by Bill Ward
The two men in sunglasses both grabbed for each of Lara’s arms. Powell moved quickly. He grabbed the baseball bat from under the counter and brought it crashing down on the arm of one of the men as he struggled to hold onto Lara’s arm. The bat was a new addition to the bar and had been Afina’s decision in case of any further trouble from her countrymen.
There was a scream from the man who let go of Lara and backed away holding on to his broken arm. With one arm free, Lara swung a wild punch at the second man holding her other arm. He stepped back and looked to the man without glasses for guidance. The bar wasn’t busy but the brief fight had attracted everyone’s attention.
Powell held the bat above his shoulder, ready to bring it down again on anyone who encroached within range.
“You will regret this,” the American threatened. He half withdrew a gun from inside his jacket so it was visible only to Powell and Lara. The implied threat was obvious. “The girl is coming with us,” he said forcibly.
“She’s going nowhere,” Powell replied evenly. “Our cameras are filming everything. Even you couldn’t be stupid enough to use that in front of so many witnesses. I assume whoever you’re working for wouldn’t be very happy seeing your faces all over the evening news.”
Powell saw a moment’s indecision in the man’s eyes then he turned and walked away, beckoning for the other two to follow.
For the first time, Powell noticed Afina looking at him from a corner table. She looked angrily in his direction. He knew she had worked hard over the last eight months to restore the bar’s reputation. He lowered the bat and replaced it under the counter.
“Thank you,” Lara said. “I think you might have just saved my life.”
“You have a great deal of explaining to do,” Powell replied. “Do you know those men?”
“I’ve seen the one who was doing all the talking before but I’ve never actually spoken to him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Powell could see Afina going around the tables, no doubt telling the diners there was nothing to worry about. Powell hoped the three men having left was more than just a temporary reprieve for the bar.
“I’m having a proper drink,” he announced, deciding to put further questions for Lara on hold until they were alone. He took a bottle of whisky from the side and poured himself a double measure. “What about you?”
“I’ll have a glass of white wine, please,” Lara replied.
“We need some privacy. Let’s go to the office,” Powell suggested, pouring a very large glass of wine. He hoped wine might loosen Lara’s tongue.
He led the way with Lara following close behind. After closing the door and sitting behind the desk, he came straight to the point. “You’ve really pissed someone off. What did those men want?”
Before Lara could answer, she was interrupted by the door opening. Afina entered and seeing both chairs occupied she stood leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
There was something of a pregnant pause then Afina looked at Powell and asked, “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
CHAPTER SIX
Powell had hoped to be able to speak with Lara without Afina present but now she was in the room, he wasn’t going to send her away.
“Afina, this is Lara.”
Afina gave Lara a cold stare. “You are the Lara from Saudi Arabia?” she asked without disguising her hostility.
Lara seemed taken aback. “I guess I am the same one.” She looked at Powell for support.
“Afina is the manager of the bar,” Powell explained. “And a very close friend.”
It was Lara’s turn to stare at Afina. “I’m sorry for what happened. I had no idea they were following me.”
“Who are they?” Powell asked again. He could see the girls exchanging looks, assessing each other and he suspected both were wondering if the other had been his lover.
“I really don’t know.” Lara replied. “They obviously work for a government agency but I couldn’t say for sure which agency or for that matter, which government.”
“What do they want with you?” Powell asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t seem to know very much,” Afina snapped. “I don’t care what happens to you but Powell could have been killed.”
“Powell, I think we should speak in private,” Lara said. “This doesn’t concern your friend.”
“I’m not sure it concerns me either,” Powell answered. Reluctantly he turned to Afina. “Give us some time, please, Afina.”
Afina stormed out of the room and slammed the door .
“I think she has strong feelings for you,” Lara said. “Isn’t she a bit young for you?”
“I love Afina like a daughter, nothing else,” Powell stressed.
“I don’t think that’s how she views you. Have you slept with her?”
Powell was thrown by the question. “Look, we’re getting off track. Can we please leave my personal life out of this and get back to what brings you to Brighton.”
“Okay. Ten days ago I met with Baz and he gave me the name of an important terrorist who had recently entered the UK. It was a couple of days after the London Marathon.”
Powell immediately understood the significance. He had run the marathon a couple of times and was watching the race on the television when the bomb exploded. The explosion at the side of the road would have killed many more people if it hadn’t been for the police officer stumbling across the bag and carrying it away from the crowd so he could check inside. Even so, there had been seven deaths, including the policeman and twenty people injured, some seriously.
“Was it him?” Powell asked.
“I immediately passed the information up the line with my recommendation it was reliable and likely to be the same man.” Lara paused to take a drink of her wine. “Obviously, our people immediately launched a nationwide search for this man.”
“Are they any closer to finding him?” He knew the terrorist was still at large.
“It took them just a few days to locate him.”
Powell was shocked. “There’s been nothing in the papers about an arrest.”
