Stan Mason

STOPPING WORLD WAR THREE

Chapter One

If it wasn’t for Primar I would never have been involved at all. The odd fact was that I hardly knew the man. He was a casual acquaintance who had cross my path on a foreign holiday… nothing more. Nonetheless, Primar was the kind of man to cash in on a friendship… however slender the meeting might have been. I had regarded him as a pleasant individual, generous to a fault, who always insisted on buying the drinks as well as paying for excellent meals. He asked for nothing in return but I had to admit that I didn’t care too much for the fellow. He was relatively short, with black hair and large dark brown eyes which always seemed to look right through you like laser beams penetrating your mind to determine all your thoughts. All that I could remember was that he told me absolutely nothing about himself except that he was in business on his own account. Most of all, however, I dislike him mostly because of his arrogance but on vacation one tends to ignore most virtues and vices especially when contact entails little more than a few games of tennis, some drinks at the bar, and a couple of meals in a high-class hotel. When he intruded on my life again, I was at a low point in relation to my future. He could hardly have improved on the timing of his reappearance.

I left the office at noon on that particular day to visit the old library at Whitechapel in the East End of London. The adjoining hall had become famous as an exhibition centre for lost souls in the world of modern art. I sat on a small bench seat to gaze at the portrait of a young woman standing in the doorway of her bedroom at night. She was so beautiful that as my eyes ran over her body with a strong sense of erotic interest I forgot all about the sandwiches I had brought with me . Suddenly, I heard someone whisper my name softly from the other side of the bench seat. I was about to turn but my action was halted by the imperative tone of his voice.

‘Don’t look round! Whatever you do, don’t look round! I need to talk to you urgently!’

‘Who are you?’ I whispered in return, my heart beating like a drum in my ears in the silence.

‘Primar! You remember me. The Costa del Sol last year!’

‘Primar!’ I repeated sharply, biting my tongue at the outburst. It was extremely difficult to comply with his command. I wanted to swivel round to take a good look at him, however caution held sway. I resisted the impulse and stared straight at the portrait.

‘I’ll be at your office in half-an-hour,’ he went on. ‘Be there! We have to talk about the 21st Century Crusaders. By the way, how’s your bridge coming along? Haven’t seen your name in the winning lists lately.’

There was a slight movement of air and I knew instinctively he had gone. Primar! From the Costa del Sol! He had tracked me down and had followed me into the art gallery. What was so clandestine about our meeting that he couldn’t be seen to meet me face to face? After some thirty seconds had elapsed I turned my head casually but, as I had suspected, no one was there. In that brief span of time he had moved from the seat to vanish from the hall. My mind raced swiftly trying to fathom the reason why he wanted to talk to me. The only thing I could imagine was that he was determined to trade upon our acquaintance and borrow some money in private. He had certainly spent it fast enough on holiday. It was then that I became angry with myself for telling him where I worked. Indeed, on reflection, I had told him far more about myself in that Spanish hotel than I cared to admit. Why had I been so gullible to reveal so much information to a perfect stranger? It had always been my opinion that holiday friendships abroad died a quick death the moment the aircraft took off on the runway of a foreign shore. Clearly it was entirely different with Primar! He knew exactly how I felt with my appointment at Dandy Advanced Electronics and the office claustrophobia I detested so much. Mu God, I had told him it was my earnest desire in the short term to write a letter of resignation to my employer before walking off into the sunset. He knew my main aim was to rid myself of the shackles and fetters which anchored me to the austere business world. Naturally, I had been spouting with holiday euphoria wanting to live like a lotus eater in the hot sunshine for the rest of my lifetime as most tourists desire. Now that I had time to think about it I must have been mad to say all that to a stranger.

After a while, I left the exhibition hall and made my way back through the unusually heavily-crowded streets. Once installed in my office on the twenty-third floor, I went to the window and stared down below. For most people it was a red-letter day and they were determined to make the most of it. The faint rhythmic sound of a large brass band wafted on the breeze of the City of

London as thousands of office workers, tourists and sightseers thronged the pavements. There was an air of excitement as they waited expectantly for the British monarchy to pass along the route. It was the majestic occasion of a royal wedding. One of the young princes, with a chance of succeeding to the throne, had found the princess of his dreams. Ultimately, a proclamation had been issued declaring that this day was to be set aside for the marriage. The crowd, however, had little concern about his potential to the throne. They were interested only in the colourful and happy event of the day., As such, they lingered in the warm sunshine hoping for a brief glimpse of the royal couple and their parents before the ceremony actually took place. Shortly, the cortege would speed by with the bride, the bridegroom and the eminent guests… all of them dressed in their elegant finery, transported by magnificent coaches, trimmed with red and gold paint, pulled by handsome well-groomed horses. And then, in the span of a few minutes, the procession would have passed and the grand spectacle would be over. Yet the crowd waited patiently just the same hardly able to contain their excitement. All the way through the main city streets large strips of multi-coloured bunting stretched and flapped in the warm breeze against the backcloth of a clear blue sky, while the sunlight glistened on the white flag-poles enhancing the glorious and auspicious occasion.

Eventually, one of the brass bands emerged from Poultry & Princes Street with the reflection of the sun flashing from the silver-coloured instruments, turning away from the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street to march steadily toward St. Paul’s Cathedral. The smart blue uniforms of the military musicians advanced in measured step with uncanny precision and in perfect harmony as the people lining the pavements watched amid an incessant babble of noise which was drowned by the tuneful efforts of the band. There had been many sad days in the City during the winter and early spring… at last fortune intended to reward it with a joyous event of national interest that readily touched the hearts of a sentimental public.

I surveyed the scene with indifference being neither a royalist nor a republican. Such indulgences failed to interest me. I did not wish to become involved with politics, religion or royalty. Furthermore, I considered that weddings were a bore. I stared at the multitude of people standing idly below with a complete lack of empathy. It seemed to me that there was no justification for a person to wait for an hour or so by the kerbside for the sake of a quick glimpse of royalty in the flesh. Any logically-minded person would watch the incident on television in the evening to obtain a full view of the proceedings in the comfort of their own home.

Fifteen minutes passed by before Penny Smith, my attractive secretary, summoned me on the intercom to tell me that Primar had arrived and was waiting to see me. She ushered him into my office and he sat facing me.

‘All rather clandestine.’ I ventured, giving him a wry smile without offering any greeting at all.

He crossed one leg over the other, clasping his hands together about them leading me to believe that he was under some tension. The body language really identified it.

‘I’ll come straight to the point,’ he began. A small edge of nervousness sounded in his voice which was so uncharacteristic of him. ‘I’m trading on an old friendship but I think you might be interested in a new dimension. I’ve no intention of outlining the whole scenario in one single broadside. It’s far too big for that. So please bear with me and hear me out.’

I stared at him in a bemused way wondering why he was stumbling so badly over the issue, shrugging my shoulders disconsolately without replying.

‘When we first met,’ he continued, ‘I took you to be a sharp energetic individual with a sense of adventure. Someone totally bored with the mundane events of modern life. A person with a great deal of potential lost in a giant organisation here. Apart from anything else, you realise that they don’t appreciate you or your talent.

‘Quite an assessment of character in just a few games of tennis, some drinks in the bar and dinner on a couple of occasions.’

‘I admit we were only in contact with each other for a very short time,’ he responded, ‘but my opinion has been confirmed over the past few months.’

‘What do you mean?’ I demanded sharply, seeking an urgent explanation.

‘You’ve been under surveillance during that period,’ he confessed unashamed.

Suddenly it became possible to cut the atmosphere in the office with a knife. My eyes narrowed and I stared at him fiercely ‘Would you run that past me again!’

‘You’ve been under surveillance for the last two months,’ he repeated, ignoring my reaction.

‘What right have you to do that?’ I countered furiously, feeling a surge of anger coursing through my body., ‘And for what reason?’

‘Calm yourself, my friend,’ he continued amiably, hoping to take the sting out of the revelation. We have something to offer each other. It will benefit you as much as it will us.’

‘Us!’ I countered. ‘Who the hell is us? You mentioned the 21st Century Crusaders in the art gallery. Is that who you are? A group of people hell-bent in bringing some cause to the attention of the government or the public, dragging all and sundry in its wake in order to secure some kind of political advantage? Or are you some terrorist group looking for new recruits?’

He took a matchstick from his jacket pocket and began to chew on the end of it. ‘I’ll come to all that shortly But first I want to gain your confidence… and your support.’

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘You must be out of your mind, Primar!’ I advanced angrily. ‘You march in here with a cock-and-bull story to tell me I’ve been under surveillance and then you seek my confidence and support. What planet are you on? I think I want you out of this office immediately!’ To tell you the truth, I don’t even know you!’

He stared at me with a bland expression on his face but he did not move. It seemed that he was waiting for the moment to pass in the hope that my attitude would soften… but it failed to do so. Ultimately, it was his turn to shrug and he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to produce a buff envelope which he tossed on to the desk in front of me. I opened it slowly removing a number of photographs which showed myself an Penny Smith in flagrante delicto. It was almost as though we had posed to be filmed in a series of sexual acts from different angles. I dwelt on the possibility that my secretary had been bribed to make me a vulnerable target for blackmail. However, the actions in the photographs were too realistic, too perfect, to be coincidental. In any case, there was no reason for her to do so. What could she have hoped to accomplish?

‘Okay, Primar, you’ve got me over a barrel. You could tell my wife but it won’t get you anywhere.,’ I challenged icily, maintaining my temper on an even keel as I pretended to be indifferent to any demands. ‘What do you want?’

‘This is only a small part of it, Jason,’ he went on. ‘We are about to report a shortfall in the accounts due to you and Miss Smith stealing some of the money.’

My hair almost stood on end at the new revelation. ‘What are you talking about?’ I spluttered.

‘These photographs only show that you were having an affair. We needed something more positive to ensure that you join us.’

‘And so you’ve intimated that Miss Smith and I are in cahoots and that we stole money from the company’s accounts. Is that what you’re saying? Well they’ll never believe you. They check the accounts first to find out they’re in perfect order.’

‘That’s just it,’ stated Primar. ‘The money has already been removed.’

‘How could you do that?’

‘As I said, this thing is too big to explain in one shot. You’ll have to trust me.’

‘After what you say you’ve done to incriminate me?’

‘Even more so. I want you to join us, Jason, to go on the adventure of your life,’ he invited, looking smug now that he felt he had the upper hand. ‘Join us in a quest which has so much adventure and excitement you couldn’t possibly dream about it.’

‘Except that you won’t tell me anything about it!’ I snapped. ‘And if you don’t, I’m never going to know!’ I was beginning to tire at the ham-fisted way he had made his approach.

However, Primar was nothing if not clever. He knew it was unnecessary for him to rush his fences and he remained silent for a moment to allow the cogs in the wheels of my mind to fall into place. The sound of another brass band could be heard floating on the breeze and a roar went up from the people lining the pavements. I moved out of my chair towards the window to watch one of the open ornate horse-drawn carriages being pulled steadily at a slow trot along the main highway. It’s occupants looked radiant in their finery smiling and waving amiably to the cheering crowds as they passed along, almost at the end of their journey to the Cathedral.

In view of the evidence which had just been presented to me by my visitor, and the revelation that funds from the company’s treasury was missing with the finger pointing at me, my mind was in a turmoil and I was unable to appreciate the scene in its full splendour. But it was a tremendous sight with the sun streaming across the roof-tops of the high-rise office blocks to pave the way for the procession with a warm golden path adding to the colour and character of the occasion.

‘I want you to fly with me to Israel to meet my Commander.’ His voice broke the silence and took my attention away from the window.

‘Your Commander?’

‘He wants to tell you all about it himself.’

I stared at the photographs which lay idly on the desk with chagrin, realising I had little alternative but to do what he asked. It was a case of direct blackmail and I was the target. What could I do with the threat of arrest as soon as the company directors discovered a shortfall in the funds?

‘When do you want me to go?

‘We have two hours. A little more if necessary. A private plane is waiting at Stansted Airport right now.’

‘Two hours!’ I gasped. ‘You must be joking! I’m already committed for this evening. What the hell is this all about?’

‘We’ll talk about it on the way,’ he advised. ‘Far better to discuss it in private… away from the prying eyes of other people. Walls have ears you know.’

I returned to my chair and sat down. ‘If you think a handful of embarrassing photographs and a veiled threat that I stole company money is enough for me to throw up my job and fly to some distant place at a moment’s notice you’re wrong. You’d better think again.’

‘There’s more!’

I paused for a moment to think what else he might have established to press me into service. What else could he have construed to damage my reputation, my career, or my life? ‘More… what more is there to know?’

At this moment, your secretary is holding a letter for your immediate attention. It will probably alter the trend of your life. Destiny, one might say. Why don’t you call her in so that she can give it to you?’

I sat back in my chair, scanning his face, wondering where he had secured the information, then I pressed the intercom and called her. ‘Penny… I understand you have a letter for me.

‘Yes, Mr. Scott,’ she replied. ‘It arrived only a short while ago marked ‘Urgent’ but I didn’t want to interrupt your meeting.’

‘Please bring it in right away!’

There was a long silence as we waited for her to enter. ‘By the way,’ I ventured, stopping her in her tracks as she came in without having the decency to question her in private before making the accusation. ‘I think you have some explaining to do!’ I pushed the photographs across the desk for her to examine, never taking my eyes off her face.

As she glanced at the first print, her face turned a pale ashy colour and she almost fainted, her body sagging slightly against the desk on which she leaned for support. I tore open the envelope with a leaden feeling in my bones and removed a single sheet of paper. Primar was not a man who toyed with false threats or irresponsible bluffs. Everything was real and down-to-earth with him taking the advantage. The contents of the letter were bound to have a profound effect on my life and I knew it even before I read it. It was a letter written to me by my wife. I recognised the handwriting immediately.

Dear Jason,

I know this will come as a shock and I am sorry for the inconvenience but by the time you receive this letter I’ll be many miles away. Since our wedding I became more disappointed in you as the months went by. You seem to think that life is a constant round of changing jobs, moving house, ending commitments and then starting all over again.

It’s impossible to argue the facts with you, You were always away at evenings and weekends to play bridge. Although it went against the grain

I managed to endure it. But when I l earned of your infidelity with your secretary, that was the last straw. After all the mental stress in our marriage I was the one cast aside at the end. I don’t know what the future has in store. All

I know is that you won’t be sharing my life with me again. Oddly enough, once you’ve mended your pride, I don’t think my absence will mean much to you. But that’s how you are.

Jan

I allowed the letter to slip from my fingers and stared coldly at Primar. ‘You bastard!’ I swore angrily. ‘You didn’t have to tell her about Penny.’

‘Me?’ he exclaimed with innocence in his eyes, completely taken aback by the accusation. ‘I think you owe me an apology for that remark, old boy! I might have been forced in that direction for my next move if you turned me down flat but I hadn’t got that far.’

‘If that’s true,’ I countered, ‘how did you know about the letter?’

‘By accident,’ he related calmly. ‘When I arrived, your secretary was out of the office. A well-dressed lady entered with this envelope in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She seemed very distressed, threw the envelope on the desk and hurried out. I was curious. The enveloped hadn’t been sealed so I read the letter.’

‘God… you must be desperate!’ I accused him acidly. ‘What on earth is your motivation?’ He failed to reply so I turned on my secretary who pushed the photographs back to me with a pained expression on her face. ‘Someone’s set me up!’ I snarled. ‘What do you know about it?’

‘Nothing,’ she blurted out, almost in tears. ‘I know nothing about it.’ She turned to Primar, her bosom heaving with emotion. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

‘None of this concerns you, my dear,’ Primar told her smoothly. ‘I suggest you get on with your duties and ignore what you’ve seen. In fact you’d be wise to forget you ever saw me.’

‘But this does concern her!’ I told him savagely. ‘We’re in these photographs together and you told me that we were involved in stealing company funds. How can she ignore complicity?’

He bridled for a moment. ‘Jason… she doesn’t have to get involved. She’s not part of the plan. Don’t you understand?’

‘No!’ I shouted, ‘you’re the one who doesn’t understand! Now that my wife’s left me, your threat of exposing me to her is doomed to failure. I have no fear of that any more.’

Primar issued a hollow laugh. ‘I wasn’t going to expose you but your employers will think differently when they examine the accounts. Think it through properly, man! Look… I’m here with a propostion. Okay… I’m beefing up my request in my own way to get what I want but it’s to benefit both of us. If you don’t come with me on the flight to Israel within the next two hours, you’ll be spending the night in a police cell… both you and Miss Smith. Listen to me carefully, Jason. I want you on my side not against me.’

I dismissed my secretary with a wave of my hand and moved over to the window again. The roar of the crowd below surged into the office drowning the noise made by the brass band as the monarch came into view. Everyone waved frantically as the raiments worn by royalty glowed with an aura of brilliant Technicolor, reflecting the light of a myriad of sparkling jewels which embellished them in majestic splendour.

I turned and place my hand on my wife’s letter as if to blot it out before turning to Primar. ‘What happens now?’

He tossed the old matchstick into the ash-tray, drew a fresh one from his pocket, and started to chew on it. ‘Let’s evaluate your current position, Jason. Your wife has left you. Your secretary will treat you like a leper because of the photograps. Your employers will call the police within the next twenty-four hours on the financial shortfall. In any case, you could be waiting ten or fifteen years for decent promotion all the time being promised greater rewards in the future.l It doesn’t sound very good, does it? Life is passing you by a rate of knots, old boy. But I’m offering you instant thrills and excitement. All I ask is that you trust me.’

‘Trust you!’ I challenged. ‘I meet a man by chance on the Costa del Sol. Some time later, he places me under surveillance and wants me to fly to the Middle East at two hours notice. Then he says ‘Trust me!’ You must be crazy!’

‘Don’t be naïve!’ he returned coldly. ‘I knew all about you long before we met in Spain. You were on my short list of recruits.’

‘Recruits!’ I guffawed. ‘For the 21st Century Crusaders… …whoever they might be!’

‘Everything will be revealed to you in good time., my friend,’ he insisted. ‘I suggest you tell your secretary you’re taking two weeks’ vacation. I’ll drive you to your house and you can pack a bag before flying with me to Israel.’

‘What’s so important about Israel?’

‘It’s the first stepping-stone. You’ll soon find out.’

‘The first stepping-stone of the 21st Century Crusaders?’

He shook his head sagely. ‘I told you… all in good time, my friend. You have a certain way with you, Jason. Positive, ruthless, definite.’ His face broke into a smile. ‘I like that in a man.’

‘And Penny Smith comes with me,’ I told him with determination in my voice. Wherever I go she comes with me.’ The thought of losing my wife and my mistress at the same time was too difficult to bear.

The smile disappeared from Primar’s face. ‘Not possible,’ he stated bluntly. ‘The faster you detach yourselves from each other the better. This is no adventure for a woman.’

‘Then the deal’s off,’ I responded equally firmly. If she doesn’t go I won’t. I’ll face the consequences whatever they may be!’

He chewed on the matchstick for almost ten seconds and then got to his feet. ‘Okay, We all have to make sacrifices. I suppose this one’s going to be mine.’ He reached the door and turned to face me. ‘I’ve changed my mind about flying today. Best make it nine o’clock tomorrow morning at Stanstead Airport. I’ll be there to meet you and brief you.’

‘Don’t you think I ought to know a little more about what I’m getting myself into?’ I ventured. ‘You owe me that much.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow. We’ll talk during the flight. That’s a promise.’

He departed leaving me in a foul mood. It was becoming the kind of day when nothing turned out right. Primar and my wife had turned my world upside down in the space of fifteen minutes. I was suddenly a free agent. Perhaps it was the best. Someone once told me that everyone’s life was planned in Heaven and whatever you did it would only turn out according to the set plan. What had Jan written in her letter to him. ‘I am sorry for the inconvenience’. How bizarre! Wht on earth was she talking about? They had been in perfect harmony, hardly every arguing. She claimed that he left her often to play bridge. She knew what she was in for when she married me. I had reached the Camrose Trials to be selected to play for England. Clearly she was becoming short in her vision with even less foresight. However, she was right about one thing. It wouldn’t be long before I nursed my pride back to good health although I could never stop loving her. Yes… I was having an affair with my secretary but it didn’t mean I felt anything less for my wife. I was a man with a sexual apetite that Jan couldn’t deal with. I still loved her deeply and it was a shock to know that she had left me.

I pressed the intercom and told Penny to block all calls and visitors to the office. I needed to assess my position more carefully. Although Primar had advised me to take two weeks’ holiday, I had a gut feeling that whatever destiny had in store for me would take a great deal longer. I sat at the desk for some time wrestling with future as I doodled on the blotting pad in front of me. Then I stood up and returned to the window, looking down at the empty streets strewn with litter left by the sightseers who had long departed. By this time, the ceremony at St.Paul’s Cathedral would be well under way and I mused at the affinity which existed between the Prince and myself. We were each embarking on a new venture that would alter the trend of our lives… although our journeys would move in entirely different directions. Nevertheless, I intended to face the challenge with no regrets at not being the Prince… and no doubt the Prince, had he even the remotest knowledge of my existence, would have had no desire to change places with me.

Chapter Two

By the end of the day, when the dust had settled, my secretary left a message with Personnel Department to say that I was taking two weeks’ leave as a result of domestic problems. They would not consider it strange that Penny Smith was also taking her leave entitlement for many secretaries took their holidays the same time as their managers.

Penny was obviously upset after Primar’s visit. She seemed convinced that I was being blackmailed and that I was shielding her. I had never donned the mantle of a gallant before but I did nothing to dissuade her. I recalled that she once told me that her father had been a vicar in the north of England before he died. No doubt she had a mother with a high degree of propriety who would have taken fright had she ever caught sight of the photographs.

I accompanied Penny back to her apartment so that she could pack a suitcase. I had to admit that it was not a wise decision to take her with me but we seemed to be involved in this mess together. We gathered her belongings and returned to my house. It seemed cold and empty without Jan there to greet me. Everything was still in its place; none of the furniture, the paintings or the bric-a-brac had been removed. The repatriation of many of the possessions we shared was likely to come later.

The night passed by with an uneasy calm for neither of us could claim that we had slept well… if indeed we had slept at all because we felt that, at any moment, the police could come knocking at the front door to arrest us for stealing the company’s funds. Consequently, when morning arrived and light entered the bedroom, we both felt extremely tired.

Primar failed to meet us at the airport but his absence didn’t create a problem. As we proceeded through to the reception area, we saw a young man holding a wooden pole bearing a sheet of paper which had my name written in block capitals. He also held a photograph in his hand to enable him to recongise us.

‘I’m Chedda!’ he announced brightly in a clipped accent as we approached him. ‘Primar has been delayed but he asked that you wait for him on board the plane. Come… if you follow me I’ll take you to it.’

He led us across the tarmac towards a strange aircraft I had never seen before. The door was open and he pointed to the steps indicating for us to climb aboard. Chedda’s face broke into a smile when he saw the confused expression on my face. ‘You know something about aircraft, eh?’ he laughed easily. ‘But you’ve never seen one like this. I’m not surprised. It’s a Kfir Junior,’ he explained. ‘Kfir is the Israeli for ‘lion’. The advantage is it can fly much further than other light aircraft bcause it has additional fuel tanks fitted to keep it going. You’ll learn the Israelis are a great nation for ingenuity.’

We ascended the steps into the aircraft as Chedda placed our luggage in a locker placed on one side of the cabin. The interior was practically new and very smart capable of carrying six passengers comfortably.

‘How many others are coming with us… apart from Primar?’ I asked tentatively,

‘You have star treatment and total privacy today,’ he replied.

‘In fact once the door to the pilot’s cabin is closed, no one can see you and you can do anything you wish. The cocktail cabinet is over here and food is in the locker there. Excuse me for a moment. I’ll take this opportunity to warm up the engine.’

He left us for a while and we relaxed in the soft comfortable seats acclimatising ourselves to the new environment. Primar had thought of everything. There were the morning newspapers, the latest magazines, cigarettes, cigars, sweets and alcoholic drinks. We were about to travel in style!

It was almost ten minutes before Chedda reappeared. I lowered my newspaper and, at the sight of the expression on his face, sensed that he was going to present us with bad news.

‘We have a problem,’ he advanced solemnly. ‘Primar hasn’t arrived but but traffic control has given me clearance to take off. I can’t delay because of airport flight schedules so I’ll have to go. Will you secure your safety belts and be ready for take-off. And please… no smoking for a while… yes?’

Before I had the chance to ask him any questions, he had returned to the pilot’s cabin. Penny and I glanced at each other uneasily. I shrugged my shoulders in a casual manner but the truth was that Primar hadn’t turned up as he promised.

‘How long do you think this journey will take?’ asked Penny apprehensively.

‘Just short of four hours I would think,’ I answered. ‘It all depends on tailwinds. They can make a difference of over half an hour.’

The engines took on a more fortified note as Chedda taxied the aircraft along the runway and, within the span of less than a minute, the plane had taken to the skies. I smiled amiably at Penny but it was impossible to shift a discomforting sensation that something was very much amiss.

After we had gained considerable height, I opened the cocktail cabinet to pour the drinks. What had happened to Primar? Why hadn’t he arrived? The only person who might know the answer was the pilot, Chedda, but then it was reasonable to presume he didn’t know. For the first time in a long while my nerves started to get the better of me and I had difficulty in sitting still. I managed to find a pack of playing cards and began to play patience to calm myself down while Penny ploughed through a number of the magazines. It was nearly an hour when I tired of the card., I stood up and looked out of the port window for a while, gazing dismally at the white clouds floating below us like cotton-wool. Then, impatiently, I went to the door of the pilot’s cabin and knocked on the door. There was no answer so I turned the handle a number of times only to discover that it was locked,

‘Hey, Chedda!’ I called out at the top of my voice. ‘Open the door! I want to speak with you!’

There was silence for a few moments, then his voice rang out over the communication system. ‘Sorry about this, Mr.Scott but I have strict instructions not to communicate with you or open the door of this cabin. Those were Primar’s specific orders. You have everything you need in there. I suggest you wait until we land when we may both learn something to our advantage.’

‘What’s going on, Chedda?’ I pressed urgently. ‘What the hell’s happening?’

‘Don’t ask me. I’m just a hired pilot,’ he replied calmly. ‘I’m just obeying orders. Maybe Primar will contact us on the radio soon and then we’ll find out.’

‘You must have known he wasn’t coming on this trip when we met at the airport.’

‘What difference does it make? I told you, I’m only the pilot.’

‘Let’s not play games!’ I shouted, turning partly to face Penny who stared at me with concern. ‘Open the door! If you don’t I’ll break it down!’

‘Be sensible, Mr. Scott,’ advised Chedda unhelpfully. ‘Just enjoy the trip. Make yourself comfortable until we reach our destination.

The communication system went dead and I hammered on the door with my fists until realising the futility of my actions. I then noticed that the door to the pilot’s cabin had been reinforced by a steel sheet preventing anyone from breaking it down. I returned to my seat angrily. Why should Primar say he wanted me to accompany him to Israel and then fail to turn up? Why should he give the pilot specific instructions not to communicate and refuse to let me into the pilot’s cabin? None of it made any sense! Primar was not the kind of man who issued orders wantonly. He always had a motive in mind. I regretted having insisted that Penny came with me on this trip. On reflection, it had been a rash and foolhardy idea. My lack of foresight, especially as I mistrusted Primar, had brought her to the forefront of danger. I tried to relax telling myself that it was pointless to become agitated in a fight I could not win. We were captive passengers trapped in a cabin until the end of the journey.

It was distinctly to our advantage that the tail-winds favoured us that day. We made exceptional headway, reducing the time of our arrival substantially. I stared at the face of my wristwatch for about the fortieth time when Chedda’s voice rang out over the communication system.

‘I hope you haven’t been too bored back there. Better fasten your seat-belts and refrain from smoking. We’re coming in to land shortly.’

I finished my drink determined not to be hurried but Penny obeyed the request instantly securing herself tightly in her seat. I stood up to look out of the starboard window to look at the terrain in the distance. We were still out to sea but approaching the shore very quickly. The pilot warned us once again of the imminent landing and I say down to secure my safety-belt.

‘Hold on!’ he shouted. ‘We’re coming in to land!’

It was the last sentence he ever uttered because there was a tremendous explosion in the cockpit which caused havoc. If the door to the pilot’s cabin had not been locked, or if it hadn’t been reinforced with a sheet of steel, we would have been blown to pieces at the same time.

As soon as the explosion occurred, the aircraft bucked wildly, tipping me back towards the tail end. Then it rolled forward on to its nose and hurtled downwards at uncontrollable speed. From my position on the floor, I had no idea of the altitude or how long it would be before the plane hit the sea or land. My mind could only focus on the speed of descent which seemed to be occurring at a remarkable rate. It had all happened so quickly I experienced nothing but panic in those few horrific moments, realising that the span of my life was limited to the matter of a few more seconds. It was not a pleasant thought. However, as luck would have it, an air current caused the aircraft to level out just a fraction. It finished its descent at an angle of forty-five degrees hitting the trunks of two tall trees which sheared off both wings simultaneously. This event was sufficient to reduce the impact of the crash, although the fuselage continued its momentum onwards like a rocket to bounce finally into a mound of earth. Fortunately, the fuel tanks had been jettisoned at the time of the explosion, eliminating the danger of fire. Providence caused it to be that way for neither of us was in a fit state to clamber out of the wreckage to run for our lives. I hadn’t worked out the odds for survival on the way down; they would have been extremely slim. Destiny, however, has an effective way of letting you know when your number is up. Clearly, it wasn’t our turn! Nonetheless I was to be punished for my procrastination. The delay in fastening my seat-belt around my girth resulted in some agonising injuries. I had been rocked from one end of the cabin to the other., suffering a painful head and knee injury, a damaged arm, and a very sore shoulder. Penny, on the other hand, was relatively unhurt having been safely secured in her seat. I was more than grateful to be alive as it had been on the cards that we would be killed on impact.

It was some time before Penny managed to clear her mind and extricate herself from the wreckage. She pulled me out with strength that seemed far beyond her slender form and I lay against a tree for a while trying to stem the blood which kept streaming from my nose. When I had taken full stock of my condition, there were bruises all over my body. My knee was very sore, my head sported a large swelling which throbbed angrily while my shoulder felt as though it had been wrenched out of its socket. But there were no dislocations… no broken bones. Eventually, Penny helped me to my feet an I staggered to the pilot’s cabin which had been ravaged and torn by the substantial force of the explosion. The evidence was indisputable. A gaping hole under the dashboard indicated that a bomb had been planted there. On exploding, it had caused serious damage to one of the engines and most of the electrical equipment. . Chedda was a mass of dead flesh mutilated beyond recognition and I turned away quickly trying to resist vomiting at the awful sight.

‘A bomb,’ I explained to Penny once I had pulled myself together. ‘Someone planted a bomb in the cockpit. It was probably timed to go off when we were over the Mediterranean … about an hour before we landed. We were saved by a freak of nature. Those tail-winds allowed us to make fast time, defeating someone’s evil objective. Otherwise we would be feeding fish in the deep blue sea.’

‘But who would want to kill us?’ she asked. ‘Why should Primar make it his business to kill us?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ I replied candidly ‘but I’m definitely going to find out. You can bet your bottom dollar on it. No one’s going to get away with this!’ Penny took a step forward towards the pilot’s cabin but I managed to grasp her arm firmly. ‘No… don’t go there! It’s not something you’d want to see!’

I looked round to determine our location. We appeared to be in a valley which had suffered much from the heat of the sun. I knew from reading one of the travelogues there were many places of this kind in Israel. From the lie of the land, I took a view that there was a main road on the horizon.

‘I have a hunch there’s a highway over there,’ I ventured, pointing in an eastern direction. ‘I’m going to try it. Whatever happens, you’re not to worry. Stay here. Don’t move! I’ll be back shortly.’

‘You’re in no fit state to walk,’ she uttered pitifully.

‘I’ll manage,’ I told her bravely although the effort was more than I dared to consider.

I started off hobbling painfully across a field. It took me a good ten minutes to get to the rise but my hunch was well rewarded. The highway was there as I predicted. There was a signpost close at hand with two arrows on the crossbar facing opposite directions. Under one was the name Agios Nikolaus, beneath the other was Rethymon. However, facing me from the centre of the post were the words Iraklion and Knossos. I froze in confusion. This wasn’t Israel! We were on the island of Crete! What was Primar playing at? Why the charade and all the nonsense about travelling to Israel when he knew that the aircraft would bring us here? Previously it had mattered little where he wanted us to go. We were at his mercy. But now the switch had been made there were questions which needed to be answered.

When I returned to Penny, I informed her of our location. She became very tearful, complaining that we were pawns being pushed around a giant chessboard. The impact of how close we had been to death clearly affected her. Then, suddenly, I had another hunch. The solution had to be in the pilot’s cabin. I didn’t like the idea of staring at Chedda’s remains but I needed to search that part of the plane. Avoiding his mutilated body as best I could, holding a handkerchief over my face, I rifled through the wreckage trying to find some evidence which would make sense of our landing in Crete. However there was nothing to be found. Whatever might have been there had been blown into the sky in the explosion. If so, it was lost for ever. I started to search the rest of the aircraft when Penny called out with an element of alarm in her voice.

‘Someone’s coming!’ she shouted. ‘I can see them at eleven hundred hours!’

I stopped searching and hobbled outside to see a man, with a pair of binoculars hanging idly at his chest, wearing a sports jacket and grey flannel trousers moving swiftly in our direction. I noticed particularly that he kept his hands in his pockets. When he reached us, he called out in an amiable manner with an American accent.

‘Are you two okay? You’re darned lucky to be alive. My God! Look at the state of this plane!’

I took him to be an American tourist on holiday having a stroll round before lunch. ‘Where are we?’ I asked unnecessarily.

‘You’re in Crete. Very close to Heraklion the capital,’ he replied honestly. ‘Where were you headed for before the crash?’

‘Israel,’ I replied, wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

He burst into laughter. ‘Israel… you must be kidding! That’s the best I’ve heard today. You’re some way off course, you know. Didn’t you use the compass?’

‘Can you help us get to Heraklion?’ I asked. ‘Do you have a car?’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he returned slowly in his drawl, his voice changing to a more menacing tone. ‘I’ll send you on your way all right but it won’t be where you’re thinking. That’s the reason I’m here.’ He removed the right hand from the pocket of his jacket to show that he was holding a revolver. He pointed the gun directly at my head, almost at point-blank range. I froze in my tracks unable to make a move to defend myself.

‘Who are you?’ I demanded as fear welled up inside me. ‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’

‘Is this guy for real?’ he laughed glancing towards Penny. ‘I’m holding a gun at his head and he asks me what I’m doing.’ He turned to look at me again with an ominous expression on his face. ‘I’m finishing off the job, you dummy!’

Penny shifted her feet awkwardly as though a stone had crept into her shoe. Before I knew what was happening, she bent down and removed the shoe which she raised and hurled at the man’s neck with considerable force. The to-cap struck him in the neck, just below the Adam’s Apple, and he dropped the gun to clutch at his wound. I moved to reach for the weapon, hampered by the fact that my limbs were stiff and sore but he managed to kick it away and then began to grapple with me. I was no match for him in my injured condition and I knew that it would take little time for him to overpower me. As soon as he had gained the advantage, he took hold of my throat and began to squeeze tightly with both hands. I was unable to break his grip and it soon became impossible to breathe. A mist began to cloud my eyes and although I could hear Penny’s voice calling to me from the distance, it became fainter as the life drained from my body.

‘Roll clear!’ she shouted vehemently. ‘Roll clear!’

There was nothing I could do to comply with the order for the man’s strength was too much for me. As the life ebbed from me, the mist returned to red before my eyes. I heard the sound of a shot ring out which seemed to echo right across the valley. The man’s hands loosened on my throat and he collapsed on top of me. I pushed him off and rolled over as Penny allowed the pistol to fall from her hand.

‘Oh Lord!’ she screamed hysterically. ‘I’ve killed him! I’ve killed him!’

The man lay at full stretch on the ground with a bullet hole drilled neatly at his temple. It was pointless to test his pulse for there was no doubt that he was dead. I clambered into the aircraft and emerged with a bottle of brandy that was intact and a blanket. After covering the body with it, I opened the bottle and took a very long swig.

‘I had to shoot him,’ bleated Penny bursting into tears. ‘He would have strangled you.’

‘You don’t have to convince me of that,’ I responded, feeling my neck tenderly. ‘I must say you were very sharp. That action with your shoe was pretty quick thinking. It’s lucky you happened to hit him in the throat. I dread to think what might have happened had you missed.’

She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘I had to do something. It was ll I could think of at the time.’

I nodded and moved to the body. ‘I’d better check his identity,’ I told her. ‘Perhaps it’s best if you look away.’ She turned her face in the opposite direction as I lifted the blanket and searched the man’s clothing. I removed a wallet and some papers from the inside pocket of his jacket and then covered him up again. ‘His name’s Tomas Duran,’ I related after glancing at his passport. ‘It’s all right… you can look now. I’ve covered him up.’

She came towards me and stared at the passport. ‘Who are these people?’ she asked quietly. ‘Who are they?’

‘I wish I had the faintest idea. Perhaps we ought to fly back to London and forget the whole thing. Primar… Chedda… all of it. Primar probably thinks we’re dead.’

‘What about the letter Primar said he would send to our employer about the shortfall in fund… allegedly stolen by us?’

‘I reckon it was all a bluff.

‘How can we forget all this? Two men are dead. Primar might be missing. You’ve only Chedda’s word the he didn’t turn up. He may be in similar trouble elsewhere.’

‘Look Penny,’ I told her weakly. ‘I’m no hero. Who cares about the 21st Century Crusaders. It’s none of our business. I don’t even know what they stand for.’

She pretended not to hear me and took the papers I had taken from the dead man to read. ‘Nothing of much importance,’ she muttered. ‘A few odd notes and a memo from a Commander Spring.’

‘Commander?’ I echoed. ‘Here… let me see that!’ I took the memo from her and read it. The sheet of paper bore only two lines. ‘The Acropolis Restaurant, Heraklion,’ I read out slowly. ‘Urgent… repeat Urgent! Commander Spring!’ I stared at Penny blankly. ‘What do you make of it?’

‘I think we should go for it now that we’re here. Otherwise what was the point of it all?’

I pulled a wry face at the thought of pursuing the matter. uncertain whether or not I should allow Penny to influence me. It wasn’t my fault or my problem that two men had died. Less than twenty-four hours earlier I had been sitting in my office in the City of London with no serious concerns. Now there was conclusive proof of my adultery with my secretary, my wife had left me and two men were dead. In addition, I was shaken and physically injured, suffering a considerable amount of pain, lost in a foreign country with no money, and very displeased with my lot in life. But that wasn’t all. My secretary was now pressing me to become involved in someone else’s war. I was not amused!

We set off on towards the highway in the hope of hitching a lift and waited for a car to appear but the traffic was more than scant.

‘I reckon that Duran was waiting for us,’ said Penny pensively as we reached the main highway.

‘That’s impossible,’ I countered. ‘I he belonged to the saboteurs he would have expected us to be at the bottom of the Mediterranean. He wouldn’t need to be here,’

‘He may have been the long-stop… in case the plane did reach here,’ she said presumptuously. ‘Chedda must have know he was going to land in Crete but he didn’t know about the bomb. Someone had to be around in case it failed to explode. A person can position themselves here to be available at any part of the island. Someone monitoring the flight of the plane could have tipped off Duran as to its likely landing point… if indeed it did land. He could have driven close to the point of the crash. The main road runs straight across the north. It’s the only main road. I believe that his car can’t be far away,’

I wasn’t certain of the logic but there was nothing to lose and we wandered off in a northerly direction. Shortly, we came across an old Volkswagen parked in a lay-by. The driver was absent and there was no one else about. Penny searched the car in an attempt to connect with Duran so that she could be certain we weren’t stealing someone else’s vehicle. However it was a hired car devoid of any information that might help but the keys hung neatly in the ignition lock which was the most important fact of all. I drove directly to Heraklion, parking the car near to the Acropolis Restaurant. We entered the establishment naively knowing nothing except the name of Commander Spring. I had the awful feeling that we were putting our necks in a noose. We sat at a table and stared at the menu. Very shortly, a waiter arrived with a tea-towel draped around his arm and hurried across the room towards us.

‘Meester Scott!’ he whispered urgently. ‘You shouldn’t be out here with thee customers. Come queekly before you are recognised!’

I stared at him with incredulity. I had just entered a restaurant I never knew existed, in a town I had never visited before, on an island I had only seen in an atlas. Suddenly I was approached by a waiter I had never met who called me by my name. It was uncanny… almost mesmeric as though in a dream. He walked on and beckoned me with his hand and I followed him to the back of the room through an open doorway across which hung long strands of brown beads. He led the way down a series of steps into the basement leaving us there before returned upstairs to continue his duties. I adjusted my eyes to the gloom and noticed a television monitor fixed to the wall. I pressed a button to switch it on and, as it glowed into life, a man’s face appeared on the screen.

‘Commander Spring?’ I asked hesitantly, wondering how it was going to end.

‘Stop playing the fool, Scott!’ he admonished with irritation in his voice. ‘You’ve got to learn to temper the fun side of your personality! It’s just not on! Who’s there with you?’

‘Penny Smith… my secretary,’ I replied sternly.

He stared at us more deeply, scanning our faces as we stood in the dank area. ‘An excellent likeness!’ he commended brightening up considerably. ‘Yes… an excellent likeness. No one would know the difference. You’d better come down.’

The picture faded from the screen and a door opened automatically in the wall of the basement to exhibit a small elevator. We entered and the door closed sleekly before it went on its downward path. When the doors opened, we walked into a room filled with electronic equipment. The Commander, dressed smartly in a brown uniform, faced us with a broad smile on his face. My attention was taken up with the two other men seated at an array of monitors. They also wore brown uniforms and carried holsters containing revolvers. The Commander held up a photograph and compared it with Penny’s face.

‘An exceedingly good likeness,’ he went on. ‘It really looks like her. Does she speak English?’

‘Of course she speaks English!’ I snapped angrily.

‘Marvellous!’ He glanced at the photograph again. ‘I wonder if she has a mole on her right…

‘That’s enough, Spring! I interrupted. ‘You’d better tell me what you have in mind for us.’

He looked at me quite strangely. ‘Quite frankly, Scott, I wish they’d picked someone else for the task instead of you,’ he returned testily. ‘You’re too much to take sometimes! If your weren’t so good at bridge a dozen others could have taken your place. Just look at the state of your face and clothes! What have you been doing? You look as though you’ve been pulled through a hedge backwards! I really don’t know what to make of you!’

‘Bridge!’ I thought. He was not making any sense at all. ‘What has bridge got to do with it?’ I asked.

‘Oh do stop fooling around!’ he cautioned staring hard at Penny. ‘We’ll have to wait until Duran returns before we proceed to the next stage.

‘Duran’s dead,’ I told him bluntly, putting my head further into the noose. ‘The plane landed about a mile north of Heraklion. The pilot was killed and Duran was shot.’

‘Shot!’ echoed the Commander with surprised. ‘Who shot him?’

‘Never mind that now. I want to know what’s going on!’

‘Cut the crap, Scott!’ He was becoming angry with me. ‘All the information’s on a need to know basis and you don’t need to know. You’re here to do a job. All you need to do is to follow orders. Is that understood?’

He turned to one of the telephones on a desk and dialled a number. As soon as it was answered he spoke in relatively guarded tones. ‘Tell Commander Brooks in the European Area that Phase One Code B is completed. We’re still awaiting news on Code A.’ He paused to listen to the person at the other end of the line for a few moments. ‘My information tells me it exploded before landing. The timing device was set too late. Either that or the tail-winds were too strong. I had a man out there examining the wreckage but I’ve just learned he was shot and killed.’ He replaced the receiver into its cradle and turned to stare at us thoughtfully. ‘How do you know Duran was shot?’

‘When it comes to needing to know,’ I returned cheekily, ‘you don’t need to know.’

‘I warn you!’ warned the Commander sharply. ‘You’d better stop playing games for your own sake. Now listen carefully. You leave tomorrow morning. Be here at seven hundred hours. Do you think you can manage that, Mr. Scott or am I interfering with your personal arrangements!’

He ushered us into the lift and, before we knew what was happening, we found ourselves back in the restaurant. As we left the premises, I noticed a man with the same facial structure and physique as myself. He was wearing a similar suit and strolled casually towards the restaurant. On his arm was a young woman who fairly resembled Penny. They were our doubles! I changed direction and moved towards them.

‘Don’t we know each other, old man? I began. ‘Trinity College!’

He seemed startled for a moment but recovered well. ‘What a coincidence meeting you in Crete!’ he responded smoothly in a voice not dissimilar to my own. He smiled easily although I could not understand why he failed to recognise me. ‘Forgive me, old boy, I can’t recall your name at the moment. I’m Jason Scott and this is my secretary, Penny Smith.

Chapter Three

The unforeseen even of coming face to face with oneself is not a practice to be recommended. It does something strange to the mind beyond giving it a short sharp unexpected shock. The impact is even greater with the realisation that a conspiracy is taking place. To add to the intrigue, the imposter was holding the arm of a woman who passed herself off as my secretary. In a way, it was rather flattering. I had always considered my personal role in the grand design of life was singularly unimportant, yet someone had taken the trouble to arrange for me to have a double… and here he was talking to me in the street! In the confusion that followed, the effect of the confrontation caused me to become lost for words. To my surprise, Penny picked up the baton swiftly which led to the next development.

