by Ted Tayler
They turned towards him. The elderly gentleman approached Colin and taking his arm he led him back to join the group.
“I think formal introductions can be dispensed with for the time being. Your reputation precedes you old chap, so we all know you and how efficient a killer you are. Quite frankly, that’s why you’re here. We’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk about that side of things in due course. For now, all you need to know is that we five share a common goal and this estate is the centre of our operations. You have been selected as the ideal candidate to join The Olympus Project and bring a swift conclusion to any direct action we decide is necessary in the cesspit that passes for a civilised world outside the confines of this estate.”
While the old man was talking, a handful of waiters slipped quietly into the room and started to carry the contents of the dishes from the long side table in order to serve up a sumptuous luncheon for the six potential diners. Colin couldn’t help noticing that the waiters on duty were all men in their late thirties to mid forties and had a military bearing. In fact, the manner in which they moved and conducted themselves suggested that there wasn’t an ordinary seaman, airman, or bog standard squaddie among them; Colin wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d all been marines or even ex SAS before they had left the services.
Just what sort of outfit was this Olympus Project? An inflatable dinghy on call at a moments notice, a fake ambulance, their own protection squad working in the kitchens; crikey, this lot had probably got former guardsmen mowing the lawns and digging the vegetable patch! Heaven help any burglars who thought this Georgian mansion had a few trinkets worth stealing!
Everything was ready. His dining companions took their places and Colin found he was to be seated at the end of the table, opposite his host. The formidable looking lady was sat at the old man’s right hand side; her three male companions were to Colin’s right.
The remaining chairs that had been drawn up to the elegant table and its eight place settings when Colin first entered the room had been moved back against the wall. There were to be no late arrivals joining this happy band. The pecking order of this group was clearly defined.
Colin casually tried to assess the people around him as the waiters served up their starter dish. By his estimation, all three men to his right were in their mid to late fifties; the man to his host’s left hand appeared to be a civil servant or some type of professional. The other two were unmistakeably from a military background. While the waiter attending to him was pouring a small glass of Cedar Creek Chardonnay he looked across at the lady and immediately felt his face redden; she was looking at him with a stern intent, a look that without a word being spoken told him that she knew exactly what he was doing and that she disapproved!
Colin switched his attention to his plate. If he felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the lady he was confident was second-in-command of this outfit, then his situation didn’t improve when he saw the warm squash veloute, with soft poached egg and pink grapefruit jam. He hadn’t eaten in ages and he would have given anything for a full English breakfast. When he had been with his late wife Sue Owens in The Gambia, they had eaten well enough, although in truth they ate quite simply for the most part. He wasn’t a complete stranger to fine dining though; heaven knows they could afford it with the money she’d made when selling her home and business.
As soon as he tasted that first mouthful, Colin was forced to revise his opinion; he had to admit it was especially good. He forgot about his fellow diners and his dream of a big fry up and savoured every moment of this first lunch at the manor house. Their main course of young Welsh lamb, served with crushed broccoli, sheep’s curd, Provencal figs and toasted hazelnuts was even more delicious. A large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon was a more than welcome companion and later the wild honey ice cream felt like the ideal dessert on a warm summers’ day like today. As the last few dishes were being cleared away and coffee was about to be served, Colin leaned back in his chair and relaxed. He was stuffed! He looked up to find the eyes of his fellow diners, who had remained silent throughout the whole proceedings, were turned towards him.
“That was excellent” he said “I’m looking forward to the grand tour more than ever now; I’ll definitely need the exercise!”
“I’m going to take my coffee out onto the patio” said the lady “I want to enjoy this sunshine while I have a few spare minutes. I have work to do later. Good afternoon gentlemen. Mr. Bailey.” With that she swept out of the room. A waiter placed a coffee pot on a silver tray and added other necessary bits and bobs for her excursion onto the sun kissed and sheltered haven a few steps from the door to the rear of the main building and then he swiftly trotted off in her wake.
