by Tim Jopling
‘No. We’ll meet you there in half an hour.’
Hanley shifted his overweight belly back inside the belt on his trousers and turned to face his ally. ‘Who’s we?’
‘My new partner and I.’ Not wanting to explain about his new charge to anyone, he turned away and started the long walk back to Hawk and the car.
Hanley watched him go and sized up his condition straight away. ‘That guy looks like shit…’
Chapter 11
Friday, July 27th 07:00,
MI6 Headquarters, London.
Forget about the tiredness, everyone is tired, just stop complaining and get on with it! At least that’s what Ramsey told himself as he looked at yet another thick brown file that told the story of a former MI6 agent.
For hours now, Ramsey had been diligently looking through the stacks of files that belonged to agents who had left the service, up to 15 years before. So determined was he to add to the falling numbers he had available, especially as news had reached him that another one of his agents had fallen. This time, his man in Saudi Arabia had been killed in a roadside bomb attack that had appeared to take no one else of importance other than his protector. Another one gone, every single one of my agents is irreplaceable.
There was no time for sadness, which is some ways made Ramsey wary of the situation. He was naturally a compassionate man but the urgency of it all seemed to take most of that away and turn everything into a race of some kind; a race to replace those who could never return. Despite the need for speed, Ramsey promised himself he would personally visit the family of the agent lost in Saudi Arabia; he owed them that at the very least.
His eyes darted back onto another file that he had taken from the nearby pile. So far, he had made two separate stacks. One for unsuitable; there were only a handful of those. The other stack was for candidates who, at the very least, had cleared the basic initial security checks. In many ways, it was a trip down memory lane for Ramsey. He remembered virtually all the names and at the same time, he recalled why they should or shouldn’t return. He fingered his way through another file and raised his eyebrows at the name.
‘Don Nolan…my god.’ The face came back to him straight away. A tall man, who despite the dark operations and risks he had to take, always managed to smile about something. He searched for the date of birth on the registration document. ‘Coming up to 47 now.’ Turning the pages, he found the latest sheet that had been inserted, one that detailed his work since leaving the service eight years before. Aside from the usual security work and family news, Nolan had gone into business with his son running a chain of restaurants in Essex, which had done reasonably well. For a moment, the Chief of MI6 wondered about bringing back such a man into the impending war. Would he be successful? Definitely. He just seems so settled now, done his bit for the country. Ramsey pushed away his compassion, placed the file on the recall stack and took another from the pile.
It caused another name from the past to surge to the surface of his mind and with it came more hope that this once talented agent could make a real difference again. Ramsey read the name and instantly remembered all the daring operations and stark confidence in the face of defeat before his departure back in 1992. ‘Marcus Wade.’ He said to himself, with a touch of awe. Quickly, he fumbled to the newly inserted sheet and once again found that this former agent had settled down, had carried out private work for various agencies, written a novel and was now working in the media. A sudden rush of adrenaline hit Ramsey at the thought of Wade’s possible return and he placed the file firmly on the recall pile.
Once again, he took another from the stack and started to read about yet another agent who had long since left the winding corridors of MI6. This time around, it was 63-year-old Edward Dorn who was now retired and living in Cornwall. Age was a definite factor with this candidate, thought Ramsey but even so, the man’s skills and dedication to the service could well prove to be an asset. The file was placed on the recall stack and Ramsey continued to read warily through the early hours, hoping the return of all these legends would reap the rewards he was hoping for.
Jozef handed another cascade charge to his colleague on the platform remains at St. Mary’s abandoned underground station. He watched the device being intricately fitted underneath the remains of the rail track. ‘Once these charges go off, it’s going to be a beautiful sight. The tunnels will collapse and thousands will die.’ Jozef smiled back at his trusted colleague but stopped in his tracks as a sound came from the darkness surrounding them. His eyes narrowed as they squinted into the shadows, searching out the cause of the alarm. Another noise, barely noticeable if he had been talking, made him certain an unwelcome visitor had joined them. Jozef found his pistol, turned off the lights and rushed along the platform. He paused at the edge of the wall and peered around. The metal gate that signalled the area was the property of the Military could be seen standing out in the shadows. Suddenly, the gate opened and someone lingered at the gateway.
