Chapter 31 A Second Chance
Martin walked into the office at 6.30am. He hung his hat and coat up on the dilapidated wooden contraption immediately behind his desk and unfurling his newspaper, scanned the headlines. Two stories hogging the front page were the explosion that demolished a house, with no casualties reported and the shooting of Chan Utah-Smith. The body was found among the smouldering remains of the house, but it is believed that the man was killed elsewhere and the police are treating it suspiciously and have set up a murder inquiry. The police are appealing for anyone who happened to be in that area at the time of the explosion and any witness who might have seen something regarding the shooting or the movement of anyone near the scene of the incident in question. Martin read on and came to the conclusion that reporters of this paper do like to milk the situation one hundred percent. He shoved the newspaper to one side and switched on his computer and went to the dispensing machine for his morning coffee. It wasn’t bad as machines are usually, but took ages to produce and if there was a long queue waiting, you could be gone sometime and that would look bad as far as your boss-man was concerned. There was no queue and the office and corridors had an eerie silence. Martin walked back to his desk. No one had entered while he was away. He sat down sipped his coffee and pressed the start button on his computer and entered his password only known to him “Ut0p1aN6378”. He thought it was an amusing password and could be very difficult to decipher by the would-be hacker, or so he assumed.
Graham Goodall entered the office and seemed taken aback when he saw Martin, but he quickly recovered his composure and said, ‘Good morning Martin. Did you have a nice four days off?’ Martin answered, ‘It was very restful!’
Graham Goodall went to his desk, switched on his computer. He hesitated and then said, ‘Have you seen the headlines in the paper?’ ‘Yes!’ said Martin. ‘Absolute shocking business, it makes you wonder what the world is coming to!’
Martin looked at his watch, it was past the time when office staff should be clocked in to start work. He made it obvious that Goodall should have been in this department a good half hour ago. Not every department started at the same time, so a lot of movement of staff was evident.
Goodall remarked ‘If it’s any business of yours – I had to take the car in my local garage for a repaint job, it seems that I hit a road bollard and scraped some paint and sustained a small dent on the bumper.’
‘I’m sorry, but you gave a speech to the rest of the staff about being punctual and should there be a problem, people should telephone the office to let someone know.’
‘Hmm – yes! You’re right, sorry!’
Goodall slammed the office door as he went out to get his coffee and joined the queue which had developed as more people had come to start their day, but all had the same idea. It’s good to start the day with a nice cup of coffee. Some employees left home, kissed their wives, which was more of a peck and shoving a piece of toast in their mouths, ran to their vehicles, getting their coats on because they always left at the same time and didn’t make any consideration regarding how difficult the traffic would be at that particular time in the morning. It was a rat race, because they did it every single day of their working lives.
Martin was thinking of the four days he had off – restful – was the last word he said. It couldn’t be so far from the truth and Martin knew that Goodall knew, because he was one of the principal players. Martin thought and wondered where Roland was, after he had left him after their dramatic escape from Chan.
Goodall claimed that Chan was some sort of terrorist and Martin was to keep an eye on him, but as it turned out, Chan was nothing of the sort, he was just a crooked business man and had dealings with the Mafia and Goodall was in on the act as well, being a triple agent, working for the Russians, the Mafia and the British Government. Goodall gave instructions to Martin to inveigle himself as part of Chan’s gang and should Chan find out who Martin Church was, he could dispose of him without Goodall dirtying his hands and then the next part of his plan was to get rid of Chan and his gang as he wanted to be in control. The stumbling block was an consignment of cigarettes which was supposed to be handled by that idiot adopted son, Charlie Stefan which went disastrously wrong because Luigi’s son was in love with Joanna and had it in his mind to do away with Roland James. It was a complicated situation. The conignment was in fact guns and ammunition to be sent to another far away unnamed country to start a civil war because they didn’t want to be led by the existing regime. Not that it mattered to Martin, people are quite at liberty to blow themselves up, but it is merely the principle that the right thing has to be done. His colleague Richard Somer, who worked in another department in the building had lost his house, but had moved into the other official “safe house.” as caretaker.
Martin was grateful for the assistance of the S A S officer in his time of need, He was hoping that Goodall hadn’t recognize him when he drove off from the MI5 building car park to lure Goodall away with Goodall thinking it was Martin and Chan. Then there was Chan, poor Chan who had eventually helped Martin find out the truth about Goodall – whether it was for patriotic reasons or not but Martin guessed he was fed up with Goodall having a tight rein on Chan’s business deals and also muscling in on dealings with the Mafia, which broke the camel’s back. Chan paid the ultimate price, he lost his life and saved him. Martin was eternally grateful for that.