“Like a galleon in full sail isn’t she old chap?” said his host, with a conspiratorial grin. He looked at the three men on his left hand side ‘No doubt you’ll have matters to attend to as well? We shan’t detain you. I propose we six reconvene at 1900 hours; we have a lot to get through this evening. Mr. Bailey will have a far better idea of what The Olympus Project is all about by that time and he’ll appreciate how his particular skill set fits into our organisation.”
As soon the others had left the room, the old man beckoned Colin to join him with his coffee in some more comfortable seats in front of the large fireplace. “Right you are then” he said “let’s finish our coffees in peace and then we’ll be on our way.”
Colin and his host sat in silence, savouring their drink and letting that excellent three course meal go down. Colin could feel his eyelids growing heavy; the old man already had his head on his chest and was dozing peacefully. The period French clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour; it was two o’clock. The elderly gentleman stood up stiffly.
“It’s time to go Mr. Bailey! Let me take you through the delights of my family home and show you what we’ve done to update the old place; I’m sure the changes will be of interest to you.”
The two men entered the hallway and the grand tour began.
CHAPTER 3
“Larcombe Manor is a Grade One listed Manor House in a secluded spot eight miles outside Bath; it has been lived in by my family continually since 1550. Queen Elizabeth I stayed here for two nights in 1585. I’ve searched high and low for a written account of her thoughts on the place, but to no avail. I can’t tell you whether she was so enamoured of Larcombe Manor that she stayed an extra day, or she had intended to descend upon the place for a week and skedaddled back to London in high dudgeon!”
“The eleven bedroom, seven bathroom house comes with 3.6 acres of gardens; we have both a formal garden that you can see from your bedroom window and a walled kitchen garden to the side, where we grow all our own vegetables and flowers. Our reception rooms are full of character and retain many original features from the major extension and overhaul my ancestor’s carried out in the middle of the nineteenth century.”
His host was clearly warming to his task and Colin walked leisurely alongside him as they moved through the main building. The grandeur of the building was plain to see at every turn. Here and there they paused and the old man commented upon the décor, the artwork or the period furniture. Colin had a question.
“If this is your family home, do you have them living with you, as well as the members of The Olympus Project that I’ve already met?”
The elderly gentleman stopped and emitted a long sigh.
“My wife is in a nursing home nearby; she suffered a breakdown a few years back old chap; there’s no one else, not any more.”
Colin didn’t pursue that line of enquiry any further; it was evidently a painful subject for his host. The next few minutes of the grand tour were conducted in a far more sombre mood but as they finally went outside into the gardens, the old man seemed to brighten up a little. Colin looked across to the patio but all signs of the ‘galleon’ had been removed. She had obviously returned indoors to her work and the ever efficient staff had tidied up behind her.
The two men walked across
the lawn and Colin could only wonder at the immaculate green sward, with trees planted with such precision all those years ago that the house was protected from nosy passers-by in the far off adjoining fields; yet, when he looked back towards the main building, the magnificent edifice was always visible as you strolled towards the other estate buildings laid out in front of you. His reverie was broken by his elderly companion speaking:-
“We have the orangery, of course, over there to our right.”
“Of course” said Colin quietly.
“Just down here in front of us to our left is where the old stable block stood. When the idea for Olympus took shape we converted that into the staff accommodation. The building you can see a little further down is the ice house. Let’s wander down and take a look eh?”
Colin had read about ice houses; he knew they were commonly used prior to the invention of the refrigerator. Some were man-made underground chambers, close to a water source and the winter ice and snow would be taken in and packed with insulation. This allowed the wealthy owners of manor houses on estates such as this to store perishable foods, chill their drinks or merely prepare ice-creams and sorbets. Oh how the other half lived!
As they approached the door to the building, Colin was prepared to see perhaps a grill covering a brick lined forty foot pit and possibly the decaying signs of a drain to take away any water. Once they had agreed there was very little else to see, then they would move on towards the remaining building which from his current vantage point looked like a terrace of two up, two down cottages.
