I nodded in agreement. ‘I shall get back to you in 48 hours.’ Pandres agreed to await my call and offered me a hand shake. Deep down inside of me, I knew it was to be his seal of fate but not mine. There was no doubt that what Commander Bennit had told me was true. These people were well trained to spot mistakes and from Pandres demeanour, I determined his mind was sharp and his dark eyes very observant. I could almost taste the little ripples of cautions emanating from him. But I too was acting from experience. In a way, it was a good match for a thief and a terrorist as we were both using our wits. Our handshake confirmed that.
We finally parted with the semblance of a mutual smile. I was glad to see the back of him now as I thought of the XP42 formula and that phial of cyanide concentrate I had seen at the Tropical Research Lab. It gave me a cold feeling, knowing I had just shaken the hand of a man who was prepared to use it on the British people. A glance at all the innocents out shopping made me cringe.
I left Tesco’s and made my way home. Fifteen minutes later I was indoors staring at the blinking light on my ansaphone. I pressed the recall button to hear a brief message, ‘Well done. Await call at 7.pm this evening.’ It was the voice of Elaine Marsh. It made me feel praise was being bestowed on a schoolboy but I knew they had observed the whole scenario on the Tesco cameras.
That evening I waited for the phone to ring. It did, precisely at 7.pm. ‘A taxi is calling for you at 8.pm, be ready. The driver has instructions. Goodbye.’ So that was it, a mystery tour. Again it was the voice of Inspector Marsh.
At 8.pm I was standing at my door to see a black taxi pull up. ‘Mr Jack Thomson?’ queried the driver. I nodded a yes. Two minutes later I was being driven into the city. The driver seemed the usual bored type of cabbie and had little to say until eventually we pulled up at Trafalgar Square. ‘Why here?’ I questioned him. ‘Orders Sir,’ he replied. The fare is paid and its Nelsons Column you want.’ A knowing smile ended with a wink then he was gone. Surely this two chinned chubby faced nobody could not be one of them? I thought.
I walked towards Nelsons Column and stood like a tourist admiring its structure. ‘Good evening. That’s as tall as the coast guards watch tower in Cornwall,’ said a petite auburn haired female. The key words of the coast guards watch tower caught my ears attention. ‘It is indeed.’ I replied. ‘Marion Betts,’ she continued. ‘Please come with me.’
I didn’t know what I was expecting but it all seemed quite civilised. She was quite a pretty sight and walked with a confidant step. I noticed she wore no rings.
We cut across the square to the Tate Gallery and up a few steps where we stopped at the main doors of the Art Tate Gallery. She pushed a bell which summoned an immediate response. The door was opened by a giant of a man in a grey suit. He was taller and bigger than the film Terminator star Arnold Scwartznegger with a square cut jaw. I sensed something had been well planned and it was happening during the gallery closing hours.
All three of us walked into and through the main art gallery to a door on the far side of the hall. We entered and descended down some spiral steps to a large basement. Again, our escort took us through this chamber into an ante room. It resembled a war time bunker no larger than an average sitting room. Here I was greeted by three familiar faces and two unknown others.
Commander Bennit sat at the side of a large desk with Inspector Marsh and Sergeant Morton, while a robust silver haired man with a handlebar moustache puffed on an empty pipe. He reminded me of an army brigadier without a uniform. His hand shot forward to greet me. It was a warm positive handshake. ‘Sit down young man,’ he told me. ‘You know how to relax, don’t you?’ he smiled.
I sat next to my host Marion, while the giant of a man stood by a closed door. A large fan spun around above our heads. ‘We are going to take you through your meeting with Pandres this afternoon,’ he continued. ‘We have now identified two others belonging to this Iranian terrorist cell. It is important you know who they are.’ I gave him a willing nod.
A small screen was rolled down which I initially thought was a curtain blind. The giant then pressed a switch on a visual film projector and the screen came to life with a replay of my afternoon meeting with Pandres at Tesco’s. Mr No Name came from behind his desk to stand by the screen as I watched Pandres and myself conferring. The replay showed the whole of the meat display aisle end to end. It seemed just a normal sight to look at until Mr No Name ordered the giant to ‘slow down the film frames’ then shouted ‘Stop!’