Eventually Goodall appeared with coffee and sat down at his desk and appeared to be typing furiously. Martin was sure he was annoyed at how certain events had turned out and Martin was here when he should have been blown up with the house. Martin assumed it was on his instructions that an explosive device should be placed in Richard Somer’s car. So it looked like the snipers were meant to kill Chan and Martin and perhaps Richard, Richard being a witness to most of what happened that night.
Goodall was annoyed with himself as he planned the trap but didn’t follow it through properly. It doesn’t do to become complacent when you want things to go right. Goodall was wondering whether Martin knew about him and of course there was no way he could find out without asking awkward questions and giving himself away.
The telephone rang on Goodall’s desk and he impatiently wrenched the receiver off.
Even Goodall had to answer to a higher authority. Martin sat pondering about whether the phone call that Goodall received had been legitimate when his own telephone rang making him jump. He didn’t usually get telephone calls from the outside world. He was curious why he should receive one today of all days when so much had happened in the last three days. Martin was suspicious of the call. Supposing Goodall had fitted his telephone with a listening device and the call he had just received was a way of getting out of the office to listen to his conversation. Martin eventually lifted his telephone and declared ‘Martin Church speaking.’ He heard Goodall in the background who spoke with some degree of annoyance. ‘YES! Yes sir. I’ll come right away.’
He heard the telephone exchange person saying ‘You’re through!’
It was Roland James and before Roland could say ‘Good morning,’ Martin said, ‘Hello old chap I haven’t seen you for at least, well it must be going on three years. I hope you are keeping well. Perhaps we could meet for lunch sometime in the future and catch up on old times. By the way, how are your sisters?’
Roland without any hesitation said, ‘They are fine, thank you and still not married. We were only speaking about you the other day, saying, it’s been too long and if you don’t visit them soon they are going to join the local Convent.’
‘As long as your sisters don’t do the cooking this time. If you remember I was quite sick last time, it had to be something I ate.’
Martin replaced the receiver as Goodall came back into the office and he couldn’t help feeling that he had been outside the office door listening to his conversation.
‘Who was that on the phone?’
‘A friend I hadn’t seen for ages – nothing to do with the department. I’ve known him since my school days. Do you know he once……..’ at that point Goodall interrupted Martin’s flow of words.
‘Never mind that now – something important has turned up. Both of us are wanted in the upper office for a meeting.’
Martin thought about the telephone conversation with Roland and it looked like a second chance had come their way to do something about Goodall and possibly flush him out as a triple agent. Martin picked up a notepad and pen and walked towards Goodall and they both went out of the office.
- * *
Roland replaced the receiver – he was getting the hang of this cloak and dagger stuff, he was able to deduce from the secret message Martin had given him over the phone and if he was right had encrypted the words- “See you at The Three Nuns for dinner tonight at eight pm. If he had got the wrong message – he would be dining alone.
Chapter 32 Dinner At Eight
Roland kept his fingers crossed as he waited at the table reserved by him at the Three Nuns Restaurant, waiting for Martin to make an appearance. He was thinking how odd the name of the restaurant was because he thought it should have been a Public House or Inn, but he was assured over the telephone it was a restaurant. He was handed a menu and leaflet of the history notes behind the naming of the establishment, because at one stage in its history it started out as a house of ill repute where ladies of the night were commonplace.
It was built in 1749 and highway men used to seek refuge after holding up some rich merchant who happened to be passing. It was reported that no one was ever caught as nobody dared to enter the building and those who dared to enter would undoubtedly succumb to the alluring practices of the ladies and wouldn’t see the light of day ever again. They would have their pleasure, be stripped and discarded on waste land somewhere in the bushy landscape. The bones of men would be found at a later time. In 1899 it became an Inn and used as a smuggling house for elicit bottles of whisky. Tunnels were found where men trod and shipped their illegal cargo by horse and cart. Since then the tunnels had been filled in. A hundred years later in 1999 it became “The Three Nuns” Restaurant, a complete reverse in name to what it was used for in those far off days.
Roland had just finished reading the leaflet when Martin made an appearance.
‘Sorry I’m late, we had a bit of a flap on.’
‘What was that then?’
‘Our security has been breached and we know who is responsible for that, don’t we.’
‘You mean Goodall?’
‘Yes, the only trouble is, we know it, but the bosses don’t.’
‘Starting in two days time we have “Operation Cobalt.”’
‘What’s that?’
‘I shouldn’t be telling you, but as a safeguard and as long as you don’t tell anyone else, it will be okay – Have I got your word to keep mum!’
‘Yes, of course!’