Once they stepped through the outer door, Colin gasped.
“A bit of a shaker Mr. Bailey, yes?” chuckled the old man.
He pressed the call button. Colin heard the lift rise for a few seconds and then the steel doors opened.
“Shall we?” said his tour guide.
Colin followed his host into the lift and watched as the old man selected the button for the first level of three. A few seconds later they stopped and when the doors opened they walked into an area which for a computer nerd would have made them think all their Christmases had come at once!
“This is our command centre. We have operatives in this facility monitoring the movements of any of our identified criminal targets, any possible terrorist threat as yet undefined and keeping us abreast of any potential global catastrophe; this may be a tsunami, an earthquake, a volcanic event, indeed anything and everything that threatens our social equilibrium. If we were to walk further on through this room, you would discover recreation rooms, a dentist’s surgery and a fully functional operating theatre. There are also a few ‘pods’ at the far end for operatives to sleep in rotation if the criminal fraternity are keeping us particularly busy.”
“Think of this, not as a bunker like the old style Burlington near your neck of the woods at Shaw Park, but more like an enlarged foxhole. Did you enjoy your wine at lunch today?” Colin nodded. The old man continued:-
“We have a constant relative inside temperature in this foxhole and the insulated hull system surrounding it makes this area ideal for storing our wine. I think we’ve seen enough here for now. Let’s drop in to level two shall we?”
On the next level they were met by two armed personnel. They weren’t wearing a uniform of any sort, just a white t-shirt with Olympus on the left breast, black combat trousers and boots. Each had a gun in a holster at the hip and both had a physique that looked as if they used the recreation rooms to good effect when they had time off. Colin recognised his rescuers from last night; these two had been the crew of the dinghy.
“Good afternoon men; you’ve met Mr. Bailey already. I’m delighted to tell you that he will be joining our group.”
Colin looked at the old gentleman; he couldn’t recall being asked if he’d like to join whatever set up this really was, let alone tell anyone he had already agreed to do so! The locked windows in his bedroom and the distance he felt between himself and his fellow diners earlier led Colin to believe that his host was used to giving the orders and saying ‘No’ was not an option!
The old man continued, patently aware of Colin’s feelings about what he had said to the two guards. “I’m sure he will be down to see you from time to time. I’d like to show him what we have available.”
The two men moved aside and one keyed in an access code on a pad to the side of the main door. Once inside the room Colin could see this was the armoury; there were racks of assault rifles which his host informed him included several varieties of AK, a WASR3, a selection of Heckler and Koch rifles that various police forces and even special forces were familiar with, plus a few items that Colin had seen before, mostly in films it had to be said. He spotted a rack of M4 Colt Carbines that were all over Iraq and Afghanistan when the US forces were in action. The ubiquitous Uzi was in amongst some light machine guns and the weaponry wasn’t confined to rifles. They even had a couple of hand held rocket launchers.
Below the racks were drawers containing handguns and knives; H&K, Browning, Glock and Sig Sauer models were in abundance; the latter’s P226 was no surprise, since the SAS had been known to use this model for some time. The elderly gentleman moved from the racks to the drawers with obvious pleasure. Now and then he would pick up a gun and spend a moment or two in contemplation. Colin wondered whether he was reliving an occasion when he had used it in action.
“I don’t have the key for the other drawers, but they contain our supply of gas canisters, flash bombs, and incendiary devices and of course, hand grenades.”
“Of course.” replied Colin, allowing himself a brief smile. If you want to wage war on someone, or protect your organisation against attack, you may as well have a little bit of everything after all’s said and done he thought.
“The remainder of this level includes a shooting range, where I expect you to spend time bringing your accuracy up to as close to Olympic standard as possible; although, now you’re one of us you’ll never represent your country in competition you understand.”