‘Commander Spring wants you to come with us to talk to Tomar Duran in a valley south of here,’ she informed them, issuing a statement which was totally untrue. ‘There’s no need to confer with him. He said it was urgent. We haven’t any time to lose.’

The bogus Jason Scott stared at her suspiciously. ‘What’s this all about?’ he enquired. ‘I thought the Commander wanted to brief us on the flight arrangements tomorrow.’

‘You’ll understand when we get there,’ continued Penny in a firm tone that was not to be denied.

The man pursed his lips for a moment deep in thought. ‘That’s odd!’ he muttered. ‘I thought Duran was covering our tracks… in case of need.’ He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘It’s too bad! They never tell us what we want to know. Well… if that’s the Commander’s decision, so be it!’

We led them to the small Volkswagen and clambered inside before driving along the highway to the path leading to the wreckage. I had no idea what was going to happen when we got there.

‘I understand you play bridge,’ I ventured, testing him out. I had never seen him playing in the major competitions, nor had anyone else for they would have pointed out the likeness to me had he taken part.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I used to play duplicate in the north of England. Then I left for the United States and took part in a lot of tournaments there. Recently, I worked for the management of a couple of clubs… gambling clubs… playing for the house.’

‘Which system do you use?’

‘Quite a few. Acol… precision club… American Standard and a few others. If you’re interested we may be able to make up a foursome.’

I could understand why Commander Spring was so concerned. My double was far too amicable and much too casual. He needed more tutoring in my mannerisms if he was going to emulate me as well as the way I spoke. It baffled me as to the reason why he did not recognise me as the original Jason Scott. ‘ What’s your view of the Vienna Coup,’ I challenged relentlessly, testing him to the full.

‘Great!’ he responded easily. ‘One of my favourites on the right sort of hand of course. I love it when there’s a squeeze.’

‘And the opening of four no trumps in Acol?’

‘Asking partner for aces of course. I say, you seem to know your game. Are you looking for a partner?’

He obviously knew his stuff when it came to playing bridge but why was that the criterion? And why did anyone choose to replace me? At that moment we arrived at the spot where we had picked up the car. ‘We’ll have to walk from here,’ I told them stopping the vehicle in the same lay-by. I tried to fathom the reason why we had returned to this place but without success. ‘It’s only a short walk.’

The second Jason Scott rubbed his eyes as he left the vehicle and blinked a number of times before starting to walk away with us. ‘I’ve got these strange contact lenses,’ he confided. ‘My eyes are grey and the Commander insisted that they should be brown. They gave me a set of brown-coloured lenses but they blur my vision terribly. I think they’ll have to go back to the drawing board or I’ll go completely blind. And this woman’s no help. She may look like Penny Smith but she’s not very bright and she doesn’t speak a word of English.’

So that was the reason why he hadn’t recognised me and why the woman had said nothing. I was grateful to the Commander for small mercies. The four of us continued along the track accompanied by the prattle of the other man as he rambled on for what seemed to be an eternity about the island. He may have looked like me but he was not like me at all.

‘Do you know there are one thousand five hundred varieties of wild flowers on Crete? And three thousand caves and grottoes,’ he babbled liberally. ‘On could come to the island and live rent free simply by becoming a cave-dweller. I’m sure you’ll agree with me that any place which attracts sunshine for three hundred days a year deserves a vote for a place where one could retire at leisure. It’s known as the crossroads between Europe, Africa and Asia and it’s the fifth largest island in the Mediterranean. By the way,’ he paused staring directly into my eyes, ‘you didn’t tell me your name.’

It was a game I could play no longer but I had no idea how to end it. However I didn’t need to worry because Penny had an immediate answer.

‘It isn’t necessary for you to know,’ she countered icily, producing a revolver from her handbag. ‘Step aside Jason!’

The last time I recalled seeing Duran’s gun was at the moment Penny let it fall from her hand after she had shot him. In the aftermath of the crash, the fight with Duran, the pains in my body and the throbbing in my head, it had slipped my mind entirely. Penny must have picked it up before we left. I could only imagine that she saw it as some kind of useful insurance if we ever got into trouble. Now she threatened to use it against two other people. I wasn’t too sure of her intention but the opportunity to extract information was too good to be true.

‘All right!’ I snarled. ‘ What’s going on? Why are you pretending to be Jason Scott and Penny Smith?’

‘You’ll have to discuss that with the Commander,’ he replied flippantly, causing me to believe that nothing had been divulged to him either. He peered closely at my face and he began to recognise me. ‘But firstly you ought to tell me why the Commander arranged for another set of people to look like us. Perhaps we’re all dispensable. I wouldn’t be surprised.’

He moved slightly starting to withdraw his hand from his pocket and, without warning, Penny fired the gun. The imposter clutched at the area of his heart before collapsing to the ground. The other woman screamed and started to run away. As she did, Penny fired again. My feet turned to clay as I stood on the same spot horrified at the sight of two bodies laying on the ground. I knelt down painfully to examine them. Both had been shot through the heart.

Whoever they were, they hardly deserved to be the victims of such a wanton killing.

‘Why did you do that?’ I gasped, looking at my secretary who was still pointing the gun at the bodies in case either of them moved.

The pale expression on her face indicated that she was confused. ‘I thought he was going to pull a gun from his pocket,’ she explained, almost in a whisper as her eyes filled with tears. ‘I thought he was going to kill us.’

I drew the dead man’s hand from his pocket to exhibit a large white handkerchief. ‘All he was going to do was to wipe the tears from his eyes caused by the contact lenses.’ I spat angrily. ‘My God! This is turning out to be a nightmare! What on earth possessed you to pull the trigger? And why did you have to kill the woman?’

She started to cry and I pulled an unhappy face deciding not to continue with the inquisition. It was possible to accept that Penny’s nerves were so stretched that she was imagining that death was imminent from every source. After all, she was a petite innocent secretary who, ostensibly, would never hurt a fly. Yet, on reflection, she had killed three people by her own hand within the span of an hour!

‘Let’s get away from here!’ I urged, taking the gun from her hand and placing it in my pocket. I pulled her arm and led her along the path until we reached the highway again. As we approached our vehicle, two police cars, with their sirens blaring, scorched along the road to pull us beside us sharply. Four policemen emerged from the cars and raced across the road towards us. Two of them grabbed me roughly and forced my face down on the bonnet of the Volkswagen, pinning my arms behind me. Pain seared through my body like a red hot poker and I groaned loudly almost falling into a faint. They propped me up as I slid sideways while one of them ran his hands over my body reaching into my pocket to remove the revolver. Another one uttered something in Greek which in any language would have translated into: ‘You are under arrest!’ Then I was rudely handcuffed before being thrust into the rear seat of one of the police car like a common criminal. They drove back to the police station at tremendous speed with the siren on the roof of the vehicle wailing like a lonesome banshee as we raced towards the streets of Heraklion.

I had expected someone to read out a charge on my arrival and then to be interrogated after contacting the British Embassy or by a lawyer who spoke English. As it happened, I was very much mistaken. There was no communication, no questions, and no explanation for my arrest. Rough hands grasped my upper arms and I was pushed down a short flight of steps before being tossed into a filthy cell. It was a dingy awful place. The only furniture available was a flea-infested mattress which lay on the floor, covering half the space, and an old stench-ridden bucket with flies darting to and fro above it. The sides of the cell were damp and covered with fungi while high on the wall, some ten feet high, was a barred window from which streamed a narrow shaft of light. After the cell door was locked, I sat on the mattress and struck it with my fist several times in frustration. Eventually I calmed down to evaluate the situation. There was no doubt the police would link the gun they took from me with the three dead bodies in the valley. They were well aware that a capital crime had been committed. I was doomed to a life of imprisonment in a foreign country! Someone must have contacted them with the information otherwise I would not have been arrested. As a result of the prima facie evidence of the dead bodies and the murder weapon , which I had taken from Penny and placed in my pocket, I was the prime suspect. No… I was the only suspect! Nothing I could say or do would change their minds. I wasn’t sure whether the authorities in Crete jailed murderers for life or whether they executed them. It wasn’t a pleasant thought either way.

I lay down on the mattress to east the pain in my legs and to rest my throbbing head. There was a slight chance that I might have fractured my skull in the crash. It certainly felt as though something was wrong. If so, a medical examiner might be able to prove that I was out of my mind when the murders were committed… even though I knew I hadn’t carried them out. If I was saved from a death sentence, being sent to prison might be commuted to ten years.

Primar had become angry when I insisted that Penny Smith has to accompany me on the journey. She was my secretary with whom I was having an affair… a diminutive young attractive woman who took dictation from me, ran the outer office efficiently, served me with coffee throughout the day, and looked after all my business activities. Her recruitment to Dandy Advanced Electronics had taken place seven years earlier, nearly five of which was spent as my secretary. During the past year we had become lovers, involved in an affair which we both enjoyed. Yet, strangely enough, I still loved my wife intensely. It would seem that one woman was not enough for me in life. There was nothing extraordinary to report concerning her office activities or her private life, except that we continued on a clandestine affair yet she had executed three people with considerable ease, seemingly without any remorse. Admittedly, each time she had burst into tears after the event, playing the innocent, but it was too much to believe that they were all incidental… especially with regard to the killing the woman who was her double. At the back of my mind there was something else that kept trying to trigger the answer but for the moment it just wouldn’t come. Yes… suddenly there was a phrase she had used which caused a ripple in my brain. I tried to squeeze it from my mind by concentrating my thoughts but nothing sensible emerged, It was a few moments later when the piece of the jigsaw fell into place. I had run through the events at the time of the crash in minute detail to recall something she had shouted that made me leave the aircraft when I was searching for documents. ‘Someone’s coming!’ she had called out. ‘I can see a man at eleven hundred hours!’ And then Tomas Duran appeared. A phrase of that nature was adopted only by the military. Only women employed in the armed forces would ever express a direction in such a manner. When I employed her as my secretary, I took great care to examine her records. There was no mention of service in the armed forces. Now that I had time to think it through there was evidently more to Miss Penny Smith than met the eye.

In addition to my current dilemma, there were two acute problems which concerned me. Someone had tried to replace us with duplicate look-a-likes. Why did they want to do that? Surely it had nothing to do with the game of bridge although, apparently, that activity was a criterion. The only other possibility was my employment at Dandy Advanced Electronics. I needed far more time to deliberate on the prospects in depth. Primar knew of my indifference to my employer as well as my lack of loyalty. Like a fool, I never made any pretence of it when we were on holiday on the Costa del Sol. No doubt, if I failed to fathom the reason, someone would enlighten me at some future date. There was another problem that was far more imminent. We had told Commander Spring of the death of Tomas Duran but what would happen when he discovered that the false Jason Scott and Penny Smith were also dead? Somebody had taken a lot of trouble for find another person who looked exactly like me. Perhaps that was the reason why someone placed a bomb in the aircraft expecting to eliminate myself and my secretary to make way for the other two. But why should they do that? Yet the assumption blew a hole in my previous theory. If Penny Smith was on their side, whoever they might be, why did they want to kill her? None of it made any sense!

A little later I fell asleep. Throughout the night I twisted and turned on the filthy straw mattress until the morning light began to filter through the bars of the tiny window. The noise made by the warder, as he slid the breakfast tray noisily across the stone floor of the cell, awoke me. I rubbed the stubble on my chin, moving my legs sideways, wincing at the pain, and rose to walk stiffly to the door. At least the throbbing in my head had stopped. As I bent to pick up the tray, which contained a cup of ugly-looking liquid and a hunk of stale brown bread filled with caraway seeds, I noticed that the cell door was slightly ajar. I shook my head to clear my sleepy mind and pushed it gently with my right hand to make sure that my eyes did not deceive me. It was definitely open! Within seconds, I discard the evil breakfast and hobbled swiftly out of the cell into the corridor making my way stealthily towards the steps. I crept up the short staircase into the main area of the police station only to find that the desk sergeant was absent. In fact it appeared that there was no one in the police station at all. I had a golden opportunity to escape completely unnoticed. I hesitated for a moment thinking that it might be a trap so that they could shoot me to avoid embarrassment on an international scale. There was quite a lot of international pressure and activity when trials of foreign subjects came to the attention of the relevant authorities and were reported in the Press. Perhaps the method they used in Crete was simply to eliminate the problem by shooting escaping foreign prisoners. In the face of trial for murder however, I really had no option but to take my chances.

Outside the jail, I took a deep breath of fresh air and walked at a casual pace to the end of the street trying my very hardest not to hurry. A sign displayed the name Dikeosinis and I smiled to myself as a silly pun formed in my tired mind… it was all Greek to me! From then on I turned right into the Platia El Venizuelou, through Platia Kelergon, until I reached Parko El Greco. I sat on the grass in the park for a while considering how I could make contact with the British Consul to ask for assistance. I knew that as soon as he made enquiries, the Cretan authorities would identify me as a wanted criminal… a man responsible for three murders! And they had the murder weapon to prove it! I would be handed over to the police as a formality. I would not find sanctuary with the British Consul! On the contrary… all hell would break loose! I sat there feeling sorry for myself for the best part of ten minutes when I heard footsteps approaching quickly. I looked up to see Penny Smith walking towards me dressed in a brown uniform similar to that worn by Commander Spring.

‘Kali mera!’ she called out brightly. ‘Ti kanete!’

I nodded my head, considering I now knew the true answer. ‘Well you certainly fooled me,’ I admitted candidly. ‘You were one of them all the time.’

‘I don’t think you should assume anything until you know what’s going on,’ she countered sharply with a disposition I didn’t recognise in her. ‘If you do, the odds are that you’ll arrive at the wrong answers and all the wrong conclusions.’

‘I’m sure I would,’ I answered dryly, deciding to prove she wasn’t half as clever as she thought. ‘There was one phrase which gave you away or… as they say… blew your cover. When I was searching for documents in Chedda’s cabin after the crash, you told me that you could see a man coming towards us at eleven hundred hours. It was a dead giveaway. The only people who use such terms are those trained in the military.’

‘Come!’ she returned with a certain element of urgency, ignoring my remark. ‘I have a car to take you to safety.’

‘To safety, eh. What does that mean in your organisation. You and Primar have already made me face death and arrest by the police. What have you got in store for me this time?’

‘You don’t think you escaped from prison by pure luck, do you? The police will soon start a murder hunt for the killer who got away right under their noses. They have three dead bodies on their hands. Someone’s got to answer for such a terrible crime. I’m afraid you’re very much in demand.’

It was paradoxical that having committed the murders herself she was offering to protect me from being punished for them. I struggled to my feet and walked with her to the park exit. Before we reached the road, however, a police car sounding its siren screamed to a halt a short distance away. All the doors opened and four policemen emerged. I was convinced they hadn’t seen me but I was in such a panic that I started to run from the scene. Fortunately, Penny had a stronger will with greater intuition in this kind of situation and she held my arm tightly to prevent me from being recaptured. She walked over to a refuse bin, withdrew a large black plastic bag and motioned to me to climb into it. It was partly filled with litter left by visitors to the park and it smelled vile. Penny pressed her thumbs through the sides of the bag to provide two small holes to allow me to breathe After I had climbed inside, she advised me to fall on my knees and crouch down. Then she took a ribbon which was tied to the back of her hair to secure the top of the bag, making it appear that it was ready for collection. She walked off to avoid drawing attention to the spot while I remained perfectly still, holding my breath for long periods to reduce inhaling the nauseous stench of the rubbish in which I was kneeling. To my dismay, the police took their time to interrogate the few people in the park and to look behind every tree and bush before deciding to look for me elsewhere. When Penny returned to undo the bow at the top of the bag it was a great relief. I struggled up from my aching knees and climbed out of the bin shaking my head slowly.

‘Someone had better make sense of all this,’ I muttered angrily. ‘It’s starting to get on my nerves!’

She laughed and took me by my arm back to the Volkswagen. This time she sat at the wheel. ‘I’m taking you to a neutral place. A safe house… just as a precaution. There are some crossed wires that need to be unravelled, but they’ll be sorted out soon enough.’

She started the motor and drove off. It was all I could do to resist the temptation of inundating her with questions. Shortly, we arrived at a small house on Kalonadon Street where she ushered me inside. It was sparsely furnished and I sat down in a small chair, snorting to rid myself of the persistent stench which still clung to my clothes. Penny poured two drinks from a bottle and handed one to me.

‘You’ll have gathered by now I was planted as your secretary nearly five years ago,’ she explained. ‘Shortly, before that I joined the 21st Century Crusaders. You were particularly high in the pecking order in the company but my superiors recognised your potential.’

‘Before you go on,’ I broke in, before slowly sipping my drink, ‘there are two questions I have to ask. Firstly, I’d like to know the reason why I’ve been chosen by your organisation. I’ve never supported or belonged to any cause in my life. Secondly, I’m sick at the thoughts that our intimate relationship was just flim-flam to you… a way of doing your job for the cause. I thought you felt real affection for me. Did you make love with me solely for the benefit of the cause.’

She smiled at me as a mother would to a child. ‘With regard to the second question I’ll bounce it back to you. Do you think I was faking love for you over the past year? Over the whole year? If you don’t know the answer to that one you know nothing about women!’

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. ‘I never had any doubts yesterday.’

‘Then don’t have any today,’ she replied calmly. ‘I didn’t need to have an affair with you. I didn’t need to make love to you. I could have served the cause just as well without becoming emotionally involved. But, putting our personal relationship aside for the moment, I’ll tell you something about the 21st Century Crusaders. For the last hundred years the political doctrines in the world of extreme right-wing and left-wing attitudes have been translated broadly in terms of Communism and Fascism. Somewhere in between lies Democracy except that few people really knows what it stands for any more. As a result, there is always friction which culminates into terrorism and war as well as changes of political control in different parts of the world. There are two major issues which cause war, terrorism, death and suffering… politics and religion. Everyone has opinions on how to tackle the political problem. They’re all scared of the religious one. For example, Vietnam was a political confrontation. Thousands of soldiers on both sides and innocent women and children were slaughtered. Such misery can never be expressed in its reality to the rest of the world. Politicians of major powers have a lot to answer for. Although religious war isn’t new, it’s important to note that it has escalated in recent years… especially in terms of terrorism… changing the emphasis to include additional extremist ideals. Certain religious factions have forced their way into power as an advanced guard to start in the battle of security to safeguard millions of people. There will be the resurgence of Holy Wars… one which will dwarf the old-time challenge of the Crusades. We shall face a structured oligarchy of Ayatollahs, Mullahs and the like who will suddenly disappear when oil runs out in the Middle East in fifty years time. We’re not talking about people with whom we can reason or whom we can talk to logically. The leaders… the Sheiks and wealthy people will vanish with all their funds. The people left behind will be without any money to live on and they will end up as fanatics, martyrs, suicide terrorists, willing to die in their thousands against Western democracy. They’ll regard the rest of the world as heathen, rich and the enemy. Logic and reason through diplomatic channels will have no effect. You’ll never be able to get through to such people to help them. Therefore, alternative action is necessary. If we ignored the situation, we would face a repeat of the element of history recorded as the Crusaders against the armies of Islam. However, I would point out that the wider spread of Islam and the use of modern weapons will heighten the danger. This time it’ll be nuclear weapons.’

‘Who are you actually taking on?’ I asked, somewhat overwhelmed by her declaration.

‘We’re taking action against the religious powers in certain Middle Eastern countries and against those religious fanatics who could affect the stability of the world. We want to prevent an adverse shift to power by an area of the world which has been depleted of their only resource… oil… sending economies into a spiral by the violent actions they intend to take to establish themselves and to stave off hunger and disease. If we do not act, Islam, in a very belligerent form, will rise to manifest itself. And there will be many Muslims all over the world ready to support them. It will cause chaos in practically every nation.’

‘Fine words… but what can one single unknown group such as the 21sr Century Crusaders do against a large region of the world with millions of people who will be in desperate trouble?

‘You’d be surprised how many people have rallied to our cause. They recognise that if they stand back and do nothing, it’ll be a replay of the Crusades in the past but this time played out with nuclear weapons. Those who can’t be with us for reasons of their own support us physically by means of their cheque books but if you follow history you’ll note that the knights of old volunteered their services without pay or reward. Just because people rise up because of necessity, doesn’t mean the rest of the world has to become involved.’

I sat back staring at the ceiling for a few moments to gather my thoughts. ‘Quite frankly,’ I commented, ‘I think you and your colleagues have taken on something far larger than you could ever swallow.’

She paused undaunted by my criticism.’ In answer to your first question,’ she continued, ‘you were selected for three reasons. One… you work for an international organisation specialising in weaponry and defence systems. Two… you achieved a key position there over the years even though it doesn’t provide the motivation you seek in life. And three… you play bridge at international level.’

‘I don’t understand why those features make me a suitable candidate for your cause.’

‘You will, Jason, in due course. As far as bridge is concerned, you can visit any country to play in regular international tournaments without anyone raising an eyebrow. You can cross borders with all the freedom you wish to play in them.’

‘Tosh!’ I countered sharply. ‘The leaders of Islamic countries don’t recognise any form of gambling. It’s not allowed. So what use is my ability to play bridge at high levels anywhere?’

‘You’ll need to think more laterally,’ she responded and I felt angry had the nerve to talk to me in such a fashion. Only then it occurred to me that she had arranged for the photographs of us making love to be available. It was all her doing even though she denied it in front of Primar. ‘But that’s not our immediate problem,’ she continued. ‘We have trouble within our own ranks. Primar was my section leader and we began to establish an organisation in Britain. Other offices have been developing cells in different countries throughout the world… even in one of the countries where oil will run out. Recently, someone has tried to take control of some parts of the organisation. No one knows their identity yet but it’s created serious problems. There are people who are over-zealous with too much ambition. Their plan was to dispose of the two of us by planting a bomb on board Chedda’s aircraft. That much is clear. We were very lucky to come out of it alive with few injuries. Then we found ourselves facing our doubles. That was quite a shock to say the least. Duran let me in on that one.’

‘Duran!’ I echoed with surprise. ‘But you shot him!’

‘He came over to the aircraft when you went to the highway to find out where we were. He warned me that there was another Jason Scott and said he would spare my life if I said nothing when you returned. He wanted to eliminate you near the wreckage, place you in the cockpit, and then set fire to the plane. You would simply be burned to an unrecognisable state and the police would believe that the pilot had been killed in the crash. When you returned, Duran was hiding in the trees nearby.’

‘You took one hell of a chance with my life, didn’t you?’

‘He would have killed me too. You can be certain of that. I’m not sure about Commander Spring. But when we caught up with our look-a-like doubles, it was impossible to let them roam free. I had to eliminate them.’

‘So now,’ I commented logically. ‘we can masquerade as the false Jason Scott and Penny Smith as well as being the real ones.’

‘That’s right. You’re getting the picture. We’re actually standing in for our own doubles.’

I blew out my cheeks wondering where this was going to lead us when my thoughts were interrupted by a siren sounding in the distance. A police car pulled up outside and the siren stopped. I leapt to my feet and stood by the window, hiding behind the curtain. ‘Damn!’ I growled irritably. ‘They’ve found us! Someone in your organisation must have told them about this place!’

‘The car!’ uttered Penny, screwing up her face. ‘They’ve tracked the car!’

‘Well?’ I asked miserably. ‘You’re the one with all the bright ideas. What do we do now?’

She smiled at me sweetly. ‘It makes a nice change,’ she laughed. ‘You’re the important one at Dandy Advanced Electronics but I’m the one in charge here. Follow me!’

She led me to another room and knelt down by a Persian rug. Then she pulled a small ring hidden in the pattern of the carpet, releasing a catch. A section of the floorboard covered by the rug was raised to reveal a set of steps leading downwards. We descended and Penny closed the hatch behind us.

‘They won’t find this place,’ she told me confidently, producing a torch as she led me down the steps through a long tunnel.

We climbed a further set to steps to emerge in a shed belonging to another house in the next street and left without haste to make our escape. After the police had gone, we returned to the Vokswagen and Penny drove me to a field where a small aircraft was waiting for us. This time it was not a Kfir Junior but something much smaller and less exquisite. We clambered aboard as the pilot started the engine.

‘Where are we off to?’ I asked quietly.

‘To see Commander Yasood near the Gaze Strip in Israel. At least we can trust him.’

I shook my head slowly at the need to trot around the globe in this fashion. The cause seemed to have a remarkable lack of control over its activities and personnel. But then such foolish fancies of absolute power often develops organisations which comprise no more than small groups of vigilantes. It was that way with the 11th Century Crusaders… it hadn’t changed with the 21st Century Crusaders!

Chapter Four

We arrived outside the Gaze Strip in Israel later that day. It was a complete mystery to me, and a credit to the pilot’s navigational skill, that he was able to find a suitable place to land the aircraft safely in an area of desert sand. This time I was delighted to be set down by the conventional method of flying, instead of risking my neck as it had been in the case in Crete. Apart from the terrifying ordeal in which I believed my end had been imminent, the recollection of Chedda’s mutilated body was enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. As we alighted from the aircraft, a military jeep could be seen approaching from the distance and we did not have to wait long to see Commander Yasood. If necessary, I could have picked him out of a crowd for he was exactly as I imagined him to be. A tall slender man with dark hair, a tanned skin and a slightly curved nose. He wore a light-weight brown uniform with flashes on the upper arms portraying a Crusader in shining armour riding a black horse. Around his waist circled abroad belt from which hung a packed gun holster.

‘Welcome to Gaza!’ he greeted in a slightly clipped tone. ‘I trust your journey was reasonably comfortable.’ He scanned my face closely as I shielded my eyes from the bright sun.

‘There’s an awful lot of desert around here,’ I commented surveying the area.

‘The Gaza Strip is one hundred-and-forty-six square miles, mostly sandy and flat,’ he informed me. ‘Gaza itself has long been an important centre of the Islamic tradition. It declined during the Crusades and never regained its former importance. Saladin defeated the Crusaders here at the Battle of Hattin in 1187 and the city reverted to Muslim control, passing to the Ottoman Turks in the sixteenth century.’ He walked back to the jeep. ‘Come… I’ll drive you to our base!’

The Commander was a mine of information. I climbed into the back seat of the jeep slowly as my limbs were still feeling stiff and sore. Penny followed suit. However instead of driving towards the sea where the city lay, Yasood headed inland into the wide-open desert. After travelling over the barren terrain for ten minutes, we came to an enormous rock and, to my surprise, he stopped the vehicle. Following the events which had occurred during the past twenty-four hours, I began to entertain foolish fantasies and horrid visions of being pressed against a wall to face death by a one-man firing squad, but fate did not have that in store for me. Yasood produced a small remote control unit from his pocket, aimed it at the rock, and pressed one of the buttons on it. There was a smooth humming sound as a large door in the rock face slid open. He drove the vehicle inside and started to laugh when he saw the stunned expression on my face.

‘Don’t be concerned,’ he chuckled amiably. ‘This is a very remote area. No one comes out here. You know you can lean against the rock outside and not even realise there was an entrance. We employ some excellent craftsmen. The door is specifically designed to fit the contours of the rock.’

He stopped the jeep, turned, and pressed another button on the remote control to close the door behind us before driving into the underground car park in which there were about twenty vehicles. He motioned to us to alight and we walked along a corridor where our footsteps echoed on the flagstone floor. There were fluorescent lights fitted to the ceiling which helped to guide us on our way.

Yasoon could see that I was inquisitive and provided further information on his own accord. He seemed to be delighted to offer details about the headquarters. ‘All its light and power is obtained from solar panels placed strategically. It’s very efficient in this part of the world where we have so much sunshine.’

We continued walking on a little further before arriving at a set of double doors. He opened them and we found ourselves looking into a large auditorium. On one side there was a dais backed by an enormous blackboard as well as a large screen for displaying films from an overhead projector. The rest of the room was filled with seats, all of which were occupied by people I had never seen or met before. It was noticeable that the atmosphere was air-conditioned, smelling fresh and clean. I was fascinated and impressed that a cause comprising so few people had drilled into a rock in the desert to establish a conference base for itself. At the same time, as a businessman, I was aware of the gigantic cost of such an operation. No doubt there had been a large cave at the base of the rock and someone had the vision to encourage the development. I was certain that the auditorium was only part of the complex which probably included offices, lounges, a very large dining room, a sizable kitchen, many bedrooms, a gymnasium, and various other facilities. I wondered how they managed to get water to the place before realising that they had probably drilled a well.

The Commander pointed to two vacant seats indicating where we should sit and then moved towards the rostrum. He stood on the dais in front of a lectern, pausing for effect, and then introduced himself. As soon as he began to speak, his tone, his attitude, and his body language led me to believe that his vocation had once been a teacher or a lecturer.

‘The reason you’ve been brought here may already be known to you;; the rest will soon discover the reason why. And there will be counselling for some of you,’ he began, ‘however, I’m sure you’ll all be interested in our briefing today. Thereafter, you may discuss the matter among yourselves, enjoy the refreshments, and stay for the night, or leave to fulfil the arrangements you may have already made. We’re fortunate to have over one hundred bedrooms here so please consider this place as a hotel. Not as the Hilton, of course, but as a hotel. Fine! We start off with the words ‘Petroleum… Oil!’ A commodity essential to the running of both the Eastern and the Western world, not only for use in vehicles for travels and the transport of goods but also in factories to keep machinery producing merchandise. And who controls a large proportion of the oil extracted from the ground? OPEC… the Oil Petroleum Exporting Countries comprised mainly of Kuwait, Iraq, Iran and Saudi Arabia. This is not surprising when you learn thaT the Middle East has sixty per cent of the world’s oil reserves. Over the past thirty years, the oil moguls have accumulated enormous wealth by exporting oil but they have made little use of the revenues. They’ve built some townships, made many roads, provided certain facilities for their people and eliminated taxes, but at the end of the day they have sat back and enjoyed the income, dependant solely on oil production, rather than to establish factories or manufacture goods to compete in world markets. Oil is their sole economy. Everything would be fine if this planet had unlimited stocks of it but those reserves will eventually become exhausted. At that time, the members of OPEC will wring their hands and wail misfortune. When will this happen? Almost certainly towards the third quarter of the twenty-first century. But what will they do when the oil runs out? I think that’s fairly obvious. They don’t have the ability or commitment to compete in world markets against the superior manufacturing production of Japan, Germany, Hong Kong, South Korea, Taiwan or China. In any case, those with the funds will be very reluctant to stump up investment or train the vast number of workers required to produce the necessary skills. Joint ventures with other countries would accelerate development plans but their past record of attitudes with regard to negotiation has been appalling. Their view of foreigners is almost xenophobic. Western countries have learned their lesson. They will not be duped again. So where does that leave OPEC in the year 2050 when oil peters out in the Middle East. The rich sheiks will disappear to other countries taking their fortunes with them. The region becomes impoverished within a few months and the people will seek help from elsewhere which may not be forthcoming. There will be chaos, famine and disease, looting and murder. Crime will escalate to insurmountable proportions. Is it any surprise that they will take action in the only way they know? The Holy War! The Jihad! The unification of Islam in the Middle East as a new empire or world power within the next hundred years where those left behind from the debacle will seek to establish themselves in any way they can. Islam is the youngest of the world’s major religions. It is also one of the largest and fast-growing and is dominant in the Middle East and Africa. Currently it has over one-and-a-half billions followers. Yes, my friends. Over one-and-a-half billion! Today, large areas of India are Muslim and it is estimated there are over fifty million Chinese. After the death of the Prophet Mohammed in 632 a.d. there were Arab conquests in Egypt, Persia and the Levant. At that time, a dispute arose between two of the leading families in Mecca… the Hashemites and the Umaiyids. They argues who should succeed to the leadership of the Moslem community. The Hashemites were the Prophet’s own family and they claimed the succession should go to a relative of Mohammed. The Umaiyids claimed in accordance with the tradition of the Arabs… the Sunna… that it should go to the most suited person to be the Caliph. The Umaiyids, established in Damascus, won the argument in the end. The Hashemites continued to press their claim, gaining the support of those in the God-fearing and puritan Arab armies who resented the extravagance and nepotism characterising Umaiyid rule. They became known as the Shias from the term Shia Ali, the Party of Ali. In terms of percentages, the Sunnis comprise some eighty-five per cent of all Muslims… the Shias about fifteen per cent. To date, Islam is predominant in Iraq, Iran, Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, parts of Israel, North Africa, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Pakistan, parts of India, the Soviet Union, the Eastern part of Turkey, Albania, and even China while over two million pilgrims go to Mecca each year. Are there any questions?’

‘Although there are many Muslims in the world,’ called out one man at the back end of the hall, ‘they are spread fairly widely over the globe. They have no organisation or leadership and their past record shows that they spend most of their time fighting each other. What possesses you to believe that they will change their attitude towards each other to mobilise themselves in an orderly fashion to threaten the world in the next hundred years? To my mind, Shias and Sunnis will always be at each other’s throats,’‘

‘Let me try to explain to you the background to the issue. The once great Muslim empire no longer exists but they are united by their faith which forms a common bond between them. The main differences affecting the Shias and the Sunnis is the succession to the Caliph after the death of Mohammed. To change from a Shia to a Sunni, all one has to do is to revise his opinion in the privacy of his conscience about the right to succession. The main differences beyond that are matters of custom, ceremony and the superstitions that tend to be grafted on most religions. Shias invest leaders with a spiritual authority taking them closer to Allah than ordinary people. Sunni jurists are distinguished by their superior learning. However, the Shias have messianic notions of a Mahdi … a God-guided deliverer. That is the key to their future.’

‘Do the Sunnis agree about the Mahdi?’ asked a smart young woman seated in the centre of the auditorium.

‘No they don’t’ retorted Yasood firmly. ‘But when the chips are down and the oil starts to run out, someone is likely to emerge as their leader. A person with charisma… aura… the gift of the gab… call it what you like. And when he comes, the Shias and the Sunnis will look to him as their saviour. Once the people throw their weight behind the man the rest will follow because many of them are fanatics.’

‘Or perhaps it will be a woman,’ suggested the smart young woman.

‘The role of women in Islam is extremely low. Mohammed did not raise their status to that of men although he did improve it significantly. The practice of murdering female babies was forbidden and the number of wives a Muslim could have was limited to four… provided a man could afford them. Women in Islam are still regarded as inferior to men. The Mahdi will not be a woman.’

‘When is this Mahdi supposed to come?’ asked a man near the front. ‘When?’

‘They say that everyone knows when he arrives. This year, next year, in twenty years’ time… who knows? But I presume he will arrive within the next forty or fifty years. He may not come from the desert or be a camel driver like Mohammed. More likely he will be reading at Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard or Yale. What I’m saying is that the Mahdi will not be a rough illiterate person but well-educated and knowledgeable about logic and the strategy of war. He will also be adept at making alliances and arranging funds for the Jihad so that it has adequate finance for the conflict. We must not underestimate the situation. The most dangerous feature, however, is that the sectarian difference between Muslims hardly counts when compared with the political adversity between the revolutionary Islamic government in Iran, the monarchy in

Saudi Arabia or the secular regime in Iraq despite its promise to become a democracy. Like families, there will always be arguments between them but when push comes to shove they will unite under the Mahdi and the forces of Islam will be unleashed on an unsuspecting world.’

‘I don’t understand how they can do that,’ ventured a man on the left-hand side of the room. ‘How can they possible unite from all those countries to attack the rest of the world. Once the oil runs out, they’re finished. They’ll have nothing to go on… not even food for themselves.’

‘That’s exactly my point,’ related Yasood to a hushed audience. ‘By the year 2050 they’ll probably be able to amass over two billion supporters, near enough a quarter of the world’s population. Who will stand up against them in the Middle East, in Europe, in Africa, India, and perhaps even China? Their roots in Indonesia, the Philippines and in other Pacific areas will help them to encompass the world. They will be formidable. The nucleus is already there, laying dormant, ready to be awakened.’

‘Why haven’t the developed countries in the West recognised this danger?’ asked another man in the centre.

They’re too busy trying to establish stability within their own confines. Economies have over-stretched themselves and they are having trouble trying to reduce their financial deficits. In addition, after the disastrous conflicts in South Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan they prefer to look in other directions until a crisis occurs.’ He paused for a moment to allow his words to be absorbed by the audience. ‘I would like to talk to you further about the 21st Century Crusaders but I recognise that many of you have travelled long distances to get here without a break. If you take the double doors to your left you’ll come to the refectory where you can relax and enjoy some refreshments. This is not a secret society. Please feel free to discuss anything you wish with your colleagues.’

I got to my feet amid the hubbub as Penny Smith took my arm and led me out of the auditorium. A buffet lunch was waiting for us and I had the chance to take a deep breath and assess the situation. About one hundred people had been invited although I had no idea from which countries they had come. I could hear some of them speaking foreign languages detecting French and German although some people spoke in English. Before we could help ourselves to the aperitifs which were set out neatly on a table,

Commander Yasood moved towards me.

‘Sorry about all the rush, Jason,’ he apologised smoothly. ‘A great deal of activity is going on at the moment. Look… I want you to go on from here to Tel Aviv tonight. I have a house in Arlosorof Road which you can use. The key to the front door is in this envelope together with another address in Jaffa. I want you to go there to see a man by the name of Menel.’

‘Menel,’ I repeated woodenly. ‘Who’s he?’

‘He’ll tell you all about his role in the organisation when you meet. It is important, I assure you.’

‘Who else is going to see him from here?’

‘Jason,’ returned the Commander curtly. ‘We all have different parts to play. It’s a case of horses for courses.’

‘So why am I here?’ I challenged sharply. ‘The only thing I do well is to play bridge. How can that help you?’

‘You’ll find out when you meet Menel,’ he replied easily. ‘Now… enjoy the food! It all has to be eaten otherwise the staff will have it for breakfast for the rest of the week.’ He pressed the envelope with the door key into my hand and laughed at his own joke before walking away to talk to other people.

‘What’s he talking about?’ I asked Penny directly. ‘You must know.’

‘It’s been left for Menel to tell you,’ she replied. ‘But seeing him has nothing to do with playing bridge. I can assure you.’

I became angry with her for not confiding in me but in the presence of one hundred strangers I was forced to remain silent. It then dawned on me that she probably had no idea anyway. No one ever told anyone anything of importance in this organisation. Penny had created havoc with my life and now she kept her distance with regard to important matters which I needed to know. I had no doubt that, like Primar, she would soon be asking me to trust her. After the refreshments we returned to the auditorium to listen to Commander Yasood once more.

‘You have now advance warning of the war to be waged within the next one hundred years,’ he began to his captive audience. ‘It will become known in the history books as World War Three. What is amazing is the fact that history tends to repeat itself. On two occasions in the twentieth century the Allies were caught out at the beginning of hostilities with their pants down. Despite advance information at the beginning of both World Wars they were totally unprepared. It would be the same again except for our intervention but this time any country under attack, which is caught on the hop, will be unable to recover in the face of a severe nuclear attack. Looking back at the Crusades… the Western invasion of the Holy Land between 1097 and 1191 a.d. against the Muslim powers… let’s see what lessons can be learned. The concept of the Crusades was to allow aid to fellow Christians in the east although some historians identify them as a result of social, economic and institutional growth in Western Europe. The prime goal was not to become involved in battle but to establish the successful defence of fortified positions. Open battle was a very uncertain and risky business in those days. The number of manoeuvred campaigns which ended without a major battle or siege far outnumbered the number of actual battles. Not only that but the war was seasonal. Once winter set in, field armies generally dispersed. However, such was Europe’s fear of Muslim power that the concept of the Crusades persisted well into the seventeenth century. Fortunately, in spite of the rhetoric about the Holy War, the Jihad made little difference to the average peasant whether his rules was Christian or Muslim. The force of Islam was unorganised, without a real military campaign, and they used brute force, courage and martyrdom in place of useful weaponry and strategic and tactical planning. You see, on the Christian side, there were never more than two thousand knights and twenty thousand foot soldiers. Furthermore, it was impossible to gather them all together. In rural areas, the Crusaders lacked sufficient numbers to alter the pattern of government seriously. It will be different this time. So too will be the weaponry. In the first Crusades, armoured knights on horseback used lances and swords but the primary weapons used by soldiers was the crossbow,. In the twenty-first century, the forces of Islam will threaten with weapons bearing nuclear warheads. Every country, every government, every person on this planet will live in absolute fear of annihilation.’

‘If what you say is correct,’ demanded the man at the rear of the hall who had asked a question earlier, ‘what happened with Saddam Hussein and Iraq? He was supposed to have had weapons of mass destruction. He also committed himself to wage a vicious war with Iran before attempting the acquisition of Kuwait. But he didn’t use them.’

Yasood’s face broke into a smile. ‘He didn’t have nuclear power or the weapons of that nature to use. In every organisation there are mavericks who make errors and try to cover them up. They are often faced with desperate measures to hide their inefficiencies. Saddam Hussein was no different. He almost made Iraq bankrupt by pursuing an all-out war with Iran, borrowing the finance from Kuwait. When the conflict ended, he demanded that the loan granted be cancelled. When Kuwait refused to do so, he invaded them to wipe out the debt and capture the oil wells. Every organisation has such problems… people who are over-zealous and over-ambitious who strive to aspire to higher levels… treading on others in their attempt to get there. A typical example can be seen in the break-up of Yugoslavia where there was a war of ethnic proportions. Muslims clearly were the main target and many of them died unnecessarily. Such zeal hopefully does not exist with our cause and we are watchful and observant to prove it does not happen. If it did, it would impose a greater burden upon us and be extremely unhelpful in stopping a Third World War. If we fail, the number of deaths worldwide will be counted in the hundreds of millions or mankind may even destroy itself on this planet. Are there any more questions?’

The room remained silent and sombre for a few moments as the audience digested the information. Commander Yasood wasted few words in his deliberation.

‘What can anyone do to prevent a nuclear invasion?’ asked another young woman inquisitively. ‘We may be able to learn which countries have nuclear weapons but how do we stop them from invading us with them?’

‘We have a man in this room today who may well be able to avert the danger with a weapon that has a more devastating effect than nuclear weapons.’

A ripple of comment ran through the audience and I looked round to see whether anyone was going to own up to this revelation. Then Penny touched my arm gently.

‘It’s you!’ she uttered in a whisper. ‘He’s talking about you!’

I stared at her in amazement. ‘Me? What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about weaponry!’

‘That’s why you’re seeing Menel tomorrow.’

I gave her an old-fashioned look because I had no idea what she meant. The Commander continued to ramble on about the Crusades, Islam, World War Three and the future, and then the lecture came to an end. I opened the envelope he had given me to find a door-key and the address in Arlosoroff Road in Tel Aviv and that of Menel in Jaffa.

‘How do we get to Tel Aviv from here?’ I asked my secretary.

‘We take a plane to Ben Gurion Airport,’ she advised me. ‘It’s necessary to come in by that route otherwise we might get shot down by Israeli artillery as a suspected invader. You can’t be too careful out here, you know.’

‘Why not?’ I commented flippantly. ‘Everything else has happened since Primar came on the scene. Why not get shot down this time?’

Commander Yasood came towards us to bid us farewell. He took me aside to whisper discreetly in my ear. ‘Between you and me and these rock walls,’ he whispered softly, ‘take care. We expect a lot from you. And watch out for Primar, I have a strong suspicion about his loyalty, Be very very careful!’

As we departed, Penny could hardly contain her curiosity. ‘What did he say to you?’ she asked sweetly.

‘You’ll find out in due course,’ I riposted, taking revenge for her reluctance to answer my earlier question. ‘In due course!’

* * *

Within an hour we were back in the air again. I sat at the port window staring down at the desert. Strangely enough, I was wondering where my wife was at that particular moment and with whom she might be. Despite my illicit affair with Penny, I still loved her dearly. My thoughts were probably a reaction from being angry at my secretary rebuffing me earlier and for her duplicity in this whole situation. Either that or I wasn’t anything as hard-hearted as Jan had described me in her letter. If that had been the case, I would have been able to exorcise her from my mind altogether by now… but I could not do so nor did I want to do so.

‘A penny for your thoughts.’ offered my secretary, bringing me back to the real world again.

‘What do you want from me, Penny?’ I demanded irately. ‘Look you can talk all you like about Islam, the Crusades and World War Three. I won’t even be around when it happens in fifty years’ time!’

‘That’s not the point,’ she countered. ‘It’s your duty to do something to save the world in the future. It matters little whether you’re around or not. You need to be on our side.

‘I don’t take sides,’ I retorted sharply. ‘I never take sides! God help the people who worry about the starving millions in Africa and Asia, those who collect money for such charities, those who would give their last pennies to widows and orphans! I tell you straight. This 21st Century Crusaders thing is not for me. Who knows? Maybe oil won’t run out in the Middle East. Maybe Islam will find a way out of their dilemma if it happens. It’s not my business!’

‘It’s money, isn’t it!’ Her lip curled in anger as she faced me directly. ‘Money’s the only thing you’re interested in! The disappointment stemming from my remarks showed in her face.

‘Look,’ I responded, calming down a little. ‘There are three things important to me in life at present. Me, you and playing bridge. Money doesn’t come into it.’

She calmed down at my words and sat sullenly for a moment without speaking. The she sat up in her seat and found her voice. ‘If you feel anything for me you’ll co-operate.’

