by Stan Mason
‘No longer than three years from initiation, I should imagine. Why do you ask?’
‘All the plans and sequences are in date order. I’m racing through the files from eighteen months backwards. Damn! I’ll have to look at each file because all the research projects are in coded names. For example, an electronic guidance system is the nose of a fighter aircraft is called VISOR. An electronic communication system is called ‘LINO’. Ah... what about RED RUM? That’s the name of the horse which won the Grand National three times. I get it! Spelt backwards it reads MURDER!’ I bet that’s the one!’ He pressed a few keys and the file came onto the screen. ‘Bingo!’ he said, raising his voice with excitement. He pressed some more keys to move the pages of the file forward. ‘Look at that! Sixty-two pages of information, details and information! What more could you want?’ He moved the file back to the beginning and turned to me. ‘Well start filming! You’ve got the camera. We haven’t got all night!’
The blood drained from my face at the sudden thought of failure having come all this way. We had taken all this risk only to discover that camera had either been lost or left at Devon’s house. ‘I haven’t got the camera,’ I bleated woefully.
He felt in his pocket and laughed. ‘Jus kiddin’. Here it is! He handed the camera to me. ‘You take the photographs. I’ll turn the pages.’
It took a short while to complete the operation and I held on to the camera to make certain the plans stayed in my possession. After he had switched off the computer terminal, he told me to make my way back to the sloping corridor while he removed the caps on the cameras. Then he set to work on the door, removing his apparatus, the glass puck, and the cap from the camera. He was a perfectionist in his own right. After that, we made our way back carefully to the perimeter fence.
‘Why did you bring four bags?’ I questioned. ‘We needed only two.’
He opened the third bag which sported two machine-guns. ‘The other bag has ammunition, grenades, and a few surprises. I never intend to get caught on a mission like this... one way or the other.’
Chris Devon had ridden very highly in my estimation. I recognised him to be a true professional. He threw the bags over the fence and placed the trampoline into an appropriate position indicating for me to go first. I had far more confidence this time. In addition, there was far more intent to take the leap in order to leave the complex than to enter it. Devon joined me a few seconds later.
He placed the bags in the boot of the car together with the single trampoline when, suddenly, there was a tremendous howl like the wail of a banshee penetrating the night air.
‘Someone’s set off the alarm,’ shouted Devon with surprise. He thought hard for a moment. ‘Would you believe it! Someone else is trying to get in to steal those plans!’
I realise why Schmuel Musaphia had recalled me from Turkey so quickly, urging me to raid the weaponry division. There was competition and somehow he knew they intended to get there before me. All hell broke loose in the complex. A number of security guards raced out of their huts brandishing weapons, while others brought some vicious dogs onto the scene. Six of them jumped into two jeeps and drove off towards the research centre. Before they could get anywhere near the building, a solitary figure raced towards the fence in the darkness to the point where our car was parked. As he reached the fence, on the inside, he shouted to us in desperation.
‘You’ve got to help me!’ he pleaded. ‘You must help me!’
It was Tomar Duran with fear written all over his face.
‘Use the trampoline over there to get you over the top,’ suggested Devon helpfully, with an element of mercy showing through the careless façade he portrayed.
Duran stared at the trampoline for a few moments in confusion and then looked over his shoulder at the two jeeps approached the area. Realising what he had to do, he took a number of paces backwards and raced forward at speed. However, only one of his feet hit the surface of the trampoline and he lost height from the start. To his credit, he almost made it but a miss is as good as a mile, especially when stakes are at their highest. His body struck the fence near to the top and the flashes emanating from contact with the electrified fence lit up the night sky for a brief moment. Tomar Duran may have escaped death in Crete but this time it was for keeps! We drove away from the security area before the security guards arrived without leaving a trace of our presence behind. The plans still existed intact on their computer system while they would have thought that Duran had brought the trampoline with him. It would be inconceivable that two robberies would be taking place at the weaponry division at the same time... but that’s what had happened. And even if the computer pundits discovered that someone had gained entry into the system, there was nothing they could do about it!