“The decision was taken that he needed to be interrogated without the hindrance of due process. We needed to discover if there were other terrorists planning further bombings.”
“Isn’t that what the Americans used to do with rendition, when they shipped prisoners out of the country to torture them somewhere that didn’t give a damn about human rights?”
Lara took another drink of wine before answering, “Yes.”
“Has this terrorist been taken out of the country?”
“No.”
Powell realised what he was learning was the type of information that would be highly classified and could be very dangerous knowing. “Where do you fit in all this?” he asked.
“Five days ago I was told to get to Vauxhall urgently to be part of the interrogation team. I had learned a little more about the terrorist from Baz and it was thought my knowledge could prove useful. Some expert thought it would help break him if he realised he had been betrayed and I was the best person to describe the betrayal.” She took another large drink of wine before she continued. “Only I never actually made it to Vauxhall. I was met at Heathrow and told there was a change in plans. I was put on a helicopter and flown to a large house somewhere in the country.”
Powell raised his eyebrows. “Do you know whereabouts?”
“Not really because I was too busy being briefed. I wasn’t paying attention to any landmarks. I remember the journey went quickly, certainly less than thirty minutes. And I think we flew East.”
“So probably somewhere in Kent or Essex. What happened when you got there?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Lara’s eyes were cast down at the floor. She was obviously deeply disturbed by the memory. “I honestly didn’t believe we did such things.”
“What things?” Powell prompted gently.
“It doesn’t
matter but they did things to the terrorist that physically made me sick. And I have a strong stomach.”
“You mean they tortured him?”
“Yes. And it was a hundred times worse than Waterboarding.”
Powell was shocked and pretty certain such treatment of even a terrorist suspect was always illegal in the UK.. He doubted there were any circumstances in which even Executive Orders from the Prime Minister could grant powers to interrogate by such methods. “Did they get the information they wanted?” he asked.
“Yes. They seemed very happy with the results… Powell, I’ll never forget the screams I heard from that man. It was inhuman.”
“You said you’d seen the man from the bar before,” he prompted, keen to get back to the present. He had only limited sympathy for the terrorist’s suffering.
“Yes, he was the man doing most of the torturing. I observed some of the early sessions. Just thinking about him gives me nightmares.”
“And why do you think he came here looking for you?”
“I’m not sure,” answered Lara and drank more wine. “After they had what they wanted from the terrorist, I was given a helicopter ride back to Battersea. I was told not to breathe a word of what I’d seen, which was rather stating the obvious and as I was on holiday for the next few days, I was told to stay away from Vauxhall. I should return to Saudi after my holiday and continue working as normal.”
“So what happened to make you scared and need to pay me a visit?”
“I was stupid. I put an email to my boss in Saudi telling him I didn’t like what I had seen and I believed what I had seen was illegal. I asked him what I should do. I had an almost immediate reply telling me to forget what I had seen and just enjoy my holiday. We could talk about it further when I returned to work.”
“Probably sound advice.”
“Yes but I couldn’t leave it alone. What I’d seen had made me angry. It makes us as bad as the terrorists. We can’t claim to be the good guys and then inflict the most horrible torture on people. We have to respect the legal process. I was determined not to let it drop and I felt I should speak to someone at Vauxhall, while I was still in the country. In the end, my boss persuaded me to leave it with him for a couple of days and he’d make some enquiries...”
Powell thought Lara had acted very naively but he couldn’t criticise her motives. Perhaps she wasn’t quite such a manipulative and cynical bitch as she had portrayed in Saudi. “Have you heard back from him?”
“No, that was two days ago. Ever since I’ve been followed and yesterday I’m convinced they tried to kill me.”
“What happened?”
“I’ve been staying with my father in Dulwich. I popped out yesterday morning to do a bit of shopping and a car tried to run me over. Luckily I have fast reactions and I’m fit so I managed to jump out of the way at the last second. I just ended up with some bruises.”
“Perhaps it was just a drunk or someone on a mobile who didn’t see you.”
“The car swerved towards me and he didn’t stop. He knew what he was doing,” she said with absolute conviction. “I remembered you had a friend in MI5 so that’s when I decided to pay you a visit. I knew I was being followed again this morning but I thought I’d got rid of them before I took the train here. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have involved you in this.”
“Shouldn’t you speak with your boss in Saudi and see if he can help?”
“It’s only since I spoke with him last time that I’m in this mess. I don’t trust him.”
Powell was thoughtful for a moment. “The three men could have been just a precaution. They may have wanted to remind you of having signed The Official Secrets Act and warn you they could throw you in jail if you spoke about what you’d seen.”
“Maybe but that doesn’t explain the car yesterday. If I had reacted a fraction slower I wouldn’t be here now. And if they can do what I saw to that terrorist, then they obviously don’t care about the law. They might have decided it’s easier not to take the risk I might speak about what I saw and silence me permanently.”
“Do you know what information they extracted from the terrorist?”
“Details of a planned attack next month and the names of a couple of terrorists in Bradford, who were to be part of the attack.”