I shrugged my shoulders at her attempt to blackmail me emotionally. ‘Sure… I’ll co-operate. I said me, you and playing bridge. I wouldn’t let you down. Just don’t expect me to have the same feeling for your cause, that’s all!’

* * *

After touching down at Ben Gurion Airport we passed through immigration and hired a taxi to take us into Tel Aviv. The journey lasted twenty minutes and allowed me to take my first view of a country which for so long had been the battleground to a war of attrition. As we travelled along the well-built road I considered it to be a far cry from the references in the Holy Bible. Although there were still large tracts of desert. I was surprised to note fertile areas and modern concrete establishments among the barren terrain. There were also scattered farmlands on either side of the highway. Many fields were cultivated and occasionally the vehicle passed close to a village sheltered by a hill adorned with cypresses, old pines and casuarina trees. For a while we passed some citrus orchards and then arrived in Tel Aviv itself. The city comprised a mixture of young and old. New buildings and business developments indicated the dynamism to expand. On the other hand, a great deal of care had been taken to ensure that no feature of history, whether biblical or mediaeval was affected or damaged. I noticed that many ancient sites had been preserved clearly in an effort to maintain national heritage.

‘Where to now?’ asked the taxi driver in a New York accent.

‘Arlosoroff Road,’ I informed him.

‘Your first time in Tel Aviv, eh?’ he went on, turning the vehicle in the right direction.

‘Yes… the first time. What’s that great square tower?’ I pointed through the open window of the cab.

The driver didn’t need to follow the direction of my hand. ‘In English it’s known as the Tower of the Forty after the forty followers of Mohammed. It was built in the thirteen hundreds by the Egyptian Mameluke sultans.’

‘But they were Arabs, weren’t they?’ I challenged, puzzled by his reply. ‘How is it that the Jews who are the bitter enemies of the Arabs protect a monument which embodies the spirit of the other religion?’

‘You know very little about us,’ he explained shortly. ‘The Jews and Arabs are both of the Semitic race. Brothers under the skin. We’re the clever ones; they’re the lucky ones.’

‘Why lucky?’ I enquired, intrigued to know the answer.

‘Why lucky?’ he repeated aimlessly. ‘If Moses had turned right instead of left when he led the Children of Israel out of Egypt we would have had the oil as well. But then you can’t have everything in life, can you? We’re passing King Solomon Road. You’ve heard of King Solomon, eh? It’s not far now. We have to turn off here to Arlosoroff Road. Say… while you’re in the cab, do you want a quick tour of the city or a cruise along the sea front? It’s the Mediterranean, you know.’

‘No thank,’ I refused wearily. The travelling and the heat were having an unpleasant effect on me and I could hardly wait to relax and settle with a cold drink in my hand.

We arrived at our destination and Penny paid the taxi driver. The house in Arlosoroff Road was far from satisfactory. The architect had designed it ingeniously using every millimetre of available space, fitting out the accommodation with a tiny kitchen, a small bathroom, and sparse living quarters. I opened the shuttered windows to let in some fresh air and flooded the room with sunlight.

‘I’m going to have a cool drink and then walk around the town,’ I told Penny. ‘My bones ache like hell and my head is throbbing but there’s a lot I need to get out of my system. Walking’s the only way I can do it.’

‘You’ll end up over-tired and you won’t be able to sleep.’ she retorted with an element of concern.

‘Let’s say there’s an itinerant bug running around my bloodstream. It’s going to keep me on the move.’

‘Well I’m bushed,’ she yawned, pulling a lever on the settee so that it unfolded swiftly into a bed. ‘When you go out, close the shutters, will you? The noise of the traffic might keep me awake but at least I won’t have to face the sunshine.’

* * *

I found Tel Aviv fascinating mainly because the city was so young and alive. It had developed at a tremendous pace with the port of Jaffa by its side. I learned later that when the cornerstone was laid in Jaffa, its founders sought to create a quiet residential suburb on the golden sands of the Mediterranean. No one believed it would grow into a city overshadowing the original port. I wandered along the straight streets with their new houses designed in modern architectural vogue. There were numerous museums, theatre companies and night clubs of every description to cater for the public. The place had a unique character of its own.

After walking along the seafront for a while towards Jaffar, I retraced my steps and found my way back to our humble abode. To my surprise, Penny was still awake, sitting up in bed with a magazine in her hand.

‘Couldn’t you sleep? I asked her.

‘I’ve had my sleep,’ she replied. ‘An hour’s enough for me to catch up during the day. You were gone for ages. Find anything interesting?’

‘Nothing much.’

‘By the way, we received a telephone call while you were out. Just as I got my head down the ‘phone rang. A Schmuel Musaphia is staying at the King David Hotel and would like us to join his tomorrow for breakfast.’

I stared at her bleakly. ‘Who’s he? And is he on our side or the other side?’

She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly. ‘The only way to find out is to meet him there tomorrow morning.’

I was getting very tired of the cat-and-mouse game as well as my inability to control the situation. No longer did I make any arrangements myself; they were always suggested to me by others. Either I was instructed to meet someone at a certain place at a particular time or I was invited to meet them at their convenience. I seemed to be a pawn in someone else’s game of chess and I didn’t like it… I didn’t like it at all!

Chapter Five

Although the King David Hotel was exalted in many high-quality travel brochures, any form of prose could hardly do it justice but it had to be said that the hotel, being exquisite in every sense of the word, had no conscience in setting its tariff at an eminent level. For most people, spending a day in the hotel might cost them as much as a month at home, but no one ever complained that it wasn’t value for money. There was a multitude of well-dressed hotel staff available to attend to one’s bidding at a moment’s notice, a menu that could hardly be challenged, luxury at every turn, and a highly-sophisticated atmosphere. We arrived there quite early and the head-waiter led us to an open verandah where Musaphia was already waiting.

‘Jason Scott and Penny Smith,’ I announced as we reached the table. ‘You rang us yesterday inviting us for breakfast.’

‘Welcome to my table,’ he returned in a shrill voice without moving from his chair. ‘Sit down!’ He stared at Penny for a few moments to admire her face and hair. ‘You look very pretty, my dear,’ he complimented warmly. ‘I like having pretty ladies around me. Apart from anything else, it makes one feel young again.’

She smiled at him pleasantly as we sat down and I scanned him clinically. He was very thin with a wizened tanned face and wore a spotless white suit, a white shirt and a small red bow-tie. He sported a short pointed beard which was very grey although his hair was dark with white streaks reaching back from the temples, giving the impression that he used hair-dye. A large Cuban cigar was held firmly between his lips which seemed to remain in the same position whenever he spoke. He waved his hand without looking around and a waiter approached to stand hovering at the edge of the table in anticipation of his instructions.

‘What would you like for breakfast?’ asked Musaphia bluntly. ‘Don’t worry about the cost. It’s on me.’

‘I’ll have eggs and bacon with toast and coffee if that’s all right,’ I responded innocently.

‘No… it’s not all right,’ returned our host, with a smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘No one here eats of the pig.’

I became extremely embarrassed and apologised for my ignorance modifying the order to a Continental breakfast as I waited to find out what he wanted to discuss.

He examined my face before breaking the ice. ‘You look in pretty poor shape,’ he began as though concerned about my welfare. ‘Bruises on your face… and no doubt on your body too. You really should take more care of yourself. I gave up all that stuff a long time ago. Life’s too short to suffer from fisticuffs and fights. Personally, I always thought it unnecessary but other people enjoy violence. I’d better lay my cards on the table. Normally, you would never have met me. I don’t usually deal with small fish. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to stay at this hotel. I’d be relegated to an area such as Arlosoroff Road.’ He guffawed briefly at his own comment in his shrill thin voice. ‘I deal in diamonds…

Industrial diamonds… in particular certain types of precious jewels. But for the moment that’s beside the point. The concept of the 21st Century Crusaders is the subject of discussion. As far as I’m concerned, it makes a lot of sense… and I’m always right. If I wasn’t always right I would never have become rich.’ He stopped to stare directly into my eyes. ‘Tell me… what do you think of the organisation?’

I hesitated before replying to the question. ‘I’ve seen nothing of it as yet,’ I replied, ‘except for a trip to the Gaza Strip. Commander Yasood offered a generic view but it was very brief. Having said that, I suppose it’s possible someone will stir things up among the Arabs when they realise that the oil will soon start to run out. Who wouldn’t if they knew there was going to be nothing more than poverty to look forward to in the future.’

‘Possible?’ he reacted vehemently. ‘It’s more than possible. It’s definitely going to happen. The reservoir of oil in the Middle East is not inexhaustible. It will have to run dry. That’s why I’ve invited you here today to find out what you intend to do about it. But I wish to make one point clear. We’re not talking about Arabs but Islam. There are many non-Arabs who follow the Islamic faith.’

‘Before we go any further,’ I countered angrily, feeling my temper rising. ‘can we get a few things straight. ‘In my present state of mind and in my poor physical condition where I’ve been involved in a plane crash and incarcerated in a filthy prison cell before being transported out here, I have no intention of doing anything. I have no idea why your organisation wishes to recruit me. I can’t see any way in which I can help although for some obscure reason they do. I don’t belong the them. I don’t belong to any cause. Am I making myself clear?’

He seemed to be completely calm about my tirade. ‘That information has already been passed to me, Mr. Scott,’ he forwarded easily. I know how you feel and I also know the reason why you’ve been brought here.’

‘Ah… at last someone who knows why they’re trying to recruit me. Can you tell me why?

‘It’s not my business to release that sort of information. Just be patient and all will be revealed to you in due course.’

‘And when will that be?’ I demanded irately. ‘When will someone tell me what’s going on?’

‘When it happens,’ he told me tersely. ‘When it happens.’ At that moment, the waiter arrived bearing my breakfast on a silver tray. ‘Come!’ continued Musaphia completely ignoring my minor tantrum. ‘Eat before your adrenalin causes concern for your digestion. He paused until the waiter had finished pouring the coffee before continuing. ‘I should imagine you wage a vendetta with the person who installed a bomb in the cockpit of the plane taking you to Crete.’

‘You can say that again,’ I muttered curtly.

‘When you fish in these waters you continue to risk your life. There are spies and assassins everywhere in the Middle East. They breed here like flies. If you happen to say the wrong thing to the wrong people, or even do something that makes them suspicious, your life won’t be worth a fig. Treachery is a common cause. And, lets face it, as a foreigner, you stand out like a sore thumb in this region. I’ve had a lot of experience. Experience you would never believe possible.’

‘Buying bags of diamonds and carting them from here to there,’ I riposted rudely. ‘I’m not particularly interested in your experiences, Mr. Musaphia.

He removed a small pistol from his pocket and pointed it directly at my head. I felt the blood run cold in my veins. Surely he wasn’t going to shoot me in the restaurant of the King David Hotel! But then stranger things had happened to us in the past two days. He pressed the trigger slowly and a small flame spurted from the from the end of the gun which he used to relight the end of his cigar. As I relaxed, I felt as though all the blood had drained out of my body.

‘If life was only that simple,’ returned the old man starting to philosophise. ‘You’re still young. You don’t understand. How old do you think I am? Sixty-five… seventy… seventy-five? I’m eighty-four and still in the run of things. I attended coronations you would have to read about in books. Why do I look so much younger? I really don’t know especially having be caught up in a world war so horrifying you’d never dream it could take place in a civilised society. I’m talking about the holocaust in the Second World War where over six million Jews were singled out for torture, experiments and mass extermination. I was in one of those camps. I know what it was like.’

‘Mr. Musaphia,’ I reminded him, ‘we came here at your invitation expecting to hear something that might be important to us. All these reminiscences…’

‘All these reminiscences!’ he interrupted, his beard bristling as he raged with anger. ‘All these reminiscences! Will you young people never learn from history or the teachings of your elders?’ His face took on a menacing look. ‘You will listen to me and not interrupt or I’ll have you thrown out of this hotel! Why is it young people always want to sweep history under the carpet before falling into the same trap again? I’m trying to open your eyes but you insist on being blind.! The world is waiting for an accident to happen right now. It’s totally unprepared for the millions of

Muslims ready to unleash themselves from all quarters of the globe. Surely Yasood made you realise what’s going to happen… and the reasons why! Its’ no use turning round afterwards and saying you should have taken the advice. Hindsight’s a waste of time. The world is full of poor people and losers wailing in hindsight. Don’t make the same mistake!’ He paused for a moment and his manner altered swiftly as he searched for information. ‘To change the subject, I’m interested in any details you can give me about Primar.’ Do you know where I can contact him?’

I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’d like to find him myself.’ I waved a hand towards Penny. ‘Miss Smith may be able to give you a pointer. After all, she started the British end of the organisation with him.’

Musaphia stared hard at Penny. ‘I don’t think that’s correct, my dear. Neither you nor Primar were charged with that task.’

I looked at my secretary waiting to find out how she was going to respond to the allegation but she countered quickly and effectively. ‘Who are you, Mr. Musaphia?’ she asked firmly. ‘Who are you really? I can’t imagine any organisation recruiting a man who’s eighty-four years’ old for any kind of reason. I’m highly suspicious of this meeting and of the questions you ask. If you want to throw us out of this hotel that’s your prerogative. Nothing will be lost from my point of view.’

Musaphia’s face creased into a smile. He paused for a moment to puff on his cigar, then he turned to me. ‘I like her’ he mused. ‘She has spirit and fire… and she’s full of life. If I were in your place, I’d never let her go.’

‘You never answered the question,’ I said to Penny. ‘Why did you say you formed the British end of the organisation if you didn’t?’

‘We’ll discuss that later,’ she retorted sharply, ostensibly nursing hurt feelings.

‘She’s right, you know,’ I told our host as I considered the argument. ‘You’re eighty-four. What interest could you possibly have on something that’s going to happen in the next fifty years. You’re never going to live to be a hundred-and-thirty-four.’

The three of us sat calmly on the terrace. Musaphia had a glazed look in his eyes as my words faded into the fragrance of flowers on the sea breeze. ‘Do you imagine that things happen slowly, Mr. Scott? It took Hitler seven years to become ready for war after he became the Chancellor of Germany. Only seven years to take a nation on its knees to become a power determined to capture Europe, Africa, India and eventually the world. I’m told that Islam has about two billion followers at present. How long will it take them to find a leader when adversity strikes? Someone to lead them to become a fighting nation because that’s all mankind understands… to fight and kill! How many years, Mr. Scott… you tell me!’

A small cog in the wheels of my mind suddenly clicked. ‘I’d like to go back on something you said earlier. ‘You said you knew the reason why I’m here. I’m going to insist on further information. In fact I’m not going to leave until you tell me something to my advantage.’

‘Do you really want to know? Well I’ll tell you. To find your wife of course. That’s why you’ve come.’

I was stunned at his answer unsure whether he was simply putting me off the scent. ‘To find my wife?’ I managed to say. ‘What do you know about her?’

‘I know that she was kidnapped a few days ago. I thought that was why you came out here… the reason why you’re willing to cooperate… even against your will… with the organisation. Am I wrong?’

I looked at Penny who shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s all news to me,’ she related. ‘I was never told she was abducted. ‘ She turned to Musaphia. ‘Do you have any more details?’

Musaphia shook his head slowly. ‘‘I heard she was kidnapped. That’s why I invited you here. I’m always concerned when personal problems interfere with business. I have contacts everywhere. Everywhere.’

‘But I received a letter in her handwriting to say she had left me.’ I turned to my secretary for confirmation. ‘You saw the letter. Primar said that a woman answering Jan’s description came into the office and left the letter there.’ As I spoke the words, I realised how easily I had been duped. It was Primar and his deceitful methods to get me to fly to Israel.

‘Ah… Primar again,’ continued our host. ‘His name seems to turn up all over the place. Too many times for my liking. You realise now that the letter was false.’

‘It was in Jan’s handwriting. I’m certain of that.’

‘Of course. They made her write it.’

‘Then why didn’t they tell me she’d been kidnapped in the first place? If they wanted me to come out here why didn’t they say so?’

Musaphia bit harder on his cigar. ‘Because she may have been kidnapped for another reason. Who’s to know? Don’ imagine she was taken by the organisation. We’re not interested in tactics of that kind.’

‘No… of course not!’ I spat sarcastically, trying to keep my voice and my temper at reasonable levels. The bomb on the plane. The police in Crete. Commander Spring and our doubles. Tomar Duran. None of it is the fault of the organisation. Anyone with half a brain could see that!’

He nodded sagely. ‘Take it easy, Mr. Scott. We’re on your side… remember.’

‘Oh, yes… you’re on my side! Well you tell me who’s taken my wife and where she is at the moment. You tell me that!’

‘Please lower your voice,’ advised the old man firmly. ‘We don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. I’ll try to find out some details for you. I can do no more than that. It’s my understanding that she was brought to Israel but the source is not reliable. Just leave it with me.’

‘How can you possibly know that she was brought here unless you were party to it?’

‘I told you. I have contacts everywhere.’ An expression of surprise appeared on his face as I got to my feet. ‘Why are you leaving?’ he asked puzzled. ‘What about your breakfast? They’re very sensitive about guests leaving their food here. It reflects on the cook and the reputation of the hotel.’

‘To hell with their reputation!’ I shouted angrily. ‘Look, Musaphia, I want my wife back! You find out where she is! You telephone me tomorrow and tell me exactly where she is!’

I noticed Penny’s face fall at my comment but she didn’t matter to me any more. She had lied to me, deceived me, and, if the truth were known, there were many more things to come out of the woodwork that she was hiding from me. After the outburst, I stormed out of the room leaving Penny to trail behind. She caught up with me on the pavement outside the hotel.

‘Hey!’ she chided. ‘You were a bit rough on the old man, weren’t you? He didn’t mean you any harm. In fact he could be quite useful.’

‘Oh, really,!’ I scorned. ‘He didn’t mean any harm! Then how come he knows that Jan was kidnapped? That she may have been forced to write that letter to me? Why didn’t anyone else mention such minor unimportant matters to me? Dammit! I am her husband! And you… you have a lot of questions to answer. Do you know, I’m getting fed up being pushed around! Now it’s going to be my turn to do the pushing!’

‘You’re upset, Jason, but be very careful. Some of the things Musaphia told us were true. This is not a game. It’s for real.’

‘You got me into this, Penny,’ I accused firmly, ‘you get me out! I don’t care for your 21st Century Crusaders… just get me out!’

I expected her to sulk at my rudeness but instead she took my hand and led me to the shore. We walked along the beach enjoying the cool breeze and then doubled back to return to Arlosoroff Road, As we reached one of the larger streets, we stood at the edge of the pavement ready to cross the road. It was then that I noticed a large black car moving in our direction from the middle distance, approaching at a steady rate, smoothly, easily, intently… like a great predatory cat cruising towards its prey. The car seemed to surge forward suddenly and within seconds it near-side wheels shot across the pavement to the point where we were standing. We leapt back in alarm as it missed us but the margin was very slim. Gathering our wits, we started to race across the road. However, the car turned around within a very short distance and made its way back relentlessly. I tried to determine the face of the driver but my effort was frustrated because the window of the vehicle was fitted with darkened glass. The decision to cross the road left us extremely exposed. I felt like an inadequate matador in a giant bull-ring. I place my arm firmly around Penny’s waist as the car moved again in our direction. Now that we were two-thirds the way across the road, the driver would assume that we would sprint for the pavement on the other side. It was the most logical thing to presume. But as the car approached at speed, I feinted as though intending to run to the pavement and then turned sharply the other way, taking Penny with me. The ploy worked admirably because the car raced past us without causing any harm. From then on, we reached safe ground and watched the vehicle cruise off into the distance.

‘Who would want to kill us here?’ I asked. ‘I mean no one knows who we are!’

‘Maybe it has something to do with Musaphia.’

‘Why should he want to kill us?’

‘I didn’t mean that. A man with a lot of contacts also has a lot of enemies. Someone may have been watching and they saw us with him. That’s the only thing I can think of.’

‘I think we ought to buy guns to protect ourselves,’ I suggested. ‘It’s time we fought back against these assassins!’

We continued on our way until arriving back at the house. As I fumbled for the key I noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open slowly but the shutters were closed causing the room to be shrouded in darkness. As we entered, I closed the door and switched on the light. To my astonishment I found myself staring into the face of an enormous Arab dressed in a wealth of dark rags which smelled abominably.

‘What in the name of… !’ I began, staring at the giant turning to find another man laying full-length on the bed-settee with his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose. ‘Primar!’ I exclaimed. ‘So you finally turned up.’

‘I’m always turning up, Jason,’ he laughed easily. ‘Often in the right places at the wrong time. But I’m very disappointed in you. You let m down once. I won’t let it happen again.’

‘Let you down!’ I exclaimed furiously. ‘What are you talking about? You were the one who let us down!’

‘No… no… no!’ he countered sharply. ‘Let’s get the story straight, Jason. I waited for you at Stansted Airport. You didn’t turn up!’

‘Come on, Primar!’ I snarled. ‘We were there early in the morning. Chedda picked us up.’

‘Chedda! Who the hell is Chedda?’

‘‘The pilot you sent to meet us!’

‘You’ve got it all wrong. I sent no pilot.’

‘Yes you did. He rushed us into a Kfir Junior aircraft and we took off right away.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Are you mad? A Kfir Junior! Why would I use an Israeli aircraft?’

‘To take us to Israel as you planned.’

He sat up sharply. ‘Look… the last thing I want to do is to wave the Israeli flag all over the place to alert everyone. We need to keep a low profile… use discretion. Our plane is an ordinary Cessna.’

I calmed down a little at his explanation. ‘Chedda led us to believe he was working for you. He said you’d given him direct orders.’

‘Well he was lying. I may have been a little late but I was there waiting for you. As far as I was concerned, you never turned up.’

Penny moved forward to add to the conversation. ‘I think what Primar’s not telling you is that he planted the bomb on the Kfir Junior. I don’t know who he intended to kill but he thought it would be someone important. We took their place on the wrong plane and nearly paid the price.’

‘I don’t believe a word of it!’ I rattled curtly. ‘Chedda had our photographs in his hand. How do you explain that one?’

‘It makes no odds who’s right or wrong,’ returned Primar.

‘Doesn’t it?’ I told him fiercely. ‘I ought to take you apart!’

He laughed loudly. ‘What… for being on the wrong plane?’

I dropped the subject and started on a new tack. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Primar? This is private property. You’ve broken in and you’re trespassing!’

‘My dear old chap,’ he went on amiably. ‘I’ve come to welcome you. I couldn’t bear the thought of an old acquaintance arriving in Tel Aviv without a proper welcome.’

‘All right, Primar,’ I growled. ‘The time for playing games is over. I don’t know who you tried to kill on Chedda’s aircraft. The fact is you nearly killed us! You murdered Chedda. And where’s my wife? I’ve just been told that she was kidnapped!’

‘Easy… easy!’ he responded pushing the bed back so that it became a settee again. ‘You’re fraught with allegations. Who said I tried to kill you? How would I know if your wife was kidnapped? You read the letter she left you. If she was abducted, where’s the ransom note… the telephone calls demanding money… the threats to her life? You mustn’t listen to the prattle of old men in their dotage. Men pretending to be Gods, men who have nothing more to do in life than to play games with people from high-class hotels.’

I started to lose my temper and advanced towards him menacingly. The giant Arab moved at tremendous speed to cut off my approach, holding me tightly around the neck and forcing my right arm behind my back.

‘Oh, forgive me,’ continued Primar insincerely. ‘I forgot to introduce you to my very good friend Kemal. He’s taken an interest in my welfare and has volunteered to act as my protector.

You can’t be too careful in foreign parts, can you? Some people entertain evil thoughts and wicked intentions.’ He made a sign with his hands and Kemal released me.

‘How did you know where we were staying?’ enquired Penny, seeming unperturbed at my predicament.

Primar ignored the question as though she wasn’t there, still looking in my direction. ‘I want you to join me in a little venture, Jason. I’m setting up in the Middle East. There’s a place many miles distant from here… a group of mountains to be exact. My fortress. I intend to make it my headquarters for a while anyway. Modern methods of surveillance are such that one must always keep on the move.’

I turned to Penny and stared into her eyes. ‘Did you know about this… venture? She shook her head slowly. I looked at Primar again. ‘Why me? I’m not interested in politics or causes.’

‘How would fifty million pounds in sterling suit you?’ he replied. ‘You can have the equivalent amount in US dollars if you want. The figures don’t really matter.’

‘I’m not worth it,’ I riposted. ‘I could never be worth that kind of money to you or to anyone else.’

He laughed again. ‘Such innocence. Such modesty. I like it1 I’m willing to offer you a deal that will set you up for life.’

‘Why should you bother to offer me anything? What have I got that’s so important to you?’

Primar looked quickly towards Penny. ‘My God! Haven’t you told him yet?’ She shook her head and he turned back to me. ‘I thought you were a businessman, Jason. How long does it take the penny to drop? Like everyone else, we’re interested in Operation Bull’s Eye.’

I became absolutely speechless for a few moments failing to understand what he was talking about. ‘What’s Operation Bull’s Eye?’ I managed to say weakly.

Don’t come the old soldier with me!’ he warned. ‘You work for Dandy Advanced Electronics. You must know all about it!’

‘Dandy’s a conglomerate with many different operations. I work on the domestic side of computer engineering. No one’s privy to information outside their particular division. Even the executives only learn of brief divisional activities from the Chairman’s Report or the Annul Accounts.’

‘Well then tell me something about the organisation in which you work. They have an advanced weaponry division. You must know that!’

‘Well of course I do!’

‘Then you know as well as I do about the plans concerning the new enhanced laser gun for use in warfare. Apparently it’s common knowledge that it can destabilise weaponry, armoured vehicles, tanks, helicopters and airplanes within a range of three miles and can be handled by two men on a transportable unit. It can reduce armoured tanks to dust in half a minute. A very powerful modern laser gun against all kinds of enemy in warfare.’

‘I don’t know where you get your information from. I mean it may be common knowledge to you but no one has appraised me of those facts.’

Primar moved his hand as a signal and the giant Arab placed an arm around my neck restricting my breathing. ‘He could kill you within ten seconds if necessary,’ warned Primar seriously.

‘It wouldn’t help your cause,’ I hissed, gasping for breath as I tried to ease the pressure on my windpipe.

‘Listen, Jason.’ he said in a menacing tone, ‘listen to me carefully. I want the plans of that new laser gun and you’re going to get them for me!’ He motioned to Kemal to release me and came close. ‘I’ll keep my end of the bargain concerning the reward. You’ll be a very rich man.’

‘You’re out of your mind!’ I told him point-blank. ‘There’s no way I can get those plans. The security at Dandy is so tight you can hear it squeak. It’s a mission impossible. There’s no point in trying.’

He looked at me with an extremely disappointed expression on his face. Somehow he thought I was going to be a soft touch. ‘We can’t have negative thoughts like that,’ he expounded. He made a sideways movement of his head towards his bodyguard who took hold of me by the shoulders and dragged me roughly into the kitchen. When we arrived at the sink, he turned on the cold water, holding my head in a fixed position under the tap for what seemed to be eternity. After a while, the Arab let me go and threw a towel across the room. I caught it wondering whether it was a measure of good faith only to realise that it was to prepare me for the next stage of torture. Before I could start to feel sorry for myself, I was propelled back into the other room and pushed forcefully into a chair.

‘Well,’ suggested Primar, brushing imaginary dandruff of the lapels of his jacket. ‘Shall we continue?’

Kemal grabbed me by the hair with one hand and lifted me about six inches off the seat of the chair. After a few seconds, as the pain surged through my body, Primar removed his hand from his jacket pocket, holding an object which remained hidden from view. Without warning, he took Penny’s arm and thrust it behind her back at the same time pressing a button on the flick-knife in his hand. The small steel blade sprang from the shaft of the handle to its limit with the point resting on the skin at the side of her neck close to her jugular vein. ‘Okay,’ he growled menacingly. ‘If you won’t co-operate, perhaps a little persuasion is necessary. What do you say, Miss Smith?’

Penny started to become panic-stricken as he pressed the point of the knife to her throat, drawing a small amount of blood. ‘Tell him you’ll do it, Jason… please! Tell him you’ll do it!’ Her face had turned red and her mouth was open, gasping for breath.

‘Leave her out of this!’ I managed to say still suspended by my hair. ‘My decision has nothing to do with her!’

‘Do I get a yes or a no? He wasn’t going to let her off the hook and seemed willing to kill her in cold blood to prove his point.

‘All rightl, Primar. Cut it out!’ I told him, realising that, in truth, I was the one who held the whip hand. Without me, he had nothing. ‘Let her go or you won’t get those plans… ever! And that’s a promise!’

He pushed Penny on to the settee and nodded to Kemal to release me. ‘Be very careful, my friend!’ he snarled. ‘Violence will always win in the end if one is prepared to use it. I expect there will be a delay before you acquire the plans but if you deny me you won’t live long enough to tell anyone about it. And that’s my promise!’ To make an impression, he leaned forward and swung the knife behind Penny all the way along the top of the settee slicing a long gash in the material. ‘These knives are really sharp, you know,’ he remarked casually. ‘Imagine what they would do to a pretty throat if one had the mind to use it.’

I swallowed hard. The man was right. The meek would never inherit the earth… it would fall to the revolutionaries, the dictators, the tyrants, the despots and anyone else who used violence. What was the old adage? Kill one man and they hang you; kill ten thousand and they’ll pin a medal on your chest! History proves the validity of the anecdote.

‘I’ll give you seven days,’ he told me in a parting shot. ‘I advise you not to let me down.’

The two men left the premises swiftly and I locked the door behind them before turning to my secretary. ‘You know all about this right from the beginning, didn’t you?’ Although I asked the question, I knew that her reply was completely unnecessary. Of course she knew all about it, that’s why she became my secretary at Dandy Advanced Electronics.

She picked up the towel and started to dry my hair. ‘That’s what my mission was all about. But it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Primar had instructions to get the plans. He sought you in the Costa del Sol and befriended you for that reason but they were not for him but for the organisation. He has no right to get those plans for his own purposes. I asked you to trust me and I still do. I’ll get everything sorted out including the mystery of your wife.’

‘What do you suggest we do now?’

She tossed the towel to a corner of the room. ‘I’m glad you asked that,’ she responded warmly. ‘After what just happened, now is the time to make love.’

‘You’re nuts!’ I told her flatly. ‘My bones still ache and we were both at death’s door a few minutes ago.’

‘I know,’ she returned. ‘That’s what turns me on and makes it so much more exciting. Do you know that the time most people feel that way is at a funeral. Just hold me tightly and I’ll make sure all your aches will go away.’ She opened up the bed-settee again, pulling me down on it before starting to undo my wet shirt.

‘By the way,’ I ventured, ‘I didn’t ask you before but you’re wearing a dress. You came here in a uniform yesterday. Where di you get the dress?’

‘In the wardrobe over there,’ she replied smoothly. ‘There’s a whole rail of them in there.’

‘And they all fit you, I suppose. They’re all of your size.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘As it happens they are.’ She rolled on top of me and began to laugh. ‘You asked for eggs and bacon,’ she chortled. ‘In Israel… eggs and bacon! Oh, Jason, I’m crazy about you!’ Her lips then met mine and I became lost in sensation!

Chapter Six

Jaffa is unusual in its geography in that the coastline to the north regresses to form a knee-shaped bend. This peculiar characteristic, protected by numerous coastal rocks, enables small ships to anchor in the bay, presenting a squadron of sea vessels of all different shapes and sizes as part of the panorama. It was not difficult to understand the reason why Jaffa had played such an important role in history, originally serving as the port for Jerusalem. Its sheltered harbour above which the city looms on a rocky hill, made the settlement an easily fortified seaport and commercial centre. The harbour is quite small, however, so that larger vessels must anchor some way out in the Mediterranean, close to the Rock of Andromeda, and unload with the aid of smaller boats and rafts. At night, one can see lights moving along the shore as the fishermen land their catches of sardines.

It was a blistering hot day. The sun blazed like a torch in the sky bleaching walls, baking earth, and sapping human energy. Penny was dressed in a light white blouse and grey slacks and we walked directly to the harbour in Jaffa, keeping as close to the sea as possible to gain the benefit of any gentle breezed that might become available. We arrived at the port at a leisurely pace and gazed at one of the tourist attractions. It was a mosaic floor, evidently the paving of an early synagogue which had been built there in the early Byzantine period, about the sixth century a.d., depicting King David playing a harp dressed as Orpheus, the Greek mythological hero. We left the dock area to push our way through the tightly-crowded flea market in Jaffa. It was a most unpleasant experience. The jostling of bodies as they pressed and nudged each other, moving in different directions between the stalls, the shouting of the customers and traders as they haggled over prices, and the babble of the crowd which made so much din became almost too much to bear in the oppressive heat. We took flight from the bazaar with haste to break away from the multitude, retreating down a narrow rugged street which had an uneven surface and no pavement at all. It was a slum area strew with rubble and decaying matter resting incongruously against the walls of the houses, lying stinking and inert below inscrutable shuttered windows. A stench of unknown origin pervaded the air with an odious aroma which was not only foul but remained ubiquitously persistent. There was no escape from the repulsive presence.

It took us a while to find the house we wanted. By then, within the confines of small alleys which were protected from the sea breeze, the effect of the heat was intolerable. When we finally arrived at the place, the house of Menel wore a façade that seemed centuries old. In every respect, it was deplorable. The property was terraced, although it was only fair to say that the whole street from start to finish was terraced. Every house conformed to time-honoured architecture, each one exhibited ochre-coloured walls baked hard by the constant rays of the sun. Each house was offset by dull brown or green shutters, most of the paint of which had been stripped off by the austere weather conditions in the effluxion of time. The hovel seemed inconsistent with the cause of the 21st Century Crusaders but that was not our affair. Penny and I gazed at each other for a few moments and then I hammered on the door with my fist, there being no other means to attract attention. After a short while, a tall bearded Arab answered and stared at us with a fierce expression on his face. I was immediately reminded of Kemal but thrust the image of that giant to the back of my mind. The man bade us to enter with a sweep of his hand and we shuffled into the dark hallway unable to see anything at all after the door was closed due to the fact that the pupils of our eyes were still accustomed to the brilliant sunshine outside. The Arab moved swiftly past us and we stumbled behind him blindly into a room where a man sat behind a large table.

‘Good morning,’ he greeted in excellent English, although his accent was slightly clipped. ‘I am Menel. I welcome you to my humble home where we shall enjoy some refreshments and discuss matters relevant to both of us. Please sit down’

We relaxed in low comfortable chairs as Menel studied our faces closely in the dim light. He was a dapper man, dressed smartly in a black pin-striped suit completely out of touch with the surroundings. Despite the fact that the temperature in the room must have been almost a eighty degrees he still wore a white shirt and a tie knotted up to his Adam’s Apple. It was difficult to determine whether he was an Arab or a Jew, not that it mattered, for he was probably a mixture of both anyway. His brown face had a slightly longer appearance as a result of the absence of hair on his head and he sported the smallest of moustaches which fitted neatly on the central ridge below his nose. Menel had two obvious nervous habits. The first was to rub the middle finger of his right hand over his tiny moustache at regular intervals. The second involved jutting out his jaw and moving his lips over the front of his false teeth before releasing them in a kind of spasm. Yet despite these nervous traits he carried an air of authority which commanded respect, while his manner, although curt, was pleasant.

It soon became apparent that Menel was in no hurry to launch into the meeting and he scanned us closely in the interim period. Then, suddenly, he clapped his hands together twice and the bearded Arab swathed in white clothing brought in a tray bearing cups of dark liquid which he offered to us without speaking.

‘Please accept my humble hospitality,’ begged our host meekly. ‘The hot coffee will cool you down but you may be surprised by its taste. If you require any other refreshments… falafel, peanuts, pumpkin seeds… they’re all yours for the taking.’

‘Falafel?’ I asked with interest.

‘Falafel are little balls of ground peas fried in oil, wrapped in pitta… a kind of bread spiced with hot peppers. We have many delicacies if you’d like to try them.’

‘No thank you,’ I replied feeling slightly nauseous at his reply, having regretted asking the question. ‘I’ll stay with the coffee, if you don’t mind.’

‘You’re not used to our way of life,’ he continued amiably. ‘We have many customs which may seem strange to you. You will learn to love us though… if you live that long.’

The hair at the back of my head started to bristle as I stared at him with alarm. ‘What do you mean by that?’

Menel jutted out his jaw and moved his lips over his front teeth. ‘Information of the sensitive kind brings its own danger. The more sensitive, the more dangerous. We live in troubled time where the emphasis on intelligence becomes more imperative each year. You see, more wars are in progress in the offices of secret service agencies in most countries than are ever fought on the battlefield. You are amateurs at the bottom of the pile. I can only assume that you like to live dangerously.’

‘You don’t believe in pulling punches, do you?’ I responded swallowing hard.

‘It depends on how much you value your life!’

The air was hot and absolutely still with just a gentle whiff of breeze coming from a small fan fixed to the ceiling. The stench of inadequate plumbing and the cooking of spicy foods in the kitchen was almost overwhelming although the awful smell did not seem to affect our host. In addition, there were numerous flies which clearly enjoyed tormenting us, landing briefly but regularly on our hands, arms and faces. Menel, himself, had found a tried and tested solution for the problem. He waved a fan, shaped like a large table-tennis bat, in front of his face every twenty seconds with an automatic sweep of his hand.

‘Okay.’ he went on seriously. ‘Let’s get down to business. I’m an arms dealer. The top man in this country.’

‘The top man.’ I repeated in disbelief. ‘If you’re so successful how is it that you live in a dump like this?’

A smile flickered across his face. ‘Does the Chief Executive of the Bank of England have to live at the Savoy Hotel in London? This is my place of work… my office. We have no need of filing cabinets, documents, computers systems or the like. In my profession, all the information is kept up here.’ He tapped his forehead with the first two fingers of his right hand. ‘Clearly you are not aware that this row of houses is a fortress. Shock-proof, sound-proof, bullet-proof and relatively bomb-proof. I am, as you say, as safe as houses.’

I rued the fact that it wasn’t odour-proof as well.

‘As you know,’ he continued, ‘the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks known as SALT I and II treaties imposed limits on the number of nuclear weapons to be held by Russia and the United States. Inevitably, it meant that some of the weaponry not required was certain to find its way into the hands of other people in other countries. The Americans possessed two major missiles… the Cruise and the Pershing 2. The Russians had four… the SS20, the SS4, the SS22 and the SS12/22. The last three were very short in range and rather ancient. So it was deemed that seven hundred Soviet missiles were to be destroyed. But human nature is such that people do not always follow the rules especially where money can be made. Subsequently, not all of them were destroyed. They found their way into foreign hands. Worst still is the fact that those controlled by the major powers are placed in so many countries there is doubt as to who actually controls them. With regard to artillery pieces, there are three categories of nuclear or ‘dual-capable’ weapons which exist. Dual-capable relates to weapons with ranges of nine to eighteen miles. Within the NATO Guidelines Area they are deployed by Britain, the United States, Belgium, Holland, Luxembourg, Germany, Czechoslovakia, Russia and Poland. Some three thousand of them! The dual-capable aircraft, mainly NATO’s F-111 and Tornado, and the old Warsaw Pact’s SU-7, SU20, Mig-23 and SU-24 total over one thousand two hundred and they have a range of nearly three thousand miles. Battlefield nuclear weapons comprise NATO’s Lance missile with a range of almost seventy miles. Additionally, there are the Frog SS-21 and the SCUD missiles. If one nation were to occupy another nation by force, it would automatically acquire a whole armoury of nuclear weapons.’

I held up my hand for him to stop. ‘All this is extremely interesting,’ I cut in quickly, but what has it got to do with me? I’m no weaponry expert. My job with Dandy Advance Electronics is to deal with domestic computers.’

Menel shrugged his shoulders, jutting out his lower jaw and playing his lips over his front teeth. ‘I’m well aware of that,’ he responded calmly. But you work for them and they have a prototype of a very advanced nuclear laser gun for military purposes. The most advanced of its kind in the world. I’ve been informed that it is far more advanced than the American prototypes which were supposed to be used in their Star Wars programme.’

I sipped the coffee trying not to show my distaste for the ugly liquid. ‘Let me guess,’ I advanced with an element of contempt. ‘You want me to get those plans for you!’ By now, I was beginning to understand my role in the future of the organisation although I was technically unable to fulfil it.

‘Indeed,’ he went on. ‘But first let me explain the situation. ‘When Islam starts to assemble its troops for World War Three, it will have in its possession a whole array of nuclear weapons.’

‘But so will we,’ I countered. ‘I mean there’s no point in them using them against anyone because retaliation will be severe. The world might even wipe itself out.’

He flapped the fan forwards and backwards in front of his face. ‘Now you’re getting the picture, Mr. Scott,’ he said confidently. ‘And that’s the reason we must prevent any group or country taking over another one in advance. We must protect ourselves from allowing them to gain those weapons of destruction. The main advantage of a nuclear weapon is that it acts as a deterrent. It can never be deployed as an operational weapon for fear of retaliation. As you say, in such a circumstance, the planet could be wiped out. So, in essence, it’s not a weapon but a threat. A foe could invade a country claiming it had an arsenal of such weapons and no one could do much about it. If someone decides to press the red button releasing nuclear missiles there is no doubt there will be an equal response. If we became too frightened to retaliate we would be unable to defend ourselves. Therefore it’s essential that we find a new weapon far superior to enable us to maintain control. I understand that the laser gun developed by Dandy Advanced Electronics is capable to destroying missiles at a range of one hundred miles and that the beams are deadly.’

‘I know nothing about the new laser gun,’ I rattled sharply. ‘It’s not in my domain.’

‘But it will do the trick,’ he muttered. ‘I hear that the laser beam produces such intense heat over a wide area that it dissolves metal almost instantly. It is a death ray of the highest quality. The power that rises in the Middle East could threaten us with nuclear power but we dissolve their missiles, rockets and weapons before they could come into contact with us as well as any large guns or tanks they may have. We would also be able to wipe out their soldiers in the field with great accuracy. World War Three would never be able to get under way.’

Only now did the picture become clear to me and I had to admit that I felt somewhat swayed by his delivery. ‘What’s your role in all this?’ I questioned, going on to the attack. ‘I mean you’re an arms dealer. What would you do with the plans if I managed to get them? Would you sell them to all and sundry at a huge profit?’

His eyes seemed to penetrate me as though I had offended him and then he looked away before replying. ‘Mr. Scott, I am a top-class arms dealer. I’ve made more money in the last decade than you would make if you lived a thousand years. Profit no longer interests me. My role, as you would call it, is the appointment of a Chief Arms Adviser to the 21st Century Crusaders. I have laid my life on the line for them.’

‘For what reason?’ I challenged suspiciously. ‘You don’t have to take risks like that.’

He clapped his hands for the cups to be removed but instead of the giant Arab who had appeared earlier a beautiful young woman entered the room. ‘Let me introduce you to my daughter, Davina.’

She smiled at us sweetly and began to clear away the crockery. She was a slender attractive young woman with long jet-black hair that almost reached down to her waist. Her face was distinctly Eurasian with black eyes and high cheekbones. I was stunned by her natural beauty, forgetting in that instant my feelings for my wife or Penny. Even when she had left the room, the outlines of her delicate features and her lithe body continued to linger in my mind like that of a haunting refrain.

‘She is the reason for my interest,’ explained Menel. ‘I have all I need for myself. It’s my responsibility that my family can enjoy freedom for the next thousand years without fear or torture. I speak not only for her but for the many young people like her.’

I paused to think for a moment, coming back to reality. ‘Why don’t you present your case to the Chairman of Dandy Advanced Electronics? You might be able to persuade him to do some kind of a deal.’

‘It cannot happen that way. As a commercial organisation, they will still come under the auspices of the British Defence authorities. It would all have to be approved by them and I cannot see them trying to entertain such a request. It could never happen.’

‘If what I’ve been told is true… the oil running out… the rise of Islam… World War Three… the British Government would be foolish to ignore any measure to try to correct the situation.’

‘The British Government would never encompass such an idea. They always wait until it is too late to resolve matter. Peace in our time! Isn’t that what the Prime Minister Chamberlain said in 1939 when he returned from a visit to Hitler… even though intelligence indicated that the Fuehrer was building up armaments at a rate of knots? After that, at least fifteen million people died in the Second World War. We cannot trust any government. Almost certainly they will feel disinclined to act. The United Nations would be useless because many Arab states would use their veto on actions related to force. War would become inevitable if it wasn’t for the 21st Century Crusaders. The main way to resolve the problem is for you to obtain a copy of the plans. Will you do that for us?’

‘I need to give a lot more thought to all that I’ve heard before giving any finite decision,’ I replied unhappily. ‘Yes… a lot of thought.’

‘Good,’ he uttered, as though I had agreed. He removed a buff envelope from an inside pocket of his jacket. ‘This is a microfilm of the plans relating to the new laser gun prototype. They are spurious but you may need to substitute them for the originals.’

He rubbed his moustache with the middle finger of his right hand before passing the envelope to me. Then he clapped his hands twice and the tall bearded Arab reappeared. Menel conveyed an order to him in Arabic after which we found ourselves shepherded out into the street, trying to adjust our eyes to the bright sunlight.

