‘Thanks.’ I whispered.
‘And the interests of the United Kingdom,’ added the sergeant.
‘Therefore,’ continued the commander, ‘we are all in this together now and we each have a very important part to play.’
I no longer felt disenchanted and self-confession was good for the soul whatever that is supposed to be.
‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked.
For a moment we all seemed to rearrange ourselves to a more comfortable seating position. Then Inspector Marsh took over the conversation.
‘We want you to phone Pandres and arrange a meeting back at the meat and fish counter in Tesco’s. Do not look upwards as the meeting will be filmed by the stores cameras and that way we can identify any other members of the terrorist cell. You will tell Pandres that Ahmed’s demise was a freak accident and that you were scared and have hidden the XP42 formula. Your acting ability will help to assure them you are keeping to the original agreement.’
‘But what about the money? Maybe he had a shadow with him who saw the handover and what happened afterwards?’ I queried.
Their faces lit up into smiles.
‘We have already dealt with that Jack’ Inspector Marsh continued. ‘He did have somebody watching his back. That was Pandres. But we had already arranged for an emergency traffic contraflow with the Cornwall police which was timed to exclude him following Ahmed before he turned off to the beach. It culminated in a half hour delay for him. Your business with Ahmed was already done before he arrived. So you see it was too late for Pandres to see anything. The local police have got Ahmed’s car and Pandres will have assumed the £50.000 was left inside until the formula was verified. But from his point of view the transaction never completed. The Iranians will not bother to collect or claim a hired car.’
I found myself trying to smile. It was difficult not to admire their planning. Then an idea came to me as I could see another £50.000 coming! When I looked at their faces I almost blushed with shame. I knew their heads were miles in front of mine as three pairs of eyes stared back at me. I guessed they knew what I was thinking.
‘Yes,’ said Inspector Marsh, ‘We are telepathic too. With your acting ability you can squeeze the golden goose again.’ My feet shuffled upon the carpet. I knew they were trained to read body language. ‘There are perks to the job,’ I smiled weakly.
‘Sometimes,’ agreed Commander Bennit as the others nodded. ‘But right now, we are concerned with the security of the UK and that comes before anything as stated in the Official Secrets Acts.’
I couldn’t disagree as I had already signed that. Sergeant Morton then spoke, ‘You are now in possession of classified information. We shall say no more on that. Continue to go about your normal affairs. Pass your message on to Pandres and arrange the meeting at Tesco’s for Friday at 2pm. For obvious reasons you will not have brought the formula to him there as you have never yet met each other. It’s up to you to convince him that Ahmed’s death was a freak accident. You will show him the report about it in the Evening Standard newspaper which we will give you. Is that clear?’
‘Like crystal.’ I assured him.
‘Remember at all times you are Jack Thomson the thief and nothing more. These people are experts at spotting mistakes and one slip could ruin our whole operation. Once you feel you have won his confidence you will agree to telephone him again to meet and hand over the formula, in exchange for the £50.000 balance of course’ he smiled and added, ‘We will inform you where the exchange is to take place. Got that?’
‘I understand everything.’ I told him.
Commander Bennit spoke again. ‘Right, I think that concludes our meeting for now. You can return home and phone through the message to Pandres immediately.’
I agreed to do just that.
Without further words, the newspaper was handed to me as Inspector Marsh called a taxi to return me to Battersea Park. I then left the room with three handshakes behind me and waited downstairs for the cab to arrive.
It was an uncanny feeling that drove off with me as the driver took me on to my destination. I knew I had been recruited into the world of espionage!
It was still raining as I arrived home. The cockney cab driver had given me his best spiel on how bad business had been on the day. He probably got a few more tips to top up his fares this way. His face spread into a smile as I palmed him two pounds extra. I received his blessing wondering if he gave all his customers the same story.
Indoors now, I made haste to place my message on the answerphone for Pandres to collect and as arranged it would be for 2pm on Friday. I spoke clearly and tried to convey a friendly tone. The meeting was two days away so I anticipated he would get back to me to confirm it within the next few hours. There was no anxiety about meeting at Tesco’s again as long as I could convince him the formula was still very much available. I didn’t see any problem. In fact, I felt rather relieved that the store cameras would be watching it all. What I needed now was a promise from Sharon. Louisa also owed me a call and Aisha had simply disappeared while Susan was flying everywhere due to her job. I still wondered where Aisha had got to. But a change of mind is a change of fortune, I told myself.
