by Mark Stanley
Raise the Price
By
Mark Stanley
Copyright – Mark Stanley 2016
The right of Mark Stanley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination other than those in the public domain. Where actual living persons are quoted, those quotes are also from the author's imagination and are used only in the telling of a story, the quoted persons never used the phrases or words. Any resemblance to actual persons, outside of the story, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
For my three children, with my undying love.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1- December 2014
Chapter 6 – April
Chapter 12 - November
Chapter 15 - January 2016
Chapter 17 - April
Chapter 18 – May
Chapter 19
Chapter 20 – June
Chapter 21
Chapter 1- December 2014
To say that Victoria was pissed would be to err on the side of caution for she was so much more than pissed. Why? Rage at the attack, rage at the three hours of...imprisonment, rage that she had been separated from her beloved, unnecessarily, at least in her opinion and now after finally arriving at St. Georges, she along with Mark's children and parents were being moved from the main waiting area to a 'more appropriate area'. For the sake of all, she held her opinion to herself for there was more than enough worry and anguish without Victoria making it worse.
The door had been opened and they were ushered in and then the door had been closed, when Victoria opened it there were two uniformed Police officers standing outside, armed.
“I'm sorry Miss, but you'll be confined until we get the all-clear from our Senior Officer?”
“Who is?”
“Mister Gibb Miss.”
Victoria closed the door for she knew full well who Mister Gibb was and he would need some protection of his own when he eventually showed his face.
"What time is it Gerry?”
“Since when, the attack or our arrival?”
“Now isn't the time to stretch my patience.” Mark's Mother was not someone to annoy and her husband was aware of that and gave a tight smile as he responded.
“Fifteen hours since the attack and twelve since we arrived, how much longer must we wait until we get some news?”
“What's the old adage, 'no news is good news' let us all hope so.”
It was a further two, long uncomfortable hours, before the door opened and a bespectacled, grey haired man appeared, still in his 'scrubs' which Victoria approved of as they were in a rather fetching shade of blue, the same shade that Mark has...and then she gathered herself.
“Good morning I'm so sorry that you've been here so long without comprehensive news of your...son? Daddy? I'm sorry...”
“I'm Mark's Father, Gerry Stanley this is his Mother Margaret and fiancée Victoria Brompton and these are his three children Lulu, Charles and Hugo, there you know us all but we don't as yet know you?"
“I'm Martin James and I've been operating on Mister Stanley for the last thirteen hours.” He looked as tired as the rooms’ occupants. Victoria sat between Hugo and Charles who had been sleeping using Victoria as a pillow. Their sister Lulu was lodged between Grandma and Grandpa, now they all stared at Martin James who sat down on one of the empty chairs.
“It's probably best if we go through it from the start. Mister Stanley arrived via our helicopter, approximately one hour after he was shot. He had already been attached to an intravenous drip and a tourniquet had been applied to his leg to assist in staunching the bleeding. On arrival he was assessed by myself and my surgical team and was in theatre some twenty minutes later. Mister Stanley has a number of serious and critical injuries and I'll deal with them in ascending order of importance. He suffered two gunshot wounds, one to the upper arm the other to the shoulder neither are pleasant but nor are they life-threatening. The bullets were removed and the wounds sutured. As I understand it, Mister Stanley had been found in a Range Rover which was apparently, just recognisable. During the...destruction of the vehicle, a part of the chassis had become detached and somehow, probably not due to a single incident, had penetrated the floor of the vehicle and rather unfortunately for Mister Stanley, had been driven into his upper left thigh, piercing the femoral artery. The subsequent loss of blood even from a small tear has been significant. The organs begin to shutdown as the blood supply dwindles and so it was imperative that the para-medics took action, which they did and this prompt action has given Mister Stanley...a chance and no-more than that. The piece of metal has been removed and the artery sutured, there may be some damage to the femoral nerve but that has yet to be determined and frankly we have more pressing concerns. The third and final bullet lies in-situ in the left side of the brain three-quarters of the way from the front and close to the occipital lobe and there it will stay until its removal by someone with greater experience and skill than I.”
Gerry spoke first. “So who will operate on my son?”
“Mister Stanley, I'm going to try to locate my colleague, Professor David Richards, but he is in Switzerland and I need day staff to track him down and...” He looked at his watch before, “...They should be here in the next few minutes.”
“Will he be brain damaged?” Asked Mark's very astute thirteen year old daughter Lulu.
Martin James pursed his lips and mulled over his answer.
“Difficult to say, the bullet went from front to back so there was considerably less damage then if it had traversed left to right, as that would have undoubtedly led to his death, as it would have been inconceivable that the main blood vessels would have remained undamaged. As it is, whilst there has been some bleeding, it appears remarkably small but I have to say I'm no expert in this and when Professor Richards gets here, subject to getting him a flight, you'll need to pose that question of him.” He smiled, a weary smile but it was met with a stare from the recipients.