We left the house and started down the narrow street with Menel’s words buzzing in our ears. As we moved out into a wider road, something caused me to turn and I saw the black car coming towards us at speed. It was the same vehicle which had tried to run us down before. I touched Penny’s arm to alert her to the danger and we both began to run towards the crossroads at the end of the road. The black car reached the point at the same time, it’s tyres screeching as it came to a sudden halt. The two front doors opened and a man and a woman slid out of the seats to crouch defensively behind the open doors. I could see that they were both holding revolvers in their hands.

‘Stay exactly where you are!’ commanded the man loudly through a megaphone. ‘Do not attempt to move! We will come to you!’

‘Run!’ urged Penny, giving me a push in the back to start me off.

Before I knew what was happening, my legs were pounding the rough pavement towards an unknown destination. It was obvious our pursuers were not the police… but who were they? I didn’t know and I had no intention of staying to find out. They were the hunters; I was the prey! I couldn’t remember how long I kept running. When I stopped, my body was soaked with perspiration and I could scarcely breathe through exhaustion. I hesitated for a moment to regain my breath, hiding in the shadow of a strange doorway and then closed my eyes. This was becoming a nightmare! But it was real and I was living it therefore I couldn’t afford to rest… not even for a moment… in case they were close behind me. The seconds were too precious to waster… I had to move on! My face felt as though it was on fire, my head throbbed with agonising pain, while the saliva in my mouth tasted strangle like blood. A sense of urgency raced through my tired body at the echoing of footsteps hammering on the rough pavement could be heard only a short distance away. It seemed that whatever direction I took they were bound to find me. I had no idea what had happened to Penny. It was my conviction that she was safe because all the footsteps appeared to be heading towards me.

There were only two of them yet they seemed to be covering every street and alley to prevent me from making my escape.

The footsteps came near but it was difficult to determine their precise location. The only advice I could offer myself was to run like the Devil for as long as possible despite the fact that I had no idea where I was going. As I was about to drag my weary limbs a little further, I heard the faint noise of an approaching motor car. If I could get a lift, I would be able to clear the area before anyone realised that I had gone. The vehicle came into sight some distance away. It was a bright red car racing at a fast rate down the street towards me. I stepped off the kerb waving my arms wildly n an attempt to make the driver stop. There was a loud squeal as he applied the brakes and the car swerved dangerously before coming to a halt. The driver leaned out of the window to hurl a torrent of abuse at me but, before I could get to it, he had restarted the motor and driven off. Dispiritedly, I returned to the comfort of a darkened doorway. They would soon be closing in! I ran down the next street and turned into an alley, leaning against a wall as my lungs heaved painfully in my chest as I gasped for breath. The voices of the hunters sounded very near and I pressed on to find myself confronted by a wall that was some ten feet in height. At the top there were long slivers of glass embedded in cement to deter unwelcome intruders. As the man and woman appeared at the end of the alley behind me, a voice called out my name above me. Penny held a large rock in her hands which she dashed down on the glass slivers, smashing them to pieces, Then she quickly laid a discarded rug over the top and leaned out over the wall extending her arms to help carry me over it. I glanced at the dangerous edges of the nearby slivers and hesitated for a moment.

‘Now!’ she called out imperatively. ‘It must be now!’

Ny fear of the known was less than the fear of the unknown however instinctively I grabbed her arms hoping that her strength was sufficient to get me over. She wedged her feet against the other side of the wall and pulled me up slowly until I could get my leg over the top and scramble over. Then we both ran through a strange house into the next street disappearing as fast as well could away from the area. The left leg of my trousers was torn and my knee was bleeding badly. We stopped for a moment while she used my handkerchief to stem the blood and then continued at a more manageable pace. We had left the hunters behind and had escaped.

But life was never going to be that simple. Less than five minutes later, the black car appeared before us again and once more Penny and I set off in different directions Not knowing the geography of the area, I hurried off in a westerly direction which led me to a line of warehouses at the edge of the docks. It wasn’t long before I discovered that every one of the warehouses was locked. The only protection afforded me were the cranes on the wharf. I chose a derrick with a jib, hoping it would maximise protection but, to my dismay, a gunshot rang out as I began to climb the iron giant. This was followed by further shots which ricocheted off the metalwork. I had no means of escaping from my dilemma this time. In my condition, climbing the derrick was no mean feat but it was only a matter of time before they gunned me down. Then I heard the sound of a motor car approaching the area. My heart sank as I recognised the black car again. However despair rose to elation as it drove menacingly towards the first assailant. The man tried to race to the refuge of the nearest warehouse but his attempt was soon denied. The nearside bumper of the approaching vehicle struck him hard behind his legs and he was mowed down without mercy a long way short of the sanctuary. The car then turned swiftly moving towards the other assailant. He decided not to move, holding the gun in front of him, aiming it directly at the driver of the car. He fired four shots in quick succession which bounced off the bullet-proof windshield of the vehicle and was then struck with such fierce force that his body soared through the air like a missile to disappear into the sea.

The door of the car opened and Penny climbed out. ‘Some people are really stupid, you know,’ she called out coolly as though nothing serious had happened. ‘They left the keys in the ignition when they came after you.’

I was full of suspicion with regard to my secretary. How did she come to find the black car, let alone drive it? Why would the second assailant insist on firing his gun at the windshield when he knew it was bullet-proof. What was Penny’s role in all this debacle? There were so many questions flooding my mind! I climbed down off the derrick trembling like a leaf. I reckoned I had lost a few pounds in weight during the chase, not only from the effect of running but from the fear itself.

‘Come on!’ she continued with an element of amusement in her voice. ‘Climb in and I’ll drive us home in style. I’m not pushing the car into the sea when we can make use of it.’

When we reached Arlosoroff Road the telephone was ringing. I took my time to open the door but it was clear the caller intended to wait indefinitely for an answer. I picked up the receiver and grunted into the mouthpiece. The voice was imperative.

‘Jason! You mustn’t let Miss Smith know who’s calling,’ she began. ‘Just keep listening and say nothing. This is Davina… Menel’s daughter. We must meet as soon as possible. I’ll be at the New York, New York restaurant in Tel Aviv in twenty minutes. I have information about your wife. You must come alone and not tell anyone about this conversation. Just say okay if it’s all right.’

‘Okay,’ I answered quickly.

‘Good!’ she returned. ‘Twenty minutes. And say nothing to Miss Smith!’

The line went dead and I replaced the receiver into its cradle.

‘Who was that?’ asked Penny inquisitively.

‘Look,’ I told her without answering her question. ‘I have to go out for a while. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.’

‘But you need some attention to your knee,’ she said.

I shook my head. ‘It’ll have to wait. I’ll see you soon.’

A look of surprise appeared on her face as I walked out but I couldn’t afford to take any chances. I hailed a taxi which took me to the New York, New York restaurant and sat at a table waiting for Davina to show up. In my mind, I could not stop thinking about her long black hair, her dark penetrating eyes and her high cheekbones but after a while I began to start looking into the distance in anticipation for she was nowhere to be seen. Foolishly, I began to make excuses for her however there was little comfort in such deception. Twenty minutes went by, then forty, then fifty until an hour had passed. I became tired to look any more at my wristwatch. I wanted the information about Jan desperately but it seemed unlikely I would get it. Then after three cups of coffee, I decided to leave. I settled the bill and started to walk away. I had hardly taken a dozen steps when she appeared and took hold of my arm.

‘Davina!’ I said softly. ‘Where have you been?’

‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t possible to get here earlier,’ she explained briefly. ‘I couldn’t contact you. There are too many eyes… too many ears. Let us walk and talk!’

There was clearly an affinity between us. I felt strongly attracted towards her and, from the look in her eyes, she felt the same way about me. I took her hand and we strolled for a short distance without speaking. Then I stopped and faced her squarely, rubbing my hand gently across her cheek with affection. She leaned her face into it indicating her feelings. ‘You’re so beautiful… ‘I began passionately.

She placed the tips of her fingers to my lips to silence me. ‘Don’t say anything… please! This is merely a fleeting moment of our time… a single second spent in eternity. Let us carry it in our personal thoughts for the rest of our days as a cherished moment of our lives.’

I stared at her with a puzzled expression on my face unable to follow her train of thought. ‘What are you trying to say?’ I asked.

There was no immediate reply and we turned to walk on a little further. ‘In my world,’ she began, ‘our customs are ancient, our beliefs profound, and faith is total. In your world, love is important, pleasure ranks high, while freedom is paramount. What I am telling you is that you can fall in love with me but I am not allowed to do the same with you. You see, my father betrothed me at birth to the son of one of his friends and that’s a promise which cannot be broken. I am bound to honour my father’s wishes.’

‘Do you love the man? The one to whom you’re betrothed.’

‘It makes no difference whether I love him or not. Those are the facts.’

‘The facts!’ I blurted out sharply. ‘What are the facts? That one night over a few drinks many years ago your father and his friend made a foolish drunken promise designed to end in misery for their children. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Believe me, nothing can change the situation.’

‘And what if I invited you back to England?’

She laughed for a moment and then sadness filled her eyes. ‘I must fulfil my father’s promise. It’s a bond that cannot be broken. The stars will record for eternity that Davina fulfilled her father’s promise to marry Musaph. The stars live on for ever; emotions of love or hate exist only for a brief span of years. But let us talk about your wife. My father has news of Jan… if that’s her name. She’s being held in the East End of London at St. Katherine’s Dock near Tower Hill. I hope I pronounced it correctly.’ She handed me a sheet of paper. ‘Here are the details!’ I took it and she clutched my hand firmly. ‘You’re a handsome man, Jason Scott. Perhaps in another time, in another world, in another life!’ She kissed my hand tenderly and darted away becoming lost in the crowd.

I stood for a long time in the same spot thinking about her. I had the feeling that we would never meet again. The responsibility of her father’s promise was greater than the love any many could offer her. If she failed to honour that promise, she would be filled with guilt for the rest of her life not only for reneging on her father but also of the religion. It was an invisible barrier to happiness that could not be overcome. Mankind had built many of them to mock civilisation itself. And at the end of it all, I had no right to think about her. I was not only married but I had a mistress as well. So I walked all the way back to Arlosoroff Road trying to expunge the image of Davina from my mind once and for all.

Penny met me with an inquisitive expression in her eyes when I returned. I could hardly blame her. ‘We have to get back to England,’ I informed her bluntly. ‘I have the address where they’ve taken Jan.’

‘Who gave you this information.’ she demanded suspiciously.

I passed the sheet of paper to her. ‘Menel’s daughter. She was the one who telephoned. She insisted I met her alone and told no one about it. I respected her wishes.’

‘She could have told you this over the telephone!’

‘You’ll have to ask her the answer to that one,’ I retorted.

‘I’d like to,’ she snapped in annoyance, ‘seeing you were gone for the best part of nearly three hours.’ She waved the sheet of paper in her hand. ‘Was this the whole message?’

‘Yes… it was.’

‘And it took nearly three hours to deliver it. What’s going on?’ She moved towards me jealously until her face was only a few inches away from mine. ‘What do you take me for, Jason?’

I put my arms around her waist and pulled her close to me. ‘What do I take you for? I take you for everything. My love, my heart, my life.’ Then I kissed her firmly on the lips.

Her body went limp for a few moments and then she broke away. ‘Jason Scott… you’re the biggest rogue I’ve ever known!’

‘That makes two of us, Miss Smith,’ I countered. ‘I thought of you as an innocent secretary only a few days ago, but you’ve told me nothing of the truth. And you’ve killed people in cold blood.’

My attitude mollified at the sight of her dismay and I moved towards her to hold her in my arms again. ‘There’s one thing I haven’t thank you for though. That’s for saving my life when Duran was about to kill me. For that I’m very grateful.’

She kissed me on the forehead tenderly. ‘One day, you may have to return the favour. I hope you won’t forget.’

I thought about her comment for some time wondering what she meant. No doubt, in the light of the things that were happening, the future would reveal the truth!

Chapter Seven

It was late in the evening when we arrived at Ben Gurion Airport. Penny decided to circulate while I bought the airline tickets. It was a busy night and I had to stand in a queue of people with the same purpose in mind. When it was my turn, I had to provide details which the computer operator started to commit to the computer. However, as soon as I mentioned my full name, she pressed a button on her desk and raised her left arm in the air. Within seconds, two security officers rushed to the scene. Before I knew what was happening, they took me by my arms and whisked me away down a corridor.

‘What’s going on?’ I demanded angrily as they ushered me firmly towards an office.

‘You’d do well to keep a still tongue until we’re alone,’ advised one of the security men. ‘Don’t be concerned. You won’t be harmed.’

They guided me to a small room which smelled strongly of stale cigar smoke and one of them motioned me towards a chair.

‘Please sit down,’ invited the younger of the two officers pleasantly. ‘I’m sorry we have to go through the charade out there but it was advisable to remove you quickly from the main area. But firstly, tell me the name of the Commander whom you saw recently.’

‘Do you mean Commander Yasood?’ I asked somewhat bewildered.

‘And where did he meet you?’ He lit a cigarette with an elegant lighter and puffed smoke towards the ceiling.

‘In the Gaza Strip,’ I related become angry. ‘Look… what’s this all about? Why did you have to pull me out of the main area?’

‘We knew unofficially of your mission,’ explained the older man taking off his jacket so that I could witness the gun in its holster around his waist. ‘It’s essential that you recognised its importance as well.’

‘What does that mean?’

He adjusted the holster slightly to make it more comfortable. ‘Our information tells us you’re a reluctant bride unwilling to go to the altar. Is that how you see it too?’

‘If you’d been through what I’ve been through over the last few days you’d also have second thoughts of any further development,’ I replied. ‘The whole thing’s been handled very badly. I’ve almost been killed four times as well as spending a night in a lousy jail in Crete. If that’s how you recruit people to your organisation, forget it!’

The younger security officer blew smoke towards the ceiling once more. ‘Organisation?’ he muttered. ‘We don’t have an organisation. We know of your mission, that’s all. However we’re always interested in adding a new weapon to our armoury… especially if it’s a superior one.’

‘Where’s my secretary… Penny Smith?’

‘She’s fine,’ replied the elder officer. ‘You don’t need to worry about her.’

‘Tell me,’ I went on regardless, ‘am I being arrested?’

The younger man laughed and drew on his cigarette again. ‘Arrested! What for? You’re a VIP, didn’t you know that? In fact we’ve even paid your fare back to England for you. Let’s just say it’s a payment on account.’ He reached into his inside pocket and produced an envelope which he handed to me.

‘On account that you’re going to get the plans of a certain weapon,’ the elder man commented. ‘Look you’ve met a few people here and learned a little about the future of the world. We’d like to make sure you keep everything confidential. There’s a lot at stake. We don’t want some fink shouting his head off to the newspapers. If someone did that he’d have to be silenced. You understand?’ He ran the index finger of his right hand across his throat in a menacing fashion to indicate what might happen if I stepped out of line. ‘On the other hand, we know how to treat our friends.’

‘Well I’m glad I’m not one of your enemies,’ I told him, opening the envelope. It contained a single airline ticket on an El Al flight to London. ‘Hey… there’s only one ticket here!’

‘That’s right,’ declared the elder officer. ‘You’re only one person, aren’t you? Okay… we’ll take you back to the plane but don’t forget what you have to do. Get those plans for us. We will certainly be grateful.’

He motioned me to get to my feet and led me down the corridor to the exit lounge and out onto the tarmac. It was the first time I had ever been escorted to an aeroplane. It made me feel as though I was being deported. Within a few minutes, I found myself aboard the aircraft sitting in the seat next to Penny.

‘I was worried about you.’ I told her breathing a sigh of relief. ‘They gave me only one ticket’

‘They gave me only one ticket too,’ she related with a very lovely smile.

‘I also received a warning to keep my mouth shut about all that’s happened. I presume they said the same thing to you. They’re also after the plans of the new laser gun. The first thing I’m going to do is to find Jan and try to rescue her. But what are our plans after that?’

‘Over the past four years I’ve collected quite a lot of material about the weaponry division of Dandy Advanced Electronics. It’s all stored in a cupboard in my apartment. I suggest we go there and take a good look at it before deciding the next step.’

I stared at her with a certain amount of dismay. ‘You know, if it wasn’t for Jan’s abduction, I would let the whole thing drop.

This is not really my game. I know nothing about the 21st Century Crusaders… let alone risk my life for them.’

‘They want the plans… nothing more,’ stated Penny bluntly. ‘If you get them, the matter will end there as far as you’re concerned.’

‘And if I can’t get them?’

‘We could have another world war. One more horrifying than all the wars in the past put together. And you any never see Jan again. I don’t think you want either of those things on your conscience, do you?’

Suddenly, the whole future of the world seemed to rest on me successfully gaining the plans of the prototype laser gun developed by the company for whom I worked. How did I become so responsible in such a short time. I fell silent for a while, fighting the battle in my mind. Should I continue to risk life and limb or would it be more expedient not to help anyone? Was it worth risking my appointment at Dandy Advanced Electronics by becoming an industrial spy trying to steal the plans owned by them, or would it be more sensible to resign from the company and disappear deep into the countryside away from it all? What I really wanted is for no one to take any further interest in me but then what would happen to Jan? Penny was right. It would remain for ever on my conscience!

As soon as we landed Penny headed for a telephone booth. ‘I have to make a call to my mother, she told me. ‘She never stops worrying about me.’

I nodded and waited at the exit waiting for her to complete the call. As soon as she rejoined me, we made our way to her apartment. As we entered I had a strange sensation that someone had been there in the past few days. The staleness that exists when a place is left unoccupied for a while was absent. I helped myself to a drink and sat down on the settee while Penny brought a large cardboard box into the lounge from her bedroom, leaving the door open behind her.

‘Much of the information is general,’ she began, lifting the lid to show that it was almost filled with papers, ‘but together it offers a reasonable account of what goes on in the weaponry division and its operations.’ She lifted out a whole sheaf of papers and started to sort them into separate piles on the carpet.

‘You’ll be disappointed when I tell you that I know nothing about lasers,’ I admitted. ‘As you know, my field is commercial computers. For the rest of the time I concentrate on bridge. I focus my mind only on the things in which I’m successful. Everything else gets blotted out.’

She looked at me as though I had commented casually about the weather. ‘You don’t have to know anything about lasers. All you have to do is to get the plans. Don’t worry… we’ll go through all this together. It should be interesting to say the least.’

I stared at her in amazement. ‘You’ve accumulated all this information on that division?’

‘I had five years to do it. Now… as you know the head of the division is John Packman. The company allows three years tenure in the weapons division for security reasons. He’s been there for almost that period of time and is about to move shortly. Why don’t you contact him and take him to lunch?’

‘Won’t he become suspicious?’

‘Not if you tell him that you’re on the short list to replace him. Even better, you can arrange to visit the division but you’ll have to obtain a pass-card for access. If you contact Packman on some pretext… like an excuse that you’re working on a new idea for commercial computers to be manufactured by laser beam operation or of some development relating to lasers, he may invite you there.’

‘More likely he would try to talk it down by telephone. Do you really want me to lie to him for the sake of getting those plans?’

‘I don’t really care what you have to do to get them. We’re dealing with World War Three here, Jason. It’s not a matter of what I want you to do… it’s a case of saving millions of lives. And you can do it. As the clown said in Twelfth Night: “Some men are born great, some achieve greatness, while some have greatness thrust upon them.” You’ve been chosen for this role. Be it angel or Devil! You don’t have a choice, especially where Jan’s concerned.’

She wasn’t pulling any punches either and in my mind’s eye I could see her dressed in that brown uniform. ‘All right,’ I conceded. ‘Tell me about lasers!’

She picked up the first pile of papers and raised them to reading height before reading out aloud. ‘A laser is a device that strengthens light. It can burn a hole in a diamond or carry signals of numerous television pictures at the same time. Unlike other forms of light, laser light travels in one direction only. Lasers are used in communications such as radio and television, in industry for cutting and inspection, in medicine for use in surgical operations, in scientific research, and in military operations. In the past, laser beams have measured the distance and speed of enemy planes and ships. They’ve guided shells and bombs to their targets and have been used as navigational devices. Military research has been underway for many years to develop high-energy lasers that could destroy enemy aircraft, tanks and missiles. Such development would also include the destruction of ground troops. A number of organisation in the United States have been working on military research for the Star Wars programme which put such fear in the Soviet Union. The idea was to threaten everyone from satellites in space but no one seems to have emerged with a satisfactory solution. British ingenuity has come to the forefront again at Dandy’s weaponry division. Such an advanced laser gun is being developed there and a prototype is being tested albeit at the moment it is imperfect and erratic.’

I held up my hand to stop her, ‘Hold it… hold it there! If it’s imperfect and erratic why should Commander Yasood and the rest of the gang, whoever they are, want it? After all, if Penny Smith knows it doesn’t work properly, they must know it too.’

‘I think that’s where Schmuel Musaphia and Menel come in,’ she answered.

‘Really!’ I spluttered with surprise. ‘Would you tell me where they fit into all this?

She ignored my question and looked down at the papers again to start to read again. ‘There are many kinds of lasers but the one Dandy’s dealing with is a crystal laser. It employs a fluorescent crystal such as a ruby as its light amplifying substance. The power for a ruby laser comes from a flash tube often coiled around the ruby. The flash tube excites a large number of chromium ions which are electrically charged atoms in the ruby allowing it to melt hard materials. Such streams of light can burn through thin steel in short bursts because the flash tube can generate such intense heat in the ruby. There’s a garnet called neodymium yttrium aluminium which produces a continuous beam of light. This occurs because it uses less power to operate than a ruby laser and it can be cooled by water. It’s used generally as a drill. The first laser was built in 1960 and people have been researching laser guns since that time all over the world. But still they haven’t come up with the death-ray machine everyone’s after.’

‘If I could remember a quarter of what you told me I’d be happy,’ I told her. ‘Do you realise what would happen if such a weapon fell into the wrong hands. Imagine if Menel decided to auction it to a number of buyers.’

‘He told you he wanted to preserve a decent and safe life for his children and grandchildren… the whole family.’

‘That’s what he said but can anyone believe him? It sounded very much like bull-shit to me.’

‘Jason… we haven’t any choice!’ She was becoming very desperate into trying to win me over.

I shook my head slowly. ‘Without the plans of the laser prototype, it hardly matters whether we have a choice or not. I can understand where Menel fits in as Chief Advisor on weaponry to the 21st Century Crusaders but you haven’t explained what use Musaphia will be. What has that old man to do with all this?’

‘He’s an expert on diamonds and jewels. Rubies are used in lasers. If you get those plans he can experiment to perfect the weapon. He has a lot of expertise in that field.’

‘I’m not convinced about any of it,’ I grunted.

‘I’m sure we’ll meet him again,’ she predicted, lowering the papers to face me.

‘Not in the King David Hotel I hope,’ I rattled sharply. ‘I don’t want to go through all that again!’ I yawned and rose from the settee, walking towards the bedroom. I did not intend to look inside but the door was partly open. Beside the bed were a pair of two-tone black and white shoes of the kind that Jan wore. Very few women wore two-tone coloured shoes. As Penny collected all the papers, I stepped inside to examine them. They were size five… Jan’s size!

‘By the way,’ I asked, keeping my voice on an even keel when I returned to the lounge, ‘what size shoes do you take?’

She looked at me with a surprised expression on her face. ‘Five… why? Are you going to buy me shoes for my birthday?’

I shook my head and made a feeble excuse but I refused to accept her reply as the truth. It was too much of a coincident that both she and Jan wore two-tone black and white shoes size five. I had never seen Penny wearing them. But it was something I had to push to the back of my mind for a while. ‘I’m going to visit John Packman at the weaponry division,’ I told her. Theory is one thing… practical knowledge is another. I have to see this weapon for myself.’

‘It might be a good opportunity to learn the rules and the layout of the division while you’re there,’ she advised.

‘Rules, I echoed. ‘What rules?’

‘You won’t get past the main gate without a pass. You’ll have to get that from Packman. Then there’s a procedure before you can get to the area you want to visit. That laser gun is very well guarded as you’ll find out.’

‘I’m not interested in the gun itself. Where are the plans kept?’

‘There are two sets on microfilm. One of them locked away in the Chairman’s office. The other’s in a safe in the factory.’

I stared at her icily. ‘And you know the combination of the safe, I suppose.’

No, I don’t. The plans are also on the computer system. It’s a special programme but access is restricted and it requires a double password. Packman has one of the passwords, I have no idea who has the other one. There’s also another problem. You might find your way into the computer system but, for the purposes of security the weaponry division has a separate computer completely independent of the main system. To work on that one, in order to crack the passwords, you’d have to break into the security zone itself.’

‘That’s great!’ I muttered in annoyance. ‘Two sets of plans in safes fitted with alarms and a separate computer system with barred access and dual password in a security zone. How the hell am I going to get in there and copy the plans?’

She stared at me coolly. ‘There is a way. I know a computer expert who’s first-class at breaking passwords. He lives and breathes computers. He’s also brilliant on security devices which prevent people from entering secured premises. He could help you to do it.’

‘Is he a 21st Century Crusader as well?’

‘He’s an old friend of mine. He’s just been released from prison where he was jailed for three years for computer hacking.’

‘Oh brilliant!’ I guffawed. ‘A jailbird to break into a security zone with me!’

‘I couldn’t think of anyone better. You see the problem is how to break into the security area where the computer is located.’

‘I could get Packman to let me have a pass to gain access to the plant,’ I suggested naively.

‘If everything was that simple,’ she retorted. ‘The pass is a sensitised plastic card. Once placed into the machine, a security device makes certain it can’t be used again for twenty-four hours. You’ll need two passes. On for you and one for Chris Devon.’

‘Packman won’t give me two passes,’ I growled. ‘We’ll just have to copy the one given to me.’

‘That won’t work either,’ persisted Penny, ostensibly destroying every suggestion I made. ‘The card’s designed so as it can’t be copied. It’ll corrupt if you try to do so. But there is technology to overcome the problem.’

I sighed loudly to show my dissatisfaction. ‘What sort of technology?’ I asked tiredly.

‘Chris Devon will have it all in hand. I’m certain of it.’

‘But he’s been incarcerated for three years. He may not wish to become involved, let alone have the expertise to do what you want.’ By this time I was become rather exasperated.

‘You’ll just have to trust me,’ she went on.

‘Don’t keep saying that!’ I felt my blood surge through my veins as anger welled up inside me. ‘The risks are too great! I can’t do it!’ I walked to the door and opened it. ‘I’m going to the

East End… St. Katherine’s Dock. I have to check whether Jan is there.’

‘Very well,’ she nodded. ‘But it’s essential we see Chris Devon, my computer expert, as soon as possible. I’ll meet you at Leyton underground station in, say, two hours time.’

I glanced at my wristwatch to note the time. ‘If we have to,’ I groaned. Two hours. But then I must get some sleep. I feel I’ve been awake for a hundred years.’

She came to the door and kissed me sweetly. ‘We’ll see it through,’ she told me, brushing my hair back gently. ‘See you soon!’

The area leading down to St. Katherine’s Dock comprise a maze of ancient warehouses. The area was dingy and dirty and the air was polluted with wisps of wool imported from New Zealand which had been stacked in many of the warehouses. There was a strong smell of coffee as well as the delicate aroma of musk, peppers and a whole host of other spices. I read the address on the sheet of paper Davina had given me. It was a warehouse down one of the narrow lanes leading to the docks. The door of the place was slightly open when I arrived there and I peered inside. When my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I entered.

‘Is anyone there?’ I called out foolishly, for if this was a trap I had walked straight into it with my eyes wide open. ‘Jan… can you hear me?’ My words echoed vacantly through the warehouse. ‘Jan… are you there?’ I sat down on a large sack which appeared to contain sugar and waited for a while but nothing happened. Eventually, I got to my feet and was about to leave when I noticed a long table near to a tiny barred window at the end of the room. I walked towards it hesitantly, interested to find out what was laying there. It appeared to be a body covered with a dirty sheet. I touched it with horror believing it to be Jan only to discover that it was her coat filled with bundles of straw to make me believe that it was her corpse. Someone was playing a very sick game! Unfortunately, such antics did little to help me find my wife. Where was she… in England… in Israel? I could only hope that she was not suffering!

I sat on the table with my back against the wall for a while in anticipation that someone might turn up to find out whether or not I had discovered the mock corpse but no one did. Then fatigue overcame me and I fell asleep. I was probably affected by jet-lag from the flight. When I awoke, I glanced at my watch to discover that over an hour-and-a-half had passed. I hurried out of the docks area to keep the appointment with Penny. When I got to Leyton underground station she was waiting patiently for me.

‘It’s not far from here,’ she informed me, walking on so that I was forced to follow her. ‘I met Chris Devon about six years ago at evening classes. I got as far as word-processing; Chris went on to better things.

‘Or worse things if you take into account that he spent three years in prison,’ I corrected.

‘Maybe,’ she responded, ‘but no one can take his talent away from him. He is an expert in the true sense of the word.’

I shrugged my shoulders as we arrived at a terraced house in a seedy part of London. For a moment it reminded me of the time when we stood outside Menel’s hovel in Jaffa. Penny lifted the large knocker on the front door and brought it down three times. We waited patiently and shortly there was the sound of footsteps clattering on the stairs inside before the door was opened. Chris Devon was a person to whom I took an instant dislike. He was as thin as a rake and looked like a scarecrow. He had a gummy smile because all his front teeth had eroded. His long black hair was tied behind in a pony tail and he sported an ugly beard which had grown completely out of shape. In the lobes of each ear were three silver ear-rings while a mock diamond pin had been pierced through his nostril. He wore a dirty shirt and very stained trousers and I was not enchanted by the foul odour that seemed to follow him around wherever he went.

‘Come upstairs!’ he invited casually. ‘Hope you don’t mind the mess. Wasn’t expecting you.’

We followed him up the narrow staircase and I struck my head on the well of the stairs which hung particularly low. ‘By the way,’ he called out belatedly. ‘Mind your head!’

We entered a small room which sported a profusion of television monitors, computers, computer screens, and shelves of computer books. As Penny had told me, Devon lived and breathed computers. The only evidence of normal life were a tiny table, a skinny wooden chair, a tin kettle on a single gas-ring, a bottle of milk and half a loaf of bread.

‘So you’re the computer expert,’ I offered in a contemptuous manner.

‘Sorry there’s no other chairs, ‘ he told us as though I hadn’t spoken to him at all. ‘Never need them. Don’t get any visitors normally.’ He turned to me sombrely. ‘Er… there’s a half bottle of beer here somewhere if you can find it.’ He pressed a button on one of the computers and a video game appeared.

‘It’s all right,’ said Penny warmly. ‘We’re not staying long. We have something that might interest you.’

‘Oh yeh!’ His mind was a million miles away as he started to play the video game. ‘What’s it all about?’

‘Hold it there for a minute!’ I shouted angrily. ‘Just hold it there!’

He stopped the game and stared at me non-plussed. ‘Did I miss something. I thought I got all the invaders.’

‘Not the game, you idiot!’ I ranted. ‘We’ve come here to offer you a job. A very important job! I’m not going to talk to you while you’re playing a damned computer game!’

‘Man,’ he explained in simple terms. ‘You don’t understand. I’m a multi-player. I can do more than two things at once. I can listen to you and still play the game.’

‘Not while I’m talking to you!’ I told him point-blank. ‘When I talk you listen. Is that clear? Otherwise we’ll look somewhere else to take on the job.’

Reluctantly, he stopped the game and closed it down. ‘Okay, man. What’s on your mind?’

‘Before we discuss the matter, I want you to swear to secrecy. No one must ever know what we are planning. I want you to swear to secrecy. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Devon looked towards Penny with an old-fashioned expression on his face. ‘Is this guy for real? I mean who’s he with… the CIA or something? Swear to secrecy! That’s rich! I ‘aint a priest or a doctor!’

‘I’m serious,’ I went on. ‘You cannot reveal anything that we say to another individual otherwise we shall all be in trouble. You cannot tell anyone… not even your mother!’

‘I don’t have a mother,’ he returned calmly.

I threw my hands in the air and turned to Penny. ‘Is this the best we can do? Is it really the best?’

‘He’s the right man for the job,’ she insisted adamantly, trying to hide the smile on her face in relation to the personality clash.

I looked directly into Devon’s eyes. ‘This conversation must be kept entirely confidential. Is that understood?’

‘If you say so, man,’ he replied casually. ‘You know, this is getting’ to be boring. Isn’t it time you cut to the chase and told me what it’s all about?’ He moved away slightly and sneezed ostensibly into his beard.

‘The target is an international company making military weapons,’ I told him.

‘Oh… Dandy Advanced Electronics,’ he returned without even blinking, cutting across my diplomatic approach like a hot knife through butter.

‘What makes you think it’s them?’ I demanded, irked that he should come to the right conclusion so quickly.

‘Well there’s only two major companies in the field and you wouldn’t dare to try to break into their computer systems. Anyway, Miss Smith works for Dandy. She told me so.’

‘All right,’ I continued with irritation. ‘You know it’s Dandy. I need some information from their computer but I don’t know how to do it.’

‘No sweat, man,’ he responded casually. ‘Lead me to the system and I’ll crack it. When do you wanna go?’

‘It’s not as easy as that. We have to break into the plant to get to the computer system. You can’t just walk in there as though you have the front door key.’

‘The other problem,’ cut in Penny, ‘is that the information is access barred and there are two passwords required to get into the system.’

Devon shrugged his shoulders aimlessly. ‘It takes a bit longer, that’s all.’

‘I’ll come clean with you,’ I confessed reluctantly. ‘The weaponry division runs off a separate computer system. We would have to get past a number of security checks before we even got to it.’

‘What information are you lookin’ for, man?’

‘Why do you have to know that now?’

‘Are we searchin’ hundreds of files or is it somethin’ simple… like a set of plans. It would help if I knew.’

The computer expert had an alarming way of reducing important matters to mere trivia. ‘It’s a set of plans. Will you help us get them?’

He smiled in an ugly fashion at Penny. ‘For this lady, I’d do anything… anything. Just say when you need me and I’ll come runnin’. I presume there’s a fat fee in all this. I mean I’ve just done three years in jug. If I get caught they’ll put me away for ever.’

‘Just leave that to me,’ related my secretary firmly. ‘You’ll be contacted within the next few days.’

A cold chill passed through my body as her words echoed in my mind. I had already witnessed how Penny Smith took care of people… often it was effected by a bullet in the head or in the heart. At other times, she ran them down in a motor car as she had done on the Jaffa dockside. She appeared to have no conscience about her actions whatsoever. In my opinion, Chris Devon should have been far more concerned about my secretary than he was about his probation.

Believing that the conversation with us had ended, he switched on his computer again manipulating the buttons on the console. ‘Is there anythin’ else you wanna know, man,’ he asked finally.

‘Just one thing before we go,’ I added. ‘I’ve been told how good you are but how good are you really. I mean our future lives are on the line here. I don’t want anything to go wrong.’

‘Man,’ he retorted without moving his eyes from the screen in front of him, ‘I’m the best!’ He paused for a moment before continuing. ‘You know I can get to level eight in this game with no sweat.’

‘If you’re so good how come you spent three years in jail?’ The words were fired at him like an arrow from a crossbow.

He stopped playing the video to look at me. ‘That’s the reason why I’m the best, man. You see I’m the only person in the world who broke through the scrambler telephone system. No one else could do it. In case you don’t know what it is, a scrambler system is one where people can talk secretly over the telephone and no one else can listen in. It’s unbreakable… security efficient. But I found a way to break in.’

My mind sought an answer to his boast. Who could it have been… a government department, MI5, a military establishment… perhaps the Bank of England? It had to be someone elevated for him to be sent to prison for three years. ‘And who’s telephone conversation did you unscramble?’ I attacked fiercely, trying to make him out to be a fool.

He paused for a moment while he eradicated a number of invaders falling out of the sky on the video. ‘It was stupid,’ he explained briefly. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have done it but it did wonders for my ego. I tapped into a conversation between the President of the United States and the President of Iraq.’

‘Did the conversation have anything to do with the Gulf War?’

‘Don’t ask me, man. I’m not interested in politics. Only computers. But they were talkin’ together like real buddies.’

My mind was reeling when we left him. He had opened the window to world politics I never knew existed. People often believed that treachery occurred at high levels. Even the media was kept in the dark. Now I understood why governments placed limitation on the release of information claiming to reveal that it was against the public interest for anyone to know. Eventually, the details came to light some fifty years on, after which it is too late to do anything about them and most of the perpetrators had probably gone to their maker. Of one thing I was certain… the quicker I obtained the information from the data banks of the computer in Dandy Advanced Electronics, the faster I would be free from danger. In addition, I would never have to face that awful person, Chris Devon, again!

Chapter Eight

Penny and I arrived at the offices of Dandy Advanced Electronics at nine o’clock the next morning. I had no fear of the threat presented by Primar that a letter had been sent to the Chairman concerned the false fact that I had stolen money from the company’s funds. I had no intention of starting work but wasted no time in putting a call in to John Packman, the director of the weaponry division. He wasn’t there at the time so I left a message for him to return the call. It was almost an hour when he came back to me.

‘Sorry, Jason,’ he apologised. ‘I had a meeting with the Chief Executive. We had a few problems over the weekend. Someone tried to break into the complex. Every time that happens we have to have a review on security and tighten it up. What can I do for you?’

Tighten the security! I could have cheerfully throttled the fool who tried to break in. He hadn’t helped my cause one little bit! ‘Someone’s come up with an idea for laser welding to improve domestic computer production,’ I lied. ‘I’m pretty naïve about lasers and I thought you might be able to fill in the gaps if I came to look at the equipment in your division.’

‘We have lasers,’ he replied reluctantly, ‘but our research relates to military capability.’

‘I’ve never seen one at work so it might be useful for me to get a worm’s eye view. Anyway, it’s about time I visited your division to find out what’s going on there.’

He hesitated for a few moments weighing up the pros and cons. ‘Very well,’ he said eventually. ‘If you want to come over you’d better do it right away. I’ll have to get Personnel Division to transmit your photograph and curriculum vitae to our computer terminal in the security block otherwise you won’t be able to gain access to the complex. We have one of the best security systems in the country, you know.’

I felt my knees go weak at his revelation as I replaced the receiver into its cradle. As far as it went, so far so good! Within a short while I would be inside the weaponry division familiarising myself with the layout and the kind of security in operation.

‘Well don!’ commended Penny when I told her the news. ‘Stage One is now operational.’

‘Operational,’ I grunted solemnly. ‘I don’t think that’s the right word. I can’t seem to get the spectre of your computer expert out of my mind. I’m sure he’s bad news.’

‘Then you’ll be surprised to find out how good he is when the time for action arrives,’ she countered with a confident smile.

I left the building and drove out of the city. Before long the car was cruising across a derelict suburban area. The establishment of the weaponry division was easily recognised, surrounded by stout concrete posts with strong wire netting in between, safeguarded by miles of ominous-looking barbed wire. Large signs alerted visitors to the fact that the fencing was electrified. It was further protected by two groups of uniformed guards, some carrying rifles while others handled savage Alsatian dogs on short leashes. I approached the cubicle at the front gate pressing a red button below the window which slid downwards to show the face of yet another security guard.

‘Your identification, sir,’ he requested politely.

I showed him my company card bearing my photograph which he scanned for information. Then he tapped in the information into a computer to check that the details were correct. Shortly, he handed the card back to me.

‘Mr. Packman has granted you authorisation for this visit,’ he told me, ‘but before I allow you inside I must ask you to open all the doors of your vehicle as well as the boot and the bonnet. We need to inspect it thoroughly.’

I held my breath for a moment. Security in this complex was the highest I had ever seen. It would be easier to get into the Pentagon or Fort Knox than into Dandy Advanced Electronics weaponry division.

In due course, he raised the barrier and I cruised into the complex stopping in front of a dismal building with a sign that stated ‘Reception’. Outside was an armed guard and I walked past him uneasily until I reached the Reception Area. An elderly officer, dressed in army uniform bearing the badges of the rank of Brigadier, sat behind a large desk. As I arrived, he put down his pen and looked up at me with a bland expression on his face. ‘I presume you’re Mr. Jason Scott.’ he greeted.

‘That’s right.’ I responded. ‘I must admit I’m impressed with your security here.’

‘There’s a triple check on everyone who visits, Mr. Scott. Mr. Packman sent a message directly to our computer terminal alerting us that you were coming. The front gate confirmed your arrival via a computer message and I’ve just checked that you are the same person. We have to be on the alert for intruders twenty-four hours of the day and night.’

‘Do you keep the same number of guards both day and night?’ I asked, keeping my voice at a casual level with vested interest as to the answer.

‘Not as many. The alarm equipment assists at night time. We tend to rely on electronic sensors. But they can’t be used during the day or we’d be tripping over them all the time setting off the alarms.’ He stood up, picking up a baton and a peaked cap, starting out of the building. ‘Follow me!’ he ordered sharply.

I charged after him and we climbed into a waiting jeep. He drove to a building about a mile south passing a number of tanks spaced at regular intervals to represent a conventional theatre of war. I presumed that the tests on the laser gun took place here where no visitors were allowed to come. We entered the porch way of the building and stopped at a computer terminal.

‘I prepared this card for you when the Director told me your were coming,’ he said gruffly. He handed me a plastic card before placing a similar one into the machine. A door opened which closed swiftly behind him after he had passed through. I ignored the machine and tried to push the door open by force but it was made of solid steel and refused to budge. I had to retreat and emulate the action of my guide in order to join him inside.

‘You can’t get past that machine without identification,’ he told me flatly. ‘The bad news for any intruder is that the card can be inserted in this computer terminal only once in each twenty-four hours. It’s done to ensure maximum security. The good news is that you don’t need a card to get out of this place. Ah… here’s Mr. Packman himself.’ The Brigadier saluted the Director as he approached us.

‘Jason!’ greeted Packman. I can give you thirty minutes then I’ll have to pass you back into the hands of the Brigadier.’ He turned to the old man. ‘You can wait here, Brigadier, while I show Mr. Scott around.’ He took me by the arm gently and led me further into the building. ‘We have an upstairs and a downstairs. Both are relatively large. All the secret equipment is kept below divided into non-nuclear, nuclear, lasers, armour structures for vehicles, tanks, ships and general research.’

‘Armour structures.’ I repeated woodenly.

‘Yes. Do you know that in 1987 a new anti-tank rocket was provided for the British army after ten years of development. By that time, the Soviets had move on to reactive armour so that the anit-tank rocket was ineffective. It was a shoulder-launched LAW80. The Ministry of Defence claimed that the tracks of the tanks were the traditional part to be attacked. As the tracks of the Russian tanks were not made of reactive armour they were still vulnerable. How some Civil Servants will defend budgets even when they know they’re wrong is beyond my ken. Unfortunately, we’re in the hands of politicians who keep whining that public money must be used for services such as health, education, transport, housing and a variety of other needs at the expense of defence. What they don’t understand is that the world is not a Garden of Eden with only one snake to concern us. Every country must have protection. The worrying factor is the accelerating level of weaponry. Where does it all end? It’s a pity we don’t manufacture crystal balls to allow us to look into the future. I’d be the first in the queue to buy one.’

‘I heard about the prototype of the new laser weapon. The most advanced lethal weapon of its kind in the world.’

He stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Where did you hear that?’

I paused for a moment realising that I had told him too much. ‘At a Board meeting. Yes I’m sure I heard it there,’ I managed to say, hoping that he would believe me. ‘I overheard someone mention it in the background but I don’t know who.’

His face showed that he was annoyed at my remark. ‘Well they’re very naughty to have done so,’ he criticised irately. ‘ Dangerous talk costs lives. It’s an illusion to believe that we live in a world of human-beings in civilisation on this planet, Jason. Half of them are animals. Wild animals! They’ll cheat and lie, steal and kill for money… for power… for greed, ambition and causes.’ He paused to calm himself down and then walked on. ‘Come! I’ll take you downstairs to the laser area but you must promise me that what you see will remain a secret.’

I placed my hand over my heart. ‘Everything will be kept entirely secret, I assure you.’ I recognised that he was right in his philosophy on people. I was already becoming one of those wild animals!

He led me down a corridor with a sloping floor until we came to a dead end. There was another computer terminal was located at the side of the wall.

‘Ah,’ I told him sagely, ‘I can’t use this card for another twenty-four hours. That’s what the Brigadier told me.’

‘He was quite correct. All cards can only be used once during that period, however this is a different security check. The machine will answer to only one of two handprints… that of the supervisor of the division and mine.’ He placed his hand on the glass plate and a light glowed. Suddenly, the wall at the end of the corridor slid open with a gentle hum and we passed into a large room. There were five men working on different projects as the Director took me on the brief tour.

‘In most cases, laser light works only in short bursts. Where continuous beams of light are available, the power source is insufficient to produce the kind of energy force we need. We experiment with glass lasers with flash tubes, solid lasers which use crystals and produce strong sources of power, gas lasers where gas is installed in glass tubes measuring up to thirty feet in length and also liquid lasers. It’s quite a lot for you to take in at one go.’

I looked around the room focussing my eyes on the weapon everyone was so keep to possess. ‘I presume that’s the military weapon of the twenty-first century,’ I ventured, pointing my finger in its direction.

‘There are currently five countries trying to manufacture the same weapon in the United States… especially for Star Wars. No one knows who’s ahead at the present time. Personally, as Rhett Butler said in ‘Gone With The Wind’, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn! There’s a company rule which states for security reasons that directors aren’t allowed to extend their appointment here for longer than three years. Well my term’s almost up now so I won’t be here for much longer. What’s it like in commercial computers? Maybe it’s on the cards that we’ll exchange places.;

I smiled but continued to stare at the laser weapon. ‘I should imagine the plans for that monster are tucked well away. I wouldn’t like to think someone could steal them.’