Satisfied that things were ok for the next few days, I decided to give Sharon a ring. I was in need of a diversion and some therapy. Sharon knew what she liked and I liked what she knew. I dialled and waited. Both she and my luck were in!
It was nice to hear her bubbly voice again. Why had I taken so long to ring her? She asked. I was so engrossed in writing my book that I lost track of time. You know how it is with writers, I told her. There was no way I could tell her about the hairy scary events of the past few days and she was used to gaps in our relationship anyway. Nothing was cast in stone and that’s the way we liked it, so we arranged to meet in the evening at 8pm. Of course a nice steak and wine dinner would go down well, I told her. She would bring some new massage oils along with herself, she promised. I knew what that meant.
The time was now approaching 4pm. There was time to catch up with writing some more of my novel so I decided to bash on for a while, then have a shower and get ready for my evening of promise with Sharon.
My thoughts flowed onto the typewriter as I quickly became absorbed into the thick of the story. Oddly enough, I was just into a flirting scene with an undercover policewoman. She was very experienced and taught me things with her tongue that even I didn’t know. It is amazing how characters develop, I thought.
Time passed and reality returned with the carriage clock chimes for seven bells. I had one hour before Sharon arrived. At least I had completed another six pages leading into chapter ten. Like clockwork, I now went through the necessary steps in the shower, giving a good spring clean to all my nooks and crannies. Then I splashed on some paco rabani making me feel like my body had a new skin.
With ten minutes to spare, I selected some music of Chris De Burgh. ‘Lady in Red’ got me right in the mood for presenting Sharon with a big passionate kiss when she came in the door. Next I tidied the cushions and dimmed the lights, ready for her arrival. Just then the bloody telephone rang.
For a fleeting second, I thought my hopes were to be dashed, but no, it was the voice of Pandres. He spoke briefly, ‘Your message is good. We shall meet as you have arranged.’ He paused for my answer. I responded quickly. ‘Hi, glad you got it ok. I have read the papers and I’m sorry to hear what happened to Ahmed. It was real bad luck. ‘How will you know who I am?’ Pandres gave a mild chuckle and answered, ‘Don’t worry, I shall know you.’
Now I decided to play it up a bit. ‘Oh that’s good. I haven’t a clue what you look like. Ahmed must have told you about me then?’ A slight pause held the silence. ‘But of course, we are in the same business,’ he answered. ‘Good. Then we shall talk when we meet as arranged,’ I replied. ‘It is agreed. Goodbye.’ he finished. The phone went dead.
The song was coming to an end when the doorbell rang. I was only expecting the one person
, Sharon. The fragrance of paco rabani wafted alongside of me as I opened the door. She looked beautiful with a beaming warm smile. Her long blond hair hung limp over her shoulders as her head tilted to one side. Her shopping bag fell sideways as we crashed into a smothering embrace. I felt tingles of joy as I lifted her over the step into the hallway. It was the effect Sharon had upon me, and I knew from her responses the feeling was mutual.
With the beginning of a new Chris De Burgh song she minced into the kitchen ready to prepare the steak salad as promised. She sang along to the track called ‘High on Emotion.’ I knew she liked him singing as I made busy setting up the drinks. A nice chilled red Hungarian wine poured like velvet and matched Sharon’s full red lips. It wasn’t long before the steaks were ready for eating and it was a romantic sight as we sat at table overlooking the River Thames from my window. A myriad of lights danced with their reflections on the waters.
The meal complimented the music as the songs matched the mood as we listened to ‘Diamonds in the dark.’ The candelabra cast a steady opaque light as we looked into each other’s eyes. It was just nice to be sitting, eating, and listening to the song lyrics on a quadraphonic sound system. It was a million miles away from the life I was now living.