The two men walked down the corridor which ran along the side of the range; there were no operatives honing their skills this afternoon. The door at the end was locked. The old man turned on his heel and encouraged Colin to walk back with him towards the armoury.
“That’s the ammunitions store; something for everything. Once you’ve seen one magazine you’ve seen them all I find old chap; a bit boring to just stand looking at bullets. Much more fun firing them at the bad guys eh?”
With a nod to the two guards his host led him out to the lift. His hand hovered over the button for the third level.
“Well, we’ve come this far, you might as well see the rest” he sighed.
The final level was dark and eerily quiet; there was a long corridor to the left and low wattage security lighting highlighted them as they moved down past various rooms to their right. The old man pointed a bony finger and informed Colin that they were passing the cells, then a couple of interrogation rooms and at the very end where the quiet was joined by a slight odour that Colin was familiar with was a windowless room.
“In order to supplement the information we gather in our command centre, it is necessary on occasion, to invite some people to stay with us for a while. They arrive by the same means of transport as you did, with no knowledge of where they are; we suggest they answer our questions and many provide us with useful data so that they leave us unharmed and are returned to their loved ones.”
He began the long walk back to the lift and as Colin hurried to catch up with him the old man shook his head and glanced back down the corridor towards the final room.
Wearily he added “If they get that far then it’s unlikely they’ll see their families again; I’m afraid that those visitors’ final destination is a plot in the family pet cemetery that we have in the woods on the outskirts of the estate.”
“I wondered why there was a small card pinned to the door with ‘Hotel California’ printed on it” Colin muttered under his breath.
Coli
n and his host rode back up to the surface in silence. The sun was still shining brightly when they emerged from the ice house and Colin automatically headed towards the final group of buildings; the terraced cottages.
“We can give that place a miss! Everything is not as it seems. We converted the worker’s cottages to incorporate a staff canteen, a cinema and swimming pool.”
As he walked back towards the main house he added “of course!”
He laughed at his little joke at Colin’s expense. Colin drew level and saw that his host was smiling.
“I think you’ll fit in here very well Mr. Bailey. Let’s find a place to rest our weary bones; I’ll chase up a pot of tea and then I’ll tell you all about the Olympus Project.”
Their walk across the lawn to the house was watched from an upstairs window by the woman; no doubt the elderly gentleman knew she was there but he gave no sign. Colin, on the other hand, hung back a little as they were climbing some steps up onto the patio and gave her a little wave and a smile. The woman stepped back from the window and disappeared from view.
CHAPTER 4
Twenty minutes later the two men were in one of the elegant drawing rooms; they were seated in wing chairs and facing towards the enormous windows that gave full access to the sweeping panorama of the Larcombe Manor estate. The sun continued to beat down across the grounds, but here in this sanctuary, all was cool, peaceful and serene. Colin had almost forgotten the chill that ran down his spine as the old man revealed to him on their grand tour the lengths to which this organisation were prepared to go.
As soon as they had returned indoors and taken a chance to freshen up, Colin had sought out and rejoined his host. The old man had summoned a steward and they very quickly had cups of tea, tiny triangular sandwiches and a selection of fancy cakes to refresh them after their long walk.
“I know you are extremely eager to discover the nature of the work The Olympus Project carries out Mr. Bailey. Your patience has been tested long enough. My career was entirely in the Royal Navy as I’m sure you had deduced; I believe I served my country well but as each successive decade passed, each one quicker than the last, I stood by helplessly as my superiors lost their moral courage and meekly abandoned their comrades to political correctness. Governments of whatever colour have continued to shrink the fleet to a level that is totally unacceptable; the country is at the mercy of bands of brigands, let alone massive navies! My comrades in the army and air force have suffered the same humiliation. The quality of our armed forces is still among the highest anywhere in the world Mr. Bailey, have no doubts about that, but the numbers are far too low; we are vulnerable to attack as a nation in a way we haven’t been for almost five hundred years.