“Are there no flights available?” Asked Victoria.
“I don't know, we'll need to look into that once we locate him.”
“Can you find out which airport will be closest and let me know, as soon as you know?”
“Of course, but I don't see...”
“I own a plane and I'll get it readied so that once we know, it can be at any Swiss airport within a couple of hours, which is probably faster than the Professor can get there.”
Martin James didn't know who this incredibly beautiful girl was, all he was aware was that they were here, under armed protection and were, judging by the succinct questions, people who were used to getting things done, the sort of people that make one's life easier, so long as one could deliver.
“I'll see that it's done immediately. In the meantime, if you'll excuse me I must get back to Mister Stanley but can I say that through it all he has shown incredible resilience so do try and stay positive.”
The next couple of hours seemed to take an age. Victoria was informed that Geneva would be the closest and so the jet was dispatched. The crew had taken it on themselves to go to standby for they had all seen the news and when the identity of Mark had been revealed they wanted to be ready to support their boss, but also Mark, had become, in a very short period of time, a real favourite, always chatty and had treated all of t
he crew to a fabulous afternoon at Chelsea when they had played Arsenal at football. When the call came they had been ready and had awaited only a designation before a flight plan had been filed and they were speeding off to try and get this guy back, double quick. John Carmichael the Captain, had been with the Brompton's for almost ten years and had never regretted leaving his previous job with the national airline, for the Brompton's are fabulous employers, not just in the rates of pay, which are top drawer, but also in the way that they treat him and the crew and since Miss Brompton had taken over, it was actually fun and few jobs offered that. He had informed the helicopter crew to be ready at Farnborough, their home airport, for the return and to be able to fly the surgeon onto his base. The premise being, the sooner he got there the sooner Mark would have the best of treatment.
Back at the hospital time was dragging and that suited no one, but then the tedium was broken as the door opened and six sets of expectant eyes turned to see who had arrived, but only one set recognised the new arrival.
“Miss Brompton, it's very good to see you again.”
“Mister Gibb, I wish that I could reciprocate, but rewarding people for failure is so passé.”
Simon Gibb is, at forty seven, used to dealing with high achievers, but it was the combination of the mind and the looks that unnerved him, almost as much as the shit that had been thrown at him in the last few hours. He had been at a family party when the phone had rung and he had been informed of the attack. Throughout his career, these types of phone-calls, the one where an attack has succeeded or an operation has failed, have always been unwelcome, but this had been doubly so. The initial call had been bad enough, but when his boss rang and then that bastard Coombes from MI5, he knew the shit was going to be not only deep but thickly spread.
“Miss Brompton, the time for recriminations is for some other time and place, what we have to do today is to ensure the safety of Mister Stanley and the people in this room, that is our immediate concern. I apologise for the summarily way that you were moved but it was done for operational reasons. At Mister Stanley's house we have recovered three bodies and close by we have found a fourth attacker who has subsequently died. We are now in the middle of a man-hunt to track down the fifth attacker, who has, for now, escaped, however we are confident that he we will be apprehended shortly.”
“Is he subject to a risk assessment?” Victoria couldn't stop the pithy comment being uttered, after all it was Simon Gibb, when he had first given Mark and she the briefing all of two months ago, who had dismissed the threat as the risk assessment had been low.
Simon Gibb could feel the hostility, but had to move on.
“We believe that the attack has been launched from outside of the UK and that the perpetrators arrived within the last two days, landing at Hull before making their way South. Isis has claimed responsibility for the attack, as their first foray onto UK soil however we have still to confirm this but from the details that are available we believe that it is a cell under the control of Saifallah Ben Hassaine.”
“You're already determined so much which begs the question why weren't they picked up at the port of entry?”
It was a very fair question and one that was under investigation, but the last thing that Gibb needed to tell these people was that it was down to human error. A newly appointed Border Control Officer who had been anxious about the arrival of his first child had taken his eye off the ball, he'd have plenty of time to reflect, Gibb would see to that.
“That, is still being investigated Miss Brompton, along with a lot of other information.”
“None of which you're prepared to share with us?”
“None of which I'm authorised to disclose, not at this time Miss Brompton, no.”
“So what happens now?”
“A number of things have been put into place. For the foreseeable future you, Mister Stanley and the children, will be provided with armed Close Protection Officers as well as uniformed officers here and at your houses, workplaces and schools.”
For the first time since the attack Charles and Hugo smiled at each other, they liked this development imagining the kudos at school.
“Horse bolting comes to mind.”
