As I got into the story, I found my thoughts drifting and using the material of recent events to build up the drama. It unfolded onto the pages as thoughts and feelings became words. How powerful the expressions of emotions were, as death took place through the pen! What a great theatre the mind was in acting out the drama. Nothing short of a bullet could stop me as the hours faded away towards midnight. Only my sore fingers from typing and the midnight chime of the carriage clock grinded me to a halt. But I was glad to see I had completed chapter 8. Again I made for the scotch bottle and listened to Bach’s Air on A G string. It was a mellow way to end the day.
It was midnight as I climbed the stairs and got the mouse alarm ready for 7am. Half sedated, I let drop my clothes on the carpet and fell into bed. Sleep snatched away any resistance I had left. Wherever my dreams took me, there was no trace when I awoke next morning.
I didn’t want to get up but I had to thump mouse on the head to stop him laughing. It was a raw feeling that came with the new day. I knew it was from too much alcohol on the day before, but it had got me through the night and given me a provisional peace of mind. Now the floodgates were beginning to open again. The first thing I remembered was the phone call from the ‘brother’ of Ahmed. No doubt he was sharing the same thoughts too. That was enough to get me out of bed.
You know my usual routine by now with the radio, kettle, toast and shower. Getting dressed was the easy part and a look outside the window did nothing to cheer me up. It was raining. A cat sat on the roof of my car and a local police chase did nothing for my curiosity. I was too preoccupied to wonder if it was anyone I knew.
The news on the radio was all about a rock which scientists said came from Mars. Apparently there were micro-organisms found inside it. This seemed to be calling into question genesis of Earth’s creation. That is all I bloody well needed to hear. It was enough trying to make sense of the madness I was in right now let alone working out how we got onto this planet in the first place.
After breakfast, I planned to dump the black bag of clothes and yesterday’s newspaper describing the beach scene. I didn’t want them to be lying around the house. And after my visit to the paper shop I had the £50,000 to bank.
It was raining heavily as I left home with the soiled clothes and cash holdall. There was no post in the box, although I half expected something, even a poster. The car easily fired into life as I put on the wipers to clean the rain. My first stop was the council refuse tip. It was only ten minutes away. I wasted no time in taking the clothes out, taking time to spread them around in the dirt. There was no sign of anybody watching. But how could I be sure of anything anymore?
Back in the car I made for the papers shop. I was in and out in minutes. There was no sign of the begging dog waiting for the crisps. Maybe he’d found a new source of supply, I wondered. Now the money was bugging me, so for half an hour I drove around, waiting for the bank to open at 9.30am when I banked the money and dumped the empty holdall into a skip. It was a tidy start to the day. My immediate anxiety was how to resolve the phone call to the ‘brother’ of Ahmed. I had to get back home and sort out what to do.
I was indoors by eleven just before the last chime had finished. The answerphone was blinking at me. Someone had called. A woman’s voice spoke. ‘Meet me at Battersea Park. Same place at 1pm today.’ Damn it! I recognised the voice of Inspector Marsh. I could almost smell that distinct perfume of hers coming out of the phone. What was this meeting going to be for? Surely not just to tell me to keep my mouth shut. I couldn’t tell a soul about the bomb or the killing even if I wanted to. Surely they knew that. They had me by the balls.
The second call gave me another anxiety attack. It was the voice of Ahmed’s ‘brother.’ It was crisp and authoritive, ‘We are not prepared to wait for ever. You have until midnight tonight to leave a message’. Shit! The world was closing in on me. My nerves were getting jumpy. Surely the Intelligence mob would anticipate a response against me from Ahmed’s friends, I thought.
I decided to leave making the phone call, until after my meeting with them at 1pm. My knowledge about what happened to Ahmed could be my trump card? Somehow I needed to negotiate a guarantee for my own protection. It was a comforting thought, but a desperate one.
