Codename Files Nos.1, 2 & 3

by Mark Arundel

  I said, ‘Okay, Charlotte, give me the address details of the new villa.’ She read them out and I programmed the satnav. The screen display responded positively. I said, “Okay, I’ve got it; there are two possible routes. Neither of them takes longer than two hours, fifteen minutes. Can you arrange for the German owner to meet us?’

  ‘I’ll call him and then let you know.’

  ‘Okay, we’re going to leave straight away, and we’ll be making one stop for fuel.’

  ‘Right, I’ll call you back.’

  We ended the call and I put my phone away. I considered which route to take. The longest in miles but quickest in time was via the motorway, which ran south and then north along the east coast. The other way was north-northeast across the island, over higher terrain, along winding roads and through old towns and villages. It was a shorter distance in miles but longer in time. Just in case Maria woke up earlier than I expected I chose to travel the older route. I hoped we were more likely to avoid any police.

  I drove away and was soon climbing steeply on the winding mountain road. I told Geoffrey the details of the arrangements Charlotte had made and we discussed our own plan in the light of this new knowledge. We concluded that it all worked together well.

  As we travelled in the, fortunately, suitable 4x4, higher and higher along the old mountain pass, through the isolated old towns surrounded by a rapidly thickening hill fog and darkening grey skies, both of us were encouraged for the first time. Despite our thirst and hunger, our fatigue and pain, and our deepening mental exhaustion we felt the end was in sight. At last, we had an exit strategy. It was planned, organised and credible. Soon it would be over. Soon we would be safe. I wish I had known then what I know now.

  Chapter 32

  GEOFFREY BUTTON

  His father always said book reading would get him into trouble. He had wanted him to be a footballer. Football was his father’s life. It seemed to Geoffrey the roundness of the ball made it impossible to control. Every time he tried, it just got harder. Despite his entire father’s coaching knowledge Geoffrey never improved. If he had any natural ability, it didn’t show and practice simply proved demoralising for all concerned. Geoffrey returned to his books. He wished now he’d been good at football.

  His economic theory or rather the thought of his economic theory, for it wasn’t even completed yet, had unleashed demons of such violent intent that he cursed the day monetary as a word had ever entered his vocabulary. Someone was going to kill him, of that he felt sure. Only one man was keeping him alive. Only one man was standing between him and the demons.

  Geoffrey swallowed. His mouth was dry again. He sipped at the water bottle and studied the face of his protector. He wondered at the strength of a man who would risk his own life saving that of a stranger without even a proper explanation. A man who stitched his own wounds, who fought with the speed and balance of a title contender, and chose and implemented stratagems with the conviction of Wellington.

  If he did make it back home alive, he would complete his theory; and there would be further theories, too. He felt there were more to come. He looked again at his protector and wondered who would win, the shield or the sword.

  Chapter 33

  Small Slam is winning 12 of the 13 tricks.

  The road turned and went up and then turned again, and then, unexpectedly, it straightened and flattened. The buildings were dotted haphazardly as though constructed without thought. A small town appeared that the road revealed gradually as we travelled through the hill mist. Stores came into view with old-fashioned signs and untidy parking areas at the front made from hard, bare earth. Locals sat at round metal tables or on wooden benches and watched as we drove slowly by. Neither of us commented.

  The round metal sign hung out above the road. Even though it was marked with streaks of rust, and I didn’t recognise the branded logo, I knew immediately it was signalling the arrival along our route of a fuel station. It’s one of those signs you’d just know anywhere.

  I slowed and pulled onto the forecourt. There were only two pumps, both free, so I selected the second one, which was nearest to the exit, and stopped beside it. The attendant appeared and I told him to ‘fill her up’. There wasn’t any self-service here. Outside the 4x4, I immediately felt the cooler air. We had driven higher; quite some way above sea level, and the temperature was ten degrees lower.

  I told Geoffrey to stay inside the vehicle while I went to the vending machine. I used the last of my change and bought cans of drink, water, crisps and chocolate.