Chapter Fourteen
The sweet smell of success was exceptionally good for morale. To achieve entry to the weaponry division and secure the plans fo the laser gun undetected, amid the wealth of technology employed in the security system by professionals, was quite remarkable. All my concern about the competence of Chris Devon for the task had been unnecessary. He had proved himself to be more than capable, showing skill and ingenuity, surpassing all my expectations. Not even the barbecued body of Tomar Duran could smother my jubilation. I drove Devon back to his home and helped him remove the equipment from the boot of the car into his garage. Then we went upstairs to unwind and he took a small bottle of brandy out of a cupboard.
‘I keep this for special occasions,’ he told me, pouring the liquid into two stained goblets. ‘Here!’ he went on, passing one of them to me. ‘I think we deserve it... don’t you?’
‘You deserve it,’ I retorted, not wishing to pretend that I had them to me. ‘I think we deserve it... don’t you?’
‘You deserve it,’ I retorted, not wishing to pretend that I had contributed anything to the success of the operation. ‘I don’t know what financial arrangements were made but I hope that you’re going to be paid well.’
He rocked his head from side to side in a thoughtful fashion. ‘They’re pretty good when it comes to money,’ he told me candidly. ‘Enough to set me up for a year. I’m not a spendthrift as you can see. In fact if I’d been poorer I’d have still had my teeth. I’ve got a sweet tooth so whenever I earn any money I buy lots of sweets and chocolate. My teeth have worn away,’
‘If I ask you a sensitive question, would you answer it honestly,’ I ventured. He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly so I continued. ‘Would you really have used those weapons you took with you in the complex... to kill innocent guards if the alarm went off?’
‘Man!’ he laughed, ‘you really are somethin’! Do you think I carried two bags of weapons and ammunition with me just for fun? No way! A few years ago I went to prison for somethin’ much less than what we did tonight. The judge was a bastard! He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed that mornin’ and he threw the book at me. I made myself a promise that if I was ever caught again. I’d fight my way out of it and do whatever was needed to escape. I don’t intend to go to jail again... not now, not ever!’
It was my turn to shrug and I visualised both of us facing about eight security guards jumping out of their jeeps as we distributed death with machine-guns and grenades in the middle of the night.
‘Why actually hired you for this job?’ I asked impertinently. ‘Who’s going to pay you?’
‘Is this some kind of a trick question or are you double-checking?’ he riposted. He observed the quizzical expression on my face before he continued. ‘Oh, come on, man! What’s all this cloak-and-dagger stuff? You know your wife booked me for it!’
‘No, you’re mistaken,’ I returned. ‘Penny’s not my wife.’
‘I know Penny’s not your wife,’ he repeated as though I was trying to fool him. I’m talking about your wife... Janice! The first time I met her was when she defended me in Court a few years b
ack.’
I stared at him in disbelief as the hair stood up at the back of my neck. ‘Jan’s the one who’s going to pay you,’ I asked him with my mind going into a whirl.
‘Well not out of her own money, man. The organisation’ll pay but she’s the one dealing with it.’
I swallowed the whole glass of brandy in one swig and took a deep breath. Jan was a solicitor. That much was correct. But how did she come to be involved with the 21st Century Crusaders, if indeed she was working with them... and why didn’t she confide in me?
***
I left the house and sat in the car nursing my mobile telephone. The revelation by Devon had sickened me and I was more confused than ever. Did anything serious happen to Jan... I mean was she abducted or not? Having been to The Golden Peacock to find that she had left the hotel of her own accord it seemed not to be so. Perhaps they had arranged for a double for her... the same way as they did for Penny and myself. Suddenly, I was beginning to lose track on who were the originals and who were the doubles.
I rang Schmuel Musaphia on the number he made me memorise and he answered immediately as though he had been sitting by the telephone waiting for it to ring.