He pointed with a stick at a male shopper about ten paces away from Pandres and me. This person was with a female and looked quite normal to me. ‘Slow forward the focal frames’ he continued. The man’s face then moved to slow motion. Then I saw it! His head had turned in the direction of Pandres and me with his eyes focusing upon the two of us. He then gave a fleeting look around at other shoppers then continued to examine the meat and fish displays. ‘That’s one’ said Mr No Name. ‘The other is around the other side of the aisle. Put on tape two.’
The giant exchanged over the tapes and ran the film. It was an Ariel view looking down upon shopping activity from both sides of the aisle. Again it looked quite normal to me as No Name pointed to a person pushing a shopping trolley on his own. ‘Watch this one,’ he said pointing with his stick.
All of us in the room focussed on the person indicated. I saw nothing immediate that confirmed any suspicions. Like the other person, he had a cultivated European look about him though it was obvious from his skin colour he was not of a totally British lineage.
I continued to watch Pandres and myself on the one side and the actions of this person on the other side of the aisle. ‘Notice what little attention he pays to the goods on display’ continued Mr No Name. ‘Now see what he does with the trolley?’
After a few moments the man pushed the trolley around the side of the aisle then turned into the aisle I was in with Pandres. But on the turn, it could be clearly seen where his eyes were looking as he passed Pandres and me and then returned back to the other aisle again. It was quite clear he had no good reason to walk his trolley around in a circle.
‘Right’ said Mr No Name, ‘We have identified the other two collaborators and our job now is to take them all together. The cornerstone of this operation depends on you Jack.’ Their five faces gave me a cursory look. Depended on me? My face looked in askance. At the same time I knew that the elevation of my own importance was of no trivial part and I had become the catalyst of the operation. It was all like a big bad dream. Now it reminded me of that old cliché, ‘Set a thief to catch a thief’ the intelligence mob were getting good value for their money, I thought.
‘You will understand that your life is as meaningless to them as the wholesale slaughter of the British people would have been if they got their hands on the real formula,’ he continued. ‘In case you have any doubts about their intentions, our intelligence has it, that you were to be eliminated after the formula was handed over on the beach. You would of course have been their No1 liability. It would be a routine exercise on their part, but we like to think we know our job too, so we contrived to have you pass over the fake copy with an exploding spine. No doubt you noticed it was thicker than the one you stole from the Barclays deposit box?’
I was all ears listening. ‘Yes.’ I answered. ‘The reason for Ahmed’s elimination is self-explanatory,’ he continued. A. You would be dead. B. His demise would help flush out other members of his cell. Like curiosity killed the cat, you might say! Therefore the story in the papers about an old unexploded WW2 land mine simply answered their questions as to what happened to him. Your meeting with Pandres since then has respited their good luck, they may think. Now they see another chance to get the formula.’
I sat listening almost mesmerised as this diabolical story filtered through my mind. It all made sense; I cursed myself for being naïve although the thought had gone through my mind earlier that I could be a liability to the Iranians. Ahmed’s story that the formula was simply a
bout gene cloning had seemed reasonable at the time and my greed for the money had blinded me to any other possible reasons other than what he had told me. I could not help but admire the planning of the British Intelligence Services. At the end of the day, I didn’t blame them for using me in the way they had. I was now just grateful to be alive.
All eyes were upon me as their spokesman continued. ‘The aim of our mission is to remove these fanatics from our midst. As long as they are free to murder and maim, the UK and any other country they consider to be an enemy of Islam will be a target for sabotages of this kind. Were they to be in a position to manufacture the XP42 formula, there can be no telling how much or how far such carnage could be visited upon the Western world. Nobody can survive without water, but we can survive without terrorists.’ Mr No Name then pointed to me.