‘We are having an exercise, in the field and inside the office to tighten up our security. One half of our office is starting outside, that will be led by Goodall and I will be in the office as second in command with my team – what’s on the menu, I’m starving!’
Whilst waiting for their food to arrive, Roland started to talk about his wife and the child they were both looking forward to having. A doctor recommended that she should take a walk every now and then, it would help her pelvis function to its full capacity because of the problems she had when growing up. When she was a small child she had a terrible accident in her garden and fell awkwardly from a swing. She usually walked when no-one else was around. Normally Roland would go out with her, but that evening he was delayed at his place of work and as he was the boss he had to be there. Some evil bastard ran her over, she was killed at the scene. They must have mounted the pavement and mowed her down. Martin was sympathetic and if he could throw some light on the situation, he would let Roland know.
They had their main meal in silence. It was over coffee that Roland spoke of some unexpected news that he wished to divulge, which could be useful to know, if Martin and he wanted other allies to join them in their quest to expose Goodall.
He explained to Martin that by some quirky chance he had been employed by Martha Stefan, estranged wife of Luigi Stefan as a getaway driver because Luigi’s adopted son Charlie was not being a good boy and had formed a gang and it turned out to be an embarrassment to Luigi’s organization, as he was the local Mafia Godfather of this district, Whether or not a district needed a Mafia group. The mother, Martha Stefan was going to make assault on the Luigi Stefani household to release her son from captivity, but alas she was caught and placed in a darkened room, gagged and bound.
Luigi Stefan gave instructions to have his stupid adopted son brought to him, but somehow the instructions had been misunderstood and the son was placed in the same room as his mother. She was not searched when caught and from secret pockets from her camouflaged khaki suit she was able to produce explosives and blew a hole in the wall of the room and they made their escape. She managed to change her appearance and her dress to fool the guards at the gate and she looked as if she had strolled down from the house in an unhurried state and gained access to the guardhouse, and with the aid of pepper thrown in the faces of the two guards they were able to leave the premises.
‘I drove them to safety and it wasn’t until we were along some way that I realized it was Charlie, who had at one time gagged and bound me in his warehouse headquarters. Apparently Luigi doesn’t know about Charlie’s warehouse and we can use it if we need to.’
Roland came up for air and swallowed some more wine.
‘And……….’
‘Hold on a minute? Can you trust these people?’
‘Yes! As well as the next man – I’m sure we can, anyway you can make up your own mind. I’ve asked them to meet us later tonight at “The Sphinx” Public House at 10pm. The pub is open all night.
“The Sphinx” public house was a half hour’s drive away. It was an especially dark area as there didn’t seem to be any street lighting of the modern type. Three gas lamps were situated opposite the pub. Martin thought it would be good idea to turn the car round and park in a side road that he had spotted as they drove towards the pub. It would be a short walk for them both and Martin and Roland had never been in this part of the world or ever known about “The Sphinx” public house before and as they opened the door and strode in, everyone in the room stopped talking. It was an eerie feeling and everybody’s eyes were upon them. The pub clientele didn’t like strangers and were obviously suspicious of anyone they hadn’t seen before. The pub was not what you would call the usual type of pub. The floor had a light dusting of sawdust with ornamental spittoon jugs at each end of the long bar. The rickety furniture had been repaired many times and had bits of wood attached to odd places and at a distance it looked as if one could breath on the furniture and it would crumble to the floor. The dim lighting came from the eight wall lights on the dark mahogany wood paneling that festooned the walls and the bar. There were overhead lights that were thickly crusted with a layer of dust and one light in particular had lost two of its safety lines and was hanging precariously at an angle.
The barman was a giant of a man, sporting a very large square head, shoulders a mile wide – a typically old fashioned type with black lines on white shirt and rolled up sleeves, a gold coloured waistcoat and a pair of green trousers and brown slippers, but no socks. He looked like a rainbow and nothing matched colour wise. It would be a very brave man who told him that he had no dress sense although when he spoke
It was a graceful quiet voice.
‘What is your poison, gents?
‘Two pints of your best bitter please, barman!’
‘I only serve the best drinks in this part of town.’
‘No offence meant.’
.None taken.’
The barman smiled and walked towards the nearest pump and soon the delicious noise of the nectar was splashing the sides of the glass and when full it had a creamy head full of bubbles and the next glass had the same treatment.
Martin said, ‘Cheers Barman.’ He took a large swig of his drink.
‘It is as you said absolutely delicious.’
Everyone decided that the strangers were okay and they started to converse with each other.
Martin and Roland walked over to one of the tables and sat down, expecting the chairs to collapse beneath them but they were solid and the table was steady as a rock.
Martin whispered, ‘Why on earth did you pick this pub?’