Jozef gave a signal to his friend to double back and wait. Jozef was still dressed in his London Underground uniform and decided to find out just who the intruder was. He put away his pistol, emerged from the darkness and spoke in a passable English accent. ‘Who’s there? Hello?’ he said, with a put on nervous tone.
The Military soldier, who had been studying the loose padlock on the gate, turned around quickly with a small pistol in his hand. ‘Down on your knees! Now!’
Jozef complied, still making out he was terrified. ‘Whoa! I work for London Underground, don’t shoot me mate!’
The soldier slowly came closer and turned on his torch. Upon seeing the all blue uniform of a London Underground staff member and ID pass, he relaxed and put away his pistol. ‘Ok, don’t worry, I believe you. How did you get in here? This area’s off limits to all but Military personnel.’
‘I know but I was conducting a tour with the public at Aldgate East and its connecting tunnels and saw lights on down here. Then I saw the padlock was undone on your metal gate. Came back to look around, didn’t I?’
The soldier passed the uniformed staff member and flashed his torch all around the nearby platform area. ‘You didn’t see anyone else in here, did you?’
‘No, mate. All pretty spooky if you ask me. What you doing down here anyway? Didn’t think any of you guys ever came here.’
The soldier continued to inspect every corner of the platform with his torch. ‘Just a routine check, nothing to worry about. All looks ok to me.’ He switched off the torch and started to walk back to the metal gate. ‘Come on, let’s get moving. Don’t want to spend all day down here.’
‘Sure thing mate, you gonna sort out that padlock? Don’t want anyone else snooping around, I guess.’
The soldier slammed the gate with a hefty push. ‘Well, of course I’m going to lock it.’ He took a large looking radio from his belt and fiddled with the controls. ‘I just need to call this in; procedure, you know?’
‘Wouldn’t bother doing it down here, mate. No signal.’
The soldier pointed at the bulky addition on the back of the radio. ‘It’s got a booster, ok?’ He waited a moment but didn’t see his companion move away. ‘Do you mind? Cheers.’ He gave a look of annoyance to the unwelcome visitor before using the radio. ‘Sir, this is Corporal Walker, I’ve checked out our area, all seems fine to me. No signs of disturbance, nothing to report.’ The soldier said nothing of the unlocked padlock, knowing there would be a large amount of paperwork to fill in for such a small matter. ‘I’ll come back up now, sir. Walker out.’
Jozef had found himself the perfect spot behind a rotting pillar and readied his pistol and the silencer attachment. Every word of the radio conversation had pleased him, knowing it would lay to rest any doubts of intruders in the abandoned underground station. He crouched down low in the shadows and watched the soldier pass by, look around for him and then move off into the darkness. Jozef put the safety back on his pistol and waited several minutes, until silence filled ev
ery inch of the darkened area. He then got up and made his way back to the gate.
Jozef took hold of the heavy-duty cutters being passed through and smiled at his friend. ‘The Military should now be convinced this area is sealed and off limits. Everything is falling into place.’ Once again, his mind thought of the destruction that would soon be taking place. He lowered his voice, enjoying every word. ‘They won’t even see it coming.’
Olsen, wearing a light brown jacket over his grime-ridden clothes, pushed the car up to 50mph and glanced over to his left. He eyed up the expression of the man in the passenger seat. ‘You with me over there?’
Carter adjusted his dark blue jacket and looked again in the wing mirror for any danger signs, out of habit more than anything else. ‘I’m here Sam, I just hope we can pull this off, that’s all. Just the thought of them attacking the Olympics doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Then don’t. We’re going to stop them.’ Olsen turned sharply on the roundabout and the car responded with a screech of tires. ‘Trust me.’