‘You will arrange to meet Pandres at the bus stop outside the Florence Nightingale Pub near Westminster Bridge. You will board the special 159 bus with him at 9.pm. The driver and passengers on board will all be members of our security services. Also behind you in the bus queue will be other agents and stooges who will make up the numbers. As the single decked bus can only take 36 passengers not everybody will get on it. The bus will take the route of three stops up Lambeth Bridge Road. Some stooges will get off at each stop and other agents will board as normal passengers. The bus will be heading along the normal route towards the police and prison change over depot situated at Lambeth. You are familiar with this place?’ he asked me with a smile.
I scratched my head as the memories came flooding back. How could I forget it? It was a secure lodging centre for prisoners who had just been sentenced by the courts. Lambeth was the central dispersal holding for all Metropolitan court buses where they unloaded their human cargo. From here they were shuffled off in batches to various prisons. I had been there a few times in the past, and the memories now were a bit too close for comfort, especially reminding myself of Commander Bennit’s alternative choice. ‘I know the place well,’ I almost whispered. ‘It’s like a fortress.’
‘Precisely,’ he continued. ‘We can anticipate that Pandres will be accompanied by the three other members of his cell whom we have identified were with him at Tesco’s. They too, will be somewhere in the bus queue. You can be sure they will be armed and ready to dispose of you as soon as the formula is handed over. It is most likely their plan to eliminate you will be at your journeys end when you get off. However, you will not reach that stage. Executions are not favoured on public buses,’ he coughed and added, ‘at least not unless the method is by poison pellet or injection. Your task will be to delay the hand over until the third stop which is the nearest to the Lambeth dispersal unit, or should I say disposal unit,’ he smirked.
Jesus H Christ! I hope they are not going to kill them in front of me, I thought. I looked around at all the faces present. Not a trace of anxiety flickered across them. Even the petite Marion appeared unperturbed. Commander Bennit took over the briefing.
‘You will be issued with a bullet proof vest and a briefcase containing a copy of the formula. We must assume Pandres will want to examine its validity. It will be a copy of the genuine formula. At the same time you will want to examine the money. This will help to string out the time it takes to reach the third bus stop. At this point the exchange will take place. The driver will then wait for the stooge passengers to get off the bus as others get on. You will now leave you seat and walk to the boarding entrance. Your part is then finished. Is that clear?’
‘Very much so,’ I answered.
‘Good,’ added Mr No Name. ‘Then you will now phone Pandres and arrange the meeting for Monday at 9.pm. If there is any problem with that day and time then you will move onto the next day at the same time. You will confirm the meeting with Commander Bennit immediately Pandres has returned your call. Understood?’
It was all too clear what I was being asked to do and how to do it. I affirmed my compliance to his instructions and received a firm hand shake in return. The meeting was over. I would make the phone call on my return home.
The giant fellow led Marion and myself back upstairs and through the gallery to the main door. Once outside, I again noticed my two chinned chubby taxi driver sitting in his cab. The time was now 10.30pm. It was obviously prearranged for him to be there. A crease of his cheeks resembled a smile as I got into the back of his cab. ‘We shall be in touch.’ said Marion as the cab pulled away.
The conversation on our journey was about traffic. There were no cryptic clues as to what he was about in the flippant remarks he made all the way to Brunswick Place. I was glad to be home. ‘The fare is on the house,’ he told me. ‘Have a nice day.’
My first priority indoors was to phone Pandres on his message machine. I had been told there was a call diverter on it so he would get my message quickly. ‘Can you meet me at the bus stop outside the Florence Nightingale pub by Westminster Bridge? We can go for a bus ride and exchange presents. Please confirm Monday evening at 9.pm?’ That was the message I left him.
It had been a long day and now I was ready for my bed. All I could do was await the phone call. Louise came to mind as I wondered what to do for the weekend. I thought about Aisha too, and wondered what had become of her? Perhaps she would just turn up or perhaps I would never see her again or learn why she left my home on that occasion? Finally I decided to phone Louise before I dozed off into the land of nod. The last thing I remember was the twelve chimes of the carriage clock.