  The attendant had now completed his task and waited impassively. I paid him with cash and told him to keep the change. He nodded and wished me a safe journey. I realised just how much I disliked platitudes.

  We left the town behind and followed the winding road higher across the mountain. I scanned ahead, as far as the conditions allowed, and made frequent glances in my rear-view mirror. Other vehicles, though, were infrequent. A couple of small cars behind caught us up. From the way they were driving, it was obvious they knew the difficult road well. I slowed on a short straight and they both took the opportunity to overtake. I watched them disappear around the next bend and didn’t see them again after that.

  We drank and ate in silence. The automatic gearbox helped me but the tight turns in the road caused some dropped crisps and spilt water. Geoffrey snapped a bar of chocolate and handed me a row of chunks.

  The food and drink were revitalising us and we both found the power of speech once more.

  Geoffrey said, ‘I want to change the plan; I want to be visible.’

  I said, ‘You can’t be visible.’

  He said, ‘It will make your part easier.’

  ‘Not if you get shot by a sniper rifle. No, the plan stays the same.’

  We both ate more chocolate, silent with our thoughts. I tipped my head and emptied my can.

  Geoffrey said, ‘The waiting is going to be hard.’

  I replied, ‘Better than someone shooting you.’

  He asked, ‘Have you ever been shot?’

  I pointed to the scar that ran from the corner of my left eye across my cheekbone. Geoffrey studied it closely and then said, ‘Was that really caused by a bullet?’

  I said, ‘No, it’s from a beer bottle landed by an angry squaddie who nearly got killed because I didn’t follow the agreed plan.’

  Geoffrey said, ‘Oh.’

  We fell silent again.

  The road continued to wind on and up through old villages dotted by large black rocks and guarded by tall fir trees.

  The ringtone of my phone broke the silence. It was Charlotte calling back.

  She said, ‘The German will be able to meet you at the villa. I gave him a time; he should be waiting for you. As I said, his name is Muller, Norbert Muller.’ Then she said, ‘Bartholomew Meriwether wants to talk to you again.’

  ‘Hello, oh good, you’re there. C. tells me the plan has been finalised and you’re happy with it, jolly good. We should have you back in London in no time. You must join me at my club for a drink; they have an excellent wine cellar. Do you like claret? Anyway, I’m certain we won’t have to inconvenience you for too much longer. I know C. is eager to see you again and I’m looking forward, very much, to meeting you. Well, until then.’

  Then, just like last time he was gone. He spoke without pausing and I never got the chance to speak. Perhaps it was a ploy. If it was, it was a good one; it had worked both times.

  Charlotte was back on the line. She said, ‘Just so we’re clear, I’m not eager to see you again. Mr. Meriwether was only being polite. If I am eager about anything then it’s to have a successful outcome and that’s all.’

  ‘Of course, there’s no need to explain. It’s what I want, too.’ I paused and then said, ‘Have you been thinking about our kiss?’

  She ignored me and said, ‘Call me once you’re at the villa after Norbert Muller has gone. We’ll need to coordinate the timing of the leak.’

  That remi
nded me and I said, ‘Won’t the leak seem a bit obvious?’

  Charlotte said, ‘I’ve already considered that and I devised a way of releasing your whereabouts so it won’t appear suspicious. Don’t forget I’m an experienced intelligence officer and when it comes to leaking information I know what I’m doing.’

  I wanted to say some words of agreement but instead, I heard myself saying, ‘Charlotte, just make sure you remember that it’s me who has to do the dangerous stuff, so if you get anything new be nice and call me.’

  She said, ‘Of course, don’t worry; despite what I said, I do want you safely back.’

  I said, ‘I’ll call you later from the villa.’

  I ended the call and Geoffrey asked, ‘What did Charlotte say?’

  I replied, ‘She said we have to meet a German man named Norbert.’

  Chapter 34

  Grand Slam is winning all 13 tricks.