Carter held onto the door and didn’t doubt his friend’s self-belief, he just wished he could believe it too. He turned his thoughts to the tube station they were on their way to. ‘So Lorna, you were saying Aldwych has been restored to its 1950s state?’
Reed again spoke up in her quiet voice and felt herself go red in the face as the handsome man spoke to her. ‘It’s also used for TV filming. I hate to mention it but a film crew from the BBC is working there right now. At least, they have the time booked, that is.’
Carter looked across to his friend with a deadpan look on his face. ‘Oh great. Not only will we be searching a place that would scare the hardest soul, but we’re probably going to get a cameo in Doctor Who…’
Despite his deadly serious attitude, even Olsen couldn’t help but laugh quietly, always appreciative of Carter’s humour and able to see his friend’s point of view. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find something of use, I know it. From the experience I’ve had with the Kiprich brothers, Jozef in particular, this is just the sort of place he’s bound to use. Not only for its location but the very fact that it has a high profile. Trust me, Jozef Kiprich has the balls to use this place, expecting people like us to dismiss it out of hand.’
‘Maybe. As long as there aren’t any more fruitcakes with explosives then I’ll be happy for once.’ Carter fiddled with the computer on the dashboard and made sure of their direction. A new display screen appeared on the digital map. ‘Next left, Sam.’
Olsen saw the traffic lights change to green and turned the car left, heading to the Covent Garden area, not far from the station. He caught sight of Lorna Reed closing her mobile phone. ‘Who was that?’
Lorna Reed looked uncomfortable as she sat in the back seat of the car. Despite feeling happy to help the Government and team S.U.C.O. who had been friendly towards her, the risks involved and the question of whether they would be able to protect her was always on her mind. As buildings passed by the window, her thoughts were dominated by how many attackers could be waiting for them.
Olsen asked again. ‘Lorna, you ok? Who was that on the phone?’
‘Sorry, I was miles away. Um…it was one of your agents, he just needed a few directions and stuff, that’s all. They’ll be at their location soon.’
Olsen stopped the car at the red light on Southampton Street and smiled warmly back to the London Underground expert. ‘Don’t worry. It’s going to be ok. I know this must be worrying for you as it’s outside your normal area but I won’t put you in danger Lorna, I give you my word.’ He hoped it would calm her down and reassure her over the dangers.
‘I know. I just don’t know how you cope with all the pressure. If you don’t succeed, hundreds of people could be in real danger, if not worse. What if you make the wrong decision? The cost could be huge.’
Olsen focussed on the road ahead as he turned onto The Strand, not wanting to open his mind to the prospect of failure. Catching his eye was the famous Savoy Hotel, which lit up the darkness. One of London’s grandest hotels looked every inch full of glamour as several flags blew in the nighttime wind.
As he accelerated down towards Aldwych, he felt confident he was making the right decisions but the thought of losing any of his team and innocent members of the public was foremost in his mind.
The dark blue Government car turned onto Strand Lane and pulled over opposite the obvious target structure. Amongst the London street, with no shops or stalls visible, only office blocks, the unmistakable dark red building of an early design London Underground station could be seen.
Olsen switched off the engine and looked over to the station, which appeared similar in design and colour to Down Street. ‘Certainly can’t miss these places, can you? They all seem to look alike.’
Lorna Reed studied the building at the same time from her passenger window. ‘That’s right. Back then a guy called Leslie Green designed a lot of the stations. Unmistakable aren’t they? Those ox blood red bricks are almost classic looking in a way. Certainly more impressive than today’s lifelessly designed structures.’
The building clearly had the name ‘STRAND STATION’ over the entrance and exit areas.
Carter looked closer. ‘Strand Station? I thought you said it was called Aldwych?’