I sat thinking over my predicament. I went through the whole saga from beginning to the end and back again. It got nowhere. I stood up. I sat down. I cradled my head. There was a scream wanting to burst out of me. My fingers drummed out a tattoo on the armchair. The more I tried to think out a solution the more neurotic I became. It was worse than being in a prison cell with nowhere to go. Perhaps I would have been better off there. At least I would be safe there. What else I thought was becoming unprintable. I needed a drink.
Jesus H Christ! I was fast becoming an alcoholic like Dave the weasel. ‘Slow down’ I told myself; ‘It’s getting to you’. I slugged three fingers of scotch down my neck which hit the right spot as I now prepared for my journey to Battersea.
Out in the car, my paranoid eyes examined every face on the street. I was looking for a face from memory that I had seen earlier at Tesco’s. I recalled my meeting with Ahmed at the meat and fish displays there where I spotted a man staring at me from the end of the aisle. He was foreign looking. Was he the voice who had left the message on my ansaphone? How many of them were they? Was I looking for dark eyed olive skinned Arab’s on the high street? In a car maybe or on a motorbike perhaps? God! I was now even suspicious of the road sweepers! In blind frustration, I put my foot down and drove quickly away from Brunswick Place towards the Old Kent Road.
My eyes gave equal attention to the road and my driving mirror as I reached the Elephant &Castle; I circled the roundabout three times. I indicated left when I turned right and right when I turned left. With a mind fired with suspicion, everybody became my potential hit man.
The minutes ticked away. Five, ten, fifteen minutes later I was driving through Vauxhall area into Battersea Park and through the park gates. It was precisely 1pm when I parked in the car park opposite the café. The first thing I saw was the ducks by the boating lake. They didn’t have a care in the world being fed daily and protected by the park keepers. Lucky ducky’s, I thought.
Inspector Marsh was already sitting at a table when I entered the café. Christ! If I didn’t know who she was, I could seriously fancy her. My biological condition was in need of an overhaul. She had all the right curves in all the right places, but not even Aisha, Sharon, Susan or Louise could raise a smile from me right now let alone Inspector Marsh. I queued for a coffee and sat beside her.
Her expression was staid, and her composure matched her soft but firm voice. I detected that all too familiar smell of perfume again and remembered the trail of clues she had previously left behind in my house and car. It felt strange knowing this woman knew so much about me and I knew nothing about her, except her job. ‘When your drink has finished we shall move.’ she told me. I nodded like a subordinate soldier. ‘I may have been followed,’ I almost whispered. A broad confidant smile lit up her face. She was attractive alright. ‘No chance,’ she replied. For a moment I stared back at her. How could she know that? I wondered. But the answer was obvious really; they probably even knew what time I went to the toilet. Maybe she could read my mind too?
I pushed away the coffee even though my throat was dry. ‘All will be revealed,’ she continued as we left the café and walked the familiar route past the boating lake. As we turned right to Battersea Bridge I knew what to expect. Two occupants sat in the front seats of a black rover car. It was Commander Bennit and Sergeant Morton. Both of them gave me a half-hearted smile as they asked me to get in and fasten my seat belt. I felt like it was going to be another day of surprises.
15
There were no formal welcomes as I sat in the back and the car drove away. Yet there was an atmosphere of indifference as we drove onwards into the city and soon pulled up outside the imposing Victorian building of the Ministry Of The Interior.
‘You do appreciate we could not tell you of our intentions in disposing of Ahmed? It obviously came as a shock to you?’
My mind saw red mist as I thought about what he was saying…..’Appreciate their intentions?’……..’Came as a shock?’……….No, I did these things every day. I carried bombs around in briefcases and blew people up with them. No. No shock. It was perfectly normal! What was I up against? I wondered, when these people could speak casually about things like that. ‘I read about it in the papers’ I answered. ‘You used me to deliver the bomb. The papers said it was a WW2 bomb washed up on the beach.’ Three heads nodded in resemblance of sympathy.
‘You are quite a good actor, Jack. We think you performed the task with distinction,’ he continued. ‘Besides, the money you have earned will compensate for any distress.’
