by Ted Tayler
We never managed to have another child; we tried, but for whatever reason, it just didn’t happen. Elizabeth was adamant that we should keep ourselves to ourselves and not involve the doctors. She was struggling with her demons already I suppose and I wasn’t here at Larcombe often enough or long enough to see the signs.
Helen was a beautiful young woman, just like her mother. This is when she was twenty one and just graduated from Reading University.” The old man handed Colin another photograph; the beauty of the girl staring back at him took his breath away.
“I always wonder whether my daughter Sharron would have been clever enough to go to University” said Colin wistfully “she was so artistic.”
“Helen got a first; she was passionate about ecology and wildlife conservation. We still had horses here then and she rode every day around the countryside. She would have gone on to make a difference in the world, of that I’m certain.”
Colin looked down at the picture he was still holding.
“What happened to her?”
“Helen had various jobs around the country and as she was footloose and fancy free, no ties to talk of, she moved when the mood took her, working on different projects and building up an impressive reputation. Perhaps her biological clock was ticking and she thought about settling down, who knows? In her last post she was working for the local Wildlife Trust and was based in Cheddar Gorge; she had met a young chap called John Maunder who was teaching at a school in Bath; it seemed as if they were a pretty good match. I liked the young fellow anyway.
One terrible November evening in 2004 Helen came home from work in such a happy mood. She was looking forward to John taking her into Bath to watch the rugby. She wasn’t overly keen on the game but he was an avid fan. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back” I told her. I never saw her alive again.
When he hadn’t returned her home by midnight, I was surprised but I still didn’t think anything was wrong. John would talk to anyone, particularly about rugby, for hours. Then suddenly the police were at the door. Elizabeth had retired to bed early so I was alone when they told me the devastating news that Helen and John were both dead.
My wife had heard the door bell however and was just at the foot of the stairs as the police were telling me what had happened; I remember Elizabeth collapsing on the hall floor; nothing was ever the same again.
Finding out exactly what happened was devastating. Helen and John had been walking along the pavement towards a pub John and several of his friends used on match nights, when they were hit from behind by a VW Golf travelling at about sixty miles an hour in a thirty zone.
The driver was a foreign chap, an Adam Bosko; he was three times over the drink drive limit in a stolen car without a license or insurance. He’d been in trouble with the authorities in his home country of Poland since he was fifteen. He had been in a UK court seven times before in the few years he had been here; he had been charged with dozens of other offences on those occasions. He had overstayed his work visa by eleven months and should never have been in the country.
I felt sure his background would mean he’d get a long sentence. I was appalled when he got just seven years. For taking the lives of two people, let alone the other charges of theft and drink driving – it was a shattering blow. We were still reeling from the death of our beautiful daughter and by the time of the sentencing, Elizabeth was being treated for depression. As I said, nothing was the same again. I lost both of them that night.
This Bosko’s wife and family back in Poland were all set to appeal to the European Court of Human Rights. They argued that as he was due to be deported back to Poland anyway he should be sent back to serve his sentence so they could visit him in prison more easily. The Home Office caved in and I learnt subsequently he was released after serving only four years. That didn’t feel like justice to me. I couldn’t get my head around it at the time, and I still can’t. Adam Bosko got a few years in prison but Elizabeth and I have had to serve a life sentence.
Perhaps you can understand now Phoenix, what motivates me? My wife’s condition has never improved. Living here at Larcombe, with all the memories of her only child, became intolerable. I got rid of the horses and the stables stood empty for a while but this was of no use. Her black moods led me to imagine it was always night time here in my beloved house. I longed for the days when my Helen would breeze into the drawing room with a piece of toast, eagerly passing on a shred of news concerning whatever project she was working on; I couldn’t forget how she had ridden across the grounds on one of her horses, waving to me as I sat on the patio reading the newspaper of a morning. She had been just like Hemera scattering the dark clouds and bringing blessed sunlight into my life.
I arranged for Elizabeth to go into a nursing home; at least she’s well cared for there and I visit her frequently; although she hardly knows me at all dear boy. While I was here at the Manor alone for a time I formulated my plans for Olympus. In due course I wrote to The Times and my quest for a return of true justice to our courts began in earnest.”
Colin looked down at Helen’s face again in the photograph; he stood up and collected the picture of William and Elizabeth that Erebus was still holding. The old man was somewhere far away; perhaps on the high seas with one of his destroyers; perhaps with Elizabeth and Helen in happier times. Colin understood his motivation totally now.
Anyone who has lost a wife and daughter in such a cruel fashion would want to lash out against the people who had taken them from them; when Sharron had been killed it was the final straw for Colin. He had lashed out against the thugs who strutted around his town, arrogantly believing they were untouchable; above the law. He had shown them they were wrong!
He had waited patiently for her killer to be released from prison. He was even glad in some strange way that Neil Cartwright had been released after only a decade; as Erebus had remarked; no sentence in numbers of years for Adam Bosko would ever be enough to pay for taking two lives with such callous disregard for the law and human life.