  The winding road across the mountain finally reached a tarmac summit and then began to drop gently back towards sea level and the north shore of the island.

  On the way down, some of the bends seemed even tighter than on the way up. I kept the 4x4 in check and made a smooth descent, which was helpful for Geoffrey as he was busy eating chocolate with one hand and scribbling frantically with the other into a notebook pressed against his satchel, which he balanced on his knees. I didn’t interrupt him. The silence was welcome and it gave me the time to work through the plan and consider all the possible scenarios that might unfold. The motto be prepared might be an old one but in combat situations, it’s as pertinent as any other I know.

  Geoffrey continued working on his economic theories and seemed oblivious to everything else. Even the ringing of my phone didn’t disturb him. I checked the caller ID and saw it was Alicia’s phone again. I reasoned it was safe and so I answered. This time, it was Alicia and not her father. She said, ‘Hello, it is Alicia, Alicia de Cortes Silver, my father wants you to give yourself to the police. He thinks you are in great danger and he promises to protect you and be fair with you.’

  I sensed there had been a development and asked, ‘Alicia, has something happened, something I don’t know about?’

  She faltered before replying, ‘The Russian, the one not badly hurt has escaped from the hospital. My father thinks he will try to find you. My father says you must let him help you.’

  I said, ‘Alicia, thanks for the update, I appreciate it, but tell your father I can’t go to the police with this, it’s too big.’

  Then Ramos de Cortes came on the line. He had been listening and he grabbed the phone from his daughter. He said, ‘Señor, do not be stupid, you and your friend are in danger, you cannot leave the island, I have given your name to passport control, you must give yourself to the police. We will help you.’

  ‘I can’t do that Ramos. Thank your daughter for me for all her help.’ I ended the call and turned off the phone just in case. I didn’t want a trace. If need be, Charlotte could call us on Geoffrey’s phone.

  The Russian development was unwelcome news. I thought the local police would be capable of taking care of them for me; it seemed I was wrong. It wasn’t certain though that the escaped Russian would come after us. It was just as likely he would go home and lick his wounds. I would have very much liked to be able to do the same.

  The road was getting easier as it started to unwind itself, and ahead I caught a glimpse of the sea. We were getting closer to the coastline and sea level, and the satnav was indicating the approach of a major road not too far ahead. It was the top end of the main road, which circumvents two-thirds of the island. I navigated my way onto the eastbound carriageway and joined the constant traffic flow, keeping to the inside lane and a sedate holidaymaker pace. Geoffrey was still scribbling and we weren’t in any rush. I did keep an eye out for police cars, though, just in case.

  I followed the dual carriageway without incident until the female Spanish satnav voice told me to take the next exit. I steered off and looped back on the slip road that linked us with a single-carriageway, which led us in the direction of a large town called Puerto de la Cruz.

  The climate in the north of the island was different to that of the west. It was colder, the greater rainfall meant less dust and fir trees covered the hillsides. Not quite England, though, of course, after all, it was still sub-tropical just a little less sub-tropical than the part of the island from which we had just come. It meant there were a few more species of plant growing and more gardens had a lawn. I didn’t share any of this fascinating insight with Geoffrey as his head was bowed, there was chocolate melting in his fingers, and his writing hand continued to scribble in frantic bursts. So this was what a genius at work looked like.

  Before we reached the large town, the satnav instructed me to leave the road. The Spanish woman’s digital voice told me to drive away from the coastline. The road climbed steeply until we entered a small town with a busy high street lined with shops, bars and restaurants, parked cars and people who crowded the pavements.

  I drove through to the end of the town before turning off and heading uphill, through a maze of narrow lanes, and beyond the apartments and houses, and onto the mountain pass. The road was steep, lined by villas before it narrowed further and then turned and became a single lane of dry earth. We passed a farm with a large terraced vineyard and then beyond that the terrain opened and provided a clear view of the volcano. El Tiede looked majestic with a crown of royal mauve towering from the centre of a stone crust collar. I was taken by the volcano’s serenity as though great age had bestowed great wisdom on it.

