Terror Illusion

by James R Conway

When Jonathan stirred from his bed the next morning, Mac was already up and cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Jonathan!” said Mac. “The coffee is brewed. A Full English Breakfast for you?”

  Jonathan sleepily poured a mug of coffee. “Yes, please.” He took his coffee, walked across the living room and stepped up to the dining area. The day was overcast but dry which should make his trip out to see Karen more pleasant. He walked back to the kitchen and sat on a stool, watching Mac cooking breakfast. Sausages, bacon, fried bread, fried egg. A true Full English Breakfast.

  Mac served up onto the plates and drew another stool up to the kitchen counter.

  “Thanks, Mac. What are your plans for the day?”

  “I’ve got a few appointments so I’ll be out for most of the day. I’ll give you a spare key so you can let yourself in and out.” Mac took a bite of sausage.

  “I’ll be going out to see Karen for lunch. I should be back early afternoon.”

  “Good! We’ll cook dinner ourselves this evening. Karen will pick up a few things on the way home. Give some thought as to what tricks you are going to use to impress Roger Gregson tonight.”

  Jonathan put down his coffee mug and tucked into his breakfast and both he and Mac ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “I’ll clear up while you get ready to go out, if you want, Mac”

  “Thanks, I would appreciate that.”

  Mac headed off back to his bedroom and Jonathan washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen, then he went to get showered and dressed.

  He felt distinctly more awake as he returned to the living room and sat down in one of the luxurious armchairs. He was rather looking forward to a couple of hours of quiet time after the events of the last twenty-four hours. He needed to think through what he had learned from Mac yesterday.

  Mac emerged from his bedroom smartly dressed in a suit and tie. “Here’s a spare key,” he said, placing a key on the kitchen counter. “Treat the place like home, Jonathan.”

  “Thanks Mac. I’ll see you late afternoon.”

  Mac walked over to the lift and pressed the call button. “See you later then,” he said as he stepped inside the lift and the doors closed.

  Things had suddenly started moving rather quickly for Jonathan. Less than a month ago, he had been wishing that he had more challenge in his retirement and now he was surrounded by it. It was taking him a little time to adjust. He had no real wish to get into anything dangerous and he certainly was not keen on doing anything illegal but he couldn’t help admiring people like Mac and this other chap, Roger Gregson and of course Karen who had introduced him to this world in the first place.

  What was this Lord Mendellson up to? Mac had described him as “the government fixer”. Perhaps Lord Meddlesome would be a more appropriate title. Jonathan wondered how he would deal with Meddlesome. Perhaps Mac and this other guy, the ex-pilot, Roger Gregson, would be able to advise. Given that he had spent a lifetime in the world of secrets, Mac seemed a fairly straight forward kind of chap.

  Jonathan was almost dozing in his chair when his mobile phone rang. It was Karen.

  “Jonathan, are you still on for lunch today?”

  “Yes. When and where?”

  “How about twelve-thirty? There’s a pub just on the eastern side of Leicester Square that does good lunches. It’s called The Moon Under Water.”

  “See you there at twelve-thirty.” Jonathan ended the call and checked his watch. He had enough time to enjoy another cup of coffee and then take a gentle stroll to Tower Hill tube station about half a mile from the flat and travel over to his lunch date.

  Jonathan sat back down with his fresh cup of coffee and began to think about his lunch with Karen. How much could he tell her about what Mac had told him. Best not to say anything about it. He would have to be careful not to give anything away. This was a tricky business he was getting into. He would just have to get used to it.

  Eventually the grandfather clock in the living room chimed eleven-thirty so Jonathan put on an overcoat, picked up the key from the kitchen counter and left the flat.

  The earlier clouds had begun to break up and a wintry sun was casting long shadows across the street. Jonathan enjoyed his walk to the tube station at Tower Hill. He walked alongside the river, though the archway beneath Tower Bridge and along Thames Path in front of the Tower of London. Then he turned right, away from the river, to reach the station.

  He had one change of trains and about forty-five minutes after leaving the apartment he emerged into London’s “West End”. Dominating Leicester Square itself was the Odeon Cinema where British film premières were held. The square was relatively quiet on this midweek lunchtime but at night, it would be gaudily lit with neon signs announcing the latest play or film that was showing.

  Jonathan found the pub, The Moon Under Water and walked in. It was a typical London pub with a lot of dark wood panelling and polished brass fittings everywhere. The bar staff were in crisp uniforms: white shirts, bow ties, dark trousers. It was not exactly Jonathan’s idea of a country pub but he was in the Big City now. There was no sign of Karen so he bought a drink at the bar, picked up a menu and found himself a seat at a table near the door where he could keep an eye out for Karen.