I looked at him intently. The money I had earned? It wasn’t quite how I saw it. My hands were clean. It wasn’t my doing I wanted to tell them, but thought better of it. I nodded, feeling unsure how to answer.
‘It is much more than we get paid,’ he continued, so perhaps you can see it as a sort of payment for being a temporary recruit to the security services,’ he continued. All three of them awaited my answer.
I heard myself reply, ‘If you say so.’ Commander Bennit raised his eyebrows. ‘No Jack. Not if we say so. You either agree or disagree?’
What the fuck is he playing at, I wondered then asked, ‘And what if I disagree?’
‘Then we cannot justify you keeping the money. Worse than that, you may get investigated for murder,’ he smiled.
I nearly jumped out of my chair. ‘Murder! I haven’t killed anybody! It was you lot! Besides there’s no proof!’ I shouted. A spooky smile spread over his face then he turned to the sergeant, ‘Bring in the portfolio please, Mr Morton,’ he said, then the sergeant left the room.
I sat there in anticipation wondering what was going on. Elaine Marsh and the Commander sat staring impassively at me. Two minutes later, the sergeant returned with two transparent bags. I could see one bag contained a red bound copy of the XP42 formula. The other bag contained some photographs. I looked from them to the commander whose face had now taken on a serious expression. ‘You want proof Jack? Very well, you shall have it,’ he continued. The bag with the red XP42 file was passed to me. ‘Read what it says on the label,’ he told me.
I looked at the details on it which read; ‘Bag contents. 1 copy. Top Secret XP42 formula. (Stolen from deposit box Barclays Bank) Finger printed and matched to Jack Thomson –CRO No: AX713055.
Again I looked at all three of them. Their faces held blank expressions. Sergeant Morton handed me the second bag. Once more I looked over the label, it read; Bag contents: 6 photographs. Two micro cassette tapes. Photo’s 1 to 4 recovered from abode of Jack Thomson at Brunswick Place. Two micro cassettes recovered from as above. Photographs 5 & 6 taken during operation Scallywag.
Through the clear plastic I could see 4 pictures of Ahmed and myself at London Zoo. In two of them, I was seen carrying a black leather briefcase. It was the one Ahmed had handed the first £50.000 to me in. Further written details stated my DNA was found upon them
I realised quickly what had happened. The first 4 photos had been taken from down the side of my settee where the micro tapes were too. The tapes contained my recordings of Ahmed when I had bugged his house. Photo’s 5&6 had been taken by MI5 with a night vision infra-red telephoto lens. These clearly showed Ahmed and me on the beach at Cornwall. It showed him examining the red folder as I held open the black empty briefcase that MI5 had given me and by Ahmed’s feet on the ground, was the holdall containing the money.
I tried to subdue a silent thought of resignation. The three of them sat watching me with a quiet satisfaction. I wasn’t often stuck for words but on this occasion they were hard to come by. But now Commander Bennit broke the silence. ‘Do you wish to ask any questions?’
‘Questions, Yes, I had questions,’ I told him. ‘Your evidence would be that I agreed to steal the formula in return for the money. Having stolen it from the Research Lab, I decided to double cross Ahmed, take the money, kill him, and then sell the formula on to some other foreign power for more money.’
All three of them stared at me. Then Inspector Marsh answered. ‘You are getting warm.’
‘But why would I want to kill him?’ I asked. The Inspector smiled and said: ‘Simple. You killed him with explosives, knowing he would kill you after the fake formula was discovered and you had taken the money.’
‘But this one in the plastic bag is a fake too. How could I have double crossed him if the one I stole was a fake in the first place?’ Sergeant Morton shook his head. ‘I am afraid not, David.’ He answered. ‘This is a genuine copy of the original with your finger prints on the red cover.’
‘But you told me it was a fake.’ I shouted.
‘We have bad memories.’ Morton replied. ‘Like we can forget all about your criminal activities. But everything has a price.’