Next morning I awoke with a jump. Mouse had disturbed a beautiful dream I was having about Louise. It was 7.am again as I stopped his laugh and looked out of my window. It was a similar blue sky to yesterday with some fluffy white clouds here and there. As usual I did my ritual things with kettle, radio and toaster before having a shower. Saturday was going to be an easy day for me I hoped. But to hear from Pandres and Louise was on my mind and I planned to complete typing more of my novel after I visited the paper shop first.
It was a fresh morning as I did my constitutional walk there and back. A few sparrows chirped in the trees as I made my way home. There was nothing in my post box apart from some bank statements which I read with some satisfaction. It was going to be nice to see them topped up with an extra £50.000 I was to collect from Pandres. I hoped he would phone during the day and that reminded me to phone Louise again.
She was in when I called to tell her how busy I had been writing my novel and now I had some time to spare. Dammit! It had been the wrong thing to say. ‘You mean you couldn’t find time to phone me?’ she asked. ‘Well it’s very condescending of you to call. Are you sure you can fit me in with your spare time?’ I could almost taste the disappointment in her voice that I had not called earlier. ‘Well I do care about you,’ I responded. ‘I did send you some flowers and it would have been nice if you rang me to say thank you,’ I lied. ‘Oh, you are a bloody charmer,’ she answered. ‘You can buy me some fresh ones then. What time are we meeting?’ That’s it I thought, it’s on. We arranged to meet at 8.30pm and I would collect her from the Elephant & Castle tube station as it would give me the chance to buy some flowers from the stall nearby, she told me. That cheered me up. Now I was ready to do battle with my typewriter and move on with the story.
After a coffee, I shook my head to clear it and got stuck in to developing the story.
Morning passed into afternoon and before I realised it, the time was now 5 o’clock. It was precisely the time when the phone rang. It was Pandres. Yes my message had been received and the meeting was confirmed for Monday at 9.pm.
I replaced the phone and immediately rang Commander Bennit to confirm the meeting was on. ‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘Marion will be in touch with you on Monday. Proceed as arranged. Have a good weekend.’ That was it. I now hoped when it was all over I could go back into retirement and forget about this surreal nightmare. Would MI5 close their books on me, I thought, only time would tell. But this evening, other things occupied my mind, like getting my act tog
ether with Louise. She would be looking forward to a wine, dine and dance evening then back to my place, I hoped.
Like a dog with two tails, I felt my biological rhythms bubble in anticipation. Every woman held a different kind of magic for me, and I had previously enjoyed Louise’s company, as I did Sharon’s and Susan and Aisha was somehow just a distant memory. Every experience was a different adventure and I was sure all the ladies saw it that way too.
I took my thoughts with me into the shower and paid good attention to my best physical attributes. An extra close shave and an aromatic deodorant preceded a splash of paco rabani aftershave. My choice of clothes was River Island slacks and a blue silk shirt. I would leave the compliments to Louise. I knew she would be looking a beautiful picture.
At 8 o’clock I drove off to the Elephant & Castle tube station. It was just starting to rain, and then, just as I arrived there it was chucking it down. Louise was sheltering under a canopy at the tube entrance looking nice enough to eat. Her low cut top exposed all but everything and her long blond hair was brushed back to reveal her aquiline features. A smile touched her lips to show off her pearl white teeth. As I came to greet her, I could smell a hint of L’air du Temp perfume. I fired all my appreciation into a kiss and then steered her towards the flower stall. She was easy to please with a mixed bunch of carnations and orchids. Back in the car we exchanged compliments and made our way to Naughty Normans, a night club in North London.
We arrived to find ourselves now watching a cabaret act of dancing girls. Their flimsy Knickers and tops glittered with sequins which sparkled under the stage lights. They raised their legs to a painful height leaving little to the imagination. I winced when they did the splits, as Louise looked on humorously, and I sipped my scotch waiting for our orders to arrive. She chose a fish haddock with garlic sauce while I stayed traditionally loyal to a 16oz fillet steak with salad.
A Choice of Evils Page 17