“Miss Brompton, I agree that the protection is late for your fiancée, which is regrettable...”
“A little bit more than regrettable Mister Gibb. You and your department had a golden opportunity to put into place measures that would have all but eliminated today’s scenario and yet you deemed us to be unimportant and unworthy…”
“But…”
“…do not comment until I have finished. Yet you come in here and tell us in a matter-of-fact way that you know the point of entry and who carried out the attack and probably much more and yet your response has been reactive and wholly inadequate. I wish to see your superior and to see him today.”
“Your disappointment is duly noted. My superior is one of my colleagues from MI5, a Mister Coombes and he will follow up with you in due course, but until then, do you have any other questions?” He looked at all of the family who continued to stare at him. “No, in that case I'll take my leave, for now, but if I can assist...” He handed out business cards to all of the adults. “...anything that you need answering, please don't hesitate to contact me.” At that he smiled and left, with a feeling that he had dodged his own bullet.
The morning turned into afternoon and the door opened, there stood Daphne, Mark's ex-wife.
“I'm so sorry.”
“Mummy!”
Daphne hugged the children and all of the adults. “Bloody sticks! No poxy mobile signal and I only heard about it by chance as I was flipping through the TV channels and saw Mark's photograph. What happened?”
Margaret took it on herself to explain what had happened and how they were now awaiting the arrival of the surgeon who would operate on Mark to remove the last remaining bullet.
“Do we know when that will be...” Before Daphne could finish her question the door opened and in came a very slight, completely bald and slightly dishevelled man.
“Good afternoon my name is David Richards?” Mark's neurological surgeon had finally arrived.
“...and so that's where we are. I envisage the operation will take at least eight hours, if everything goes well and if it doesn't...much longer.”
“When will you start?” Asked Gerry.
“Imminently, I see no point in delaying. My suggestion is that you go home and get some food and rest and perhaps reconvene this evening or better still call and see where we're at?” At that, he smiled, nodded, made his farewell and left to prepare.
“I'm staying but I think that you should all take the advice, if anything happens then I'll ring you but there's no point in us all sitting here waiting.” Victoria wanted to add that she could do with the solitude as it was more fraught them all being here, but she knew that she couldn't say what she felt, but after a night with no rest, they all needed to regroup.
Daphne held Margaret’s hand. “Comeback with us and help me support the children...please?”
Margaret turned to look at Victoria and sensed the same resolve that she had once had.
“If you're sure Daphne, that would be very welcome but we don't have any clothes and I doubt if they'll allow us back to the house?” Margaret looked doubtfully at Victoria but she sensed that space would be good for everyone.
“Let me check Margaret.” Victoria stood and opened the door speaking quietly with the officer who made a call and then someone else had to be involved which all left her even more frustrated, so she rang Simon Gibb the man she didn't wish to speak with and miraculously he managed to resolve the problem.
“Margaret, they won't allow you into the house, as it's a crime scene and too dangerous, but I've told them to remove all of yours and Gerry's clothes from the bedroom and to put them into plastic bags which they'll pass to you if you call by?”
“Thank you so much dear. Now will you reconsider and comeback with us, nothing will
be happening here for quite some time and as much as I know you wish to be close to Mark, you also need to get some rest for I have a feeling that we'll all be in this for the long-haul.”
Victoria shook her head and tried to smile which looked more like a grimace.
“No I can't go until he leaves.”
“But dear that might we weeks or even months?”
“It doesn't matter, however long it takes, I won't leave until Mark comes with me.” The question of Mark's potential passing never entered into the discussion for they were both absolutely certain that eventuality would not arise.
Silence descended and was now accompanied by solitude. Victoria sat deep in her own thoughts and the inevitable intrusion when her thoughts began to runaway with her and they turned to the future, which bought her back from a place that she didn't wish to be, as there was no future without Mark. For the first time in a day and to try and push back all unwelcome thoughts, she looked at her phone and switched it on. It swiftly informed her that she had forty one new voice mails, a hundred and eleven new emails with nearly three hundred texts and messages of varying kinds. She scrolled through the texts and they were all from friends who were predictably shocked at the events that had occurred, passing on best wishes and love.
“So where's James?” They were all in Daphne's car which was a tight squeeze, even for a seven seat Volvo, as one and a half seats was being occupied by a very pleasant but very large Close Protection Officer who had introduced himself as Gary.
“He took Juliet and the children home. You can well imagine the state she was in? After the mugging and now this...”
“You can ring him when we get in.”
“Thank you dear and how is your husband and baby Flora?”
“They're both fine, thank you so much for the flowers and the baby clothes. David's obviously concerned for Mark and shooed me out so that I could be here for him and the children. He's bringing himself and Flora back today. How do you think Victoria's coping?”