‘I’ve got it!’ I boasted loudly. ‘I’ve got the plans on microfilm!’
‘Good!’ he congratulated with a token of excitement in his voice. ‘I must have that film tonight!’
I felt the edge of annoyance in my head. ‘At this time? It’s very late! Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’
‘Listen to me carefully,’ he ordered firmly. ‘Drive to Leyton underground station and wait for me there. I’ll be about twenty minutes. I must have that film tonight!’
The line went dead and I sat in the car for a while. My destination was only a short distance away so there was no discomfort on my part in getting there. The question was now one of morality. Should I give Schmuel Musaphia the plans or not? After all, I had only met him three times in high-class hotels. I really knew nothing about him and I was holding something very precious which could bring a fortune if offered to the outside world. He was an old man. Did he want to do something evil or wicked before he passed on to his maker? I now understood how
Atlas felt in Greek mythology with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Oh... for the wisdom of Solomon... or a crystal ball to allow me to see what was going to happen in the future!
Musaphia was as good as his word, arriving just before the twenty minutes expired. He had been driven through the darkness by a chauffeur and I climbed into the back seat of his car to sit beside him. He still had the unlit Havana cigar firmly between his lips.
‘You really pulled it off!’ he said, his eyes shining with admiration. ‘I don’t know why but I thought you’d never go through with it let alone achieve it.’
‘You don’t think I went there to fail, did you?’ I boasted.
‘I’ll take the plans,’ he uttered in a casual manner.
‘Not so fast!’ I countered,, unwilling to hand them over without an explanation. ‘Chris Devon told me that he’s been dealing with Jan directly to get these plans. He’s getting paid handsomely for his effort.’
The octogenarian paused for a few moments. ‘Oh, I see!’ he returned quietly. ‘He’s getting paid handsomely and you want to know how much you’re going to receive. Is that it?’
‘No that’s not it!’ I riposted angrily. ‘I don’t want money... I want my wife! If she’s been dealing with Devon then she’s not been kidnapped or abducted!’
‘Who said she was abducted? Let me think! Ah... yes. It was you who told me that!’
‘I told you that because of the message I received!’ The situation was getting out of hand but he had something for me.
‘I’ve some good news for you, Jason. I can assure you that you’ll be back with your wife within the next forty-eight hours. I have that on excellent authority. She’s alive and well and she’s looking forward to seeing you again.’
‘Forty-eight hours,’ I repeated slowly.
‘It’s all been arranged. I’ll have the details for you tomorrow. I’ll let you know then.’
‘By the way,’ I added, offering him an extra bit of information. ‘Tomar Duran was incinerated on the electric fence surrounding the weaponry division. But I presume you already know that.’
‘If I didn’t know before, I do now,’ he answered enigmatically.
‘What are you going to do with the plans?’
‘What does anyone do with plans? They build on them. Now... if you’ll let me have the film!’
‘I suppose once I give you them it’ll be the last time we see one another.’
‘How wrong you are, Jason,’ he returned, holding out his hand. I gave him the film which he put into his pocket. ‘These will be printed out tonight,’ he concluded. ‘I want to see you tomorrow in the lobby of the Tower Hotel at St. Katherine’s dock in the East End of London at noon. Then I shall give you details about meeting your wife.’
I returned to my car and drove home certain that I had done the wrong thing. I had robbed my employer to give a man, whom I hardly knew, sensitive information of national, or perhaps international, importance. But it was too late to do anything about it now. He was in possession of the film and all I could do was to hope that I would be with Jan shortly. Although I should have been delighted to get the 21st Century Crusaders off my back I slept uneasily that night. Grotesque forms came into my dreams and went and I spent much of my sleep fighting off the police who, ostensibly, had arrested me. They were putting me in a small cell with Chris Devon. When I awoke, I realised that my first priority was to find Penny and I drove directly to her apartment.