He walked over to a bank of computers and placed his right hand on one of them. ‘They’re well protected,’ he said innocently, completely unaware of my deep interest in his answer. ‘The computer is access-barred to delivering such sensitive information. It won’t work unless it has two passwords. Most passwords contain four digits each… ours comprise five. We’ve made it as tough as possible for any potential hacker. I’ve one set of the password, the supervisor of the division has the other. I don’t know his; he doesn’t know mine. The system’s foolproof.’

‘Thank Heaven’s for that,’ I responded falsely pretending to be relieved by his comments.

‘You say the idea you have is to use laser beam applications for commercial computers. I thought all our manufactures were farmed out to a company on a sub-contract basis.’

‘It is,’ I confirmed readily. ‘But we’re considering acquiring a computer manufacturer or an assembly company. If so, I want to be ahead of the competition. We can’t beat the Far East countries in terms of the cost of manufacture because the wage levels out there are so low so we have to find other methods. Robotics interconnected with laser beam operation might be the answer.’

He thought about it for a moment and then shifted his feet uneasily. ‘Hm,’ he muttered. ‘I hope they don’t have a project of that kind lined up for me when I move from here. It sounds too damned complicated for my liking.’

‘Well these matters are all tentative at present. It could take months or even years to come about.’ I looked around the room trying to take in as much as I could at one visit. There were close-circuit cameras located near to the ceiling at strategic points which probably operated both day and night. They offered the security staff a view of every part of the complex on an array of monitors centrally located elsewhere. ‘I’m pleased to see security cameras installed for night work.’

‘Both night an day,’ he revealed. ‘We call the television staff on the monitors ‘the television crew’.’

‘Where are they located?’

‘They’re the boys in Block ‘B’. Worth their weight in gold! I couldn’t sit watching a whole host of screens for hours on end. It would drive me crackers!’

My eyes drifted from the equipment as I began to stare at the workers in the room. They seemed to be the normal type of scientists undertaking research in an establishment of this kind, dressed in white coats, but there was one man in particular who caught my attention. I moved to a different position in the room to examine his face more carefully trying not to arouse suspicion. Then I became positive in the identification. It was Tomar Duran… the man who had approached the wreckage of the aircraft in Crete and had threatened to shoot me. The man with whom I tussled on the ground before Penny shot him. I moved towards him scanning his face much more closely. Yes… there was a cut above his left eye which probably happened when we fought. But Penny had shot him with his own gun! ‘What’s the name of this man?’ I asked Packman directly. ‘The one with number five printed on the back of his white coat.’

Packman picked up a clipboard on a table and glanced at it. ‘Number Five. That’s Tomar Duran.’

I inhaled deeply trying to absorb the situation into my mind. ‘Has he been absent lately… taken some leave?’

The Director tapped into one of the computers terminals and waited for a response. ‘Yes… he took three days’ leave. Why do you ask?’

‘I presume he’s been cleared by your security people?’

‘Of course. We take the most stringent measures to ensure that everyone here is whiter than white.’

‘I’d like to see his curriculum vitae.’

‘Impossible!’ returned Packman adamantly. ‘Personnel Division never releases the records of staff unless promotion is in hand. Duran’s been with this division for two years.’

‘I’d like to ask him a few questions if you don’t mind.’

The Director shrugged his shoulders. ‘it’s not up to me. It depends on him whether he wants to answer your questions.’

We walked over to Number Five and he turned to face us. It was definitely Tomar Duran. ‘You took three days’ leave recently,’ I began, staring directly into his eyes. ‘Where did you go?’

‘Of course,’ he replied in a perfect English accent keeping his voice on an even keel. ‘I went to Crete. It was a family funeral.’

I could only assume that he was making fun of me in this dilemma. ‘Did anything unusual happen while you were there?’

He lifted his hands with the palms upwards in a token of innocence. ‘They buried my uncle and I came home.’

‘Where did you stay in Crete?’

‘In Heraklion. My family owns a restaurant there. He Acropolis Restaurant.’

He was definitely taking the mickie out of me and I disliked it intensely. ‘Do you know a Commander Spring?’

‘Commander Spring,’ he returned, pursing his lips as though thinking very hard. ‘No… I don’t know anyone of that name.’

The conversation ended there and Packman and I walked back towards the door. It opened automatically from the inside and we left the building by the main exit to where the Brigadier was waiting.

‘What was that all about?’ asked the Director with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘I used to know someone who looked like him but he was killed recently.’

‘Well Duran is very much alive,’ he laughed, ‘at least I hope he hasn’t come back from the dead to haunt us. We’ve no way of dealing with ghosts in security. If so, he could walk through walls and we wouldn’t be able to pick him up on the screens.’ He glanced at his wristwatch and shook his head. ‘I’d have liked to show you more but time’s against us. I’m due for the monthly meeting later with the Minister of Defence. They’re no fun, I assure you. Everyone thinks this job’s a dream. Don’t you believe it! I have to fight budget cuts in financial aid and grants, political ambitions, and a host of irrational decisions. Look after him, Brigadier. See Mr. Scott off the premises!’ He moved towards a large black saloon and was driven off smartly, leaving me in the charge of the security officer.

‘He’s a good man,# commented the Brigadier. ‘His term off office expires soon so he’s in the danger period.’

‘The danger period? What’s that?’

‘Three of the last four Directors of this division experienced the same problem. Someone tried to break in to steal something during the last thirty days of their reign. But technology is so advanced these days it’s unlikely any intruder could get past the main gate.’

‘Why, Brigadier,’ I smiled. ‘You sound as though you’re looking for a challenge.’

‘Naturally,’ he admitted calmly. ‘Technology advances at sucha rate of knots these days no one really knows whether anything works as effectively as they hope. It took the Falkland War to prove that Exocet missiles were exceptional weapons at sea while the Gulf War allowed us to test devices to scuttle SCUD missiles and also to gain more experience in laser targeting. By that means, an aircraft could identify a target and send down a laser beam so that its bombs would definitely hone in on the exact target. Without challenges, we wouldn’t be able to successfully test new weaponry. The same relates to security. I wouldn’t mind the system being tested by the fine mind of a highly-professional burglar. We need such challenges.’

‘Do you know anything about Tomar Duran?’ I asked as we walked towards the jeep.

‘Number Five!’ he returned coolly. ‘Not allowed to discuss matters concerning staff. How do you know about him?’

We climbed into the vehicle and I decided to come clean. ‘I know him because I found him dead recently. Shot with a pistol through the head.’

His hands froze over the steering wheel and he turned to face me. ‘What do you mean… you found him dead?’

‘We got into a fight in Crete and someone shot him. When I last saw him he was dead.’

‘How long ago was this?’

‘A few days ago. If he was the same man he should have a lump on his head the size of an ostrich egg apart from the bullet wound.’

In an instant, he lifted the telephone receiver in the jeep and pressed a button on the instrument before speaking into the microphone. ‘Security! This is the Brigadier! I want a double check on Tomar Duran for security reasons. Ignore the current file. See what you can find out about him! Report back to me as soon as you find out anything. And check him physically before he leaves the division today. I want t o know every bump, bruise, scratch or birthmark on his body!’ He replaced the receiver with a determined expression and turned to me again. ‘You can never be too careful in security. Don’t worry… we’ll soon find out the truth.’

‘What happens when you find that someone’s cracked your security system?’ I asked tentatively. ‘I mean to break into the complex.’

He started the engine and drove off. ‘No one’s ever succeeded, thank Heavens. If we catch them, we deal with intruders in our own way… it’s what they deserve. We can’t afford publicity or someone shooting their mouth off to other criminals with intent… not with the Ministry of Defence putting up all that money for research and development.’

‘So how do you deal with them?’

‘Anyone caught breaking in will find out to their cost. Do you realise what would happen if any of our plans found their way into the hands of a third party? They’d be hawked around the world to the highest bidders for profit and then everyone would have them. Some wars would break out in insignificant countries while some mad ambitious bastard would set the world in his sights and go for it.’

‘Then why keep designing new weapons?’

The jeep pulled up smartly outside the small dismal building which housed the Brigadier. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, sir,’ he declared, climbing out of the jeep before saluting me smartly. ‘By the way, I have a nephew who’s very keen on computers. Do you think you might be able to put in a good word for him?’

‘I’d be delighted, Brigadier,’ I told him, handing him my business card. Tell him to contact my secretary. I’ll see what I can do.’

I got into my car again and drove to the main gate. The sentry waved for me to stop to examine my identity card again, once more comparing it with my photograph. Then he searched the interior of the car, the boot and the bonnet once again before waving to his colleague to raise the barrier. I drove away from the weaponry division feeling as though I had just escaped from a maximum security prison. I dared not think how I would feel when I tried to break in!

I got into my car again and drove to the main gate. The sentry waved for me to stop to examine my identity card again, once more comparing it with my photograph. Then he searched the interior of the car, the boot and the bonnet once again before waving to his colleague to raise the barrier. I drove away from the weaponry division feeling as though I had just escaped from a maximum security prison. I dared not think how I would feel when I tried to break in!

I stopped the car a sort distance away and looked back. The complex appeared to be impregnable from the outside. Woe betide any unauthorised person who actually managed to intrude past the sentry gate into the interior for that was where the security system really came into its own. However, it was Penny Smith and Tomar Duran who captured my thoughts at that moment. Had she killed him in Crete or were they both playing some kind of a game? If Duran’s gun was filled with blanks it was likely that our doubles were still alive too. If so, the police in Crete would have found only one body in that valley… Chedda, the pilot. In the absence of any other bodies, they would have assumed that he was on a solo flight. Why then did they arrest me. Perhaps, afterwards, when all the bodies had disappeared, they allowed me to escape because there was no evidence against me. That seemed to be a sound reason why someone left the cell door open in the prison and no policemen were around.

When I returned to my office, Penny seemed to be highly agitated. ‘You have a visitor but I’m not sure you wish to see him. It’s Primar.’

I went behind my desk and sat down. Primar was sitting there chewing on the end of a matchstick. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked cheekily. ‘Have you plucked up enough courage to do business without your bodyguard?’

He smiled at me easily. ‘This is England, Jason,’ he replied. ‘That sort of thing doesn’t happen here. We’re all decent fellows, don’t you know.’

‘Tell me honestly, Primar, which side are you really on? That’s what I want to know. And I want you to tell me about Jan’s abduction!’

‘Why does anyone have to take sides? People always do so when they watch football matches being played, or for a particular horse race where they always want one of them to win… or the side of some political or religious cause. Why do they feel so strongly about choosing a winner when it’s beyond their control?’

‘Only you would know the answer to that one, Primar!’ I snapped. But I want to know what’s happened to my wife.’ I picked up a paperweight from my desk and held it as though ready to throw it at his head.

‘Oh come on, Jason!’ He laughed at the threat. ‘We’re not really going to indulge in histrionics, are we? Not in your office. ‘I’ll explain what happened to your wife in a moment but let me ease your mind by saying that my information is that she’s perfectly all right.’

I laid the paperweight down on the desk. ‘You want something from me or you wouldn’t be here.’

He took a deep breath, almost a sigh of frustration. ‘You know what I’m after. You were almost beaten up for it in Israel.’

‘How could I have obtained the plans.’ I remonstrated. ‘I’ve been back in this country for less than twenty-four hours!’

‘But you’ve been to the weaponry division. I know you’ve been there because everyone knows.’

I stood up and walked towards the window staring down at the city streets. ‘What’s it all about, Primar? You’ve got to come clean and tell me what’s going on!’

‘I thought that Commander Yasood would have given you all the information you need.’

‘He told me all about the cause and his opinion of the future based on past history. What bugs me are the other matters you seem reluctant to discuss. Let’s start by talking about Chedda.’

‘I told you. I’ve never heard of Chedda.’ He flicked the matchstick neatly into the waste-basket nearby and felt in his pocket for another one.

‘We both know you’re lying,’ I accused bluntly. ‘Let’s have the truth for a change. Then I might be able to help you.’

He stared at me for a long time chewing on the end of the matchstick before conceding. ‘Okay,’ he began. ‘Perhaps we can do a deal. You give me the plans and I’ll tell you about Chedda.’

‘Chedda first!’ I was very adamant not to lose the advantage.

He sat back with his legs stretched to the full, placing his hands behind his head. ‘Chedda’s my cousin. We were brought up together… like Esau and Jacob in the Bible. We were always at loggerheads. There was never any brotherly love lost between us. He knew I belonged to the 21st Century Crusaders and put every obstacle he could find in my way. I was originally chosen to form the British end of the organisation and recruited your secretary to assist me. Chedda drove a wedge into that one. He found out the name of the Commander and declared I was unfit for the task, lying about my past and present activities. He pulled all the skeletons out of the cupboard as evidence of his claim. So someone else got the promotion and I ended up a pariah.’

‘Well that rings true,’ I intervened. ‘Schmuel Musaphia denied you’d formed the British end.’

He chewed on the matchstick a while longer. ‘Chedda found out that you were important to me. I believe he diverted you at

Stanstead Airport that morning and took a bomb with him on the plane. He intended to parachute into Crete leaving the plane on automatic pilot to fly to Israel with the bomb on board. Before it reached its destination, it would have exploded ditching your bodies in the Mediterranean so that you’d never be found. Then Chedda would have the laugh on me for losing out. But, for some reason, the bomb went off early.’

‘That’s not consistent with what happened,’ I countered. ‘When we were over Crete, he said he was going to land and started to reduce height. If what you say is true, how do you account for that?’

‘I don’t know the details because I wasn’t there,’ he reacted firmly. ‘The guy was crazy. Who knows what he had in mind? All I can say is that he was out to kill you to spite me. That’s the way it’s always been with him.’

‘And what about the incidents in Crete? Tomar Duran, for example. Commander Spring… our doubles! You know all about that.’

‘I know only of the situation in Britain and Israel,’ he insisted. ‘Only those two countries. Crete is not within my jurisdiction.’

‘All right. Tell me where my wife is!’

‘That’s simple, Jason. When I saw her an hour ago, she was opening the door of your house with her key.’

I leaned over the desk and took him by his shirt front pulling him towards me. ‘Don’t play games with me, Primar,’ I hissed angrily, ‘or I’ll knock the living daylights out of you! Remember, there’s just you and me now!’

‘I’m not kidding. She was going into your house! I released him to ring my number at home but there was no reply. ‘She may have left the house by now,’ he bleated. ‘Perhaps there’s a not. You ought to find out.’ I stood up and made for the door but he leapt from the chair to catch my arm. ‘Is our deal still on?’

I felt in my pocket to remove the envelope with the false microfilm of the plans given to my by Menel. ‘Here!’ I shouted loudly. ‘Take the damned plans and leave me in peace! And for your sake, Jan had better be fit and well!’

He took the envelope, stuffed it in his pocket, bit deeper on the matchstick and left without another word. I went into the outer office to face my secretary.

‘I’m going home,’ I told her. ‘Primar tells me that Jan went to the house this morning. I have to check it out.’

It took me over half-an-hour to get home. I rushed inside shouting out Jan’s name but there was no answer. A note in her handwriting rested on the mantelshelf indicating that she had home but anyone could have entered and placed it there. I merely told me that she had returned to collect some of her clothes and she would be in touch with me in a few days’ time. The situation was infuriating! I had never chased a woman so much in all my life!

Chapter Nine

The pundits who classify themselves as health experts claim that hot showers are refreshing while cold showers cool the blood. I tried both of them but their effects on my were practically negative. When I dried myself off and dressed, I lay on the settee in the lounge nursing a stiff whisky as I cogitated the fast moving affairs of the past twenty-four hours. Gradually, my blood pressure subsided and I began to think clearly and logically again. Someone wanted me to believe that Jan was moving itinerantly from place to place as though she was being deliberately elusive. The other woman in my life, Penny Smith, was becoming even more enigmatic. I believed that she had killed Tomar Duran as I grappled with him on the ground, shooting him in the temple with his own revolver. I saw that incident with my own eyes. So how could he still be alive and well working in the weaponry division of Dandy Advanced Electronics as a research assistant? It beggared belief. Number Five! It suddenly occurred to me that Penny may have shot the wrong man by accident. After all, we were both writhing on the ground. Now there was a thought! I picked up my mobile telephone and rang her.

‘Penny,’ I began, trying to control the level of my voice. ‘I saw Tomar Duran at the weaponry division this morning. The last time I saw him you had shot him dead in Crete. There’s no doubt about it because I spoke to him and he admitted he was in Crete. Can you explain that to me please?’

There was a long pause at the other end of the line before she spoke. ‘Classified information!’ she retorted curtly. ‘I can’t talk about it at present. And definitely not over the telephone.’

‘What do you mean ‘classified information’? I saw the man’s body laying there after you’d shot him.’

‘I can’t talk about it now. I have to leave the office right away.

I shan’t be available tonight. Let’s meet tomorrow evening at seven-thirty at our usual restaurant.’

I began to lose my temper at her indifferent attitude. ‘For Heaven’s sake, Penny! I want an answer! Why can’t you talk about it now? I don’t want to wait until tomorrow evening!’

‘You’ll find out then,’ she replied. ‘Goodbye!’

The line went dead and I turned off the mobile. Goodbye? What was she talking about? Was she operating on her own account in the scheme of things instead of running in tandem with me? I went back to the settee, picked up my drink, and dwelt deeply on the matter. Eventually, my mind moved to the answering machine on the side table. I pressed the start button on the instrument to listen to the recorded messages. The first one was from Schmuel Musaphia.

‘I’ve flow to London especially to see you,’ he communicated in a shrill wavering tone. ‘Meet me at the Dorchester Hotel at eight o’clock this evening. I would prefer you to come alone… without your secretary.’

Schmuel Musaphia! The old man had come all the way to England especially to talk to me. What was that all about? The next message followed swiftly. My back stiffened as I recognised Jan’s voice.

‘Jason! Sorry about the letter, darling. It wasn’t my doing. They made me write it. I know you’re worried about me but I’m all right. These people tell me they want certain things from you. They say they’ll let me go if you help them. I don’t know what will happen if you refuse. I’m all right at the moment. Keep bidding those grand slams in hearts in bridge especially with the one club system. I understand about you and your secretary. I love you, darling!’

I felt choked with emotion before anger started to rage through me again. The bastards! Who was keeping my wife against her will? She said she was all right but was that the truth or did her captors force her to say so? Suddenly, I became sanguine feeling a surge of romanticism towards her… ,..one that had been absent for some time but then I became overcome with frustration at being unable to help her. I desperately wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her… to have her by my side… to enjoy life just as it had been in the past. I replayed her message on the tape, listening carefully to every word. What did she mean when she said ‘keep bidding those grand slams in hearts’? And why mention the one club system? She knew very little about the game except for a few odd phrases which had cropped up in my conversations. Then the jet lag began to overcome me and my thoughts turned into a jumble as I dozed off where I lay.

It was over an hour later when I awoke. I felt dull, dozy and depressed. Life had painted me into a corner and I had no idea how to set myself free. A change of condition was required so I went to the local barber to get a haircut and a shave, hoping that the effect of a shampoo would bring me back to life. As the hot towels were placed over my face, I lay back with the warmth spreading uniformly through every pore, feeling totally relaxed. I thought about Jan’s recorded message. There was something in it that I couldn’t fathom. If only I could clear my mind sufficiently to work it out it would be to my advantage because she was definitely trying to communicate something to me. Then the penny dropped. Of course… she was telling me there was a grand slam in hearts! She had been abducted to Herts… Hertfordshire! The one club system was one I rarely used with my partner. She was either being held in a club or very close to one. What else did she say? ‘Keep bidding those grand slams in hearts in bridge.’ Why did she need to say ‘in bridge’? That was my game and she knew it but she had mentioned it for a reason. The club was in Herfordshire and it was close to a bridge. Well done, Jan! My problem now was whether to contact the police or undertake the research on my own account. I went back home and pulled a map of England from the shelf seeking out Hertfordshire and poring over the county towns. It was then I realised that I might be thwarted from finding the right club. What kind of club was she talking about? A golf club, a football club, a night club, a bingo club, a scout club, or what?

At eight o’clock that evening, I put on my smartest suit and drove to the West End of London to meet Schmuel Musaphia. I had been to the Dorchester Hotel on only one occasion for the reception of a wedding of a friend many years earlier. The prices then matched those of the King David Hotel in Tel Aviv. They were certainly out of my league. Musaphia was already there, He sat at one of the tables in the dining-room with the large Havana cigar still in his mouth. He greeted me amiably, his eyes scanning the space behind me to make certain I had come alone.

‘Why do you patronise a hotel that’s owned by Arabs,’ I asked him as I sat down at the table opposite him.

‘Tell me,’ he countered. ‘What’s this obsession you have about the Jews hating the Arabs. Many of my friends are both Jews and Arabs. I like them and respect them. The people we detest are the terrorists and fanatics who strive to die to become martyrs. To us, such people resemble the kamikaze cult of the Japanese in the Second World War. The Allied forces both feared and resented them too. Let me put it another way. Do you hate all the Irish people because of the past actions of the Irish Republican Party?’

I shrugged my shoulders accepting the logic of his argument. The newspapers had conditioned the Western world for such a long time that everyone believed there was a fundamental root of hatred between all Jews and Arabs. Musaphia had made it quite clear that this was an illusion.

‘There’s work for you to do,’ he went on. ‘That’s why I’m here. The problem is that your services are required in two places at once. Firstly, we need you to obtain the plans of the new prototype of the laser gun. I understand you’ve already visited the weaponry division. That’s good! But we also need your participation in an international bridge congress in Istanbul.’

‘Istanbul!’ I echoed loudly unable to contain my surprise, looking around to see if I had attracted attention. He made a sound to silence me so strongly that he almost lost the cigar from between his lips. I leaned forward to speak in a hushed voice. ‘Why the hell do you want me to go there?’

‘After a great deal of research,’ continued the old man, adjusting the cigar in his mouth, ‘we’ve come to the conclusion that the rise of Islam will originate in Turkey. The surge of Islam will cause the most profound change in Western Europe, as great as anything emanating from the Far East. The biggest impact will come from Turkey which prides itself as Europe’s bridge into Asia and vice versa. Turkey’s politicians believe that the country is immune from the activities of the virulent Shias. Let’s face it, Turkey’s the largest force in NATO after the United States. Those politicians are deeply mistaken. Turkey acts as a garrison between Soviet Asia, the Levant and the Persian Gulf. It is also extremely loyal to the rigid secularism of its founder, Kemal Ataturk. The number of people wearing yashmaks and chadors… the new religious uniform… is increasing steadily. Forgive me if I use the word ‘steadily’ euphemistically. Bu the end of the first quarter of the twenty-first century, the population of Turkey will reach well over a hundred million people who, most likely, will seek recognition as the main Islamic power. Turkey has become the leading light in the Islamic Conference already while the public observance of Islam grows every year. The focus has been ‘the cults’ which are really divisions of the same religion. They derive their strength from the movement of population which has occurred as more people move from the country to the towns and cities. Some include groups such as the Naqshibendi with roots in Egypt to influence people as far as Afghanistan, the Suliemanji and the Rifai. At the strictest level cults organise student adherents into segregated dormitories and prayer schools. Here the spiritual leader becomes the absolute authority on every aspect of life. There are signs that the strength of numbers is leading Turkey to form a non-Arab Islamic union across a huge area of Asia through Afghanistan and Iran to Pakistan. A union of that magnitude will draw in Arab and non-Arab Moslems into its fold. Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, Saudi Arabia, large parts of India, Indonesia and elements of many other countries will want to join. You see, the secular faiths have run out of steam. Those like Ba’athism in Iraq and Syria, Nasserism in Egypt, even Marxism in Algeria. In their place, mystical and fanatical religion have provided a way back to what people believe was a golden age. In the forefront of this revival, is the militant Shia which is ideal if you want something done and then fight for it. The concept is becoming more popular year by year and Turkey will become the nucleus when it all starts to come together. Its allegiance to NATO will be swept aside like driftwood in the path of a tidal wave. Yet the legacy of Ataturk may be in doubt. The army in Turkey would prefer Islam rather than any other way of life which is not surprising when one considers that most of the population is Muslim. But there’s another reason too. Reservoirs of oil exist in Siberia which eventually will dwarf that of the Middle East. Drilling has already proved to be successful and some Russian billionaires have become evident over recent years. When those reservoirs are tapped fully through joint ventures with other nations, the Arab states would find their control of oil production is very much weakened and the price reduced considerably. Ultimately, poverty could start to manifest itself in the Middle East even before fifty years pass. If this happens, the rise of Islam could be accelerated by twenty or thirty years. We have little time to waste.’

‘But how can a single country like Turkey affect a development of that nature?’ I asked benignly.

‘There are the republics of Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kirghizia and Kazakhstan. With the break up of the USSR, Turkey claims the responsibility for those republics. It sees a remarkable opportunity… one that relates to at least a share in the oil reservoir in Siberia. If Islam could set its plans in motion fast enough, it could accomplish control of the those reservoirs and ultimate hold the world at ransom for oil. At that time it would control some eighty-five per cent of the world’s oil resources. Within a few year Islam would become a threat to the stability of the West. Many Russian Muslims, including millions of new converts, could be facing Istanbul instead of Moscow. Look at the debacle that occurred in Yugoslavia because someone jumped the gun there. Turkey may restore a revival of the Ottomans to recapture the old Ottoman lands in the Balkans. They were victorious in Kosovo in 1389 over the Serbs, They could do it again.’

‘Well, Mr. Musaphia,’ I told him calmly, ‘It’s all very well for you to tell me these things but I’m not really impressed. For one thing, I’m not a 21st Century Crusader and I do not wish to become one. There are hundreds of various causes in the world and, to tell you the truth, hard-hearted as it may sound, I’m not interested in getting involved with any of them. Call me selfish if you like, I shan’t be offended. I only became involved in this charade of yours to protect myself, my wife and my secretary. Now I find that my wife was kidnapped and my secretary is behaving so suspiciously that I can’t trust her any more. I’ve really no other interest in helping you.’

‘Then why did you come here to meet me?’

‘I came to plead my case. I want everyone to get off my back and leave me alone. But, more importantly, I want my wife returned to me.’

He puffed furiously on his cigar even though it was unlit. ‘The organisation hasn’t abducted your wife,’ he revealed voluntarily. ‘If in fact she was abducted it wasn’t by us.’

‘Well that’s hard cheese!’ I riposted sharply. ‘Perhaps it would be more practical if you found out how I could get her back.’

‘Forgive me if we took too much for granted. It was assumed that when you learned of the danger you’d be interested in helping. We were told you were a humanist. At least that’s what Primar said.’

‘Primar!’ I repeated with despair. ‘Now there’s another thing. He’s got the microfilm of the plans that were given to me by Menel. They’re the false ones. But who does he really work for? I haven’t fathomed it out yet. Only he plays pretty rough with a bodyguard named Kemal.’

A waiter came over to take our order and we fell silent until he had departed.

‘I sympathise with you, Jason,’ continued Musaphia with candour. ‘I respect your honesty and your resolve. However, we fight against an imminent Jihad… a religious war… in the same way we have fought against tyrants and despots in previous world wars. This is a replay of the first Crusades. The difference is translated by the technology of war and weaponry. We certainly need those plans of the laser gun.’

‘Well from my point of view, I’m taking all the risks and getting nothing in return. You’re going to have to do something better if you want my co-operation.’

‘Agreed. Your file clearly states that you’re a man seeking a cause to occupy your time and your mind. A man who searches for constant change and challenge. We have something in mind to solve your problem. Let’s say you’re serving a probationary period. But don’t worry… we’ll soon find your wife.’

The waiter brought our starter and we paused until he left.

‘You’re still offering me nothing, Musaphia,’ I returned bluntly.

‘It’s already been given to you,’ came the response. His lips pressed even tighter on his cigar. ‘In the year 732 a.d. Charles Martel led the Franks to Tours where he defeated the Muslim army. If he had not been successful, the interpretation of the Quran would now be taught at Oxford and Cambridge, while the pulpits of the City of Gleaming Spires might demonstrate the sanctity and truth of the revelations of Mohammed. The benefit has already been conferred upon you by others nearly thirteen hundred years ago who didn’t hesitate to act in the face of adversity when they were called to arms. We are all indebted to them.’

I was appalled that he would thrust past history as an excuse for my involvement in his cause. ‘That argument doesn’t wash with me,’ I spat rudely. ‘History’s in the past… we’re here at present. As far as it goes, I don’t owe you or the world anything. I’m sure others would lay down their lives to prevent what you say will happen but I’m too selfish, too cautious, too suspicious of predictions about the future. Okay, Primar caught me with my pants down concerning the photographs of me and Miss Smith, and he blackmailed me by saying he had arranged for proof that I had mishandled the company’s funds. But there are limits to which I’m not prepared to go beyond.’

Another waiter returned to pour wine into our glasses and he fussed around the table momentarily until he placed the bottle into an ice bucket.

‘Very well,’ retuned my host sagely. ‘You’ve made your feelings clear but I’m going to presume there will be a turning point in your mind. When that happens we shall talk again. In the meantime, I ask you not to worry about your wife.’ He paused for a moment to think. ‘Look… I offer you a deal. If you co-operate, I’ll arrange for you to play for your country’s international bridge team for a whole season.’

Silence reigned between us for a few moments as I allowed the information to sink into my brain. ‘How can you possibly arrange something like that? It’s not possible!’

‘You’ll be surprised what I can do. If you’re willing to help us, you’ll be in the British team for a whole season. You can play for your country in Istanbul tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow!’ I echoed, realising that I would be on the move once again. ‘Okay… I agree!’ I consented immediately completely astonished that he was able to pull such powerful strings. There was far more to this old man than I imagined.

‘But first there’s a small task I want you to perform whilst you’re out there.’

I sat back in my chair with a rueful smile on my face. ‘I knew there’d be a catch in there somewhere.’

‘You’ll be free to do as you wish when you’re not playing bridge,’ he went on. He placed his hand to his inside pocket and produced an envelope and a passport. ‘I want you to visit a man called Mustapha Ozal at this address. Once in Turkey, apart from the bridge congress, you will go under the name of Mushtaq Hussein. This is the passport that bears your photograph and that name. You’re the editor of a new Islam magazine in Britain similar to Hurriyet, a popular Turkish journal.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘Ask him how he feels to be a Mahdi… the man ready to assemble all of Islam as a Messiah, to rise up against the infidels in the West. Tell him you want to write about him in your magazine so that every Muslim in Britain will learn about his coming.’

‘But how do you know the man is the Mahdi… a God-guided deliverer? Most religious sects grew popular after such ‘Mahdis’ were dead.’

Musaphia drew deeply on his unlit cigar again before replying. ‘In the modern world one cannot leave such matters to divine intervention. If the oil ran out and no deliverer appeared, the people of Islam might lose momentum without a strong leader. Then we could be faced with ambitious tribal leaders forming separate militant factions. Terrorism would increase substantially on a wide scale. As such, Islam is identifying characteristic people to train to become Mahdis so that someone will lead. To our knowledge, there are fourteen people in this category at the present time. All of them outstanding personalities with leadership qualities awaiting selection when the time comes.’

‘That’s crazy!’ I exploded. ‘If what you say is true it’s like having fourteen Jesus Christs… all at the same time! Surely you can’t have so many people in the field doing the same thing!’

‘I’ll tell you how you can,’ he continued, flicking the imaginary white ash off the end of his cigar. ‘Firstly none of these men know of the existence of the others. Secondly, they all train in private so they’re not known to the general public. You’ll understand a lot more when you meet Ozal. After that, we’ll arrange for a debriefing. It helps to know what goes on in the mind of a God-guided deliverer.’

I started to become concerned for I seemed to be getting in deeper despite the fact that I kept saying I was not for sale. ‘What happens if something goes wrong? What sort of back-up will I get?’

He looked at me strangely. ‘What could go wrong? You’re the editor of a new magazine on Islam in Britain.’

‘That’s far too simplistic,’ I rattled feeling my blood pressure rising as I realised the implications. ‘What do I know about Islam? You can put it in a thimble and still lose it. He’ll talk of religious matters of which I’m totally ignorant. He’ll twig I’m an imposter in no time.’

‘You’re a man of originality seeking challenges, Jason,’ he responded coolly. ‘Go to a reference library and learn all you can about Islam. But as you’ll be leaving by the eight o’clock plane tomorrow morning, I fear that the opportunity is lost. You’ll need to find a book on the subject at the airport. As far as your background goes, you’re a British subject born of parents who emigrated to Britain from Beirut. Don’t worry… you won’t be expected to know everything about Islam.’ He passed the envelope and the passport over to me. ‘This envelope contains a fair amount of Turkish lira and your airline ticket… you leave at eight o’clock in the morning. Good luck at the tournament!’

My mind was in a whirl. I hadn’t played bridge for nearly three weeks which didn’t bode well. A lapse of that time could cause a high-class player to lose his edge almost like a concert pianist who hadn’t played the piano for a while. In addition, I had no idea who might partner might be in the international team. It was essential to have an excellent understanding between us if we were to be successful at that level. There was also another matter which would have to wait if I went to Turkey. I couldn’t meet Penny at our usual restaurant. I wanted to hear her explanation about the incident with Tomar Duran in Crete but it would have to wait.

Musaphia and I continued our meal enjoying the first-class cuisine choosing our conversation carefully. He took care to avoid talking about the 21st Century Crusaders and Islam while I chose to become more amiable. He was a wise and pleasant old man but I still wondered why he had travelled all the way to England just to meet me. Although I tried craftily to ascertain his agenda he avoided any discussion of that nature out of hand. For the time being his mission in London was to remain a secret but it had to be something important. I still couldn’t believe that it was possible for someone to arrange for me to be a member of the British international bridge team with a stroke of his hand. Bribery of any kind was out of the question. It was becoming clear to me that many people in elite positions in the world had become members of the 21st Century Crusaders or at least supported them. The other part of the deal was that Musaphia would try to locate Jan. It was then I reminded myself that my wife’s abduction was another matter which required urgent attention. If I was absent for a few days playing bridge in Turkey I wouldn’t be able to follow up the clues she had given me. I really needed to take action immediately but Fate was ruling against me.

When I arrived home, I opened up the large map to examine Hertfordshire in detail. A club and a bridge. My eyes scanned the map trying to unearth anything which might provide a solution…

Potters Bar, Hatfield, St. Albans, Welwyn Garden City, Stevenage, Hitchin. The task seemed impossible! There had to be dozens fo clubs… hundreds of bridges! I poured myself a stiff whisky and sat back for a while trying to work out a solution. My approach to the problem then became clearer. I couldn’t follow it through myself because of the lack of time available but I had an excellent assistant at Dandy Advanced Electronics who could do it for me. I checked with my telephone directory and found his home number.

‘Harry,’ I began tentatively. ‘Sorry to call you so late at night. I wonder if you’d do me a favour. It’s personal and urgent. Will you have a go at it for me?’

‘Sure,’ he said unhesitatingly. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a matter of life or death,’ I went on. ‘I won’t go into the details. I want you to list all the clubs in the county of Herfordshire… clubs of any description… and also all the bridges in the county. Do you think you could do that for me?’

‘It’s simple enough,’ he returned tiredly. There’s a large tome with an orange cover in the library that lists all the clubs and associations in the country but I’ll do some double-checking to make sure. As far as bridges are concerned, I can get them from an ordinance survey map. I’ll have it for you in a day or two.’

I took the airline ticket and the forged passport from my pocket and laid them on the table. ‘Look,’ I went on, ‘I’ll be away for the next few days. If you list the details and drop them through my letter box I can go through them the moment I return.’

‘This is about your wife, isn’t it?’ he advanced cheekily.

‘Don’t ask questions, Harry!’ I cautioned. ‘And don’t be perceptive! Strange things are happening in the environment and I wouldn’t like you to find yourself involved. Keep all this to yourself. I don’t want anyone finding out what you’re doing! Do you understand?’

‘It’s no sweat to do some research on a little English county.,’ he added. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll get the information for you.’

I turned off my mobile with an element of relief. Harry was a magician when it came to research. He would produce all I needed in a short space of time. I finished my drink and went into my study to browse. The shelves sported many books, most of them reaching to the ceiling. Each one was stuffed with tomes of all sizes covering a wide range of subjects. After looking along the lines of titles, I came across one relating to the religions of the world. I turned to the chapter on Islam with great interest. It wasn’t long before the information on paper translated itself into my mind at which time I had learned a great deal about the Quran, the Five Pillars of Islam, the Islam calendar and the variations within Islam, as well as its festivals. I began to feel that, under the false identity of Mushtaq Hussein, I had a reasonable chance of passing muster with the Mahdi. Naturally, I would have to remember everything I had read and recall the information in the right order.

My suitcase was packed before I went to bed. According to the airport regulations, I would have to arrive at there at about six-thirty in the morning to ensure that my luggage was booked in and loaded onto the aircraft. There was little time for sleep that night… not that I would fall into a deep sleep anyway. The vision of the weaponry division and the Brigadier kept spinning around in my mind threatening to become a nightmare but never quite instilling fear. The alarm went off as the first rays of light channelled through the space where the curtains failed to meet. I opened my eyes feeling exceedingly tired, wanting to curl up and go to sleep again. Such conditions did not bode well for an international bridge player. It meant that my mental energy would seep away as the day went on. In the evening, when the competition at the bridge table intensified, I would feel drained and tired, have difficulty in concentrating, and become erratic when making important decisions in the game. It was not the ideal situation to obtain good results in a serious match let alone in an international tournament! I rose and went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. It was then that I noticed a white envelope laying on the doormat behind the front door. I picked it up and opened it slowly. There was a single sheet of paper inside on which letters cut from a newspaper had been glued. It said simply: ‘Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your life. Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your wife!’

I produced my mobile telephone and dialled the Dorchester Hotel asking to be put through to Schmuel Musaphia and I waited for the connection although I knew exactly what they would say. He had paid his bill and left the hotel after we had finished our meal. Whoever heard of a guest leaving a hotel at eleven o’clock at night. I stared at the letter again. There were no clues… Nothing! Once again, I was up the creek without a paddle. Should I risk going to Turkey or should I stay at home? That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question!

Chapter Ten

The flight from Heathrow to Istanbul took nearly four hours and it became apparent from the literature on the aircraft that the international airport was twenty-five kilometres from the city centre. After landing and passing through immigration, I gathered my suitcase from the luggage carousel and walked towards the exit. There were the usual groups of people waiting awaiting relatives or friends on arrival. However one man stood out in the crowd. He was holding a placard bearing my name in block letters. For a moment I was reminded of Chedda in a similar situation at Stansted Airport, recalling what had happened on that occasion. I made myself known to him and he threw the placard away, taking my free hand and shaking it vigorously.

‘Welcome to Turkey!’ he greeted enthusiastically. ‘Welcome to Istanbul! I’m Turgut. I’ve been appointed as your guide.’

‘Appointed?’ I riposted suspiciously. ‘Who appointed you?’

‘I received a message on my answering machine yesterday,’ he explained briefly. ‘I was told you were coming here and the caller hired me to be your guide. I accepted the assignment and received the fee in advance.’

‘How did you accept the assignment?’

‘They left me a telephone number to call in England. I rang them and they paid the fee directly into my bank account.’

He took the suitcase from my hand and I stared at him closely. He was rather short and stubby with dark hair, incredibly dark eyes, wearing an immaculate white shirt which was open at the neck, black trousers and shiny black shoes. He had been blessed with a set of perfect white teeth although he chose to exhibit one gold tooth on one side. His smile was engaging… at the same time his English was excellent.

‘I’ve arranged for a car to be waiting for you,’ he informed me, clearly intending to care for my every need. ‘If you’ve been here before, you’ll notice that many changes have taken place. Modernisation schemes include a new transport system combining and underground railway, a tram network, a railway, a rail tunnel under the Bosphorus, and a World Trade Centre close to the airport. They’ve also begun to align the commercial suburb of Levant with Taksim, the business heart of the city by means of an underground railway line.’

‘This is my first visit,’ I admitted as we walked out of the airport building. ‘I’ve not been here before.’

He led me to a black car opening the door and motioning me into the back seat after which he placed my suitcase in the boot.

‘Never been here before, eh?’ he repeated. ‘Well you have some Turkish delights ahead of you. Perhaps I ought to tell you a few things about the place… other than the belly-dancing at the leading nightclubs. You can get a boat trip along the Bosphorus which is really the best way to see the city. No hustle, no bustle! The passenger ferries zig-zag all the way along the coast. The old imperial centre of Stamboul is a colourful place where you can find many of the main sightseeing attractions. The Ottoman Topkapi Palace and archaeological museums, the Sultan Ahmet mosque, the Blue mosque, amd Aya Sofya, the Byzantine church. The area is also famous for its covered bazaar… the world’s biggest bazaar. Nearly five thousand shops covering ninety-two streets. If you get fed up with the minarets and mosques, you can always visit the sixteenth century tiled baths on Itfaiye Caddesi.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied with little enthusiasm. I had business to attend to in the city… there would be no time for sightseeing!

‘You may be interested to learn that they elected Turkey’s first woman Prime Minister way back… Tansu Ciller… an American trained economist. The whole economy’s gone screwy over the last twenty years. Crazy! Too much influence from the West. The government freed foreign exchange controls, floated the Turkish lira, reformed tax, and introduce Value Added Tax which I can tell you didn’t go down very well. Then they liberalised banking and started to privatise everything. Inflation’s gone mad… absolutely mad! Unfortunately, seven of the ten top companies are still owned by the government and they’re very inefficient. But… we survive!’

‘Fascinating!’ I returned, trying not to show my disinterest in his commentary.

‘I’ve arranged for you to stay at the Istanbul Sheraton at Taksim. You’ll like it there… it’s a really good hotel. The other bridge players are staying there too. They told me you play bridge. Practically everyone’s a Muslim here and the religion forbids gambling. Playing cards are considered to be so. Only foreigners are allowed to play roulette or cards. It seems crazy that someone has arranged for Istanbul to be the venue of an international bridge tournament. But then everyone in the world is mad except for you and me… and I’m not sure about you.’ He burst out laughing at his own joke.

‘Who’s paying for your service, Turgut?’

‘I told you. They paid the fees straight into my back account. Some company called Dandy Advanced Electronics. Do you work for them?’

It was a clever move by someone wishing to hide their tracks. They had contact Turgut pretending to be Dandy Advanced Electronics and had paid him directly by remitting cash into his back account. It was a means by which the 21st Century Crusaders could make the payment and remain undetected. As far as Turgut was concerned, he had been given an assignment and had been paid in advance. Any other details were of no consequence to him whatsoever!

* * *

It took us over half-an-hour to reach the hotel. Turgut was right… it was first-class. He took my suitcase to the reception desk, put it down, and stared at me flashing his white teeth.

‘Well thanks for the ride,’ I told him gratefully. ‘You’ve done your part. No doubt we shall meet at some time again.’

His face registered surprise. ‘You don’t understand,’ he explained. ‘The arrangement was for me to look after you all the time while you are in Turkey. I have to do many things for you.’

‘What else have you got to do?’

‘I was asked not to discuss details. I shall wait for you in the hotel lounge until you’re ready to leave My job is to be your chauffeur and guide at all times. That’s what I was paid for.’

I snorted with frustration and collected my room key at reception before taking the lift to the fourth floor. The arrangement was for him to do many things for me. What did he mean by that? I shrugged my shoulders as I reached the door of my room. Turning the key in the lock, I entered and laid my suitcase on the bed. Before I could undo the zip, however, I had an uncanny feeling that someone else was in the room. I heard a slight rustle behind me and turned slowly to face a man wearing a white jacket whom I presumed was a waiter working in the hotel.

‘I don’t need anything at the moment,’ I stated clearly, feeling somewhat uncomfortable by his presence. His eyes blazed as he took a deep breath and then produce a knife with a curved blade from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I challenged with fear welling up inside me.

He released a sharp sound, which could be described only as something between a battle-cry and a muffled scream, and charged at me with his arm raised, intending to bury the blade into a vital part of my body. The blood drained to my legs as fear raged through me rampantly. Who was this assassin? Why did he want to kill me? It was then I recalled the note placed under my door at home. ‘Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your life. Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your wife!’ Now was the moment it started to fall into place. Someone had paid this man to kill me. But why? I was listed as an international bridge player not as a political spy! Then the adrenalin pumped into my veins and I jerked into action. At first, I kept retreating backwards across the room as he made his way slashing the space in front of me. On occasion, the blade missed me by only a few centimetres; at other times he was wide of the mark. Fortunately, his lack of accuracy proved that he was not a professional assassin or I would not have lasted very long. After a number of near misses, I managed to seize his arm and attempted to force him to drop the weapon, but he surprised me with a vicious kick to my abdomen, causing me to retreat clutching my stomach in agony.

‘For God’s sake!’ I shouted. ‘Why are you doing this? Who paid you to kill me?’ His eyelids flickered as I spoke but I doubted whether he spoke English. ‘Look… you’ve got to stop this nonsense! Do you understand?’