  As if Geoffrey sensed we were in the presence of royalty he stopped scribbling and looked up. I pointed at El Tiede and he stared at the volcano in silence. Only when it went out of sight behind the deepening fir trees did he say, ‘It’s like something from the prehistoric era.’

  I said, ‘I’m glad it’s extinct.’

  Geoffrey nodded and chuckled. Then he said, ‘We must be close to the villa.’

  I checked the satnav and said, ‘Just over one kilometre away.’

  The dirt track steepened further and spruce firs lined our route. There weren’t any other properties this high up on this part of the mountain. As we drove, I assessed the difficulty of travelling up without a vehicle. Although it was steep and quite a lengthy climb I realised someone could make it on horseback or on foot. Attempting it without keeping on the track would make it harder, but not impossible. I knew that if the person making the ascent had experience and used the cover of darkness they would be able to reach the villa without my knowledge. I didn’t share this information with Geoffrey. Instead, I considered the likelihood of a night-time attack, which given I would have control of the environment was not the worst thing. Defending an assault from a position of concealment is usually successful, especially when it’s one against one. If it was only one against one.

  Chapter 35

  ‘You won the last trick in dummy.’

  The villa appeared at the end of the track between the trees. The bright white building built on two floors cut into the mountain surrounded on all sides by tall fir trees. The early evening light was already murky with an overcast sky and a mountain fog that hugged the treetops only just beyond the villa’s surrounding wall. The weather made it feel more like England than Tenerife.

  I pulled off the track and went through the open gate and onto the flat parking area where I saw that a vehicle had already arrived. It was also a 4x4 but it was older and a much cheaper make. I swung round and reversed alongside allowing me to drive straight out again quickly should I need to.

  I left the engine running and said to Geoffrey, ‘Stay here for a minute while I check it out.’ He nodded and I saw a flicker of concern cross his eyes. ‘I’m certain it’s just Norbert the German, but I better make sure.’ Geoffrey nodded again and this time, he gave me a smile. ‘Don’t forget we’re Smith and Jones.’

  He smiled and said, ‘No, I won’t forget.’

  I
got out and immediately began assessing the property and location for the mission ahead. A flight of stone steps led up beside the double garage and I walked slowly over. I heard movement above and looked up. A man’s large head and shoulders appeared over the elaborate railing and in a strong German accent said, ‘Hello Mr. Smith, my name is Norbert Muller.’

  I said to him, ‘Are you alone?’

  My question made his heavy features crease with puzzlement and then he answered, ‘Yes, I am alone.’

  I could tell he wanted to ask why but he didn’t. I said, ‘Hold on, we’ll come up to you.’

  I went back to the 4x4 and opened Geoffrey’s door.

  He asked, ‘Is it safe?’

  I said, ‘Yes, it’s safe. It’s just a big German and he’s on his own.’

  I killed the engine, grabbed my rucksack and with Geoffrey hugging his satchel, led the way up the stone steps to the terrace. We crossed to the large patio with a pool and a garden where Norbert was waiting for us. His face didn’t seem used to smiling but he tried anyway. I shook his offered hand and he said, ‘I’m sorry for the weather.’ He obviously thought, like the rest of the world, that all British people obsessed over the weather.

  Geoffrey said, ‘I’m sure it will clear up tomorrow; after all this is Tenerife.’

  Norbert didn’t seem so sure. He said, ‘The weather has been strange, I don’t know, not so much sun this year, but tomorrow for your holiday I think it will be sunny.’

  Geoffrey smiled at him politely. Norbert said, ‘Come, Mr. Jones, I will show you the villa.’

  Norbert had already unlocked the glass sliding doors that led from the terrace and we followed him into the villa. It was a modern build. Hard wooden floors wrapped in smoked glass that reflected the light and ensured privacy for the occupants. I suppose naked dancing was always a possibility inside a Tenerife holiday villa.