The place was very familiar to me. I had visited it many times before and had slept there on numerous occasions. Now it seemed cold and unrelenting. I knocked on the door but no one answered. I had a strange feeling that something was desperately wrong I had to get inside. Removing a plastic card from my wallet, I attempted to slip it between the lock and the door in the hope of gaining entry. My lack of talent in such matters ensured that I was unsuccessful. I mused that people who broke into houses in the ‘movies’ never seemed to have any difficulty when they tried to unlock the door in this fashion. In real life it didn’t happen that way. In due course, I committed my badly damaged plastic card back to my wallet and searched for an alternative method. The crudest means of entry would be to smash a hole in the window and undo the latch inside so that I could climb in. However the noise would probably alert the neighbours and they would telephone the police. I searched under the mat outside the front door and then above the lintel for a spare key. In that I was successful. Unlocking the front door, I opened it slowly, calling out her name. The sound of my voice echoed through the apartment followed by silence. I recalled the black and white two- tone shoes I had seen there some days earlier. There were the same as those worn by Jan... size five! Penny had told me that they belong to her but I refused to believe it. The coincidence was too great and I had to check it out for myself. Entering the bedroom, I opened the wardrobe and examined Penny’s shoes. They were all size five-and-a-half. She had lied to me. Not only that but Jan’s shoes were no longer there. I felt that the case regarding Jan’s shoes was well and truly proven. It meant that Penny was involved with my wife’s disappearance.
I stood outside the lounge with a deep sense of foreboding. I was never one to indulge in the science of the paranormal but I had the feeling that something awful had happened. Penny had disappeared off the face of the earth without any warning whatsoever. No messages... no communication... nothing! It was all so uncanny! She would never treat me that way... avoiding making contact... unless something had happened which was beyond her control. It was the reason which made me so fearful. Slowly, I opened the lounge door and peered inside. A strange unpleasant odour drifted towards me which I failed to recognise. For a mo
ment it seemed that everything was in order. Then I saw her body. She was laying on the settee ostensibly asleep but her condition was far worse. She had been shot through the right temple; a neat bullet hole was evident. She had been murdered in cold blood! Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling but her face was serene and it looked as though she had just leaned back on the settee to rest for a while. From the odour in the room, I guessed that she must have been killed the day before I left for Turkey. If that was the case, she had never had to wait for me at our favourite restaurant. By then, she was already dead! I could only hope that her soul would rest in peace!
I went back to the bedroom and returned with a blanket which I placed over her body. I uttered a short prayer, ran my finger over her eyelids to close all sight of the world for ever, and pulled the blanket over her head. For a moment I was overwhelmed with anguish and sorrow. Then tears welled up in my eyes and saliva collected in my throat as though it wanted to choke me. She had been extremely close to me and rather precious being part of my life for longer than I cared to admit. I had embraced her, caressed her, adored her, admired her, slept with her and, above all, I had loved her. She had been someone special who had turned my life upside down, changing the rain into sunshine and tears into laughter. I would have done anything for her which was the reason I had gone on this manic assignment in such an uncharacteristic fashion. She made me fee good... wholesome... a man! Now she was gone! What a waste! The beautiful, wonderful, desirable young woman who had so much to offer... so much to live for! No longer would we be able to share the passion, the emotion, the sensitivity, the glory of a simple touch, the silent conversations in which we knew exactly what the other one was thinking, the intimacy and the warm feeling of satisfaction just being together. My life was shattered and when I looked at her I was staring at the pieces. It was the end of an era... of a relationship between two people who loved each other. An idyll which had become a reality and could only be committed to the world of memory. Someone had taken her life and had savaged mine! My immediate reaction was to seek revenge for bitterness grew within me at a rapid rate. But from whom did I seek revenge? Who was the assassin who had killed my secretary and lover so mercilessly? In the complex sphere in which I now moved it was possible I would never find out! I heard a rustle behind me and turned sharply fearing it might be the police. Primar stood there with a wooden toothpick in his mouth and an enigmatic expression on his face.