“What was the target?”
“Suffice to say it was a large scale bombing aimed at the heart of government. I actually take having signed The Official Secrets Act very seriously… I’m worried now I’ve put you in danger.”
“I need to speak with my friend and see what I can find out. By the way, isn’t it odd that man had an American accent?”
“We work closely with the Americans on all terrorist matters. He could be on secondment to us. Perhaps he was brought in specifically to lead the interrogation. I’m pretty sure he had questioned people before using the same methods. He… ”
“What?”
“He seemed to enjoy what he was doing.”
Powell was willing to believe the Americans would have people with specialist skills in interviewing terrorist suspects, otherwise why bother to have a programme of rendition. But it wasn’t something they would want publicised any more than the UK government would want it known they had used such a man or his methods, to gain information. Powell was becoming more concerned, the more he heard.
“You better stay with me for the time being,” Powell suggested and saw the look of relief on Lara’s face. He wished Lara had never walked into his bar but he couldn’t just send her away when her life was so obviously in danger.
“Thank you. My father is old and I don’t want to risk him becoming involved. He doesn’t know that I work for MI6. He’s rather old fashioned and wouldn’t approve of my job. In the Arab culture, women stay home and bring up children. He is always asking when I’m going to get married and make him a grandfather. If you’d told me to get lost I would have gone abroad somewhere.”
“That may still be the best option. I’ll speak with my friend and see what I can find out. I offer no guarantees he will be able to help.”
“I understand.”
“Stay out of sight in here while I go update Afina and I’ll organise some extra security for the bar.”
“Thanks,” Lara said.
Powell wasn’t feeling very positive about the situation but tried to give an encouraging smile in response. If the American returned with some local police and an arrest warrant on some trumped up charge, they were going to be in big trouble. He couldn’t get into a fight with genuine police officers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Powell found Afina standing beside one of the tables. One of the customers at the table was using a credit card to pay their bill and Afina was putting it through the handheld machine. Powell caught her attention and used his eyes to signal he needed a word. A minute later the customers left and Afina walked over to Powell.
“You didn’t tell me she was beautiful,” Afina said without preamble.
“Who?” Powell replied innocently.
“You know who. Lara. She’s beautiful.”
“I guess she is quite attractive,” Powell agreed. “But that’s not important. Right now she’s in big trouble and needs my help.”
“Why you? She hardly knows you. You must have made a big impression on her when you were in Saudi Arabia.”
“Lara knows I have a friend in MI5 and she needs his help. I think I was a last resort.”
Powell hoped Afina’s negative reaction to Lara was caused by her being protective of him and the bar rather than any misplaced jealousy. He’d said nothing to give her grounds to believe anything had occurred between him and Lara, when he was in Saudi. And seeing Lara again had confirmed any feelings he’d once had for her, were definitely confined to the past. There were too many conflicting memories.
Then again, why was he afraid to be honest with Afina about what happened in Saudi? He hadn’t been unfaithful. He was an adult and he wasn’t in a relationship with Afina at the
time. In fact, he’d never been in that type of a relationship with Afina. He recognised where Afina was concerned, he was quite screwed up at times.
“I thought she worked for them already?” Afina questioned.
“Lara works for MI6,” Powell explained patiently. “Or did until recently. They are the foreign security services. MI5 is the homeland security service. They are completely separate.”
“Who were those men earlier?”
“I don’t know yet but I’m going to see if Brian can help find out.”
“Will they come back?”
“I hope not.”
“Perhaps it would be better for all of us if Lara was to leave.”
“Afina, she needs my help. I can’t just send her away. And I don’t believe you would do so either, knowing her life is in danger. But if you insist I will ask her to leave.”
Afina said nothing for a moment. “You are too damned clever sometimes. You are not the sort of man to deny help to a woman in trouble. I was lucky enough to discover that for myself. Of course, she can stay. But you knew I would say that.”
“Thank you.” He had been certain of her response but it was still nice to be proved right. “Can I use the apartment to make a couple of calls?” He needed the privacy as he certainly didn’t entirely trust Lara was telling him the whole story and he couldn’t call from the bar.
“Of course. Say hello to Brian from me.”
Powell went upstairs to the apartment, glad to escape Afina’s bad mood and questions. He wasn’t used to her being so grumpy. He hadn’t been upstairs for a long time and it felt strange being back in what for him would always be Bella’s apartment. There was no longer any photos of Bella on display, which Powell had packed away in a box and moved to his home when Afina decided to stay permanently in Brighton. Now there were photos of Afina’s family everywhere and it made Powell seem an intruder in what had once been a second home.
The first call he made was to Jenkins, who had helped him get Angela Bennett’s children out of Saudi Arabia. Powell was pleased to find him at home in South Wales and not working. Powell had only to say that he needed his help and Jenkins quickly agreed to set off for Brighton almost immediately. He asked no questions and Powell offered no explanations, simply saying he would explain everything when Jenkins arrived in Brighton.