‘I didn’t, they did the choosing. They said it was an out of the way sort of place to come to and no-one in their right mind in the Mafia would come to such a squalid joint.’
‘Or someone like Goodall,’ remarked Martin.
Halfway through their drinks, Martha and Charlie walked in and no-one stopped talking, instead they were welcomed with open arms. Someone said, ‘We haven’t seen you for ages?’ Martha said, ‘It’s too long a story, I will tell you all about it sometime.’
The barman said, ‘Two of the usual?’
‘Yes!’ said Martha. ‘And one of those two gents sitting at the table will pay.’
Martin got up and walked to the bar and paid. He walked back behind Martha and Charlie to the table, they sat down and began their clandestine chat, but seemingly like old friends or colleagues who haven’t seen each other for ages.
It was a mixed bag of tit-bits of information between the four people and if Goodall could be a fly on the wall, he would have learnt something that would be a disadvantage to himself. Everyone was in agreement that he should go. All of them had different reasons. Charlie had heard that Goodall had called him stupid and couldn’t run his life properly, let alone be in charge of a heist. Roland had excellent reasons because he had tried to kill Joanna and had been instrumental in arranging himself to meet with an accident. Martha, being somewhat bloodthirsty in her attitude and would do anything to protect her child, wanted revenge against Luigi Stefan and knowing of his involvement with Goodall, was a good enough reason to agree with any cause of action against her estranged husband, however notorious or difficult it was going to be to get even. Martha had a warm cosy feeling about the whole prospect.
Martin had the best and more important reason to want to be rid of this man, a double or triple agent. Pretending to be a staunch protector of the Queen and the United Kingdom, and all the time his strongest convictions and sympathies belonged to Russia and the Black Market. Goodall had his fingers in several pies and his greed for power and wealth might have been promised by the Soviet regime, although Martin suspected they might be stringing him along for their own gains. A double agent these days was unheard of since the Burgess and Maclean era.
Martin knew that Goodall had a group of men who were true to his way of his thinking and actually had two men from Russia who had joined his ranks and posed as diplomatic links with the Russian Embassy. If caught they couldn’t be arrested, but should the link be severed, they would just melt away.
Someone who was a friend of Charlie, who was leaning against the bar sipping his drink came over to the four and whispered in Charlie’s ear.
‘Looks like we were followed – there’s a black saloon outside with two men inside, apparently they have been there since we walked into the pub.’
‘Can’t be a co-incidence, no one in their right mind would hang around in this neighbourhood.’
Martin looked out of one of the windows.
‘They look as if they can handle themselves, the one leaning against the car has shoulders a mile wide, I think we’re in trouble. Better put on your thinking caps, chaps!’
‘First of all is there a back door to this pub?’
‘Yes!’ said Charlie, ‘But won’t they be waiting round the back?’
‘Probably!’
The same man that whispered in Charlie’s ear went out of the pub, he was built like a toilet door, must have been a wrestler at one time. Although he had a very lined weather beaten face, he looked fit. He was gone about a quarter of an hour. There seemed to be a lot of noise from outside and soon he re-appeared and nodded to Charlie to signify that all had been cleared up.
He said in a very loud voice, ‘Charlie, you and your friends can leave in safety. They understood English very well. You won’t get any sense out of them as they are tied up and inside the car!’
Martin looked out of the window.
‘Where’s the car?’
‘Well, it’s down the bottom of the hill!’
‘I hope they don’t come back’
‘There’s not much chance of them coming back – there’s a steep drop at the end of the road, it’s an old granite quarry.
‘Surely they could have used the hand brake?’
‘No!’ said the burly man and held up the whole brake unit in his right hand, I ripped it out!’
‘What about the other two men round the back of the pub?’
‘I put them in the boot. No more questions please, anybody would think you were some government official.’
Martin raised his eyebrows and looked at Charlie.
Charlie raised both hands and said ‘Guilty as charged!’
They thanked the man and Charlie said to him, ‘I won’t forget this, Thomas!’
The big man nodded and grinned.
The four left the pub and all was nice and quiet. They all got into Martin’s car and drove off. Martin looked through his rear window and saw a bloodied and shredded suit of one of the men dragging himself to where they were. Martin braked hard, got out and going to the boot, got out a wrench and walked slowly towards the figure that had collapsed. Martin ran the last few yards towards him and raised the wrench above his head to strike him. The man said, ‘You’re all dead!’ he fought for air and managed to mutter with his dying breath ‘The Mafia always get their man!’ With that he seemed to relax and simply died. Martin was going to answer him, but didn’t get the chance. The man was looking up with unseeing eyes.
Roland ran up and said, ‘What did he say?’
‘Not a lot!’