  He quickly scanned the menu and decided he would order a toasted sandwich for lunch but he would wait for Karen before ordering. He gazed idly round the pub and then his eyes fell on the back page of the menu. It was a photograph of a newspaper cutting and Jonathan started reading it. The newspaper article was entitled The Moon Under Water, the same name as the pub. The article had been written by the author George Orwell in 1946. Jonathan remembered that George Orwell had written at least two famous books, Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four, although he thought a book called The Road to Wigan Pier was also one of Orwell’s works. As he read the article on the menu, he saw that Orwell had described his perfect city pub – the décor, the furniture, the lighting, the staff and the food and drink. The pub in which Jonathan was sitting was not quite up to Orwell’s standard but it would probably pass muster as a lunch venue.

  Jonathan was still reading the article when a cheery voice said “Hi there!” He looked up and standing before him was Karen.

  “Hello Karen! Sorry, I didn’t see you come in. I was reading about the background to the name of this place.”

  “You found out about George Orwell, then?”

  “Yes. I would guess you’ve been here before?”

  “Quite a few times.”

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Just a lemonade please, Jonathan. I’ve got quite a lot of work to do after lunch.”

  While Jonathan went over to the bar to get Karen’s drink, she looked over the menu. Jonathan returned to the table and placed Karen’s drink before her.

  “Made your choice?,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Karen and she pointed out her selection on the menu.

  “I’ll go and order the food.”

  As with many English pubs there was limited table service in this pub so Jonathan went back over to the bar, menu in hand and placed the food order. When he got back to the table and sat down, Karen opened the conversation.

  “How are you enjoying your stay in London, Jonathan?”

  “Very much thank you.” He had decided to avoid talking too much about his discussions with Mac the previous evening but Karen was obviously probing.

  “How is Mac?” she said. “He is the reason you are down here, isn’t he?”

  “I saw him last night and he was doing just fine. He wanted me to come down to give him some advice on some computer problems he was having.”

  “Did you stay at the apartment in St. Katharines?”

  Jonathan was absolutely floored. Karen clearly knew as much about Mac as he did. In fact, it looked like she probably knew a lot more.

  “You know about that apartment?” he said.

  Karen looked slightly sheepish. “I probably haven�
�t been entirely straight with you, Jonathan. Perhaps it’s time for a confession. I have actually been working with Mac for the last couple of years.”

  “You mean working with him on his memoirs?

  “No. I mean working with him…operationally.”

  “So you recruited me right from the start?”

  “Not exactly. When we first met, on the train, it was an accident, nothing planned at all. But after I came out to Ravensgill Bridge for lunch I could see that you had the potential to be a great operative for us.”

  “What about your work? For the publisher?”

  “That’s real. I work on contract for my firm, part time. That gives me the flexibility to work on Mac’s operations when I’m needed.”

  “What kind of…operational work…do you do?”

  “Mostly communications and research. I usually stay in London when Mac is on a case and work in the control centre.”

  “The control centre?”

  “Yes, I’m sure you will learn more about the control centre at tonight’s dinner.”

  “You know about tonight’s dinner?”

  “Of course I know about it. I’m doing the cooking!”

  A waiter delivered their lunch to the table.

  “Jonathan, the reason I could not tell you about any of this before is that we had to get you vetted for security.”

  “Well, that’s a relief!”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course I’m not. After all I asked you how I could spice up my life, remember? You certainly delivered that!”

  They both laughed, easing the tension considerably and they tucked in to their lunches.

  “So what’s on the menu for tonight?” said Jonathan, taking a break from his lunch.

  Since there will be four of us I thought I would roast a large chicken with stuffing and roast potatoes and veggies.”

  “I’ll help you prepare dinner.”

  They both finished their lunch then Karen said, “I’ve got some work to finish off this afternoon but I will pick up the things for dinner and bring them over to the apartment later. I expect we’ll eat around eight o’clock.”

  “That lunch will keep me going until then! Where do you work in London, Karen?”

  “Just off Russell Square.”

  “Opposite direction from me then. I’ll walk with you to the tube station, though.”

  They got up from their table and left the pub. After walking the short distance to Leicester Square tube station they parted, because they were travelling on different lines.

  “I’ll see you later this afternoon,” said Karen with a cheery wave as she stepped onto the escalator down to the Piccadilly Line. Jonathan waved back but Karen had disappeared from sight. He thought he could perhaps have time for an afternoon nap back at the apartment before everyone started arriving for dinner.

  Chapter 20