Colin returned the two photographs to the drawer in the side table and walked over to where Erebus was still seated. The old man looked up at him and Colin sensed for a second that tears were very near, but Erebus collected himself and stood up, back ramrod straight as ever and took his place on the bridge; in this case it was in front of the period fireplace. He invited Colin to sit down again and continued:-
“Right then, my story is now completed Phoenix. We’ve got a few minutes before the others join us in the dining room for dinner; do you have any questions?”
CHAPTER 6
Colin paused for a second; he was on the verge of asking about the considerable sums of money he had in various bank accounts in Switzerland and the Caymans; he wanted to know what was going to happen to that now he was ‘missing presumed dead’. He decided to start on another tack however; he didn’t want to appear greedy!
It was never about the money anyway, it just helped get the job done and one thing he needed was his own style of clothes. He felt like a tailor’s dummy in all this smart casual stuff that Erebus had provided him with. He longed to get into the nondescript type of gear that had served him so well in the past; clothes that didn’t make him stand out in a crowd. Clothes that helped him remain invisible.
“What about the operatives you have in the field already?” he asked “You can’t merely have been waiting for an opportunity to pick me up in order to get some direct actions underway.”
Erebus nodded sagely.
“Naturally dear boy, you are far from being our first operative. As you can imagine, the men we have selected thus far were ex forces personnel; we found a whole raft of potential killers and intelligence experts who were disillusioned with life after leaving their particular branch of the services. Many of us find it difficult to adjust to the humdrum nature of civilian life, particularly when those careers were curtailed through injudicious cuts and the like.
They were brought here like you, most
ly at night, in secret and their training was reviewed and their skills were upgraded and modified where appropriate. They have since moved out into their specified theatre of operation, ready to be called into action at a moment’s notice. They are akin to the ‘sleeper’ that was prevalent during the ‘Cold War’. You may be familiar with the concept from watching films or TV programmes.
They have acquired jobs and identities; to all intents and purposes they have blended into everyday life as normal citizens. Most have been able to evade the counter-espionage agencies in their target country; sadly, we have lost a few people over the last couple of years when their cover was blown, or in the execution of a direct action itself
As they are in gainful employment we do not pay them directly; this avoids any possibility of payments transferred to them from here at Larcombe Manor being traced. Exactly like you, these agents have code names and very infrequently they return here for debriefing or additional training. We can provide them with extra funds in their local currency if they are about to ramp up the scale of their activities too.”
“How do they arrange those visits?” asked Colin “they obviously can’t just ring up!”
“We have a sophisticated system on level one in the old stable block Phoenix; they can intercept coded messages from our guys in the field who need to fly back to the UK; as for home based people they send a postcard. On the appointed day they travel by train to Bath Spa station. Our transport people will be there to collect them in a mini cab. They can’t miss it. It carries a logo of Mount Olympus on the doors which means it doesn’t attract any undue attention as it trundles back to the Manor. After all they could be coming here for treatment for combat stress; a perfectly natural occurrence considering our charity status.
While they stay at Larcombe they too are referred to by their code name only; and similarly, as I explained to you, we five are known to them only by our mythical persona. Every care is taken to protect the integrity of the group and the Olympus Project.”
“How come I haven’t heard anything in the news about people they’ve eliminated?” asked Colin.
“Well, if we’ve prepared the ground properly on level one and identified the target and why he merits direct action, then in some cases nobody cares overly much; there are a plethora of bad guys out there Phoenix as you well know and the media have concentrated on the superficial celebrity section of society for the past decade. If some thug or rotten government official gets killed somewhere in Africa or the Far East, it doesn’t get a full page spread in the daily newspaper here in the UK. That would be more likely occupied by a popular singer having a baby or being involved in some racy video shoot. It sells more papers dear boy!
A couple of incidents caught the attention of the more vigilant news editors last year. You may recall a North African army chief being shot dead in February by one of his security guards. His death was claimed to have been ordered by an extreme faction within that country. All perfectly logical given the recent turmoil in those parts, but in fact one of our guys was responsible.
In one of the insignificant countries in Central Africa an Army chief of staff was killed by a bomb delivered to his office in June. We had uncovered details of vast sums of aid money being transferred into his private account and so we took the necessary steps to see he never got a chance to buy any more gold taps for his bathrooms. The money remaining in his account was used by his fellow countrymen to help the people it was intended for when the Department for International Development sent it off.”
“I was in Africa until spring of this year; I can’t say I remember seeing or hearing anything about either of those!” Colin remarked “of course, I was preoccupied with my late wife and planning every step of my journey this summer.”
“Perfectly understandable Phoenix, those were your priorities at the time. Part of the training process you will undertake here will need to focus on broadening your horizons; to encourage you to see the bigger picture and enable you to absorb anything and everything that could help us achieve our goals here with Olympus.