The evening was melting away as the CD of ‘Spark to a Flame’ came to an end. Now the wine bottle was empty as we held hands to gaze at a passing tourist boat. It was romantic looking at the riverside buildings all lit up in different colours. My hands moved around her waist as the smell of her fresh washed hair and a hint of Givenchy evoked strong feelings of pleasure as I breathed in her fragrances. After an exchange of delicate kisses, we moved out onto the balcony where we talked each other up to date of recent happenings. I made great play about the novel I was writing while Sharon told me of her new job as a public relations advisor. By comparison, my life seemed rather dull from the account I had given her.
A lurking caution at the back of my mind censored my tongue. The wine had not liberated me of the official secrets act and nothing was going to spoil the evening. Our lips met again as Big Ben chimed for 10.30pm. It came natural to progress into the bedroom. Sharon led the way, leaving a trail of her dress, nickers, bra and shoes on the carpet after visiting the bathroom. I followed on like a bee to a honeypot.
She was lying on the bed as I entered the bedroom. A small bottle of ‘Le De Oil Passion ell’ lay gift wrapped in the centre of my pillow. Sharon laid face downwards, her arms embracing the floral duvet. Some classical music washed through the house creating a melancholy atmosphere as her body was positioned in offering to the soothsayer, myself. I looked over the shapely curves of her beautiful body as a soft pink light enhanced her beauty even more.
My hands fumbled away the wrapping on her gift and let some droplets of the perfumed oil splash upon her back. I felt pulses of excitement throb through me as my hands glided over her soft silky skin and perfectly round buttocks. I caressed her with sensitive movements that seemed to reach deep inside her body. She responded with faint cries of pleasure as I glided over her back buttocks and legs. Then she turned over in a position of complete sacrifice. The pupils of her eyes expanded into pools joyful ecstasy as my hands slid tellingly over her soft melon sized breasts. With teasing squeezes, I manipulated and sucked her pink proud nipples until they stood erect in offering as heavenly fruits.
I was heating up as my hands toured over her thighs and calves. She arched to present me to a need in her lower pleasure zone. Her pink Venus exposed itself to me as I moved closer to her organ of pleasure. ‘Do it,’ she whispered, as I sunk intimately onto her pink throbbing clitoris. Then like a little boy with a delicious fruit lolly, I licked until she could stand it no more.
There was a feeling of heavenly delirium between us as our corresponding movements kept time until she reached that point of no return. Then with her hands cupped upon my head, she let go her wetness with the call of a wild primate, then sank into repose of blissful tranquillity. I lay for a moment with my head resting on her thighs admiring the beauty of so pretty a flower. The fruit of the sun had blossomed.
I felt a stirring in my lions as she gently eased me up towards her. Her delicate sweet smell of perspiration glistened over her body as I slid easily inside her. I felt myself enclosed and moved rhythmically to her commands. Her warm breasts pressed upon me as her hands squeezed my buttocks to push me deeper inside. The rise and fall of our bodies fused together until my penis felt like a red hot poker and the impending climax exploded us into a dizzy oblivion. We melted together soaking into our juices of creation as a blissful silence needed no explanation. At 1.am in the morning, I pulled the duvet over our warm bodies. We were happily spent of our needs.
Mouse alarm awoke us with his roaring laugh at 7.am. Our eyes met as a knowing smile grew into our faces and we left unsaid what needed not to be spoken.
Sharon claimed first use of the bathroom as I performed the ritual of kettle, radio and toast. I knew she had to go to work so I laid out her clean bra’ and knickers she kept here by arrangement. ‘So I can be fresh when I arrive and fresh when I leave’ she had told me.
After breakfast a cab was called, while she finished her final touches of makeup yet you would hardly notice she had used any. She was pretty enough. Ten minutes later the cab arrived for 8.am. There was no need to say anything special as it had all been said. ‘Let me know when the novel is finished,’ she asked as she parted at the door. ‘And don’t forget to phone me soon,’ she called, looking back with a smile. ‘You can be sure of that Sharon,’ I told her. As always the house felt empty after she had gone.
