries and so on, but these were calculated risks. Well thought out and planned, well, at least the military ones were. This scheme of Hammil’s just seemed to me to be too full of ‘what ifs’. And it wasn’t as if he would be coming to my rescue with the 7th cavalry if things went pear shaped, as they are fond of saying in London.
The team was well into the morning session of equipment testing when Hammil parked his official Rover behind the pit garage. Julia and her Mum turned and looked at me expectantly but I ignored them for the moment. Which was a bit silly really, after all, why was I doing this if not for Julia and Tarryn? Marsha I didn’t care much about. My first impression of her had not been a good one, and second and third impressions had not done her any favours either.
Hammil nodded a greeting to all and sundry and held out a large hand to shake mine. I seemed to be coming up in the world. He held off saying anything as Russell screamed by on his number two machine - the number one bike was being rebuilt by the engineers after they had stripped the engine to check wear and tear on the pistons and rings. There had been a suspicious noise from the big end bearings. Hammil had only just got his mouth open to speak when Brett roared into the pits and stopped in front of Geoff. He was waving his hands about in an animated way. I glanced at Geoff but he made an ‘its-all-right’ type face at me and I left them to it. The noise of the Ducati made any discussion near impossible, so I motioned Hammil out back where the noise was merely ear splitting.
“Simon, I’ve got the blueprints you’ll need as well as the equipment you asked for. I’m not going to ask why you wanted three sets of each, and I’ll not ask who the other two are for,” he stated.
I stared at him for a moment. Now that he had turned up with what I had said I would need, there didn’t appear to be any going back. I nodded as casually as I could manage and looked back at the happening in the pits. Brett was off his bike as Ian made some suspension adjustments, so it was nothing serious then. As soon as he had taken to the track again I motioned Hammil to take a walk with me. Marsha had been showing signs of coming to join us.
“Let’s assume all goes well on the night, and we get Rodber back,” I said. “I need to know from you what help you can give me once we’re out. I don’t need the local bobby on the beat in the wrong place at the wrong time demanding we all stand around saying ‘fair cop gov’ and having us spend the night in the local nick. Or the baddies rushing out after us with bloody great guns and taking Rodber straight back.”
We took several steps before Hammil spoke. He looked around carefully to make sure he would not be overheard. The area behind the garages was eerily deserted.
Satisfied he said “I’ll tell you what I’ve arranged for the night you go in.” He composed his thoughts briefly, then, “I will have an undercover team of men in place for a dummy operation in the next street, or somewhere close by. They will be armed, and in contact with me. I will be even closer: Watching you in fact. You won’t see me but I’ll be there. If anything looks like it’s getting out of hand, I’ll have the lads over in no time flat.” He paused to draw a deep breath.
“If that happens, I’ll make sure that you and your associates are not detained. Fair?” I didn’t respond so he continued. “If things go a bit awry we will have to react to the situation as we see fit. But I will have planned and readied the men for anything that could go wrong. But only outside of the Embassy gates. You know we can’t come in.”
I thought about that for a second. I didn’t really want any coppers hanging around when we went in. I was more worried about any legal repercussions in the event of a general cock-up, which is always a strong possibility no matter how hard you have trained or planned. And we weren’t training at all, or planning beyond the basic. That’s when I would need Hammil and his Special Branch people. Still, perhaps it would be OK so long as only Hammil himself was actually there to see anything happening. Provided that something did happen of course.
“All right then,” I answered. “I’ll get the kit from you now if you’ve got it with you?” He shook his head. “Then can you bring it by later this evening?”
“I’ll drop it off at seven tonight,” he confirmed. We walked on three or four paces then he stopped abruptly. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Simon?” he asked suddenly.
I shot him an incredulous look. “Bloody hell Hammil! You didn’t seem too concerned when you suggested the idea. And it was your idea, let’s remember,” I said, ignoring the fact that I had been planning to do it anyway.
Hammil made calming motions with his hand. “I realize that, Simon. It just seemed a relatively simple matter at the time, for someone with your experience. Now I’m having second thoughts. I don’t know who your associates are going to be, and I don’t know if they are going to be any good. I don’t even know if you’re going to be any good. It has been years since you’ve done anything but ride motorcycles.”
“You sounded just like my mother then. She’s always complaining that I should get a real job,” I laughed bitterly. “Look, Hammil, I’m not keen on raiding some foreign embassy any more tha
n the next man.” This was not actually true; I was becoming quite excited about the idea. “But as you pointed out, if no-one official is going to get him out then it’s up to those of us who think we can. And I’m not doing this because I like Rodber particularly, but because I think clowns from piss-ant kingdoms should not be allowed to get away with kidnapping people any time they think they can.”
Hammil stood with worry etched across his face. Finally he nodded, more to himself than to me.
“Seven tonight then?” I nodded back. “Please be waiting for me by the entrance to the first of those large garages. I don’t want to have to come in and end up explaining myself to Miss Rodber, or her mother for that matter.” I agreed that it would be best and the inspector took his leave.
Well, it looked like it was going to happen. I was going to attempt it. We were going to attempt it. I just wasn’t sure who the rest of the ‘we’ were.
When Hammil had first suggested his rescue plan yesterday, he had appealed to my emotions as well as my vanity when tempting me to undertake the mission. That I could, with or without an assistant, sneak into a building housing the ambassador of a sovereign nation, albeit a tiny tin-pot one, and walk out with the kidnapped Rodber, had seemed to me to be completely daft at first. And yet, the idea of doing it had gripped me, excited me, as I had not been excited since those missions into a hostile Zimbabwe to rescue five men. I’m sure if I had still been racing regularly instead of watching others ride those beautiful machines, I would have at least hesitated if not rejected the idea out of hand. I knew the perils of being caught far outweighed the short-lived elation that any success would bring, and I had no illusions that Hammil would not abandon me to my fate if I was caught inside the Embassy. Even if he wanted to help, he would have no way of doing so without exposing his own hand in the affair; something he would not be able to do.