He hesitated for a few moments trying to interpret my words which gave me time to stand up straight and remove my wallet, flicking it open to show a wad of Turkish lira. He seemed surprised by my actions in the middle of a fight to the death and paused for a moment to consider how he could benefit from my generosity. Then it occurred to him that if he killed me he could have all the money anyway so he decided to continue with his assignment. With a sudden thrust forward, he lunged at me with the knife. I caught hold of his arm forcing it upwards which had the effect of keeping the blade from doing me any damage. He struggled for a short while as I increased the pressure on his arm trying to compel him to drop the weapon. He soon realised that he was going to lose the contest for he was unequal to me in a wrestling match. Only five feet two inches in height, it was his misfortune to give me the benefit of some thirty pounds in weight. The only advantages on his side were the weapon and the element of surprise… the latter of which had now been lost. He still maintained his hold on the knife but after establishing my superiority I turned his arm sharply and thrust him forward intending to push his body into the settee in front of the window. However he broke away from my grip and stepped back a couple of paces to put some space between us. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that the maid had left an aerosol can of mosquito repellent on the coffee table. In an instant, I gathered the canister with one scoop, pointed the nozzle at the face of my assailant, and pressed the button firmly. A jet of spray squirted out at tremendous speed directly into the other man’s eyes. He stepped back sharply clutching his face, and stepped on to the settee which tipped over so that he fell backwards with great force. Before I could do anything to prevent it, he had fallen through the window which shattered on impact and sailing through the opening yelling at the top of his voice. There were screams from below and I hurried to the opening, staring past the jagged slivers, expecting to find the man laying dead on a mass of concrete. Instead I could see that he had landed in a swimming pool making his escape under cover of the hotel guests lazing in the sun. I sighed with relief that the man was still alive. I may have been obstinate in many of my views but the last thing I wanted to do was to kill someone. It was a blessing in disguise as well for the police would not be involved and there would be no investigation. He had got away scot free. Had he been caught he would almost certain have come up with the same story as Turgut… that he had been employed by a telephone call and the fees had been paid directly into his bank account! The hotel would believe that a robber, in the guise of a waiter, had broken into the room, jumping out of the window when he was discovered and trapped. Drastic measures for crisis situations. No one had known about my visit to Turkey for any other reason than to play bridge… except Schmuel Musaphia. Why then should anyone be waiting here to kill me? I recalled that it was the second time death had come close to me after meeting the old man. The first time had been the incident with the black car which tried to ram Penny and me. Perhaps it was advisable to avoid the octagenarian in the future if I wanted to enjoy a longer life. Of course, Turgut knew of my arrival. Perhaps he had something to do with the attack but such speculation was merely grasping at straws.

Suddenly, all hell broke loose. People started shouting in Turkish, French and German in the corridor. After brushing down my jacket I let them in, explaining to the hotel manager that a burglar had been hiding in my room. He was appalled that such a thing had happened at his hotel and ushered everyone out before making profuse apologies. Without delay, he contacted the reception desk to make new arrangements. Ultimately, I found myself being led to a different room with a page-boy carrying my suitcase. By this time, Turgut had heard the news and came looking for me.

‘Tell me,’ he whispered with concern as we walked along the corridor. ‘What are we into here? Why should anyone be in your room trying to kill you. This isn’t the kind of hotel that has that sort of reputation. Have you done something very bad?’

I smile at him having stopped my limbs from shaking. ‘Turgut, it would be helpful if someone told me what was going on. I don’t suppose for a moment you’d admit to having a hand in it.’

‘Me?’ His black eyes widened like saucers. ‘What do you take me for? I’m a simple guide in Istanbul. I never get involved in the affairs of my clients. Why should I? There’s no gain in it for me. In any case, how would I know the number of the room allocated to you?’

He convinced me with his final comment but I was unwilling to concede my suspicion to him. ‘I don’t think that’s a problem,’ I went on easily. ‘Money can make all kinds of things happen. Anyone can bribe a desk clerk to reserve a certain room for a client. And it would be easy to make certain that an assailant was waiting there beforehand.’

‘I don’t do things like that, Mr. Scott,’ he bleated adamantly. ‘I like to sleep at night with a clear conscience.’ His white teeth flashed showing the gold filling and he left me to go back to the hotel lounge.

I shortly discovered which maid had cleaned the room I had just vacated and handed her a handsome tip. She was confused by my gesture but she would never know how grateful I was that she had left that aerosol can of mosquito repellent in the room. Had she not done so, I might have been in very serious trouble… or extremely dead!

When everyone had left, I closed the door and crept into the bathroom after looking in the wardrobe and under the bed. Paranoia was becoming rampant but I had no need to fear for I was completely alone. I telephoned the hotel restaurant, ordering some sandwiches, fruit and coffee to be sent to my new room. Time was speeding along and I wanted to visit the Mahdi as soon as possible. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door and I admitted a waiter wheeling a trolley with my sandwiches, fruit and coffee. He picked up a knife and I froze like a block of ice. Surely it wasn’t another man with a contract to kill me! He stared at me with a menacing look in his eyes.

‘If you wish,’ he said meekly, ‘I will peel the fruit for you.’

I breathed a sigh of relief, took the knife from his hand, pressed a few lira into his pocket, and ushered him out of the room. I had had enough of knives and waiters for one day!

* * *

I ate lunch reading the notes I had written in a book in my study at home. The Mahdi, which meant the divinely guided one in Arabic, was the term for a messianic deliverer able to fill the Earth with justice and equity. He would restore true religion and herald a short golden age lasting between seven and nine years. Thereafter the world would end. One could almost say the same about Hitler. He claimed to be a kind of Mahdi although the Reich he predicted was supposed to last for a thousand years. However it ended within a very short time. He became President and Director of Germany in 1932 but his plans did not really come to fruition until 1936. By mid-1945 his world had ended. Yet the Islam religion was in contradiction with regard to a divine deliverer. The sacred scriptures of Islam, the Quran, failed to mention anything about a Mahdi, nor did the Hadith, the sayings attributed to the Prophet Mohammed. It was the Shias who introduced the idea while the Sunnis continued to question such beliefs. The Shias saw the Mahdi as a restorer of political power and the religious purity of Islam. The doctrine appears to have gained ground during the confusion and insecurity of the religious and political upheavals of earlier times. The leaders of a revolt on non-Arab Muslims in Iraq in the seventh century used the doctrine in respect of Mohammed’s son-in-law. It was claimed that his body remained alive in the tomb in a state of occulation and would reappear to vanquish his enemies. The body was supposed to rise and return to the world carrying a black banner. Every time a crisis arose in history, The Mahdi tended to receive new emphasis. After the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212, when Islam lost most of Spain, Muslims circulated prophesies ascribed to Mohammed foretelling a re-conquest of Spain by the Mahdi. Over the centuries, the title was claimed by a number of social revolutionaries in the Islamic world. During Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt, someone claiming to be the Mahdi appeared for a while in Lower Egypt North Africa has seen many self-styled Mahdis including the found of the Fatimid dynasty, which encompassed the Almohad movement in Morocco. There was also the Mahdi of Sudan who besieged General Gordon in 1881 and overthrew Egyptian power in the Sudan. In essence, the Mahdi is a complete myth devised by human-beings for their own use. It ws similar to the analogy of the large vicious-looking dog whose owner told a stranger that the animal was harmless. ‘I know that and you know that,’ replied the stranger, ‘but does the dog know it?’ The situation with the Mahdi was no different. He was the divinely guided one , to administer justice and restore religion. I knew that, everyone else knew that, but did the Mahdi know it? History had often proved otherwise!

* * *

After lunch, I pocketed my second passport to become Mushtaq Hussein and went to the hotel lounge to find Turgut.

‘I want to go to this address,’ I told him, showing him the information that Schmuel Musaphia had given me at the Dorchester Hotel.

‘Ah,’ he responded hesitantly. ‘That’s one of the things I’ve been asked to arrange. That address is incorrect. I have a new one for you.’

‘A new one?’

‘Yes… they’ve probably done it for security reasons… in case someone steals the information from you on the way here. Had they stolen it, they would have the wrong address.’ He led me out of the hotel lounge to the car park and we got back into the vehicle. ‘We have to travel to the old section of Istanbul. The walled city.’ He started the engine and drove off. ‘We leave this modern part, cross the Golden Horn on the Galata Bridge, and enter that part of the city which is still fairly free of bulldozers, although it won’t be long before the developers get their way. The address I have is in the Stamboul section… a place where time seems to have stood still for centuries.

It was only a short distance away from our destination when he stopped the vehicle just a few hundred yards past the Column of Arcadius. He pointed ahead with the index finger of his right hand. ‘If you go down that street, you’ll find it’s the third house on the right. I daren’t drive you to the door. There are thousand of watching eyes around here.’

I got out of the car and walked down the street with an uneasy feeling in my bones. This was yet another horrendous venture into the unknown, only this time I was carrying a false passport, using a false name, and assuming an identity in relation to a religion of which I knew so little. I reached the third house on the right. It wasn’t as miserable as Menel’s house in Jaffa but it came very close. There was a small knocker on the door which I use forcefully to be shortly welcomed by a man in Western clothes.

‘I’ve come to interview Mustapha Ozal,’ I announced bravely. ‘I’m Mushtaq Hussein from Britain.’

He bade me enter with a sweep of his hand but as soon as I had crossed the threshold he placed a hand on my shoulder preventing me from going further. Before I could speak, he ran his hands over my body and down my legs checking that I was carrying no weapons.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said insincerely in a clipped English accent. ‘It’s just a formality. We all have a multitude of tasks to perform in these troubled times. One of them is security. One can never be too careful. Please come with me.’ I followed him down a short passage which had a number of doors. He opened one of them and ushered me inside. ‘You’ll be called shortly,’ he said, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in the room.

I sat down on a modern chair and look around. There were three comfortable chairs and a round table made of mahogany. On a coffee-table lay a miscellany of Turkish newspapers and magazines. A few pictures adorned the walls but some were surrealistic and beyond my comprehension. In the far corner, on a small desk sat a computer and monitor. I had imagined that the man and the place was going to be mystical and strange. I was wrong! After five minutes had passed, just as my nerves were becoming frayed as a result of my deception, the door opened and a man of medium height, dressed in a dark blue suit, entered the room.

‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ he apologised politely. ‘There are so many things to do these days one gets bogged down in trivia.’

I stood up as though it was necessary to do so in the presence of a potential messianic deliverer but he motioned me to sit down with a wave of his hand.

‘You are Mustapha Ozal I presume,’ I ventured, with an element of surprise creeping into my voice. I had expected him to be swathed in Arab robes with a turban, clutching a copy of the Quran in his hand and uttering phrases from it. But the man before me was smart, dapper, well-dressed and very Westernised, and he spoke as though he was a member of the aristocracy in Britain. I had seen pictures of the Mahdi of the Sudan who fought General Gordon, depicting a wild savage individual with evil eyes that pierced fiercely through the mortality of every one who challenged him. My subject was a far cry from that image!

‘Yes,’ he replied haughtily. ‘I am Mustapha Ozal and you are Mushtaq Hussein from England. I applaud you for publishing a new magazine to provide information on Islam and for the Muslim people of Britain. The brotherhood has grown quickly over the past fifty years while the work of Ayatollah Kumeini in establishing Iran as a totally secular state was a stroke of political genius. We need men like him in this world; we need men like you! It’s communication that counts. In Turkey, the spread of Islam has accelerated at the speed of light. The population balance between the city and villagers has been reversed. Sixty per cent of the people have become city dwellers with only forty-three per cent in 1980. Township immigration increased the numbers to the fold.’ He paused for a moment to think. ‘Forgive me for champing on about matters of which you are probably already aware. Please ask any questions you feel appropriate. And perhaps you’ll tell me about your magazine.’

‘Well,’ I began falteringly, the magazine will be glossy, in four colours, and consist of about forty pages. It will be issued monthly, not only to our brothers but to anyone else who wishes to read it. Hopefully it will attract many people to Islam over the next decade and thereafter.

‘Good… good!’ he commended enthusiastically. At that moment, the door opened and the other man entered with a tray bearing two cups of coffee which he set down on the small table.

‘So that’s the basic concept of the magazine,’ I continued blindly. ‘There will mostly be articles on Islam plus general information of interest to everyone. It’s necessary to be realistic in a modern world where people have so many diversions.’

‘Quite so,’ he uttered solemnly, lifting one of the cups which he handed to me.

I decided to venture on to the main subject so that I could prepare some kind of report for the debriefing session with Schmuel Musaphia. ‘If you’ll allow me to cut to the chase,’ I went on somewhat hesitantly, ‘the Mahdi is a divinely guided one. How do you see yourself in that role?’

‘It’s not so much how I see myself as how others see me. There have been many self-styled Mahdis over the centuries. Some are not even recorded in history because they were so ineffective. In order to understand the arrival of a Mahdi, one needs to examine the role in five different ways. Firstly, it’s absolutely essential that Allah has endowed such a person with virtues of outstanding charisma… an aura which can be felt by his followers and the capability of mesmerising his subjects to a point where they offer total commitment. Added to this is the essence of leadership which is often enhanced by the gift of speech or a silver tongue as well as the ability to command. None of these attributes can be acquired by learning or training. One has to be born with them. Without the authority which stems from these endowments of

Allah a man cannot be a Mahdi. Secondly, the divinely guided one is likely to be a Shi’ite because of the militancy of the Shias compared with the jurisprudent Sunnis. This may not necessarily be the case because if Allah deems that the Mahdi should rise from the ranks of the Sunnis then it’s the will of Allah, not of man. As you know, only one Muslin in seven is a Shi’ite, Thirdly, the Mahdi who once appeared carrying a black banner into battle would hardly survive in these times. He needs to be a well-educated and trained to a high degree in both politics and modern warfare. All the charisma and leadership in the world would be useless to a wild uneducated warrior. Gone are the days when a man with a gift for speech could rouse an army into action, like Shakespeare’s Henry the Fifth at Agincourt. The outcome of a force charging blindly into battle with fanaticism and zeal is disaster. Such activities have to be left to the romanticism of the past. The modern Mahdi needs to read at a highly-reputable college or university and be skilled in politics. He must understand every aspect of war and weaponry because if he intends to use strength and might there will be retaliation from worldwide sources. The fact is that technology is so advanced a war could be ended in hours if operated at its ultimate. Before you came, you probably wondered how much mysticism there would be in a Mahdi. Forget it, brother. There is no mysticism in this modern age. It is necessary to learn and absorb vast quantities of information at teaching institutions. The fourth issue relates to timing. History has been remarkable at fitting people into the right slot at the right time… or failing to do so. Sir Winston Churchill was much ignored in the 1930s when he warned about an imminent war with Germany. However, the timing of the Second World War was perfect for him pushing him directly into the limelight. History records that during the time of war he was an exceptional leader. Had the conflict started thirty years earlier or thirty years later, he would have been relatively unknown in the annals of history. Therefore it’s timing that brings the Mahdi to life rather than his sudden appearance on the horizon holding a black banner. It may be that I shall be too old when the time arrives and someone else will have to take my place.’

‘If that happens, do you think there will be another Mahdi?’ I advanced, recalling that Schmuel Musaphia had told me there were fourteen Mahdis being prepared and trained.

‘There will always be a Mahdi,’ he told me confidently. ‘There will always be men of such quality with the divine right. The problem is whether the timing is right for a Jihad in their lifetime.’

‘And what of the fifth issue?’ I replaced the coffee cup on the table and began to take down some notes on a small pad.

‘The fifth one. That’s the one which really counts. Anyone with charisma and leadership qualities can become educated, be political inspired, and train for war whether they are Shia or Sunni. The timing of the Jihad cannot be forecast… it is a matter of fate. However the last element related to the Mahdi is the most important one. According to the Quran, Allah created two parallel species of creatures… man and jinn. One made of clay… the other made of fire. The Quran says little about the jinn although it’s implied they are endowed with reason and responsibility but they are more prone to evil than man. What I’m saying is that the Mahdi cannot be a man… he has to be a jinn! It’s necessary to be evil if you’re a militant… to want to destroy the masses, sack cities, seize power and control continents.’

‘Is that truly what makes a Mahdi?’ I returned quietly.

‘No… not at all. The Mahdi has to be a jinn but he also has to hear the voice of Allah giving him instructions as to what he must do for the people of Islam.’

‘And you hear his voice!’

‘Of course. The Mahdi is the divinely guided one. He has to be guided divinely. That’s both logical and reasonable even if it tends to sound mystical. History is legion with similar occurrences. Joan of Arc… Bernadette of Lourdes and many others. They all heard the voice of Allah. What more would your readers want to know?’

He sat as still as a statue and I took a long hard look at him. The man was arrogant but controlled which I presumed would be two of the qualities required of a Mahdi. He was cool and concise and he had authority in his voice which made one obedient without wishing to be so. The most frightening part of the interview, however, was about to begin. He cast his eyes in my direction in a fixed stare and I could swear they turned yellow… as yellow as the fire of a jinn… while his body stiffened and he became mechanical in his delivery.

‘When the time comes,’ he declared in a voice somewhat deeper and louder than before with an authoritative tone that was much sharper, ‘and Allah tells me I have to lead the people in a Jihad, there will be a holy sound throughout the land echoing death and destruction of such magnitude that every infidel will be destroyed by the mighty arm of Islam. It will be my task to purify the world so that religion will flow like the freshness of a spring stream… like the smell of petals from a rose.’ Suddenly the volume of his voice increased in tempo and strength to a frightening level. ‘Islam will be strong! Islam will be great! Islam will conquer the world!’

It was another ten minutes before I managed to escape from the house. I was absolutely terrified! When I returned to the car, Turgut scanned my face with concern.

‘You look very pale, Mr. Scott. What happened in there?’

I took a long deep breath sighing with relief as he drove back to the Sheraton hotel. ‘I think I heard the voice of Allah,’ I told him cryptically.

‘The voice of whom?’

‘The voice of Allah.’ I could still see those yellow eyes searing through me as Ozal’s words echoed repeatedly in my ears. ‘Islam will be strong! Islam will be great! Islam will conquer the world!

Maybe Penny, Primar, Commander Yasood, Menel and Schmuel Musaphia had a point. Perhaps there was a need for an organisation such as the 21st Century Crusaders to safeguad the world!

Chapter Eleven

Turgut drove me back across the Galata Bridge to the hotel in silence. He must have thought I had lost my mind. I believed he still nursed a slight grievance against me for the allegation I made that he had arranged for the assailant in my hotel room. When I entered my room, I took a small bottle of whisky from the cocktail cabinet and lay back on the bed. My experiences with the 21st Century Crusaders were successful in creating one dramatic crisis after another and it was likely there were many more to come. As I held the glass in both hands, I could see them shaking slightly. Visiting the Mahdi was an event I would not forget in a hurry. It was going to take some time for me to calm my nerves. On reflection, my condition probably related to delayed shock stemming from the surprise attack by the assailant earlier. Whatever happened, I had to steer clear of the police. If they discovered I had two passports in my possession in different names my position would be untenable. I had no reasonable explanation to offer them. I entertained the idea that someone may have planned it that way to ensure that I was arrested, tried and sentenced as a spy or a terrorist. But why should anyone want to do that? It seemed that all and sundry wanted me to obtain the plans of the laser gun. I had to admit that adopting the role of Mushtaq Hussein made me feel extremely uneasy. I was Jason Scott dammit! Not someone who adopted different roles like an actor in a theatre. The deceit accompanied by the fear of being caught up in an international incident weighed heavily filling me with concern every moment I remained in Turkey. Yet such troubles were dwarfed by the fear instilled in me when the startling change took place in the Mahdi. He had turned from a man into a wild ranting maniac in a matter of seconds. How could I explain something so strange to Schmuel Musaphia at the debriefing sesssion? Perhaps such intensity emerged from charisma and leadership. If so, I could understand how people were so much in awe of Adolf Hitler during his brief reign. Would it be prudent to say that the Mahdi received his instructions directly from Allah? If anyone had declared such thoughts from my neck of the woods he would have ended up in a straight-jacket in a padded cell. And then the penny dropped. Schmuel Musaphia had sent me to see the Mahdi to help me change my mind in his favour. He knew that the man was fanatical and that whatever he said would have a profound effect on me.

The telephone rang to shatter my thoughts. It was Terence Welby, the Captain of the British bridge team. ‘I haven’t met you yet, Jason,’ he remarked diplomatically. ‘Are you all right to play this evening?’

‘I’m fine,’ I told him. ‘Yes… I’m ready to play.’

‘We start at seven-thirty in the large conference hall. You’re all geared up and ready to go, I hope. The team’s looking forward to beating the hell out of the opposition. And we can do it!’

‘Sure,’ I responded woodenly. ‘All geared up. Ready to go!’

‘Great… Tony Woodman will partner you. You’ve played with him before so there should be no problems.’

‘Tell me,’ I advanced seriously. ‘How did Istanbul happen to be chosen for this venue? I mean no one’s allowed to play cards here unless they’re foreign.’

He chuckled at the other end of the line. ‘Oh… that was a real cock-up. The Swedish are in charge of arrangements this year. One of them in administration understood that it was going to be fixed on a turnkey operation. They meant on the computer but he misunderstood and thought they said it was going to be in Turkey. So that’s why we’re here. As I said, it was a complete cock-up! By the time he recognised his mistake, it was too late to book anywhere else. All the literature had been printed, the hotel was booked, and the countries taking part were all notified. As you know, we’re playing Iceland tonight. I’ll expect to see you at ten past seven for a short briefing.’

‘By the way,’ I cut in. ‘Did you select the team yourself?’

‘Always, old chap. With a little help from my friends. See you at ten past seven.’

The line went dead and I returned the receiver to its cradle thoughtfully. Terence Welby selected the team… with a little help from his friends. Was he trying to tell me something without actually saying it? It didn’t really matter. For one reason or another I was in the team. I lay back on the bed and fell asleep awaking later feeling very troubled. One thing was certain… I wasn’t fit to play bridge at high level in my frame of mind and I felt sorry for Tony Woodman who would have to put up with some poor bidding decisions during the evening let alone the play. I ordered dinner from the hotel restaurant to be delivered to my room, preferring to eat alone. As someone had tried to assassinate me earlier and failed, they might not be able to resist the temptation to try again. I needed to limit my exposure outside the hotel room as much as possible even though I would be in public view in the conference hall for the whole evening. Sliding off the bed drowsily, I stripped and stepped into a cool shower. By the time I had freshened up, there was a knock on the door and a waiter wheeled in a trolley with my dinner. But I wasn’t hungry. For a while I toyed with the meal and then replaced it under the silver hood designed to keep it warm. In due course, I picked up the telephone receiver and dialled Reception requesting them to find Turgut for me. He rang me back shortly, like the good guide he was, asking what I wanted.

‘I need a gun, Turgut!’ I told him curtly. ‘A revolver. Not just an air pistol. I want something that can kill if necessary. A weapon that can kill.’

There was a long pause at the other end of the line before he spoke. ‘Mr. Scott… you’re going to get yourself in a heap of trouble. I think you should think about it carefully before you ask me to do something like that.’

‘You’re instructions were to look after me at all times, Turgut!’ I reminded him. ‘I need a gun for protection. I’m asking you to get one for me. I’ll pay the going rate.’

‘Do you realise what would have happened had you shot the man in your hotel room today? The police would have hauled you in for questioning and you would have missed the tournament this evening.’

His comments poured off me like water off a duck’s back. ‘I want you to get a gun that can be split into two or three parts Something that won’t show up as a gun on the airport scanner. I want to be able to hide the pieces in different parts of my suitcase. Do you get the drift?’

He coughed and paused for a few moments. ‘I reckon I could get you a nine millimetre semi-automatic Beretta for two hundred United States dollars. I’ll have it for you in an hour but first you’ve got to promise me something. My job is to look after you at all times. Don’t leave the hotel when I’ve gone.’

‘Look, Turgut,’ I countered. ‘I’ve got to be at the tournament in less than an hour. There’s no way I’m leaving this hotel. Just come straight back here when you’ve got it. Remember, it has to split into two or three parts.’

He was true to his word. In just over half an hour he was knocking on my door. When I opened it, he was beaming all over his face. He walked past me into the room triumphantly. ‘Here it is,’ he said proudly as though he had achieved the impossible. ‘Two hundred United States dollars, as I said. It’s in three parts.’ He laid the separate pieces on the bed and then began to assemble them. ‘The clip goes in here. That part into there. And you need to use this bolt to secure all parts of the gun. It’s very simple.’

‘What about ammunition?’ I asked, taking my wallet from my jacket pocket to pay him.

‘Two boxes!’ He produced them like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

‘I haven’t got US dollars but I’ll give you the equivalent in Turkish lira if that’s all right. Here… this’ll cover the cost of the gun and leave you something for yourself. I’m very grateful to you.’

‘Well you’d better be very careful. You now have two passports and a gun. Those are risks I wouldn’t take in Turkey. Is there anything else?’

‘I could do with a bottle of smelling salts to keep me awake at the bridge table.’

He realised that I was being rhetoric and moved to the door. ‘I’ll be waiting for you when you go to the conference hall,’ he assured me. ‘I would have made a good supply officer if I was in the army..yes?’

He left the room and I lay motionless on the bed for a while. How the hell did Turgut know that I had two passports? It was all getting too much! My mind and body felt drained and I was acting more on instinct than purpose. Forcing myself to get off the bed, I dressed and took the elevator downstairs to face Terence Welby outside the conference hall for the briefing.

‘Some of them play the Iceland one club system,’ he informed me. ‘They open on less than seven points and have responses which identify the shape of their hands. Don’t let them fool you out of a game or a slam. And watch the one with the glasses and strange bow-tie. He’s their Captain and a very fine player. Well you’d better go off and talk to Tony about your plan of campaign. Just keep it tight, that’s all.’

I went over to Tony Woodman and sat opposite him at the bridge table.

‘You made it into the team then,’ he commented rhetorically. ‘There was a lot of speculation.’

‘Yes.’ I returned tiredly. ‘Someone up there likes me.’

‘I hear you threw a burglar through the window of you hotel room earlier today,’ he went on. ‘Let’s hope there’s just as much excitement in the game tonight.’

We continued our discussion until a gong sounded and the Swedish controller stood on the rostrum. He made a short speech to welcome everyone and to herald the opening of the tournament. The competition would last for a few days so that all the teams would play each other. The sweat was pouring off me as though I had a fever. I wasn’t certain that could continue but what could I say to Tony Woodman? He was an excellent player, a credit to his country… a permanent fixture in the British team having played for them for over five years. I managed to pull myself together and the competition started. Slowly and steadily we made headway and I was delighted that I was able to focus my mind and concentrate on the game. The match had progressed for about half an hour when the heat began to overcome me. At the end of one game, I excused myself and went to the men’s room to pour cold water on my face and wrists. I was drying myself on the towel when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Slowly I turned and felt a shock jolt through me as though I was being touched by an electric prod for standing before me was a man who looked exactly like me adjusting his contact lenses. It was my double! I began to experience the same horror in Crete when Penny and I met our doubles there.

‘We’d better go into a cubicle in case someone comes in and sees us, old man,’ he suggested. They might get confused. I’ve got something for you.’

I rued the fact that the nine millimetre semi-automatic Beretta I had just purchased lay idly in my hotel room. It should have been resting in my pocket now, ready to protect me.

‘Are you the chap who had trouble with his contact lenses in Crete?’ I asked him point-blank.

‘That’s right,’ he replied calmly handing me an envelope.

‘Here you’d better take it. I’ve been told it contains an airline ticket back to London. There’s also a message. The plane leaves the airport in an hour-and-a-half. You must collect your luggage right away and catch that aircraft.’

‘Tell me, how come you’re still alive? The woman I was with shot you through the head.’

‘There’s not time for that now!’ he told me sharply, pressing the envelope into my hand.

‘But I can’t leave!’ I remonstrated. ‘I’m in the middle of an international bridge tournament!’

‘Forget all that! You must leave immediately! Commander Spring’s orders! By the way, the Commander told me to remind you we’re on your side and Mr. Musaphia also sends his best wishes. I’m going to take your place with Tony Woodman. You’ll be leaving the hotel by the rear. Don’t worry about your bill. I’ll take care of it. And, whatever you do, on no account return to the conference hall. We don’t want anyone to know there are two of us.’

‘There’s some questions I have to ask you!’

‘No time, Jason, no time! You need to get your skates on if you’re going to catch that plane. Now hurry!’

He pushed me out of the cubicle to help me on my way and went to the door.

‘You go first… straight to the elevator,’ he directed quietly.

I was in a complete state of confusion. What was the urgent reason why I had to return to London and leave the tournament? I had only just started to play. Of all the things sacred to my pride was my prowess and reputation at bridge. I didn’t want my double to ruin it for me. Suspicion welled up inside me but the fact that he had mentioned Schmuel Musaphia was of some comfort. But how was it that he was still alive? It was unbelievable! I left the men’s room only to collide with a man in the corridor. He was a tourist, probably a guest at the hotel, who had been drinking far too much. He scanned my face, blinking his eyes, muttering an expletive after the collision had taken place. I stopped in my tracks to apologise to him. At that moment my double came into the corridor behind me. The inebriate stared at both of us momentarily and his eyes widened as he reeled in amazement.

‘Bloody ‘ell!’ he yelled at the top of his voice. I’ve got delirium tremens! I’m seeing everything double! Double!’

I beckoned to Turgut in the hotel lounge and we hurried to my room. I opened the envelope to find an airline ticket and a small slip of paper with squiggly writing on it which read: ‘Return immediately. Plans have greater priority!’

I threw my belongings into my suitcase while Turgut distribute the parts of the Beretta into different places in it. Then we left swiftly by the rear exit of the hotel and he drove me directly to the airport. We made our brief farewells and I was sorry to see him go. He gave me an element of confidence and he had done everything in his power to take good care of me. I needed a minder of that quality with me all the time but destiny and location insisted we had to part.

* * *

My double had misled me in relation to the time the aircraft was scheduled to leave Istanbul. In truth, I could have played in the bridge tournament almost to the end of the evening. Perhaps he wanted to savour the thrill of playing in the team but then he had two more days at his mercy. I was also concerned about the matter of identity. He was substituting for me but we both had passports in the name of Jason Scott. It was my good fortune I was leaving the country first in case the immigration authorities became suspicious. However, my double was far more flamboyant that me and I was concerned that Tony Woodman would notice the difference even before the evening was out. But that was hardly my problem now. I slept quite well on the plane back to Heathrow. It was as though I was leaving many of my troubles behind but such ideas were fanciful. After landing, I returned home to determine the timing of three major issues. Firstly, there was an urgent need to obtain answers from Penny Smith concerning Tomar Duran and my double. Secondly, I had to choose a time when Chris Devon and myself could assault the weaponry division to secure the plans of the laser gun. And thirdly, with the highest level of priority, was the information which my assistant, Harry, had found in relation to Jan’s whereabouts. Sadly, I was overwhelmed by Murphy’s Law… which states that if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong! As I entered my house, it became clear that the place was wrecked. Someone had broken in during my absence and had turned everything upside down. Primar! No doubt he had discovered that the microfilm I had given him was spurious and he had burgled the place to search for the real plans. The intruder had made certain to make his presence felt. The room was strewn with broken furniture laying idly in strange sculptured shapes after being smashed and splintered by force. Upholstery had been cut and ripped in a crude fashion with a sharp blade, destroying all the expensive seating in the lounge. Fittings had been torn roughly from their sockets on the walls and the ceiling indiscriminately while slivers of glass littered the floor everywhere. Most of the glass had come from the doors of elegantly designed cabinets and from the frames of photographs on the mantelshelf. Papers and books had been pulled off the shelves haphazardly and there was also evidence that some parts of the carpets had been pulled up in an attempt to find a hiding place where the plans were hidden. The damage was considerable. It had been conducted wantonly and had achieved nothing.

I found Harry’s notes in a large envelope which had been kicked by the intruder under the telephone table in the hallway. It had been ripped open in the hope that it contained the information sought. I glance through the details provided by my assistant. He had done a good job in such a short time. The lists identified all the clubs in Hertfordshire and their locations as well as all the bridges in the county. There were six football clubs, five nightclubs of which two were professional, three golf clubs, three scout clubs, five bridge clubs, three cricket clubs and four youth clubs. There were also eight bridge but three of them were very small and situated in such obscure locations it was reasonable to discount them. I picked up the telephone which was still working and rang him.

‘Sorry to ring you so late again, Harry. I just got in. You did a hell of a good job for me on Hertfordshire.’

‘You’ve got a tough job on there,’ he began in a troubled voice. ‘There were dozens of little clubs but I eliminated them because they were so small. You know the ones. Pigeon clubs, amateur dramatic societies, writers’ groups and all that. I concentrated only on those which had premises of their own rather than those which rent rooms on a weekly basis. So I have to tell you that if the place you’re looking for happens to be one of those tiny ones, what you’re searching for may have slipped the net. If that’s the case you probably wouldn’t have found it anyway. When you put the whole thing together, you’ve got twenty-nine clubs and five main bridges. The odds of finding the right one is about a hundred-and-forty-five to one. Naturally, you might strike lucky and hit the jackpot at the first go but life’s not that simple. It could take you days or weeks. A visit to any of the clubs might not be sufficient. Your wife may be hidden in a cellar or a back room. You really need more information. Something to narrow down the odds. How you do that I’ve no idea.’

My heart sank at his words. He was absolutely right. It would take a lot of time to check out even a single club to find out whether Jan was being held there. Poor Jan! There was no way I could narrow the odds! She probably thought her cryptic message was all that I needed to find her. How little she knew!

I went into the dining room and sat on the only unbroken chair in the house. There was no point in trying to pour myself a drink because every bottle inside the cocktail cabinet had been smashed.

Whoever had broken in was a particularly spiteful character destroying everything in his path whether or not it had anything to do with his mission. It annoyed me that I had such good clues from my wife and yet I was stumped.

I went back to the lounge to find out whether it was possible to restore anything at all. The place was a shambles… nothing had been left intact. The television sported a large hole where the screen had been and it lay where it was tossed into the hearth. The home entertainment equipment had been dashed to the floor to make sure it never worked again. The telephone answering machine had been torn from its socket to suffer the same fate. What a mess! And then a thought crept into my mind which had the touch of genius. The recording tape from the telephone answering machine! It was sitting in the middle of the floor trying to tell me something. The only link with Jan might be on that tape! It might be possible to establish some detailed information from it such as background noises, familiar sounds, or something which might introduce new clues in addition to those she had given me. If that were so, it would certainly shorten the odds. However in order to develop the idea, I needed the services of someone who had the equipment and expertise to be able to put my inspiration into practice. And I required those services urgently! Chris Devon! The name sprang immediately to mind. Of course! Chris Devon! If anyone could do it, he had to be the man!

I picked up the tape and drove to the hovel where he lived, knocking several times on the front door. My heart sank when there was no answer. As I was about to walk away in disappointment, I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs from inside. Within a few moments, the front door was opened and, to my jubilation, his ugly face came into view.

‘Thank God you’re in,’ I exclaimed with relief.

‘Oh it’s you!’ he muttered with a few crumbs dropping from his beard. ‘I was just havin’ somethin’ to eat. You want me to do that gig now? Okay… if you hang on I’ll be ready in five minutes.’

‘No, no!’ I stressed sharply. ‘Not yet! This is something quite different. It’s personal. I need your help.’

‘Come inside then, man,’ he invited. ‘I hate standin’ in doorways talkin’ to people. Come inside!’

I followed him up to his room. Producing the tape from my pocket. I knew that the information on it was pretty poor but it was important for me to try to find out the background noises on it. It could be a matter of life or death!

‘Can you bring up the background noise with your equipment? Is it possible to amplify it? I want to find out something from the second message… the woman’s voice.’

‘No sweat, man’ he returned casually. ‘Do it all the time. In my spare moments I’m also a radio ham. Didn’t you see the aerial on the roof. Here… let me have the tape.’

He placed it in a machine, donned on a pair of headphones, and played it through once. ‘Hey, that’s heavy man!’ he commented, taking off the headphones. ‘Sounds as though she’s been kidnapped. What’s all the stuff about bridge?’

‘Never mind that now,’ I growled. ‘Can you reduce the foreground and enhance the background?’

He scratched his unkempt hair and I imagined him turning his lips into a pout underneath the frothy beard as the wheels of his mind began to churn. He put on the headphones again and played with the tape again before removing them again. ‘The definition is lousy. Those telephone answering machines are designed to give you a message… nothing more.’

He handed the headphones to me and I wiped them thoroughly before placing them over my ears, nodding to him to start the machine. There was a lot of white noise and some static as Jan delivered her message. I listened intently eventually removing the headphones and shaking my head slowly.

‘Something’s there but it’s impossible to make it out. I need more than that!’

He chewed on his lower lip for a while and then turned to me.

‘What I can do is to make a copy of the tape which you can keep for record purposes. Then I can play around with the original in a number of ways to bring up the background. If I don’t do that, there’s a danger that the original tape could be corrupted if I push it too far.’

‘Can you take a copy and play around with it instead of the original,’ I asked intensely.

‘Not really. With this kind of tape, every copy loses definition. I want to give the original the full works.’ I consented reluctantly and he made a copy which he handed to me before setting to work on the original. ‘Help yourself to some coffee,’ he remarked, setting the headphones back on his head.

I surveyed a number of unwashed cups on the table and decided not to accept his hospitality. He devoted his attention to his work and started to press keys on the machine moving the tape forwards and backwards, shunting to a violent halt one way and then the other. I watched him closely as he played with the tape for a considerable amount of time. There was no way I could assess his ability. I was in his hands and could only hope he knew what he was doing. In due course, he sat upright and offered the headphones to me.

‘I’ve wiped out practically all the white noise., eliminated the static, and reverted the background to the foreground,’ he boasted immodestly. ‘But let me say this. The quality is very poor but at least you’ll be able to hear some of the background noise with reasonable clarity. There’s a chance I can raise part of the volume but such action might corrupt the tape. Listen in, man!’

I put on the headphones with an element of excitement and listened intently. Jan’s message could be heard but it was very faint. Suddenly, I could hear the sound of music although it wasn’t possible to identify the tune. It appeared to be right at the end of a song. As the music ended, there was a voice which was hardly audible. ‘Stop it there!’ I ordered sharply. ‘I heard the last few bars of a tune and the sound of a voice. Can you bring it up any further?’

‘If I do, the tape might corrupt,’ he returned with concern.

‘Then do it!’ I commanded. ‘Play it… as loud as you can!’

He pressed a number of keys on the machine, returning to the exact point where the music had finished. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen!’ came the voice of a man, and then the tape ended.

Chris Devon shook his head sadly. ‘I warned you, man. It’s kaputville! We stretched the elastic too far. I just hope you got what you wanted.’

Music… and a man saying ‘Ladies and Gentlemen!’ It wasn’t much to go on but it was all I needed. At a stroke, I had narrowed the clubs down from twenty-nine to five for there were five nightclubs in the county and Jan was being held in one of them. I thanked Chris Devon profusely for his efforts paying him handsomely for the work and raced home again to contact my assistant.

‘Harry,’ I began, with an edge of excitement in my voice. ‘How many nightclubs are there close to any of the bridges you identified?’

‘Give me a moment, will you,’ he replied helpfully, disappearing to check the data on his notes before returning to the telephone. ‘This must be your lucky day,’ he told me cheerfully as though we had won the prize. ‘There’s only one nightclub close to a bridge. The bridge is there because there’s a lake. The nightclub’s called The Golden Peacock near Welwyn Garden City. I’m intrigued… how did you work out that the place had to be a nightclub?’

‘Thanks, Harry,’ I told him gratefully. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I next see you.’

The Golden Peacock near Welwyn Garden City! At last I knew where she was being held! I thought about contacting the police. It would have been the right thing to do but there would be complications. As soon as I informed them of the situation, they would ask how I knew about The Golden Peacock and undertake an investigation. They might even find that I had two passports in different names and it was certain they would disbelieve everything I told them about the 21st Century Crusaders. They only worked on evidence and proof. Sadly it was all against me personally. My only evidence was a copy of the tape which was of little value because the original had been corrupted. All I would be doing was to draw attention to myself which could affect the assault on the weaponry division when Chris Devon and I set out to steal the plans of the laser gun. Finding Jan was something I had to do alone. I decided to ring Penny to obtain answers to the questions that kept nagging me but there was no reply. The woman was becoming extremely elusive. I had felt certain our relationship took us well beyond the cause of the 21st Century Crusaders but it appeared that I was wrong on that point too. I replaced the receiver and sought an answer by recalling our last conversation. ‘It’s best if I meet you tomorrow evening at seven-thirty at our usual restaurant,’ she had insisted against my better nature. Unfortunately, I had to fly to Turkey so it wasn’t possible for me to be there. Where was she now… and why was she avoiding me?

On the following morning, I started clearing up the house to make it habitable. It was a monumental task and I didn’t get far. It was almost noon when I gave it up and lay back on my reconstructed settee to rest when the telephone rang. I hurried to answer the call, hoping it was Penny, but it was Schmuel Musaphia.

‘Meet me at the Savoy Hotel tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,’ he ordered coldly.

‘I don’t think so!’ I responded unsocially. ‘I’ve got other plans.’ I had no intention of revealing that I intended to visit The Golden Peacock at Welwyn Garden City. It was really none of his business even though he was involved in some way.

‘Cancel them!’ he continued bluntly. ‘Nine o’clock at the Savoy

Hotel tomorrow morning! We have a lot to talk about. You’ll be very interested in what I have to say!’

Before I had a chance to reply, the line went dead. What did Schmuel Musaphia have to tell me that was so important? I felt like a small pawn in a giant chess game. Every piece was searing across the board at different angles, jumping all over the place. All I could do was to take one move forward at a time. It was patently clear that, in the meantime, I was extremely vulnerable and also at everyone’s mercy. It wasn’t a pleasant though to harbour!

Chapter Twelve

On the following morning, I rose and took another look around the house. It was still a wreck despite my efforts to restore it to a reasonable condition. Although most of the debris had been shifted to the back garden, all the furniture appeared completely incongruous. Nothing seemed to fit properly in the right place. Cabinets and cupboards leaned unstably to port or starboard sometimes rocking in their locations at the slightest movement in the room. Grey plaster gaped like eye-sores from the walls where the wall-lights had been wrenched out. Ceilings no longer displayed the embellishments of expensive lamps or chandeliers because they had been ripped out violently and dashed to the floor. Even the carpets failed to resume their original positions where they had been raised or pulled. If a burglar had intended to lower my morale by means of extreme vandalism, he had succeeded well.

I made myself some breakfast even though Schmuel Musaphia had probably arranged for me to eat at the Savoy Hotel. I dressed smartly for the occasion and did the best possible when shaving and combing my hair for no mirrors had survived the onslaught to my home. Just before I left, I fitted the pieces of the Beretta together, testing the empty weapon by pulling the trigger several times to ensure that it worked properly. Then I loaded it with ammunition keeping some spare bullets in my pocket in case I needed to reload it. I felt far more prepared to face the world with a pistol in my pocket to protect me. I had never fired a gun before so I had no idea whether I was capable of hitting a target even at close range. The only other time I had held a gun in my hand was in Crete when I had wrested it away from my secretary but that didn’t count because I did not fire it. In any case, the gun had been loaded with blanks otherwise Tomar Duran and the doubles would have been dead. However, the weapon brought its own problems. Firstly, it became impossible for me to button up my jacket with the gun in my pocket. Secondly, it made a large bulge appear causing the garment to become misshapen through its bulk and weight. I really needed a gun holster. Nonetheless, I felt safer with the weapon than without it.

I arrived at the Savoy Hotel on the stroke of nine o’clock. Punctuality in my book was a priority in terms of respect for other people. Not even the events of the past week could shake off the elements of my character. As expected, Schmuel Musaphia was waiting there for me. He looked immaculate in his white suit and bow-tie which I was surprised to see him wearing at this time of the morning. Perhaps it was the only suit he took with him when travelling or, more likely, he had half-a-dozen of the same kind because he liked the style. As usual, he held a large unlit Havana cigar firmly in his mouth.

‘Sit down, Jason!’ he greeted in a tone that sounded like a command. ‘We have a lot to talk about. I want to know all you learned from the Mahdi. What he told you, how he spoke, what you felt about him. Everything!’ He stared at my face with a bewildered expression on his face. ‘What happened to you hair?’

‘My hair,’ I laughed with an element of chagrin. ‘Someone broke into my house while I was in Turkey and smashed every piece of furniture, pulling all the lights out of the walls and ceilings. There isn’t a mirror left in the house. Some bastard really took care of the place while I was away. Do you know anything about it?

His eyes narrowed slightly at my ostensible accusation. ‘Is that so?’ he uttered softly.

‘I tried to get you at the Dorchester Hotel when we last me but you’d checked out after we had our meal. Couldn’t you afford their prices for an overnight stay?’

A small smile crept into the corners of his mouth as he puffed pointlessly on his cigar. ‘I’m an itinerant. I can’t help it. You know what an itinerant is, don’t you. It’s a person who keeps travelling from place to place. A nomad. Funny, I used to move around a lot when I was younger and burn the midnight oil. The pundits warned me that if I didn’t conform and take it easy I’d burn myself out before I was thirty years old. Now they’re all dead and I’m still moving around from place to place and burning the midnight oil. So tell me, who’s the clever one?’

‘All I can say is that you must have a lot of enemies to have to shift about at such speed.’

He laughed loudly. ‘You know, I like you, Jason, you remind me of myself when I was young. Let me tell you something. I owe a great deal to my friends but, all things considered, I owe even more to my enemies. You see, the character of a person emerges truly under threat than under a loving embrace. Why did you try to get hold of me at the Dorchester?’