Reed spoke with keen interest and flashed a warm smile at Carter. ‘Well, the station was built in 1907. It was called the Strand but was changed to Aldwych Station due to confusion with Charing Cross station that was closer to the Strand back then. It was shut during the war and used as an air raid shelter. Certain parts of the station were closed in 1917, with the remaining areas shut off in 1994. The main reason for its closure was lack of use and it needed the lifts replaced, which was deemed too costly. Did I mention the place is like a time capsule? The London Transport Museum has spent considerable amounts in keeping it in very good condition. Sort of like a monument to how stations used to be back in the early days, you know?’
Carter exchanged a look with Olsen and smiled at Reed. ‘You’ve already told us Lorna, we’re going to be fighting for your job soon, you know that?’ He picked up a headset and placed it over her shiny flame-coloured hair.
Reed frowned slightly and a little crease appeared above her nose. ‘What do I need this thing for?’
Carter leaned in closer, adjusted the headset and continued with a smile. ‘Well it was either staying here in the car and helping us with directions…or you could tag along.’ He didn’t want to place the woman in danger and knew the likable expert would choose to stay in the car.
‘Car it is then.’ She said cheerfully. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t work up those maps you wanted. I did all the others though!’
Carter took off his seatbelt and touched her hand for a moment before pulling it away. ‘Don’t apologise Lorna, I for one will be glad of the company down in the depths.’
Olsen tried to reassure her. ‘Make sure this red light is on; it means you’re in communication with us. Stay here and lock the door. We’ll be back soon.’ He switched on his radio. ‘You hearing me, Lorna? Loud and clear?’
The expert fiddled with her hair and gave a thumbs up sign through the window before laughing to herself and replying over the radio. ‘Sorry! Forgot it was on! Take care, you two.’
Olsen checked his Beretta 92G pistol under his light brown jacket, and made sure the front pockets of his grey jeans were carrying the extra ammunition magazines. He also tested his Maglite torch several times. ‘You ready, Dan?’
Carter had been doing the same and was checking the sights of his black and grey Heckler & Koch P7M8. ‘Yeah…let’s get this over with.’
Lorna Reed never took her eyes off Agent Carter. A devilish smile crept over her attractive features as she made the most of the moment and focussed her eyes on the gorgeous specimen nearby. Throughout the time she had spent with him, she continued to feel surprised at how warm and caring he appeared to be, far away from the slightly harder Olsen who was the typical s
tereotype of a Government agent.
Olsen led the way towards the station. The two men waited for a large dark green and gold Harrods lorry to pass them and then crossed the street, walking to the station entrance. As the door opened wide, a large team of television crewmembers looked around to greet them.
Olsen walked in first and spoke to the individual who got out of the director’s chair. ‘Sorry to interrupt but we’re working alongside the Police on the security arrangements for the opening ceremony of the Olympics.’
The bearded director looked at the two men in front of him and gave a confused look, wondering what the Olympics had to do with a closed station. ‘Call me pedantic but Stratford is some distance away.’
‘I know that, sir. Can I ask how long you’ve been here today?’ continued Olsen.
‘Too long; almost all day.’ He gave an indication behind him. ‘Some trouble with the talent. Don’t worry, we’ll be off soon.’
Olsen looked around the set and saw what could only be described as an actor’s ego in full dramatic effect, with an argument in full flow. ‘No other problems today at all?’
‘None that you’d be interested in, believe me. We’ve only been shooting on the ground level. Oh by the way, if you’re going down below, maybe you could tell one of my cameramen to get his arse back up here. Sent him off to get a few clips a while ago now.’ The stressed out looking director turned around and addressed the set in an aggravated tone of voice. ‘Ok people, listen up please!’
Olsen exchanged a look with Carter and stepped in front of the director. ‘Exactly how long ago did your cameraman go down below, sir?’
The director caught on to what was being implied and spoke very quickly. ‘Two hours maybe, might have been more or less than that. You don’t think he’s in danger or anything do you?’
Olsen did his best to calm the man. ‘Oh, no…I was just taking an interest. We’ll send him back here when we see him. Don’t hang around for us. Thanks for your help.’ He gave a warm smile and signalled to his partner. ‘Dan?’