I watched through the window as the cab drove off towards the city. I felt rejuvenated. Tomorrow was Friday and my meeting with Pandres at Tesco’s passed through my mind. The thought of making another £50.000 was like having all my birthdays come at once. But today was mine and the memories of yesterday were now history, at least for the time being.
I needed to top up my credit on my mobile phone and there were lots of little jobs that needed doing. A letter in my post box was from the publishers asking for an update on the novel. There was a card from Louise too. I planned to make a meeting with her this coming weekend so I needed to phone her to keep the peace.
For most of the day I popped in and out collecting the newspapers and posting letters I had written. By late afternoon, I found some more inspiration and cracked on with typing more of my novel. It was at its height of the drama and closing to the end of chapter eleven. By ten o’clock, I felt the toll of writers fatigue and had to stop. Hunger took me to the fridge settling for a cheese sandwich. It occurred to me that I had not drunk any scotch all day and that was my excuse for pouring a large one as I caught up with the news on TV.
A prolonged chime of twelve bells from the carriage clock woke me up. I had fallen asleep in the armchair. In a trancelike state, I visited the bathroom then mobilised myself upstairs to bed. I could smell the scent of Sharon as I hugged the pillow and drifted sleepily into the memories of the night before.
16
Friday morning came soon enough as mouse greeted me with his usual laugh. ‘Have a nice day’ said his moving graphic. This brought my meeting at Tesco’s to mind. That would be for me to find out as the day wore on. I had slept well and with renewed energy I jumped out of bed to perform my usual rituals. A look out the window saw promise in a light blue March sky. I saw a dog pee on a wheel of my car after sniffing over a predecessor while a cat sat on a wall nearby, watching its enemy mark out its territory. Life’s like that, I thought.
My post box was empty as I left for the paper shop but I enjoyed a brisk walk there and back.
The main story in the papers was the royal family again. Only this time it reported a princess had gone on TV to ‘spill the beans’ about her reasons for divorce. A diatribe of smutty speculations followed all obtained through ‘inside sources’ of course. Wasn’t there more important things going on in the world than that? Besides, newspapers could print
whatever they liked. The story of Ahmed’s demise was proof of that. I remembered I had to take the newspaper report on Ahmed to my meeting with Pandres.
At 1.30am it was time to make my way to Surrey Quays shopping centre and Tesco’s. A weak sun filtered through a pale blue sky as I strolled along. As usual, the place was packed with weekend shoppers when I arrived. I was conscious of the remaining five minutes to 2.pm as I walked into the bright illuminating lights of the Tesco store. A casual look at the positions of the cameras reminded me not to look up at the prearranged meeting point. With a basket in hand, I placed in a bread loaf and some tins of food before I arrived at the meat and fish displays.
I was looking at the price labels on some lamb chops when a voice next to me spoke, ‘How well prepared the meat is.’ I stared into the face of where the voice had come from. A pair of dark inquisitive eyes focussed into mine for a brief second. I knew it was Pandres. He was a squat stocky man with a round sweaty face with black hair and moustache. He was the same person I had seen peering at me on my last meeting with Ahmed. He obviously assumes I had not seen him on that occasion, I thought.
I hoped I appeared nonchalant and made a gesture resembling a smile determined to put him at ease. ‘In my country, we haggle over meat in the market place,’ he continued. ‘That way we get value for our money.’ I immediately took up his cue. ‘It is the best formula for agreeing on a price,’ I replied. He offered a strained smile. ‘Precisely, that way there can be no mistake once the price is agreed. You have the formula?’ he asked.’
‘Yes’ I told him. ‘It is sad what happened to Ahmed. It was a terrible accident which I read about in the newspaper. It was an unexploded WW2 land mine. Here, I have brought you the newspaper. I never got the chance to meet up with him on the beach. There is a balance of £50.000 to be paid before I hand it over.’
He took the paper and looked at the picture showing the wreckage of Ahmed’s grisly remains and read the report of it. ‘Allah Akbar!’ he said aloud. I knew this meant God is great and realised it was the typical prayer of the terrorist. I then feigned ignorance of the remark and raised my eyebrows in question of the money. ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘The money will be ready to exchange for the formula when next we meet. It must be done soon then our business is complete.’
A Choice of Evils Page 16