‘I received a note which read: ‘Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your life. Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your wife!’ Have you any idea who might have sent that message? Or any reason for it?’

‘None at all but I’m the bearer of good tidings. I’ve some excellent news for you. We’ve found out where your wife’s been taken. It’s a place called The Golden Peacock near Welwyn Garden City.’

I felt a sudden wave of pain float through my mind with frustration. It had taken so much effort to find Jan’s location and now this man was handing me the information on a plate. It was really too much to comprehend. ‘How did you manage to get that information?’ I asked him trying to keep down the anger in my voice.

‘The most important fact is that we found her for you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?’

It dawned on me that he had arranged for my telephone to be tapped. How else would he have known about the nightclub? ‘Well, as it happens,’ I retorted curtly, ‘I learned about The Golden Peacock yesterday and I would have gone there had not someone smashed up the house. But I’ll be off the moment I leave here. I don’t suppose any of your crowd will lend me a hand.’

‘Jason… Jason!’ he repeated slowly. ‘You tell me you don’t want to be a part of the organisation… that you’re not interested in any causes, or the fate of the world, or the people in it, yet now you ask for my help. One doesn’t catch flies with vinegar. Give me one good reason why we should consider helping you?’

‘Well for one… you want the plans of the laser gun, don’t you?’ He nodded, conceding the point. ‘You recalled me from Turkey because you need those plans quickly. I presume that’s why I’m here this morning. If I get into trouble at The Golden

Peacock I won’t be able to get the plans. What I’m saying is that you need to protect me at all times. In the long run, it would be better for your people to recover Jan than to let me thresh about like an amateur into the unknown.’

He puffed pointlessly on his cigar thoughtfully. ‘Looking closely at your eyes,’ he said, changing the subject quickly, ‘I can see you’re in need of a rest. You know, for a young man, you’re starting to get bags under your eyes.’ The waiter arrived at the table and Musaphia ordered a Continental breakfast for both of us. He drew once more on his cigar and stared directly at me with cold unrelenting eyes. ‘You’ve drifted off the subject,’ he went on. ‘I want to know all about the Mahdi.’

‘I wrote a report on my meeting on the aircraft on my way back. You’ll find some of the word a little quaint. The bastard who smashed up my home also damaged my computer printer.’ I took an envelope from my pocket and placed it on the table in front of him.

‘Tell me… in your own words,’ he persisted.

‘For the most part he seemed to be a normal person, educated in the West, wearing Western clothing. Then, as the conversation proceeded, he assumed the mantle of the Mahdi. He suddenly became strange, drifting off into a mystic trance which scared the hell out of me. He said he was instructed directly from Allah and that he was a jinn rather than a man. Do you know what a jinn is?’

He nodded sagely without showing any emotion. ‘I should do,’ he confessed, ‘being a Muslim.’

His words came at me like a tsunami, enveloping me in a tidal wave from which I could hardly escape. I was so surprised at his declaration that I was almost lost for words. ‘You’re a Muslim?’

‘I know all about the Quran and jinn. I was born in Teheran, the capital of Iran. It used to be Persia then.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ I gasped. ‘Then what are you doing with the 21s Century Crusaders?’

‘I’m an ardent supporter of the cause. Tell me, did you vote at the last General Election in this country?’

‘Of course,’ I replied wondering why he had asked.

‘Did the party for whom you voted succeed in becoming the government?’

‘They did.’

‘And do you agree with everything they say and do in respect of the important policies relating to your country and its people?’

‘Not necessarily,’ I countered. ‘But I don’t support the opposition as a result of any difference of opinion.’

‘Would you support them if they adopted a policy that would lead to civil war, or unwarranted aggression against another country whom you consider innocent?’

I shrugged my shoulders aimlessly. ‘It would never come to that,’ I retorted. ‘Not with the British government.’

‘All right,’ he went on. ‘What about Islam now that you’ve met the Mahdi?’

I had to admit that he had a point. If I hadn’t met the Mahdi, I might have stuck to my argument, refusing to accept that he was a Muslim fighting for a cause against his own religion. But the words of the Mahdi still echoed in my ears. ‘It will be my task to purify the world so that religion will flow like the freshness of a stream. Islam will be strong! Islam will be great! Islam will conquer the world!’

‘You see I’m a Sunni,’ he informed me, breaking into my thoughts abruptly. ‘One of the intellectuals. We don’t believe in the Jihad, the Holy War or the Mahdi. They were the inventions of the mystics many centuries ago. In the modern world, we have the problem of logistics. The Shias make up fifteen per cent of all Muslims. If the number of all Islam amounts to over two billion people, we’re talking of some three hundred million militants, many of whom believe in terrorism, torture and martyrdom. Hitler had less than a sixth of that number when he took on all of Europe. Not only that, but I’m certain that at the commencement of a Jihad, many Sunnis will be converted to militancy perhaps doubling the Shia figures. Just imagine it! Half a million soldiers setting out to conquer the world. It doesn’t bear thinking about and I couldn’t support such a policy.’

I shook my head in disbelief. You fail to amaze me in everything you do.’

‘I assure you there’s more to come.,’ he advised me. ‘Life can be very exciting if you’re prepared to take the risks. But be warned. Taking the risks doesn’t mean you’ll necessarily win.’

‘The Mahdi believed he took his instructions directly from Allah,’ I told him again. ‘I suppose that’s one step nearer to sanity than believing he’s Allah himself.’

‘You shouldn’t mock a holy man,’ warned Musaphia with a serious expression on his face. ‘We know so little about paranormal activity. There have been cases in history where messages have been conveyed to mortals. In order to prove he’s the Mahdi it’s essential for him to receive divine messages. Otherwise he’ll be regarded as just an ordinary man making decisions on his own account.’ He placed the envelope into a pocket of his white jacket. ‘I’ll read your report with interest. But now we must get to the matter of the laser gun. For reasons I cannot divulge, they’re required extremely urgently. So much so that we had to substitute you at the bridge tournament in Turkey. We need them tonight.’

‘Oh, come on!’ I said resentfully. ‘Oil won’t run out in the Middle East for the best part of fifty years. What’s the damned hurry all of a sudden!’

‘We need them tonight!’ he repeated dumbly. I did not relish rushing into the weaponry division blindly. It was one thing to plan an assault with a strategic operation; it was quite another to carry it out in reality. ‘There’s something I ought to mention, if you don’t mind me saying so,’ he continued. ‘That gun in your pocket is sticking out like a sore thumb. If you want to carry a pistol, get yourself a holster. If I can recognise that you’re carrying a gun, so can everyone else in the hotel.’

He was right of course. I was very green in such matters. It was important to take advice from people like Musaphia who had managed to survive in difficult times to a grand old age as a result of their knowledge and experience.

‘I’d really like to know why there’s such a rush to get the plans. A few days ago it was a task that needed to be completed within a reasonable span of time. Now it’s so urgent, they’re needed tonight. Why?’

‘All in good time,’ he said quietly. ‘There are things happening in the environment. I can’t reveal at present. All I can say is that the plans are needed now. After that, you’ll learn the answers to many questions.’

We continued to eat our breakfast in harmony and I listened to some of his exploits in earlier years. He was a great teller of tales. There were many good reasons why I should dislike him, however I considered him to be an honest kindly man at heart and I liked him for his directness. His revelation that he was a Muslim floored me for a while but I could see the sense of his argument and recognised the trust placed in him by the organisation. After we had finished eating, he reiterated his message to make certain there was no misunderstanding.

‘Tonight! It must be tonight!’ He handed me a small slip of paper. ‘I want you to commit this telephone number to your memory. Read it as many times as you wish and remember it. The number was chosen especially for its simplicity. When you have th plans, you must contact me at this number immediately. I’ll then tell you what to do. Is that clear?’ I stared at the number and memorised it before passing the slip of paper back to him. He produced a book of matches from his pocket, lit one, and then burned the paper in the ash-tray. ‘Walls have ears and waiters have eyes,’ he philosophied. ‘We don’t want any problems. And, like I said last time, something good is going to happen to you soon.’

‘The best that can happen to me is a good night’s sleep and peace of mind,’ I confided. But I won’t get that until I’ve found my wife and Penny Smith.’

He prodded the burned slip of paper in the ash-tray with the end of his cigar turning it into ashes. ‘I’ve never known anyone to be so fervent about his wife and his mistress at the same time,’ he commented with amusement.

I ignored the remark. ‘Do you know where Penny Smith might be? I can’t seem to contact her.’

His face took on a thoughtful expression as though he was suffering from the same problem but he declined to answer. ‘Goodbye, Jason!’ he said finally with a wave of his hand as though he wanted to be rid of me. Contact me on that number the moment you get hold of those plans!’

After leaving the Savoy Hotel I visited an upholstery shop a short distance away. It took less than fifteen minutes to be fitted with a shoulder holster. The gun still felt bulky as it rested against my body but it was now contained and no longer caused an ugly bulge in my jacket. I telephoned my office in the hope of contacting my secretary only to be told that she was still absent. Persistently, I rang her apartment but no one answered the call. Even Schmuel Musaphia had looked blank when I asked him about her. She had vanished off the face of the Earth! But it was essential for me to focus my mind on my wife. It seemed that everyone knew where she was being held. Musaphia had given me her location without difficulty. How could he have found out unless the organisation had taken her. Or was his intelligence system so exclusive that he was able to find out about anyone at any time. I still considered that he had tapped my telephone to find out the information. Well one thing was certain… he had confirmed that Jan was being held at The Golden Peacock.

I drove nearly half a mile past the nightclub. I parked the car and walked back at a steady pace. The nightclub was a triumph of modern architecture. Shaped like a mediaeval castle, with towers and turrets on each side, it comprised a complex of offices, a dance hall, a conference room, a gaming room, a number of ante rooms, a high-grade restaurant and a number of hotel rooms. It was owned by an international conglomerate whose principal activities related to hotel management and gambling. The façade reflected layer upon layer of blocks of stone designed to make the location an authentic piece of history. There was even a dummy frieze around the turrets which was also adorned with stone gargoyles and grotesques. Several people were waiting at the reception desk when I entered. Casually, I sat down on one of the comfortable seats to pick up some literature about the hotel and its accommodation.

‘The castle stands on it own extensive grounds,’ I read. ‘With ninety-five bedrooms, this four-star hotel ensures its service is maintained at the highest level by over one hundred professional staff. The restaurant is considered to be one of the finest in the county boasting French, Italian and English cuisine. The classic menus and silver service are perfectly complimented by its own superb and high individual surroundings. The Forum Room caters for every kind of function and can be quickly adapted for weddings, trade shows and banquets. Guest rooms are appointed to a high standard every one en-suite. Each room has a television colour television, direct dial telephones, central heating and tea and coffee-making facilities. The Health and Leisure spa offers an all-year round centrally heated pool and guests can also enjoy the sauna Jacuzzi and a range of health treatments. There is also a gaming room where guests can play roulette, black jack and enjoy the use of numerous amusement machines.’

There was no doubt that The Golden Peacock was a first-class hotel although I was somewhat concerned that they employed so many staff. Hopefully, most of them were instructed to come on duty in the evening rather than during the daytime. I had to keep a low profile at all times and I rose slowly to make my way to the gaming room. I opened the door cautiously to find it was vacant and almost in darkness as an element of natural light filtered in from a few very high windows. However it was sufficient for my purpose. I went over to the roulette wheel allowing my eyes to scan the room, listening hard for any noises which might assist me in finding Jan. It was silent. The only sounds which did emanate were those of the clatter of cups on trolleys as they travelled down the adjoining hallway to the restaurant. I was particularly comforted by the gun in my holster. The problem was I had adopted a nervous habit of touching it regularly to check that it was still there.

After a while I realised that I had to cease random activities and embark on a proper plan of campaign. Jan was probably a prisoner being held in one of the hotel rooms. If so, the room was likely to be near the roof where any noise would go unnoticed. Alternatively, the other place was the basement. I decided to advance to the top floor and work my way downwards. As I left through the side door, I discovered a cupboard with a number of white coats inside. Donning one of them, I took the stairs to the top floor and began knocking on each door systematically pretending to be a waiter to take an order for a meal. There were ninety-five bedrooms on five floors! It was a dauntless task! I listened carefully at each door before knocking but most of them were unoccupied and no one answered. It took over ten minutes to deal with the rooms on the top floor and I was disappointed at the end of it. If Jan had been in any of them, I’m sure she would have made some sounds to alert me. I stopped at an open window at the end of the hallways and looked outside. A window cleaner’s cradle, secured by ropes attached to the roof, swung idly in the breeze. It was as though fate had prepared the vacant vehicle for my use. I climbed out of the window, leaning out dangerously to catch the rope of the cradle, and swung on to the platform. The search had turned significantly in my favour from my new vantage point. Within a short while I discovered how to manoeuvre the cradle and removed a white handkerchief from my pocket pretending to clean the windows. By this method I could swiftly look into all the room on this side of the hotel by lowering the cradle at each floor and moving it across the façade. I inched my way across the hotel but jubilation soon turned to disappointment. Jan was nowhere to be seen. One didn’t need to be a Sherlock

Holmes to realise that she wasn’t being held prisoner on the top floor. There was no point in searching the rooms on the lower floors. Her captors would never keep her where she might be discovered by the hotel guests. Following that logic, I presumed it was more likely that she was being held in the basement. I made my way back towards the open window swinging the cradle so that I could climb back through it. As I scrambled into the hallway, a chambermaid carrying an armful of bed linen came around the corner and almost screamed with fright as I landed on my feet. I silenced her by placing the index finger of my left hand to my lips.

‘Don’t take any notice of me, young lady,’ I lied blatantly. ‘I’m a kissogram man… coming to sing a romantic rhyme to a woman in room 412. She was going to bump into me in the hallway and I didn’t want to spoil it for her so I dodged up here.’

She looked at me suspiciously and then turned away in disgust muttering expletives about kissogram people. I inhaled deeply as she entered one of the bedrooms to change the bed linen without calling for security. I made my way down the stairs until I reached the ground floor. The while coat not became unnecessary so I discarded it and descended a flight of steps to the basement. I came to a large room filled with furniture and junk. Jan wasn’t being held there but I noticed four doors leading off the room. The first led back to the stairs from which I had just come. The second bore the sign ‘BAR’ which was the most unlikely place for anyone to hold a prisoner. The third led to the gaming room while the fourth related to the kitchen. There had to be somewhere else! I tried each door in turn to check they were authentic. The bar was the main bar in the hotel with a mezzanine cellar where barrels of beer were kept. I recognised the gaming room having been there earlier. The kitchen could not be mistaken for any other room. I sat on a stool in the basement and let thoughts drift through my mind for a while undecided on the next step. There was little point in returning upstairs to search the hotel rooms. In a castle of this kind there could be secret passages and hidden rooms but to find them was well beyond my control. The sound of footsteps echoed a short distance away and I crept into one of the murky corners of the room, hiding behind a large armchair. A man descended the steps and went into the kitchen area closing the door behind him. It was then that I discovered an awkward piece of metal sticking into my back and turned to find I was leaning against a fifth door. It was faced with a sheet of steel that had been painted black to hide its identity. There were no signs or markings but I knew before I opened it that it would lead down to the cellar. I pulled the handle, opening it cautiously and listened carefully but all was silent. The entrance heralded another set of steps leading to another door which sported a chink of light at the bottom. I went down the steps and stood outside the door. Taking my gun from the holster, I inhaled deeply and rushed into the room brandishing the weapon dangerously.

‘Okay!’ I shouted furiously. ‘Everyone stay exactly where you are!’ I blinked twice in the light to adjust my vision. The room was an ordinary office. There was nothing to cause an eyebrow to be raised in suspicion. Two men inside the room sat in comfortable armchairs and they froze in the midst of their discussion as a result of my rude intervention. One looked as though he was the manager of the hotel, the other may have been his assistant or the accountant. They stared at me blankly as I took up a menacing position.

‘May I help you?’ began the manager in a situation that certainly had never been included in his training manual.

‘Where’s my wife?’ I demanded angrily, determined to make my presence felt. ‘I know she’s here! Where is she?’

‘Your wife,’ he replied coolly, although his eyes never left the wavering barrel of the Beretta. He obviously considered me to be an enraged husband whose wife had gone off with a lover. ‘What is her name?’

‘Janice Scott! I want to know where she is and I want to know now! Do you hear me? Now!’ I was amazed at how forceful I could be when the chips were down.

He opened the book in front of him. ‘This is the hotel register. I’m just checking it.’ I waited as his eyes ran over the entries and then he looked up. ‘She was in room 418 but she checked out of the hotel early this morning.’

‘Is this for real? Or are you conning me?’

‘This is a reputable hotel, sir. Of course it’s real!’

‘Was she on her own?’

‘Room 418 is a single room,’ he replied calmly. ‘I suggest you hire a private detective if you want further information.’

‘Did she leave a forwarding address?’ My argument was getting weaker by the second.

‘Guests never leave forwarding addresses.’

I lowered the gun much to the relief of the two men and replaced it into its holster with some difficulty. ‘Can I get out of the hotel through this door?’ I asked sheepishly, pointing to another door.

‘You can,’ related the manager. ‘Walk up the slope to the fire-door ahead. It leads to Reception.’

On leaving the hotel, I felt an absolute chump. I had made a complete fool of myself. From the start I should have approached the Reception desk to ask whether Jan was staying there. How stupid I was to have donned on a white coat, swung to and fro on a window-cleaner’s cradle and threatened to shoot the manager and his assistant in the cellar. In addition, I had frightened a young chambermaid. So Jan had stayed there, clearly of her own free will, until early that morning. What was she doing in that hotel all by herself? None of it seemed to make any sense. Someone was using me like a pawn again and I didn’t like it!

I returned to London pretty frustrated and went to the restaurant where Penny and I had enjoyed so many precious evenings. This time it was different. I sat alone at our favourite table working out a plan of campaign on a white serviette. I didn’t want to repeat the farce which had taken place at The Golden Peacock. The weaponry division at Dandy Advanced Electronics would allow no quarter in terms of its security systems. Any mistake there would end in disaster!

Chapter Thirteen

It was early evening when I visited Chris Devon for the assault on the weaponry division. There was a strong feeling of malaise in my bones and I felt considerably reluctant to undertake the task. In my opinion, everything was riding on Devon and I still thought of him as an ugly, unshaven, untidy, filthy individual with a special talent for electronics which were as yet unproven. I had already discounted his efforts in relation to Jan’s message on the recording tape from the answering machine, especially as he had caused the original tape to become corrupted.

I parked the car outside his house and paused to allow the events of the past few days to filter through my mind. I didn’t really have to go through with this caper but I could imagine what would happen if I didn’t. Schmuel Musaphia would set the wolves on me. That much would be certain. I had a job to do and it had to be done otherwise Jan’s life would be in danger too. I had a gut feeling that the Heavens would fall in on my if I took fright now and ran. But why had the theft of the plans suddenly become so urgent? It was a shame that no one trusted me sufficiently to tell me. ‘Into each life some rain must fall,’ I sang the old tune to myself, ‘But too much is falling in mine!’ I had to face up to reality and hope that Chris Devon was the right person to support me!

I hammered on his door and waited impatiently for him to come. It wasn’t long before I could hear his footsteps on the stairs.

‘Oh it’s you again man,’ he greeted casually as he opened the door. ‘I can see by your face that this is the moment, man.’

‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘This is the moment.’ I followed him up the stairs to his room. ‘You’d better get your things together. I’ll tell you all about it on the way to the complex.’

‘Not in a million years!’ he reacted, taking a stance which intimated that he was refusing to go. ‘What do you think this is, man? Boy’s Own magazine! We’re going to break into a place that’s bristling with the latest security equipment and armed guards and you wanna tell me about it on the way in your car. I don’t think so, man!’ How do I know what kind of equipment I need. If we cut the caper as you suggest, we’d have to keep coming back here for more stuff! If you think I’m going with you on that kind of deal you must come from Mars!’

‘All right… all right!’ I conceded. ‘You don’t have to get excited! I’ll brief you on the layout of the place.’ I took some papers provided for me by Penny from my pocket and handed them to him. He surprised me by sitting down at the table before examining the drawings, pushing the cups away on the table to lay the pages flat, and running his fingers over them as a guide.

‘The first hurdle is the electrified fence. We’ll have to short-circuit part of it and cut our way in,’ I advanced, having worked out the schedule on the serviette in the restaurant.

‘Are you crazy, man!’ he spat angrily as a shocked expression appeared at the top of his beard. ‘You’ve been seeing too many films about World War Two! The minute you short-circuit the fence, everyone in security is going to know that someone’s breakin’ in. The faults show up immediately on the circuit system. monitors will also show the exact point of the short-circuit the second it occurs. Within two minutes, the place will be crawling with security officers. You’d be caught there and then.’

I was stunned at his revelation and annoyed at my own ignorance. ‘Then how do we get into the complex?’ I was mystified to know the answer.

‘We fly in there, man!’ he riposted.

‘I don’t get you,’ I told him puzzled by his remark.

‘Aint you heard of trampolines?’

‘Trampolines? The kind you jump on?’

‘What other kinds are there, man? We take two miniature trampolines. One of us jumps over the fence on it. The other one throws his trampoline over the top so we have a way of gettin’ out. The second on then makes the jump.’

‘You realise this is a ten foot electrified fence.’

‘You’ll just have to make sure you jump high enough,’ he said insolently.

‘Where do we get these trampolines? My principal advises me we have to do the job tonight.’

‘I’ve got two of them in my garage downstairs,’ replied Devon casually. ‘They always come in handy. Providin’ you get your arse high enough, we shouldn’t have any problem with the fence.’

‘There’s the scanner at the sentry station. After they checked my pass, the sentry lifted the barrier manually to let my car through.

Devon chewed thoughtfully on his beard for a moment pressing the hair into the corners of his mouth ‘Hm..we might have trouble there. We won’t need a plastic entry card for identification but the security system will operate a whole range of electronic beams at night. You can’t see them. They’re invisible to the naked eye. If you touch any one of them, the place will light up like a Christmas tree. Everything will go crazy.’

‘How do we overcome that?’

‘Leave it to me. I’ll sort it out.’

‘After that, I drove to a small building and was taken by jeep to the research area about a mile south.’

‘Jesus’’ muttered Devon with anguish showing on his face. ‘A mile south! Do you realise what that does?’

I racked my brains to try and find an answer. ‘What does it do?’

‘It reduces the chances of escape if anything goes wrong. If we trip off one of the alarms, we have to run a mile northwards to get back to the trampoline. We’d be shot down or captured before we got that far. Did you notice whether the electrified fence was close to the research area a mile south?’

I thought hard for a moment trying to remember the layout of the place. ‘I think so. I really can’t remember.’

‘You’d better remember, man! Your life may depend on it!’

‘I don’t understand what difference it makes.’

He pointed to the drawings on the table. ‘If the fence runs along here, we take the trampoline with us. If we trigger an alarm, we can exit quickly. I’d rather chase the mile to the car outside the complex than to try to outpace the security guards on the inside. It’s a pity you can’t define where the research area’s located because it might be possible to drive the car nearby and trampoline straight to it.’

‘Can’t we work it out from these plans?’ I asked pointing to the designs. ‘If that’s the entrance then there’s the building I drove to. The jeep took me along this route to here. Look… there’s the fence… about two hundred yards away. We could park the car outside the fence here so we wouldn’t have to chase back to the entrance if something went wrong and we would avoid all the security at the main gate.’

‘That’s providing they don’t have any close-circuit cameras on the perimeter. If they do, the infra-red rays will pick up our parked car.’

I had always considered Chris Devon to be the lowest form of life. However his review of the situation was so concise and so expertly assessed I was forced to review my opinion of him. I knew one thing for sure. The security guards would have caught me within two minutes of cutting the wire of that ten foot high electrified fence.

‘Okay, man! Read me what happens next!’ he continued with interest. I could see that he was welcoming the challenge despite the fact that if he were caught he would be incarcerated in prison for many more years.

‘The weaponry research centre is guarded by a computer. It has to be fed a plastic card before the door will open. The door, by the way, is made of solid steel. Once the pass-card is used, it’s useless for at least twenty-four hours. They do that to ensure maximum security so that people can’t walk in and out at random.’

‘No sweat!’ he muttered stroking his beard.

‘Then we went down a corridor with a sloping floor until we came to a dead end, By the side of the wall was another computer terminal. It operated by means of handprints. The only ones it recognises are those of John Packman and his supervisor.’

‘Oh that’s bad news… bad news!’ added the computer genius.

‘I though the handprint would floor you,’ I responded.

‘No… it’s not the handprint,’ he uttered. ‘That’s easy enough. The bad news is the slopin’ floor and the dead end. I came across something like that once before. As soon as that door opens, the joint will be jumpin’. I’ve a suspicion it has a built-in electronic beam operatin’ from the base of the door into a sensitive eye fitted into the floor beneath it. When the door opens, the beam breaks and the alarm goes off. It’s a fail-safe method designed to beat burglars.’

‘Does this mean we can never get into the research room without triggering the alarm?’

‘By normal standards that’s right.’ He bent forward slighting, resting his face in his hands as he concentrated on the problem. I stood by idly looking around the room at the miscellany of electronic equipment scattered there. It took him about a minute to come to a conclusion. Then he released a long sigh and allowed his hands to fall to the table. ‘There might be a way, man. I don’t like it but if we could find an electric point in that corridor we may be able to pull it off. I don’t suppose you noticed if one was there.’

I shook my head sadly. ‘No… I’m afraid I didn’t.’

‘Man!’ he shouted in frustration. ‘I’ve never known anyone to look over a place and not see anything! You really are somethin’. Do you know that?’

‘The laser gun’s located in the centre of the room.’

He moved back away from the table and stared at me coldly. ‘Just hold on a minute before you get carried away. That laser gun’s connected to so many alarms that if you breath on it from ten yards away the whole country will know about it. You told me we only had to steal the plans from the computer system… not the gun itself!’

‘Yes… yes,’ I confirmed, ignoring his animated actions. ‘It’s only the plans we want. As soon as we take a copy off the printer we can…’

‘No… no!’ he interrupted sharply, throwing his hands in the air. ‘There you go again! We’re not taking any copies off printers! Every time you press a switch or a button in there you risk being detected. If we’re going to get those plans, we need a microfilm camera to photograph the designs and details on the computer screen. Let me guess, man… you don’t have a camera of that kind either!’

‘I haven’t,’ I admitted shamefully.

‘How could Penny team up with a rookie like you?’ he complained bitterly. ‘Okay… it’s no sweat! I’ve got a camera that can take microfilm. Is there anything else you wanna tell me? I don’t care whether you think it’s important or not. I’d rather know now than later. Do they have security guards patrolling the perimeter fence?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You don’t think so! Man… they could have your balls and you’d still be in dreamland! When you’re out on a survey mission you gotta find out all the details… the smaller the better. If you don’t, you’re runnin’ blind.’

‘My information is that they rely on an electronic alarm system at night. The only other thing I can think of are the boys in ‘Block B’.’

He looked at me with a confused expression. ‘The boys in ‘Block B’? He was quite contemptuous. ‘Who the hell are they?’

The security men who act as the television crew. They sit in front of television screens watching every part of the complex.’

‘I know what a television crew does ‘ he snapped irately. ‘Do you have a diagram of the camera locations throughout the building?’

‘As it happens I do,’ I replied, causing him to look rather relieved. ‘Penny managed to get it. Here it is!’

He pored over the diagram for a long time and then released a painful sigh. ‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll take this along with us. But first I need a whole range of equipment if we’re going to have any chance of getting those plans.’

‘How are you going to get the equipment over the electrified fence?’ I was thinking of large pieces of electronic ir onmongery.

‘Throw it over, of course. It won’t walk on its own! Make yourself a cup of coffee while I get to work. And while we’re on the subject, man, I don’t want you to move a muscle tonight without askin’ my permission first. Not a muscle… get it! That complex is alive with electronics. If you even sneeze you’ll bring the security guards down on your neck like a ton of bricks. You do nothing without my agreement and you go nowhere without me. Do I make myself clear?’

‘You’re the boss,’ I told him unconditionally. ‘You run the show. I won’t do anything without your agreement. You have my promise on it.’

He left the room and went down to the garage to sort out the equipment. Once again I declined to make myself a cup of coffee and I sat back on the small chair closing my eyes. In normal times, Devon was a complete mess but when the chips were down he was a master in his field of operation. It was fifteen minutes before he returned to the room.

‘Okay, man,’ he said as he entered. ‘It’s all downstairs packed in four canvas bags… and there’s two trampolines.’ He looked at the main map and pointed to an area on it. ‘This is how I see it. We don’t go to the main gate. Our target is the place where the weapons are stored… the research area. That’s where the computer is… the one we want to break into. We park outside the perimeter fence here. If all goes well, we go over the top and walk about a hundred yards to the place. It makes sense to get in and out as quickly as we can,’ With that, he folded the map, put it in his pocket, and walked out.

I followed him as he left and help him put the bags and the trampolines in the car. Then we drove off to the weaponry division. I directed Devon accordingly and we soon found ourselves far away from the main gate outside the electrified fence. He got out of the car and walked up and down a deserted road for three hundred yards before returning.

‘We’re at the back of the complex. There’s no cameras to identify cars along this road,’ he declared happily. ‘We can park here and no one will know anything about it.’

We removed the bags and the trampolines from the boot of the car and set them down by the side of the road. Devon took care to place one of the trampolines a short distant away from the electrified fence and motioned me towards it.

‘How the hell am I going to clear this fence on this stupid thing!’ I remonstrated irately, feeling an element of fear running through me as I could see myself hanging on the top of the fence like a fried piece of toast. ‘I’ll never do it!’

‘Negative thoughts!’ he countered sharply. ‘You’ve gotta get rid of all negative thoughts! This trampoline’s designed for this purpose. It has an angle of forty-five degrees to give you short-distance momentum.

I tried to stand on the contraption but it was too steep, causing me to fall forward. As I picked myself up, Devon clapped his hands together encouraging me to act more positively.

‘Come on, man!’ he called out in a low voice. We ‘aint got time to stand around! It’s all systems go! Get your act together and jump! You come in from behind with a run of about fifteen yards, but make sure your timing’s right. I don’t wanna have to scrape you off. Your feet’s gotta hit the trampoline together and at speed. It’s simple really… a child could do it. A run, a jump and the whoom… you’re over! Don’t forget to lean your body forward when you jump. Not too far forward… just a little. If you do it right, you’ll shoot over the top like a missile.’

There was nothing more I could do than to put my trust in his words. If I failed I would end up as a human barbecue with no more worries in this world. I paced back about fifteen yards and started my run. It was too late to stop now… it was all or nothing! My feet hit the trampoline together and I was catapulted over the fence, clearing it by at least a foot. However Devon hadn’t warned me about the landing. I hit the ground hard… very hard! Fortunately, I had the good sense to somersault forward which broke my fall. I could hardly believe that I was inside the complex. As I turned jubilantly towards the computer expert, a trampoline came flying over the fence to land beside me. This was followed by the four canvas bags with our equipment. Within seconds he was standing beside me opening up the bags so that we could proceed as planned. He put his hand into his pocket and drew out a pair of spectacles that looked familiarly like sun glasses. Then he put them on and peered in all directions

‘Stay exactly where you are!’ he ordered harshly, swivelling in a semi-circle on his haunches with an electronic detector in his hand. ‘I’m defining the location of the electronic beams scanning this area. If you’re worried about the glasses… don’t! They’re designed to help me see them.’ After a short pause, he stood up and started walking towards the target building. ‘Follow me!’ he commanded, ‘but take it slow in case they operate a revolving beam that sweeps in an arc. We don’t wanna get caught out by that old trick. We’ll take these two bags and leave the other two here. I’ll take this one, you take the other.’

We approached the building slowly until he motioned me to stop with a wave of his hand. ‘Lucky we didn’t come in by the main gate. I detect about fifty beams over there.’ He stiffened as we moved forward a little distance. ‘Careful!’ he warned. ‘There are three steps in front leading to the pavement in the foreground of the building. The first is clear. The second is clear. The third has a beam across it. When you get to the second step, jump as high as you can to the pavement. Whatever you do, do not use the third step! I repeat… you must not use the third step! Is that clear?’

I followed his instructions carefully and he moved ahead of me to place a plastic card into the slot of the computer terminal.

‘How can you be sure that’ll work?’ I whispered.

‘If you go to a hotel, the manager has a master key which can be used to open an door in the hotel. Let’s say this card’s a master key for computers. It has characteristics which asks what’s required from the computer and then establishes the information for itself. I think of it as an aunt saying to her young nephew: ‘I’ll give you a kiss if you give me a smile.’ He smiles and she kisses him. Easy!’

At that moment, the steel door swung open and I was about to move forward when he placed a hand firmly on my shoulder. ‘No!’ he cautioned. ‘Not until I tell you!’ He waved the electronic device forwards and backwards in front of him before pointing to an imaginary line across the door about twelve inches high. ‘There’s a beam about a foot high from the floor. It stretches right across the doorway. You’ll have to step over it. Be very careful!’

We entered the building and made our way cautiously down the sloping hallway. We had reached the halfway point when Devon warned me to duck below another beam located at waist-high level. As we approached the terminal required an authorised handprint, Devon removed the spectacles and delved into the bag he had been carrying.

‘What are you going to do?’ I asked in a hushed voice.

‘Whoever used this terminal last had to leave an imprint of his hand on the glass. Fingerprints. Thumbprints. Palmprints. The lot! My task is to take a copy of the handprint that’s already on the glass. Then it can be transferred to a plastic glove and re-used to open the door.’

‘Very clever!’ I commended.

The big problem is that the door has probably a built-in sensor device at its base which continues into the floor below… like having a nail inside your shoe with the sharp end sticking out of the sole so that when you tread on a wooden floor it drives into it. As soon as I lay the handprint on the machine, the door will open cutting off the beam to the sensor device so that it sets off the alarm. I have to prevent that from happening.’

‘What do you intend to do?’ I asked. Intrigued to learn the solution.

‘Hold on!’ he muttered, stiffening like a cat with its back arched. ‘There’s a camera right above us facing the door. When it opens, even if the alarm doesn’t go off, the boys in ‘Block B’ will be able to see us. In your bag there are hoods designed to fit over the camera lens. Let me have the one marked ‘Hall’!’

I fished into the bag under the guidance of his torch and found it. ‘My goodness!’ I whispered. ‘You think of everything, don’t you?’

‘Get down on all fours!’ he ordered I did so and he stepped on my back to reach the camera lens. Within a few seconds he had fitted the device to cover it. ‘It’s a special kind of lens cap,’ he explained, noticing the inquisitive look on my face. ‘Inside the cap is a photograph with its own reflected light of a corridor. The boys in ‘Block B’ are looking at that fixed picture on their screen. They can’t see us any more. Now… what we need to find is an electric socket!’ He flashed the torch up and down the walls to locate one opposite the handprint machine. ‘Super!’ he whispered. ‘I’m going to create a triangle rather than a direct beam,’ he went on, although I had no idea what he was talking about. He took a piece of glass, the shape of an ice-hockey puck, from his bag and placed it on one side of the corridor. ‘If I can attract the beam at the base of the door as well as the sensor in the floor below it into this glass puck, the beam will shoot from the door into this glass puck and bounce back to the sensor. In that way, the beam will remain unbroken when the door opens. The contact will be triangular rather than direct. The result should be that the alarm does not go off!’

He removed a small machine from his bag and plugged it into the electric socket on the wall. After putting on the spectacles again, he began to dig into the floor carefully with a metal tool to expose the sensor located in the floor. Ten minutes passed by, after using another tool, before he heaved a sigh of relief and pressed a switch on the machine. Then he removed the spectacles, handing them to me so that I could witness the electronic triangle he had created. A beam fired into the glass puck was directed back into the sensor and returned to the alarm unit at the bottom of the door ensuring that the beam would remain unbroken.

‘That should do the trick,’ he said with some degree of satisfaction. He delved back into his bag to produce a machine which looked like a toaster with one side missing. He placed it on the glass screen of the security machine. After sixty seconds, he removed it and placed a plastic glove on the surface of the screen, rubbing his hands over it several times. Then he pushed his fingers into the glove until it fitted his hand perfectly and placed his palm on the glass. The triangle beam remained constant as the door opened.

‘Don’t go anywhere near that triangle!’ warned Devon, ‘and give me back those goggles!’ He put them on and looked around the research room. ‘Great!’ he exclaimed joyfully. ‘No beams across our path to the computer but dozens around the laser gun. We’ve got to kill two cameras. One’s near the computer in the clear region. That’s easy enough but I’ll have to duck and dive to get to the other one. Stay where you are while I do it!’

He took too camera hoods from my bag and advanced swiftly to the wall behind the computer. Then he jumped on a chair and placed the hood neatly over the lens. For the other camera, he crept slowly along the wall, ducking under, or steeping over, scanner beams which obstructed his path. When he had completed the task, he made his way back to the computer terminal with great care, beckoning me inside and indicating that I should bring my bag with me.

‘Don’t speak unless you have to,’ he whispered softly. ‘There may be audio alarms or the boys in ‘Block B’ may have audio access. You can never tell.’

He sat calmly at the computer terminal as though he was in his tiny room in Leyton and switched it on, arriving at a point where it stated ‘Access Denied’. He reached into the bag and brought out another device which he connected to a socket on the computer.

‘What does that do?’ I asked almost under my breath.

‘When a peterman… a safe cracker… wants to open a safe, he uses a mechanism similar to this. It runs through the codes like lightning, finds the right numbers and opens the safe for him. It’s the same with this little wizard. The only reason it exists is to find a way through the computer maze when access is denied. The screen flashed at that moment to display the word ‘Passwords’.

‘I forgot to tell you,’ I said biting my tongue with shame. ‘There are two passwords… each one with five letters.’

‘Now he tells me!’ he muttered bitterly. ‘Get with it, man!’

He glared at me for the late information and delved into the bag to bring out yet another application. He plugged it into another socket before setting it into motion. Suddenly two passwords appeared on the screen… JPACK and RNOON.

‘Wow,’ I sounded in awe. ‘You’re a genius!’

‘I already know that, man,’ he responded immodestly. ‘Do these words ring any bells?’

‘JPACK stands for John Packman… the Director of the weaponry division. I don’t know the other one.’

‘Then I reckon we’re on the right track,’ he returned, becoming absorbed in his task. He began to tap the keys at an incredibly fast rate. As an executive in the commercial computer division of Dandy Advanced Electronics I had seen many good computer programmers at work but I had never seen anyone capable of using the keys at such speed. ‘How old is this laser weapon?’ he asked without taking his eyes off the screen.

‘No longer than three years from initiation, I should imagine. Why do you ask?’

‘All the plans and sequences are in date order. I’m racing through the files from eighteen months backwards. Damn! I’ll have to look at each file because all the research projects are in coded names. For example, an electronic guidance system is the nose of a fighter aircraft is called VISOR. An electronic communication system is called ‘LINO’. Ah… what about RED RUM? That’s the name of the horse which won the Grand National three times. I get it! Spelt backwards it reads MURDER!’ I bet that’s the one!’ He pressed a few keys and the file came onto the screen. ‘Bingo!’ he said, raising his voice with excitement. He pressed some more keys to move the pages of the file forward. ‘Look at that! Sixty-two pages of information, details and information! What more could you want?’ He moved the file back to the beginning and turned to me. ‘Well start filming! You’ve got the camera. We haven’t got all night!’

The blood drained from my face at the sudden thought of failure having come all this way. We had taken all this risk only to discover that camera had either been lost or left at Devon’s house. ‘I haven’t got the camera,’ I bleated woefully.

He felt in his pocket and laughed. ‘Jus kiddin’. Here it is! He handed the camera to me. ‘You take the photographs. I’ll turn the pages.’

It took a short while to complete the operation and I held on to the camera to make certain the plans stayed in my possession. After he had switched off the computer terminal, he told me to make my way back to the sloping corridor while he removed the caps on the cameras. Then he set to work on the door, removing his apparatus, the glass puck, and the cap from the camera. He was a perfectionist in his own right. After that, we made our way back carefully to the perimeter fence.

‘Why did you bring four bags?’ I questioned. ‘We needed only two.’

He opened the third bag which sported two machine-guns. ‘The other bag has ammunition, grenades, and a few surprises. I never intend to get caught on a mission like this… one way or the other.’

Chris Devon had ridden very highly in my estimation. I recognised him to be a true professional. He threw the bags over the fence and placed the trampoline into an appropriate position indicating for me to go first. I had far more confidence this time. In addition, there was far more intent to take the leap in order to leave the complex than to enter it. Devon joined me a few seconds later.

He placed the bags in the boot of the car together with the single trampoline when, suddenly, there was a tremendous howl like the wail of a banshee penetrating the night air.

‘Someone’s set off the alarm,’ shouted Devon with surprise. He thought hard for a moment. ‘Would you believe it! Someone else is trying to get in to steal those plans!’

I realise why Schmuel Musaphia had recalled me from Turkey so quickly, urging me to raid the weaponry division. There was competition and somehow he knew they intended to get there before me. All hell broke loose in the complex. A number of security guards raced out of their huts brandishing weapons, while others brought some vicious dogs onto the scene. Six of them jumped into two jeeps and drove off towards the research centre. Before they could get anywhere near the building, a solitary figure raced towards the fence in the darkness to the point where our car was parked. As he reached the fence, on the inside, he shouted to us in desperation.

‘You’ve got to help me!’ he pleaded. ‘You must help me!’

It was Tomar Duran with fear written all over his face.

‘Use the trampoline over there to get you over the top,’ suggested Devon helpfully, with an element of mercy showing through the careless façade he portrayed.

Duran stared at the trampoline for a few moments in confusion and then looked over his shoulder at the two jeeps approached the area. Realising what he had to do, he took a number of paces backwards and raced forward at speed. However, only one of his feet hit the surface of the trampoline and he lost height from the start. To his credit, he almost made it but a miss is as good as a mile, especially when stakes are at their highest. His body struck the fence near to the top and the flashes emanating from contact with the electrified fence lit up the night sky for a brief moment. Tomar Duran may have escaped death in Crete but this time it was for keeps! We drove away from the security area before the security guards arrived without leaving a trace of our presence behind. The plans still existed intact on their computer system while they would have thought that Duran had brought the trampoline with him. It would be inconceivable that two robberies would be taking place at the weaponry division at the same time… but that’s what had happened. And even if the computer pundits discovered that someone had gained entry into the system, there was nothing they could do about it!

Chapter Fourteen

The sweet smell of success was exceptionally good for morale. To achieve entry to the weaponry division and secure the plans fo the laser gun undetected, amid the wealth of technology employed in the security system by professionals, was quite remarkable. All my concern about the competence of Chris Devon for the task had been unnecessary. He had proved himself to be more than capable, showing skill and ingenuity, surpassing all my expectations. Not even the barbecued body of Tomar Duran could smother my jubilation. I drove Devon back to his home and helped him remove the equipment from the boot of the car into his garage. Then we went upstairs to unwind and he took a small bottle of brandy out of a cupboard.

‘I keep this for special occasions,’ he told me, pouring the liquid into two stained goblets. ‘Here!’ he went on, passing one of them to me. ‘I think we deserve it… don’t you?’

‘You deserve it,’ I retorted, not wishing to pretend that I had them to me. ‘I think we deserve it… don’t you?’

‘You deserve it,’ I retorted, not wishing to pretend that I had contributed anything to the success of the operation. ‘I don’t know what financial arrangements were made but I hope that you’re going to be paid well.’

He rocked his head from side to side in a thoughtful fashion. ‘They’re pretty good when it comes to money,’ he told me candidly. ‘Enough to set me up for a year. I’m not a spendthrift as you can see. In fact if I’d been poorer I’d have still had my teeth. I’ve got a sweet tooth so whenever I earn any money I buy lots of sweets and chocolate. My teeth have worn away,’

‘If I ask you a sensitive question, would you answer it honestly,’ I ventured. He shrugged his shoulders aimlessly so I continued. ‘Would you really have used those weapons you took with you in the complex… to kill innocent guards if the alarm went off?’

‘Man!’ he laughed, ‘you really are somethin’! Do you think I carried two bags of weapons and ammunition with me just for fun? No way! A few years ago I went to prison for somethin’ much less than what we did tonight. The judge was a bastard! He must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed that mornin’ and he threw the book at me. I made myself a promise that if I was ever caught again. I’d fight my way out of it and do whatever was needed to escape. I don’t intend to go to jail again… not now, not ever!’

It was my turn to shrug and I visualised both of us facing about eight security guards jumping out of their jeeps as we distributed death with machine-guns and grenades in the middle of the night.

‘Why actually hired you for this job?’ I asked impertinently. ‘Who’s going to pay you?’

‘Is this some kind of a trick question or are you double-checking?’ he riposted. He observed the quizzical expression on my face before he continued. ‘Oh, come on, man! What’s all this cloak-and-dagger stuff? You know your wife booked me for it!’

‘No, you’re mistaken,’ I returned. ‘Penny’s not my wife.’

‘I know Penny’s not your wife,’ he repeated as though I was trying to fool him. I’m talking about your wife… Janice! The first time I met her was when she defended me in Court a few years back.’

I stared at him in disbelief as the hair stood up at the back of my neck. ‘Jan’s the one who’s going to pay you,’ I asked him with my mind going into a whirl.