I was in deep shit. They knew it and I knew it too. From where I was sitting, I didn’t stand a chance. Any jury would convict me on that evidence. The motive was clear and the evidence strong. I was being blackmailed. They were professionals of a different kind to me. It was like being in a cage with no way out. I had sold my soul to the devil. They sat like vultures waiting for my answer. ‘Ok.’ I blurted. ‘What do you want me to do to stay out of jail and keep the money?’
A well composed look of smug satisfaction was shared between them. It seemed that the heat of any uncertainty had burnt itself out. They had the advantage and I held nothing but a desire of hanging on to what I had, namely the money and my liberty.
‘I think we have an understanding, dear boy,’ said the Commander. ‘A deal of immunity from prosecution and retention of the money puts you under obligation to the crown. Are you prepared to swear allegiance to the Sovereign and State?’
I couldn’t wait to nod fast enough. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘Good,’ he continued, ‘then you will be required to sign the OSA (Official Secrets Act).’ Jesus Christ! I thought. This all seemed like a bizarre dream. I had graduated from being a thief to a secret agent. The only difference was I had no choice.
Sergeant Morton produced a sheet of paper headed with the code for the OSA. It stated I was now employed under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of the Interior and that I fully understood the rules and penalty for treason. My allegiance was to the sovereign and crown at first issue before personal considerations.
After I had read through it, Morton’s index finger pointed to a dotted signature line. Elaine Marsh produced a pen. I looked at the three awaiting faces then signed my life away. They reminded me of the three wise monkeys, see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil. Now I felt the need to talk.
‘Ok. I’m on the level with you now, so what am I going to do about Ahmed’s friends? One of them has already called me twice. I’m supposed to leave a message on an answerphone for them. What do I do now?’
A steely look came over the commander’s eyes as he nodded and spoke. ‘This is a very serious operation which involves taking out a whole cell of Iranian terrorists. Ahmed was one of five. It is in the interests of National Security that it is done quickly. We have already contrived a disinformation story in the national newspapers. You will have read that he was blown up by an old WW2 land mine washed up on a beach? So far the terrorists are none the wiser. But it is important you meet your man soon. They will be keen not to lose sight of the formula. You do understand?’
I nodded, enthused with the details I was learning, especially that Ahmed belonged to a terrorist organisation. It was all confirmation of my earlier suspicions.
‘Good,’ he continued. ‘You are obviously intrigued why this formula is of great importanc
e to them? I can tell you it represents a deadly toxin for a new cyanide concentrate. It is absolutely lethal even by mild contamination. We know you have been into the Tropical Research Lab in Blackfriars Road. No doubt you saw some concentrate in a phial labelled XP42?’
It all came back to me in my mind. ‘Yes, it was clear like water’ I answered.
‘That is correct. It is also odourless. But that small phial could kill up to 50,000 people. Just imagine what 50 gallons would do if it was filtered into the British Water Supply Systems? Now you can understand why the Iranians must never be allowed to get their hands on this formula.’
He paused for effect. It had the desired reaction on me as my body jerked stiffly leaving me stunned for words until I let out my tension with a laud sigh. ‘Phew! This could result in genocide,’ I answered.
‘Precisely dear boy, and let me tell you, our intelligence information is that is exactly their intentions,’ he added. ‘Hell!’ I shouted, not wanting to believe I could have unwittingly have helped them to do it!
‘But you were not to know that,’ he added. ‘Ahmed had sucked you in with his gene cloning story. It was a simple ‘steal to order’ job for you. The lure of money is often a curse on people and can lead any good man into all kind of trouble.’ Ashamedly, I nodded back at him as the sergeant and inspector looked on.
Commander Bennit continued. ‘The name of the man who called you is Halshid Pandres. There was no information about the fake formula found scattered on the beach. Hopefully, the Iranians will assume it was an accident and that you still have the formula. It is only logical that if they thought otherwise, you would not be here talking to us now.’ Commander Bennit smirked. I felt the blood drain from my face as a cold chill went through me. Christ! I had only been a fraction away from my own death. Elaine Marsh came to my rescue with a smile, ‘But as you have heard from Commander Bennit, we have always had your welfare and interests in mind.’
A Choice of Evils Page 15