I expect you’ve been wondering about your financial situation?”
Colin couldn’t prevent an audible gasp escaping his lips; how the heck did this Erebus bloke keep doing that! He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking.
“Actually, it was one of my questions” said Colin “but money isn’t a motivator for me. No doubt you know exactly where my money is tied up currently?”
Erebus replied “Steps will be taken to protect that money; the banks in question will receive authentic documentation carrying your signature indicating your wishes in the event of your death. There will be a delay due to the fact that your body hasn’t been discovered as yet.”
“What do you mean …‘as yet’? Colin asked tentatively.
“Fear not, old chap, you’re worth far more to Olympus alive! We need to get you legally declared dead; but there’s no tremendous rush to do this. If we hold off until any remains that are discovered are so decomposed, then it would be tricky to attribute them to a particular person. We might possibly be able to use the clothes you were wearing and some personal items to clinch the deal.
Last night’s scenario would certainly provide enough circumstantial evidence to lead a reasonable person to believe that Colin Bailey died in Pulteney weir on the balance of probabilities. This might get us a court order directing the registrar to issue a death certificate. Then the foreign banks could be persuaded to action your last requests, as outlined in our hastily cobbled together documentation. Leave it to us dear boy, it will be authentic enough to serve its purpose, we have the very best people at our disposal here. If the worst comes to the worst then we’ll just have to sit it out for the prescribed time the law uses currently.”
“How long is that?” asked Colin.
“Seven years” replied Erebus.
“Terrific” muttered Colin.
“I thought money wasn’t a motivator Phoenix? Don’t worry when you go out into the field here in the UK you will be sufficiently recompensed for a job well done. Let’s call it a performance bonus; totally different from a banker’s bonus of course as you will have worked for it.”
“Of course” said Colin with a smile.
“My goodness, just look at the time” said Erebus suddenly “we had better scoot along to our quarters to freshen up and change; the others will be gathering in the dining room for pre-dinner drinks very shortly. I’ve no doubt you’re hungry Phoenix?”
“I’m hungry for food and information” answered Colin.
“Let them enjoy their meal first old chap! I’m sure they’ll be more sociable this evening; it was a bit of a surprise to them when you arrived unexpectedly last night. We had had you on our radar for some time and they were all in favour of your selection, but we couldn’t have foreseen the fortuitous nature by which you landed on our doorstep.”
The two men exited the drawing room and walked along the corridor towards the staircase. As they reached the foot of the stairs the formidable looking female suddenly appeared; she would have collided with Colin and knocked him down if he hadn’t been able to stop quickly and perform a neat side-step; even so the contact between them was enough for him to instinctively raise his hands to cushion the impact. One hand found a naked shoulder. She looked stunning in an olive dress which fitted where it touched; her high heels bringing her face to face with Colin.
He stared into her almost grey eyes; her intoxicating perfume reminded him how long it had been since his brief time with Therese Slater. All thoughts of that liaison were swiftly erased as he sensed the look she was giving him was more fiery than friendly; perhaps he should move his other hand, it had successfully prevented her from crashing into him and both of them ending in a heap on the floor, but it had come to rest on her left breast.
“Good to see you two are getting on” quipped Erebus as he ascended the stairs “come on Phoenix, first you’d better have a cold shower and then you can look out one of th
e suits we’ve acquired for you. Athena, Phoenix; I’ll see you in ten minutes or so.”
Athena moved away from Colin briskly and with one of her trademark glares that he knew so well already, she swept across the corridor and into the dining room, Colin could hear voices; it would appear that The Three Amigos were already in attendance. He had no mythical tags for the three men as yet, but they seemed to belong together so for now the Amigos or the Stooges would suffice.
Athena on the other hand; Colin smiled at his unintentional joke, Athena was another kettle of fish altogether. Despite her iron clad exterior and those piercing grey eyes, when he and Athena had been in such close proximity, not much more than five minutes ago, Colin was struck by how incredibly attractive she was.
Upstairs in his room Colin showered, turning the temperature lower as he finally soaked away the stresses and strains of the previous twenty four hours. Being more than a little aroused was not an unpleasant reaction to the firmness and proportion of the female form he had just accidently handled, but it wouldn’t do; it would spoil the lines of the suit he was about to wear.
Colin checked his wardrobe. Several new items had been added to his collection since he had left his room after the grand tour this afternoon; he resolved to ask Erebus whether they had a tailor on site; to have provided three suits in varying colours, as close to ‘made to measure’ as made no difference was nothing short of a miracle. Colin looked at his reflection in the cheval mirror and was impressed at the smart, rugged looking guy of forty three summers that he saw.
“Amazing what a good suit can do” he thought “I look like a male model and worse still, I give the impression that butter wouldn’t melt; I need to dirty up a tad, get some jeans, a Judas Priest t-shirt and a clapped out leather jacket back so that I look more like a guy who has nineteen kills to his name and more to come. This Larcombe Manor style of life will make me soft!”