‘Well not out of her own money, man. The organisation’ll pay but she’s the one dealing with it.’

I swallowed the whole glass of brandy in one swig and took a deep breath. Jan was a solicitor. That much was correct. But how did she come to be involved with the 21st Century Crusaders, if indeed she was working with them… and why didn’t she confide in me?

* * *

I left the house and sat in the car nursing my mobile telephone. The revelation by Devon had sickened me and I was more confused than ever. Did anything serious happen to Jan… I mean was she abducted or not? Having been to The Golden Peacock to find that she had left the hotel of her own accord it seemed not to be so. Perhaps they had arranged for a double for her… the same way as they did for Penny and myself. Suddenly, I was beginning to lose track on who were the originals and who were the doubles.

I rang Schmuel Musaphia on the number he made me memorise and he answered immediately as though he had been sitting by the telephone waiting for it to ring.

‘I’ve got it!’ I boasted loudly. ‘I’ve got the plans on microfilm!’

‘Good!’ he congratulated with a token of excitement in his voice. ‘I must have that film tonight!’

I felt the edge of annoyance in my head. ‘At this time? It’s very late! Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’

‘Listen to me carefully,’ he ordered firmly. ‘Drive to Leyton underground station and wait for me there. I’ll be about twenty minutes. I must have that film tonight!’

The line went dead and I sat in the car for a while. My destination was only a short distance away so there was no discomfort on my part in getting there. The question was now one of morality. Should I give Schmuel Musaphia the plans or not? After all, I had only met him three times in high-class hotels. I really knew nothing about him and I was holding something very precious which could bring a fortune if offered to the outside world. He was an old man. Did he want to do something evil or wicked before he passed on to his maker? I now understood how

Atlas felt in Greek mythology with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Oh… for the wisdom of Solomon… or a crystal ball to allow me to see what was going to happen in the future!

Musaphia was as good as his word, arriving just before the twenty minutes expired. He had been driven through the darkness by a chauffeur and I climbed into the back seat of his car to sit beside him. He still had the unlit Havana cigar firmly between his lips.

‘You really pulled it off!’ he said, his eyes shining with admiration. ‘I don’t know why but I thought you’d never go through with it let alone achieve it.’

‘You don’t think I went there to fail, did you?’ I boasted.

‘I’ll take the plans,’ he uttered in a casual manner.

‘Not so fast!’ I countered,, unwilling to hand them over without an explanation. ‘Chris Devon told me that he’s been dealing with Jan directly to get these plans. He’s getting paid handsomely for his effort.’

The octogenarian paused for a few moments. ‘Oh, I see!’ he returned quietly. ‘He’s getting paid handsomely and you want to know how much you’re going to receive. Is that it?’

‘No that’s not it!’ I riposted angrily. ‘I don’t want money… I want my wife! If she’s been dealing with Devon then she’s not been kidnapped or abducted!’

‘Who said she was abducted? Let me think! Ah… yes. It was you who told me that!’

‘I told you that because of the message I received!’ The situation was getting out of hand but he had something for me.

‘I’ve some good news for you, Jason. I can assure you that you’ll be back with your wife within the next forty-eight hours. I have that on excellent authority. She’s alive and well and she’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

‘Forty-eight hours,’ I repeated slowly.

‘It’s all been arranged. I’ll have the details for you tomorrow. I’ll let you know then.’

‘By the way,’ I added, offering him an extra bit of information. ‘Tomar Duran was incinerated on the electric fence surrounding the weaponry division. But I presume you already know that.’

‘If I didn’t know before, I do now,’ he answered enigmatically.

‘What are you going to do with the plans?’

‘What does anyone do with plans? They build on them. Now… if you’ll let me have the film!’

‘I suppose once I give you them it’ll be the last time we see one another.’

‘How wrong you are, Jason,’ he returned, holding out his hand. I gave him the film which he put into his pocket. ‘These will be printed out tonight,’ he concluded. ‘I want to see you tomorrow in the lobby of the Tower Hotel at St. Katherine’s dock in the East End of London at noon. Then I shall give you details about meeting your wife.’

I returned to my car and drove home certain that I had done the wrong thing. I had robbed my employer to give a man, whom I hardly knew, sensitive information of national, or perhaps international, importance. But it was too late to do anything about it now. He was in possession of the film and all I could do was to hope that I would be with Jan shortly. Although I should have been delighted to get the 21st Century Crusaders off my back I slept uneasily that night. Grotesque forms came into my dreams and went and I spent much of my sleep fighting off the police who, ostensibly, had arrested me. They were putting me in a small cell with Chris Devon. When I awoke, I realised that my first priority was to find Penny and I drove directly to her apartment.

The place was very familiar to me. I had visited it many times before and had slept there on numerous occasions. Now it seemed cold and unrelenting. I knocked on the door but no one answered. I had a strange feeling that something was desperately wrong I had to get inside. Removing a plastic card from my wallet, I attempted to slip it between the lock and the door in the hope of gaining entry. My lack of talent in such matters ensured that I was unsuccessful. I mused that people who broke into houses in the ‘movies’ never seemed to have any difficulty when they tried to unlock the door in this fashion. In real life it didn’t happen that way. In due course, I committed my badly damaged plastic card back to my wallet and searched for an alternative method. The crudest means of entry would be to smash a hole in the window and undo the latch inside so that I could climb in. However the noise would probably alert the neighbours and they would telephone the police. I searched under the mat outside the front door and then above the lintel for a spare key. In that I was successful. Unlocking the front door, I opened it slowly, calling out her name. The sound of my voice echoed through the apartment followed by silence. I recalled the black and white two-tone shoes I had seen there some days earlier. There were the same as those worn by Jan… size five! Penny had told me that they belong to her but I refused to believe it. The coincidence was too great and I had to check it out for myself. Entering the bedroom, I opened the wardrobe and examined Penny’s shoes. They were all size five-and-a-half. She had lied to me. Not only that but Jan’s shoes were no longer there. I felt that the case regarding Jan’s shoes was well and truly proven. It meant that Penny was involved with my wife’s disappearance.

I stood outside the lounge with a deep sense of foreboding. I was never one to indulge in the science of the paranormal but I had the feeling that something awful had happened. Penny had disappeared off the face of the earth without any warning whatsoever. No messages… no communication… nothing! It was all so uncanny! She would never treat me that way… avoiding making contact… unless something had happened which was beyond her control. It was the reason which made me so fearful. Slowly, I opened the lounge door and peered inside. A strange unpleasant odour drifted towards me which I failed to recognise. For a moment it seemed that everything was in order. Then I saw her body. She was laying on the settee ostensibly asleep but her condition was far worse. She had been shot through the right temple; a neat bullet hole was evident. She had been murdered in cold blood! Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling but her face was serene and it looked as though she had just leaned back on the settee to rest for a while. From the odour in the room, I guessed that she must have been killed the day before I left for Turkey. If that was the case, she had never had to wait for me at our favourite restaurant. By then, she was already dead! I could only hope that her soul would rest in peace!

I went back to the bedroom and returned with a blanket which I placed over her body. I uttered a short prayer, ran my finger over her eyelids to close all sight of the world for ever, and pulled the blanket over her head. For a moment I was overwhelmed with anguish and sorrow. Then tears welled up in my eyes and saliva collected in my throat as though it wanted to choke me. She had been extremely close to me and rather precious being part of my life for longer than I cared to admit. I had embraced her, caressed her, adored her, admired her, slept with her and, above all, I had loved her. She had been someone special who had turned my life upside down, changing the rain into sunshine and tears into laughter. I would have done anything for her which was the reason I had gone on this manic assignment in such an uncharacteristic fashion. She made me fee good… wholesome… a man! Now she was gone! What a waste! The beautiful, wonderful, desirable young woman who had so much to offer… so much to live for! No longer would we be able to share the passion, the emotion, the sensitivity, the glory of a simple touch, the silent conversations in which we knew exactly what the other one was thinking, the intimacy and the warm feeling of satisfaction just being together. My life was shattered and when I looked at her I was staring at the pieces. It was the end of an era… of a relationship between two people who loved each other. An idyll which had become a reality and could only be committed to the world of memory. Someone had taken her life and had savaged mine! My immediate reaction was to seek revenge for bitterness grew within me at a rapid rate. But from whom did I seek revenge? Who was the assassin who had killed my secretary and lover so mercilessly? In the complex sphere in which I now moved it was possible I would never find out! I heard a rustle behind me and turned sharply fearing it might be the police. Primar stood there with a wooden toothpick in his mouth and an enigmatic expression on his face.

‘I see you found the spare key over the door,’ he commented smoothly, apparently oblivious of Penny’s demise.

‘What are you doing here, Primar?’ I demanded coldly.

‘I could ask the same of you, old boy,’ he returned casually, sniffing the pungent air and turning up his nose. ‘From the look of it I would say you’re trying to hide a body.

‘As if you didn’t know!’ I snarled angrily. ‘Did you kill her?’

He walked past me and lifted the blanket to see the body. ‘Pity,’ he uttered softly. ‘She was such a beautiful woman.’

‘And you know nothing about her death!’ I challenged.

‘Why should I?’

I turned him round to face me. ‘I suppose you came here because you happened to be passing by!’

He chewed on the toothpick thoughtfully. ‘I came here because we work for the same organisation… and she hadn’t contacted me for two days.’

‘I didn’t know you had such close contact. The last I remember you were going to slit her throat in Israel! Now why should I believe anything you tell me about you and the 21st Century Crusaders?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he snapped. ‘I’m not talking about the 21st Century Crusaders. I’m talking of MOSSAD.’

‘MOSSAD? What the hell is that?’

He seemed to thrive on my ignorance and treated me like a spider whose legs were being pulled off systematically by a mischievous schoolboy. ‘The Israeli intelligence agency,’ he informed me. ‘The equivalent to the CIA, MI5. The KGB and the SDECE in France. MOSSAD is an abbreviation of Hebrew words meaning Institution for Intelligence and Special Assignment. It’s responsible mainly for overseas espionage and information.’

I was stunned at his revelation treating it suspiciously. ‘Are you telling me that both you and Penny worked for Israeli intelligence… for MOSSAD?’

‘We worked in tandem.’

‘What about your relationship with the 21st Century Crusaders?’

‘It interweaves beautifully. The Arab states make up most of the Middle East comprising many millions of Muslims. If a Holy War took place, Israel would be one of the first target of Islam. We have a right to defend our country and its people in the best way we can. I don’t think even you would deny us that right.’ He paused to chew a little harder on the toothpick.

‘And you know nothing about Penny’s death?’

‘Why should I?’ He placed his hand directly over the position of his heart. ‘I’m as shocked as you are. I don’t know who could have done this terrible thing. Especially in a country like Britain.’

I was in two minds whether to believe him or not when I heard footsteps approaching the front door. Primar tried to move quickly towards the exit but I managed to bar his way. A few seconds later a man appeared in the doorway with a stretcher.

‘Okay, Primar,’ he began, ‘where’s the body?’

‘You bastard!’ I shouted at Primar who let the toothpick fall from his mouth. ‘You knew she was dead all the time! You were the one who killed her!’

He reached into his pocket to produce a revolver. I knew that he would have to killed me now to cover his tracks. However, he didn’t know that I carried a Beretta in a holster. Penny would have warned him if she had given me a gun but he had no contact with Turgut in Turkey so he was unaware that I was armed. Before I realised what was happening, Primar had pointed the gun directly in my face and I was staring down the end of a barrel. The man with the stretched took fright at the sudden change of plan and he ran off as fast as his legs would carry him. He knew that other people would hear the shot and the police would arrive shortly.

A grin broke out on Primar’s face. ‘I got to like you, Jason,’ he admitted. ‘More than you’ll ever know. It’s a pity it has to end this way. A pity! By the way, I saved your life in Turkey.’

‘What are you talking about? I managed to say as I began to seize up with fear.

‘Kemal is a staunch follower of Islam. In fact he was a member of their intelligence although he’s the first to admit that their agency doesn’t work very well. When he learned you were going to visit the Mahdi in Istanbul he could hardly contain himself. They’re very sensitive about foreigners meddling with their people, their customs, their politics and their religion. He was right behind you when you crossed the Galata bridge. His aim was to kill you before you got to see the great man. He considered that your ‘infidel eyes should never gaze on a person of such greatness’. His words… not mine. Kemal was useful to me in a number of ways but I thought you had a higher value. So I killed him just before he picked you off, with my Kalashnikoff rifle.’

‘Am I supposed to be grateful for that!’ I snapped, realising I was about to face death without so much as moving a muscle.

At that moment, the sound of a mobile telephone rang in his jacket. He laughed loudly highly amused at the timing of the event. ‘what a time to receive a telephone call,’ he joked, removing the mobile from his pocket.

In those few seconds, his concentration lapsed as he pressed a button on the instrument to receive the call. It was just the time I needed. Drawing a deep breath, I thrust my hand under my jacket, produce the Beretta, and shot him in the chest. His eyes widened in shock and he dropped the mobile instantly. Then he fell to the ground dead. It was all over so quickly! In the fraction of the second before he died, I could see the surprise register on his face. However it was of little satisfaction to me to gain such revenge … and no advantage to Penny whatsoever!

I closed the door of the apartment and hurried away from the place. It would difficult to explain my role to the police if I were to report the incident and remain in the apartment with two corpses… one killed with the gun in my possession. Nonetheless, leaving both the bodies there would not allow me to wash my hands of the affair. Penny was my secretary. The police were certain to want to interview me at some later stage and there would be a lot of explaining to do. It might be that I would never be able to satisfy them with their enquiries. The consequences for me thereafter were unthinkable!

* * *

I went to a restaurant and spent an hour there mulling over the dreadful situation before driving to the East End of London. Schmuel Musaphia was already in the lobby of the Tower Hotel even though it was well before noon. His face was very serious when I met him but his expression mollified as soon as I arrived.

‘I’m very impressed, Jason,’ he greeted me, like a general trying to upgrade the morale of his troops. ‘You’ve done a lot in less than a week and I’m proud of you. Now… follow me and I think you’ll find something that will interest you.’

We walked away from the hotel slowly. I was surprised when he led me to the ancient maze of warehouses in St. Katherine’s Dock. It was familiar to me as I had been here before following the address given to me by Menel’s daughter in my search for my wife. The air was still polluted with wisps of wool and the aroma of coffee, musk and spices. We went down a lane to one of the warehouses and he bade me to enter. It was the one I had visited before… the same place where I had found Jan’s coat filled with two bundles of hay. I hesitated outside the large doors reluctant to enter.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in a puzzled fashion.

‘I’ve been here before. Quite recently… but it was empty.’

‘It was never empty… never!’

‘Oh yes it was!’ I insisted. ‘I found a coat in there with two small bundles of hay in Jan’s coat. I think someone tried to make me think it was her body.’

‘Nonsense!’ he laughed. ‘Believe in not only what you think you can’t see. Come in and I’ll show you.’

We entered and he waved a hand for me to follow him to some bales of hay. Moving them aside, he opened a trapdoor, raised the flap, and motioned me to descend some steps to a cellar in the bowels of the earth. He followed behind, closing the trapdoor so that it fell back into place. The room was well lit with fluorescent lighting. It was an underground factory comprising many kinds of lathes and machinery, electronic and otherwise, with a large model of a laser gun similar to the one in the weaponry division of Dandy Advanced Electronics. I recognised it immediately.

‘We managed to put a pretty good laser gun together of our own design,’ related the old man easily. ‘You see, there’s very little difference in terms of design and operation. It’s the laser beam that counts. Most powerful laser beams can be produced only in short bursts. Continuous streams of laser light are necessarily weak because of the intense heat generated by the flash tubes which themselves could be destroyed if the beam is too powerful. No one has yet been able to overcome that problem successfully. It’s become the sixty-four thousand dollar question. However today we hope to combine experience, expertise and a little magic to make a weapon capable of establishing world peace.’

‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ I told him candidly.

He took me to a work bench on which there was a model of a crystal laser. ‘This laser has a fluorescent crystal such as a ruby as its light-amplifying substance. The power for a ruby laser comes from a flash tube which is usually coiled around the crystal. The flash tube produces a brilliant flash of light which excites a large number of chromium ions, or electrically-charged atoms, in the ruby. The process is called optical pumping. You can see how it works from this model. At each end of the ruby rod is a mirrored surface. Coiled around that rod is a ruby which creates the flash and drives the laser beam through the rod to emerge at one end. The technical operation is much more complicated.’

‘What are you trying to tell me? I asked meekly.

He drew on his unlit cigar and stared at me intently. ‘The most advanced nations have laser guns but the technology is too weak to support an offensive weapon that could be used as a deterrent. The Americans have played with it for two decades to make only small advances. The plans of Dandy Advanced Electronics are somewhat better. They’re ahead of the Yanks but not very far. So what we’re going to do today is the culmination of five years of research by some of the best brains in the business, enhanced by the plans that you’ve given us. We’re going to turn base metals into gold.’

‘Turn base metals into gold!’ I repeated woodenly. ‘But I thought your main directive was to produce a capable laser gun!’

He laughed so loudly he was forced to remove the cigar from between his lips. ‘I’m talking figuratively about the alchemists’ dream in ancient times,’ he continued. My comment amused him greatly because it was the first time I had seen him without the cigar in his mouth. ‘We’ve combined the resources of three ruby rods with three flash tubes. The secret is that the flash tubes are twice as large as usual and the mirrored surfaces much bigger. Also, instead of a single mirror at one end, we’ve produced two angled mirrors to reflect the light from two different points. It’s never been tried before… this is the first time. ‘Okay, Joe!’ he called to one of the men. ‘Let’s get the show on the road!’

The man wheeled a unit on a trolley across the room. It carried a triplicated core which he placed carefully into the laser gun. AT the far end of the room rested a steel sheet about the size of an ordinary door except that it was two feet thick. He waved his hand to Musaphia to indicate that the weapon was ready to be fired and everyone in the room stood back. Someone handed out darkened glasses which everyone put on and then we waited. The octogenarian then nodded and the man squeezed the trigger. There was a short pause and a loud buzzing noise before the flash tubes exploded. Joe leapt backwards with his clothes on fire as the other men in the room rushed forward to put out the flames. We all stared at the burned-out core with dismay.

‘Only two of the flash bulbs started to work,’ claimed Joe who seemed undaunted at having been set alight. ‘There must have been a fault in the third one.’

‘Pretty dangerous stuff,’ I commented. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine’ he replied eager to resume the experiment. ‘Just as well I’m wearing protective clothing. But we never concern ourselves with the negative aspects of research here. People are only concerned with winners, not losers. And don’t worry about the loss of the core unit. We have others.’

Another man opened a cupboard to remove another triplicated core which he attached to the laser gun.

Schmuel Musaphia gave me a wry smile. ‘In research, it’s a case of try, try and try again until you get it right. We’ll succeed in the end, I’m certain. Maybe sooner rather than later.’

Joe wiped the laser gun with a cloth to remove the marks caused by the explosion and then aimed it at the target. I admired him for his positive attitude and his courage. If we had changed places and the equipment had exploded in my face and caught my clothes on fire, I would be in no hurry to start the procedure again. However, this man seemed fearless in his resolve to the point of becoming a martyr to the cause. He pointed the weapon at the steel sheet again without any qualms whatsoever and squeezed the trigger, keeping his finger pressed back to engage a longer burst of energy. The core unit buzzed and hummed inside the laser gun but the beam was not visible. Nonetheless, within fifteen seconds a large hole appeared in the metal door.

‘Enough!’ shouted Musaphia, clearly enjoyed with the result. ‘Enough!’ Joe released the trigger and the core unit ceased to function. ‘I want Menel to identify the reason why this laser unit functions so well. It’ll act as the embryo for other experiments. What it’s done is to prove that we have worked the oracle.’ He turned to me triumphantly. ‘The plans you gave us allowed this experiment to work,’ he told me gleefully. ‘Without it we would be at least two steps behind. Thank you for helping us, Jason. It’s very much appreciated.’

We walked over to the metal sheet which was still steaming. Then Joe pointed to the wall behind it to show a hole large enough for a man to walk through. ‘Look at that!’ he shouted excitedly. ‘Not only did it go through the steel sheet but it made a hole in the wall itself. It’s super machine which will be even better when we’ve developed it further. The beam treated steel, bricks and mortar like a hot knife cutting through butter.!’

The old man puffed furiously on his unlit cigar and put his arm around my shoulders. ‘What we have here today, Jason, is a piece of history. This is the place where the laser beam deterrent was born. Almost like Jesus being born in a manger. By the way, I want you to go to Stansted Airport in the morning at eight o’clock. A man will be waiting there for you with a placard marked number twenty-one. A plane will take you to the Gaza Strip where you’ll have a debriefing session with Commander Yasood and you’ll meet your wife there.’

‘In the Gaza Strip?’ I echoed with little enthusiasm.

‘And I can tell you that your team is doing quite well in the bridge tournament in Istanbul. Apparently Tony Woodman’s playing a blinder with the man who looks like you. Isn’t that what they say… a blinder? It seems everyone’s having success at the moment in whatever they’re doing.’

Despite all the jubilation, I left the warehouse with a hollow feeling inside me I wasn’t really sure whether to laugh or to cry. Penny was dead and I would be reunited with Jan tomorrow. I had no idea which direction my life would take from this point. But then I had always believed that each man’s destiny was written in Heaven. I could only hope that mine would be favourable from now on.

Chapter Fifteen

The sky was heavy with rain the next morning as I drove to Stansted Airport. I found a thickset man waiting for me there as had been arranged. He stood alone in the entrance holding a placard which read ‘21’. I approached him and introduced myself.

‘My name’s Bross,’ he informed me. ‘I’m the pilot to take you to the Gaza Strip. The aircraft is ready for take-off.’

I followed him to the plane and boarded, ensuring that the door between the cockpit and the passenger compartment was normal and unlocked.

‘You have some kind of problem?’ he asked watching my actions. ‘Maybe you don’t like to sit with your back to the engine or something. Never mind. You can sit with me.’

His words comforted me and I consented to sit beside him in the front of the aircraft. He started the engine, contacted the control tower, and taxied off so that we were soon in the air. However it was technically an erratic take-off and I fostered the notion that he was extremely short of experience.

‘How long did it take to get your pilot’s licence?’ I asked questioning his ability.

‘Pilot’s licence!’ he replied as though it was unnecessary to obtain one. ‘We all learn from experience. My cousin used to take me up when he flew people to other destinations and I watched what he did. He used to show me what to do.’

The hairs began to stand up on the back of my head. ‘Well how did you learn to read all these instruments,’ I continued pointing to the numerous dials in front of him.

‘I don’t need to read instruments,’ he admitted freely. ‘Most of them hardly matter anyway. I just look at the speed and altitude.’

I sat in my seat expecting a bumpy ride but my fears for this part of the journey were unfounded as he switched on the automatic pilot to carry us across Europe. We continued our conversation, talking generalities for some time then I was overcome by sleep due to the early hour of rising and the monotonous drone of the engine. I awoke momentary on a few occasions but it was quite some time before I regained full consciousness. There was a violent jerk as the plane seemed to hit turbulence on a grand scale. At the same time a loud noise reverberated throughout the cockpit. As I sat up and yawned, I suddenly noticed that Bross was no longer in the pilot’s seat. I went to the passenger’s cabin to discover he was not there either. Before I returned to the cockpit, I looked out of the port window. There he was, some distance below, swaying forwards and backwards at the end of a parachute. The aircraft had reacted violently when he had opened the cabin door and jumped out. The loud noise was the door slamming back into place. I shook my head to make sure I wasn’t dreaming and then returned to the cockpit to stare at the controls. It was too late to try and work out who Bross was and why he had left me in this dilemma. I mean… what did I know about flying a plane? Nothing! I pressed a switch which I believed to be a microphone for transmitting messages and kept repeating: ‘May Day! May Day!’ but there was no reply. I didn’t even know whether I was transmitting properly . I opened a panel on the left-hand side of the pilot’s seat and found the operating manual. The aircraft possessed dual control yokes with vertical grips… one for each hand. Extended from the base of the instrument panel were two buttons… one to open the microphone for transmitting, the other to activate the positive control system… the automatic pilot. I pressed the communication button and continued to broadcast for assistance. In due course, a radio ham replied to say that he had received my message and had passed it on to the authorities. For a moment I was overwhelmed with relief but that hardly altered my situation. I was in deep trouble to say the least. Suddenly a voice sounded on the system and I picked up the microphone again.

‘This is Air Traffic Control at Ben Gurion Airport,’ came a stentorian voice. ‘What kind of aircraft are you and what’s your destination?’

‘I don’t know,’ I bleated trying to keep my voice on an even keel. ‘I’m just a passenger. The pilot’s baled out of the aircraft.

It’s a light aircraft but I can’t tell you any more than that. We left Stansted Airport and we’re headed for the Gaza Strip. I’ve never flown a plane before. All I can say is that we’ve been flying for well over three hours and there’s a lot of sea below but no land.’

‘You’re too low to show up on our radar screen,’ continued the voice, ‘but I can still talk you down. For Gaza, on your course from Stansted, you should be on a vector of three hundred and five degrees. There’s a gyro in front of you that should register the number.’

I searched the dials desperately until I found the right one. ‘The gyro reads three hundred and sixty,’ I told him. ‘At present we’re on automatic pilot.’

‘Okay,’ he commanded bluntly. ‘Remove the automatic pilot control and move the yoke slightly to your left. When you get the vector right you can reapply the automatic pilot.’

I obeyed his instruction and the plane lost altitude quickly, veering sharply. For a few seconds it was totally out of control but somehow I managed to compensate and sat back after switching on the automatic pilot control again. ‘Three hundred and five degrees!’ I confirmed with a sigh of relief. My hands were shaking and my knees felt as though they were made of rubber.

‘Good! Now there’s no point in continuing this dialogue until you reach land. When that happens, I want you to call me. Roger and out!’

I sat in the pilot’s seat without moving for what seemed to be a long time then I returned the manual to the locker. As I was about to close the locker door, I stared at a device which had been jammed in there. It had a clock dial on the front and it was ticking. Flashes of the wrecked plane in Crete returned to me with a vengeance and I recalled that the bomb which killed Chedda had also been placed in the cockpit. The dial was already close to zero which meant that the bomb was close to exploding or it wasn’t working at all. I took a mental bet with myself that it was likely to be the former. Pray… I thought to myself… pray! There was no means by which I would escape this time if the bomb exploded. There was no point in contacting the Air Traffic Control in Israel and I couldn’t remove the device for fear of setting it off.

It was a further eight minutes before land came into sight. My eyes were on the clock on the bomb practically all the time. On seeing land I decided to resume contact with Air Traffic Control and told them about the bomb knowing there was nothing either of us could do about it.

‘As soon as you cross to land we’ll get you down fast,’ the voice continued. ‘What you’re going to have to do is called a sideslip movement. You’ll need to turn the yoke to your left and simultaneously jam your foot against the right rudder pedal. The ailerons on the edges of the wings will respond immediately. The left aileron will be up; the right one will drop. The opposing forces created by the crossed control will cause the aircraft to turn sharply to its left side, putting the plane into distress and creating severe drag. It will drop precipitously in both air speed and altitude. You’ll find the plane will lurch to a precarious angle and you’ll experience a sensation of falling very fast. There’ll be a lot of shaking, bouncing and rattling but you’ve got to sideslip firmly. If you fall too fast, be careful your wingtips don’t touch the ground or you’ll crash. When you’re about forty feet from your chosen runway ease up on the controls and level off. Then brace yourself for impact. As there’s a suspected bomb on board, I suggest you get out of the plane as quickly as possible. In the meantime, I’ll keep this channel open.’

The moment the aircraft crossed the threshold between sea and land I performed the sideslip manoeuvre with my heart in my mouth. The plane reacted exactly as my mentor had explained but it was one thing to talk about it and another to experience it. The controls almost wrenched themselves out of my hands and the blood rushed to my head as the aircraft dropped like a stone. Then every piece of metal around me seemed to groan and whine as it bent and shuddered angrily. I was extremely concerned about the angle of the aircraft for one wing faced the ground while the other reached up to the sky. The controls juddered fiercely trying to wrest themselves out of my grip but I managed to hold on for all I was worth. The altimeter sped around the dial much faster than I had expected and when I calculated the magic figure of forty feet I levelled off unsteadily, gradually pushing the yoke forward so that the nose pointed downwards. The ground came up at a tremendous rate. As the aircraft touched down heavily, it lurched on the uneven surface. I jammed my feet on the brake pedals causing the tyres to burst and the plane skidded all over the place in a shower of sparks. When it came to a halt, I leapt from the cockpit and sprinted as far and fast as I could before collapsing on the ground. The threat of the bomb created greater fear that the dilemma of landing the aircraft. It had been a reaction which suited the situation well.

I walked slowly to put more distance between myself and the plane, shading my eyes from the blistering sun and looked ahead. There was desert all around. Paradoxically, it was possible that I had survived the landing but would die of thirst and dehydration. I had to find civilisation but it was necessary to choose a direction. The sea was behind me. I could follow the coast. I scanned the horizon and then noticed a jeep in the distance moving towards me. I waited patiently for it to arrive. When it arrived, the driver, dressed in casual clothing, alighted and called out my name.

‘Mr. Scott!’ he shouted. I nodded hesitantly wondering whether he was a friend or a foe. ‘Commander Yasood sent me to fetch you. We picked up your communication with Air Traffic Control. It seems you were the victim of a vendetta.’

‘A vendetta?’ I was puzzled and intrigued to have been such a subject.

‘We understand Bross was your pilot. He’ s a cousin of

Chedda. He must have thought you had a hand in Chedda’s death and decided to exact his revenge.’

‘Well,’ I returned. ‘I thought there was a bomb located next to the pilot’s seat but it seems I was mistaken. I feel embarrassed having caused so much fuss about nothing.’

At that moment, as if it were on cue, there was the sound of a tremendous explosion a short distance away as the aircraft collapsed in a cloud of smoke, falling forward in a heap before our eyes as flames began to engulf it. We watched the blaze for a short while without speaking.

‘You’re very lucky, Mr. Scott,’ he muttered whimsically. ‘We need people like you on our side. Climb aboard. I’ll take you to the Commander.’

I got into the jeep and he drove off across the desert well versed in following solid tracks that I could hardly see. It was twenty minutes before we reached the rock in the desert with the interior designed by the 21st Century Crusaders. The driver produced a small remote control from his pocket and there was a smooth humming as the door opened automatically in the rock face. He drove directly to the underground car park and we walked along the corridor graced with flagstoned floors. I never thought I would return to this place but fate held otherwise.

‘I think everyone’s already here,’ commented the driver, putting a little extra pace in his step. ‘The car park’s almost full.’

We walked through the double doors into the large auditorium.

It was filled with capacity but this time there were face which were familiar to me. Commander Yasood stood on the podium about to address the audience. Commander Spring was seated in the front row. A few seats away sat Menel. And, as expected, there in the front row was Schmuel Musaphia.

‘Welcome Commander Scott,’ greeted Yasood amiably, causing everyone to turn in my direction. ‘I you will please take your seat here in front, we shall begin.’

I was stunned at the greeting but failed to make any comment.

‘Well,’ began Yasood facing his audience from the front edge of the podium., ‘thank you all for coming here today. We gather to celebrate a milestone in our master plan and I’m delighted to tell you that the second phase has been completed. You’ll recall that the first phase was the ‘formation’ of our organisation. The second is the ‘development’. The third is ‘operation’. In the second phase, we recruited some fine people and established ourselves in many countries in Europe. But most importantly of all, we have developed a weapon to give us superiority in terms of warfare… far greater and more powerful than anything produced before. We are still at the experimental stage but we are well on our way. At the same time, our intelligence network is becoming equal to all others known in the Western world. Before I continue with the details of our development, it is well to report that the caucus of Islam will find its seeds in Turkey. Islam in the middle of the sixteenth century was at its all-conquering zenith. Its spearhead, the Ottoman Turks, threatened to engulf Christianity. The might of the Ottoman empire, under the rule of Suleiman the Magnificent, was ruthless, trained to inflict savage cruelty on all those who opposed it. As a matter of interest, I’ll read to you his titles.’ He picked up a sheet of paper from the lectern beside him.’

“Sultan of the Ottomans, Allah’s Deputy on Earth, Lord of the Lords of this World, King of Believers and Unbelievers, Shadow of the Almighty Dispensing Quiet in the Earth.” He put the paper back on the lectern before continuing. ‘We don’t wish to have Lord of the Lords of this World governing us in the future. There is also another matter in contention with Islam. In Siberia, lies the greatest of all oil reserves the world has ever known. In our previous assumption we believed that Islam would rise in fifty years’ time when the oil runs out in the Middle East. With the advent of Russian oil coming the fore, the Arab states will find their markets diminishing within the next ten or twenty years. The dependency of oil from Kuwait, Iran, Iraq, Saudi Arabia and Libya will reduce considerably. There will be a great deal of malcontent amongst the people in that region. As a result, World War Three is likely to approach much sooner than expected. Such news is not encouraging. It means we must react faster than planned. We must be ready to meet the rising tide of Islam.’

He droned on for some time outlining details about the countries where the 21st Century Crusaders were now established, the development of the laser gun, and the plan for full operation. When his delivery came to an end, he received outstanding applause and then the audience stood up and mulled around the auditorium in discussion. My heart started to beat faster as I looked around to search for Jan but she was nowhere to be seen. Commander Yasood headed in my direction and drew me to one side.

‘I hoped you weren’t shocked when I introduced you as Commander Scott,’ he said apologetically. ‘That’s the good thing Schmuel Musaphia suggested would be coming your way. We want to recruit you as our Commander in the United Kingdom. it’s a tremendous challenge and you’ll really enjoy it.

‘Is that what it was all about?’ The blackmail… facing death half a dozen times, the abduction of my wife! All because you wanted to recruit me. Why didn’t you ask me in the first place?’

‘Tell me, Jason,’ he went on. ‘If you were the Chief Executive of Dandy Advanced Electronics, and you wanted the best deputy that money could buy to handle the weaponry division, what would you do?’

‘I’d get in touch with the best executive personnel recruitment agency and let them handle the selection for me,’ I returned insolently.

‘And then you receive curriculum vitae of the applicants, and take on the interviews to narrow down the field. Then what would you do… bearing in mind that the weaponry division is something very secret, very confidential, and ultimately special.

‘I’d check on every applicant thoroughly by means of a private detective. Every past record would be investigated.’

‘But how could you be certain that everything the private detective told you was absolutely authentic. Would you know, for example, how any one of the applicants would react under certain kinds of pressure or crisis?’ Or how loyal they would be to the organisation over an extended period of time?’

‘Impossible to tell,’ I told him flatly. ‘I would hope that the selected person would have a track record in the field of operation proving that they could take such pressures and handle crises without difficulty. With regard to loyalty, people respond to promotion, remuneration and rewards. Executives tend to switch from one organisation to another if they can achieve something better.’

‘Exactly!’ he concurred. ‘You see, we selected you for recruitment some years ago. Your background, temperament, obstinacy, and analytical mind made you a prime choice for the role that needed to be filled. For a long time we needed an executive to run the British end . We had many people look you over and check you out in the past five years. Penny Smith was one, Primar was another. We checked you out in terms of credentials but we had no idea whether you had zeal , audacity or spirit. So we set you difficult tasks but the plans went wrong through the ambitions of certain individuals within our ranks. Unfortunately, that is the way of the world. It was by the grace of God you weren’t killed. Apparently Primar and Chedda were waging some kind of vendetta against each other. You were caught up in the cross-fire. Chedda believed that you were important to Primar so he tried to kill you and Miss Smith. He intended to parachute to safety over Crete leaving a bomb on board the aircraft. No one would ever know what had happened but he was no munitions expert. This caused a multitude of problems because his colleague, Tomar Duran, was waiting for him in Crete. Penny Smith was working for us and she used all her ingenuity to have you moved to safety by getting you arrested by the police. However, I would not return there if I were you because you are still wanted by them for questioning.’

‘But there were no bodies!’ I exclaimed. ‘No one was killed! The duplicate Jason Scott turned up in Turkey. Tomar Duran was working in the weaponry division of Dandy Advanced Electronics.’

‘Not Tomar Duran. Miss Smith shot him with his own gun in Crete but substituted blanks for the real cartridges later on. The man you thought was Tomar Duran who ended up on the electrified fence was actually his twin brother trying to get the plan for his Muslim colleagues. In due course, Schmuel Musaphia, our strategist and adviser, insisted that he met you. It was then Primar decided to go independent on his own account. He started working for MOSSAD, the Israeli intelligence agency as did Penny Smith but he wanted to sell the laser gun to the highest bidder.. He used you, as he did Kemal in Istanbul, when the man was about to shoot you over the Galata bridge. Yes… it was arranged for you to see the Mahdi and then steal the laser gun plans You succeeded commendably. For that reason we’re awarding you with the Purple Ribbon of Valour. The highest honour of the 21st Century Crusaders for your audacity. It was well and truly won!’

‘Are you saying that everything I did was a test of my courage and ability?’ I asked, feeling my temperature rising as I thought of all the pain and suffering I had endured. ‘And that my wife was never abducted but merely kept in the background as a blackmail threat in case I wouldn’t play!’

‘That’s rather a simplified way of looking at it but fairly accurate,’ he responded coolly.

I stared at him angrily gritting my teeth. ‘When I think what I went through to get the plans of the laser gun and you didn’t really need them, did you?

‘They were useful up to a point,’ he admitted. ‘Our intelligence is very extensive. We needed to know how far they had got and, indeed, some of the information was helpful.’

‘Well let me tell you a thing or two,’ I uttered irately. ‘Penny Smith is dead… murdered by Primar! And there’s more. I killed Primar myself yesterday!’

‘We know all about that,’ he returned as though it hardly mattered. ‘Naturally we moved the bodies so there would be no trace of either of them. It served our purpose. You see we removed everything relating to Primar and left a letter, written by you, to say that you discovered Miss Smith was two-timing you with another man and that you would kill her if you caught her with him. Now that she’s missing, the police will want to question you and they may even have a warrant for your arrest. You’re going to have a very rough time if they catch you.’

‘I see.’ I suddenly realised the game plan. ‘You’ve made sure I’m wanted by the police in Britain and Crete to force we to work for you organisation. I suppose you intend to set me up with a new name, a new passport and a new home, More blackmail! Who smashed up my house… you or Primar?’

‘We did,’ he told me smoothly. ‘We wanted to make sure you had no papers, documents or material relating to any other organisation or agency. We cannot afford double agents in this enterprise, not when one mistake could lead to world war. We had to check you out very thoroughly.’

‘And the function of the doubles?’

‘They were brought in to fill your places whenever we needed you to be elsewhere. Winston Churchill and General Montgomery had them in the Second World War. The bridge tournament in Istanbul was a typical example. There was nothing sinister in finding and training doubles although we did have some difficulty finding a man similar to you with a high standard of bridge. At the time, we learned of Tomar Duran’s brother’s interested in stealing the laser gun plans so we had to rush you back.’

‘What if I’d been caught at the complex stealing the plans? All your work to recruit me would have come to nothing.’

‘I don’t think so. Mr. Devon’s not the man you think he is. He’s a person with a brilliant mind in the field of electronics. You know he took weapons with him in case he was caught. Well let me tell you that he would sooner shoot the whole of the security team at Dandy Advanced Electronics than eat his lunch. Your only danger was the electrified fence. But then it’s only ten feet high.’

‘You bastard!’ I swore angrily. ‘You had no right to set me up like that!’

‘I disagree,’ he returned firmly. ‘We simply investigated you thoroughly. ‘Now… when you accept your appointment, you’ll want to check out recruits of your own. Think hard on how you’ll do that before criticising me.’

‘Who wrote the note: ‘Don’t fly to Turkey if you value your life. Don’t fly to Turkey if you value you wife!’’

‘We did that to test your resolve. Some people would have backed out in the face of such a threat. We needed to find out what you would do. We were delighted you ignored the threat and recognised your commitment. You came through with flying colours.’

‘What about the man who attacked me in my hotel room?

‘He had nothing to do with us. He was a genuine thief and you caught him in the act.’

‘I suppose I made a real fool of myself at The Golden Peacock, showing up there like an idiot when Jan was merely a guest.’

‘I liked the touch when your wife gave you three clues and you worked out the solution. Then Schmuel Musaphia told you the answer knowing you’d already solved it.’ He paused for a moment and then smiled. ‘So how about it, Jason? Enlist with the 21st Century Crusaders at a handsome salary, a new name, a new address in England, a new car, and everything provided. Surely that’s compensation for everything you’ve been through! And then there’s the cause. An important one to prevent the occurrence of World War Three. Doesn’t any of that grab you?’

‘To tell you the truth,’ I told him angrily, ‘I’m extremely annoyed at having to risk my life so many time for your pleasure. Not only that but people are dead.’

‘There are always casualties in a war, Jason,’ he retorted. ‘You have to set your mind on the future not of the past. You’ll thrive on this appointment and contribute in a major way. It’s a two-way thing. We need each other… destiny calls you. I’d like your permission to nominate you to the committee as Commander Jason Scott, How about it?’ He noticed my reluctance but chose to smile.

‘If I don’t agree, you’ll report me to the authorities for the murder of Primar, Penny Smith and Tomar Duran, won’t you. Then when I start ranting about the 21st Century Crusaders and World War Three they’ll lock me up in a padded cell in a mental institution and throw away the key.’

‘That’s about the drift of it,’ he returned casually. ‘If you haven’t made up your mind yet we’ll talk later on.’ He moved on and I had the feeling that he was going to speak to someone else who had also run the gauntlet like myself.

I suddenly realised I hadn’t asked him about Jan when she appeared in the doorway of the refectory. She was dressed in a brown uniform similar to the one Penny had worn in Crete. She moved towards me steadily making her way through the throng. Our eyes met and I scanned her face. She looked extremely well and showed no traces of stress or duress but that was to be expected as her welfare had never been threatened. My attitude crystallised into one of cautious coldness as she approached but she took my hands warmly into her own hoping for a reciprocal response.

‘So this is what it’s come down to in the end,’ I began. ‘The 21st Century Crusaders. Why couldn’t you tell me?’

‘I was under orders not to do so, darling,’ she replied smoothly.

‘What about the holy orders? The ones you made in church when you became my wife?’

‘Those vows have been kept. I haven’t broken them. You’re the one who took a mistress but I hear she’s dead.’

I gave her a wry smile. ‘Bad news travels fast. Why all the deceit, Jan. It would have been so easy to confide in me.’

‘That’s the way it’s done, Jason,’ she countered sharply. ‘We’re making history here… protecting the world. I don’t want to go through life gardening, watching television and wasting my life. Most people are only interested in themselves. That’s not me. I want to contribute to something worthwhile… to do something for mankind! And now you’ve been offered a fantastic job as Commander of the United Kingdom, we can be together and I can assist you. We have the opportunity of a wonderful life together.’

‘What about the note you wrote me, telling me to get lost?’

‘They asked me to offend.’

‘So you wrote it… under orders.’ I paused and heaved a sigh. ‘What do we do now?’

‘That depends on whether you still love me.’

‘I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t love you,’ I told her amorously. ‘Let’s say that I crossed the line once but that problem no longer exists and I would never do it again.. I don’t know how you feel about it.’

‘Life is for forgiving and for forgetting,’ she responded philosophically. ‘Perhaps we can try harder this time. Are you willing to do that Commander Scott?’ She placed her arms around my neck and kissed me gently on the lips. ‘No, don’t say anything, darling,’ she cooed as I was about to tell her I hadn’t made a decision on the appointment. She took my hand and led me out of the auditorium, across the flag-stoned floor to the car park and pointed to a black saloon. We got inside and she smiled at me warmly.

‘It’s nice to have you back,’ I told her showing some emotion for the first time. ‘I missed you… a lot. I spent half my time trying to save your from your abdutctors.’

‘I know,’ she laughed loudly. ‘You missed me at St. Katherine’s

Dock… at The Golden Peacock… at our house, and at Penny’s apartment. I had to keep moving to stay ahead of you.’ She opened the glove compartment in the dashboard and took out two passports and a set of keys. ‘You are now William Grover and I’m Selina Grover. These are our passports. The keys will open the door to our new address in England. So we have new identities and a new home. You no longer work for Dandy Advanced Electronics. A letter’s been sent to the Chairman advising him of your resignation on the grounds that you’ve been accepted for an immediate appointment in Kuwait with an international oil company.’

‘That’s taking a lot for granted, isn’t it? I retorted feeling my temper rising at the liberties being take with my life and my future.

‘Trust me.’ she told me. ‘Just trust me. This is the right way ahead.’

I felt that if anyone ever asked me to trust them again I would explode. I took her in my arms to hug her and kiss her warmly on the lips.

‘Let’s start from fresh again,’ she advanced emotionally with tears showing in her eyes. ‘The past is gone, the future depends on us.’

We hugged and kissed for a while and then she drove off out of the great rock hideout. Outside, a caravan of camels moved smoothly across the desert. All was peaceful but that was the moment when the world was most vulnerable. At the root of civilisation was the essence of change. The only thing that remained stable was nature!

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Published in 2013 by

Andrews UK Limited

www.andrewsuk.com

The right of Stan Mason to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998

Copyright © 2013 Stan Mason

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 without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Content

Stan Mason
STOPPING WORLD WAR THREE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

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