by Ted Tayler
Colin looked at Helen’s face again in the photograph. He stood up and collected the picture of William and Elizabeth that Erebus was still holding. The old man was somewhere far away. On the high seas, maybe with one of his destroyers. With Elizabeth and Helen in happier times no doubt. Colin now understood his motivation.
Anyone who lost a wife and daughter in such a cruel fashion had a right to lash out at those who took them from them. When Sharron had been killed, it proved the final straw for Colin. He lashed out at the thugs who strutted around his town, arrogant in their belief that they were untouchable, and above the law. He showed them they were wrong.
Colin had waited patiently for her killer to leave prison. He was glad, odd though it may seem, that Neil Cartwright was released after only a decade. As Erebus had remarked, no sentence for Adam Bosko ever equated to two lives taken with such callous disregard for the law and human life.
Colin returned the two photographs to the drawer in the side table and walked over to where Erebus still sat. The old man looked up at him and Colin sensed tears were close. Erebus collected himself and stood up, back ramrod straight as ever and took his place in front of the period fireplace. He invited Colin to sit one more and continued: -
“Right then, Phoenix, my story is complete. We’ve got a few minutes before the others join us in the dining room for dinner. Do you have any questions?”
CHAPTER 6
Colin paused for a second; he was on the verge of asking for the considerable sums of money he had in various bank accounts in Switzerland and the Caymans; he wanted to know what happened to that money now he was ‘missing presumed dead’. Colin decided to start from another angle. He didn’t want to appear greedy.
It had never been about the money. The money helped get the job done, and one thing he needed was his own style of clothes. He felt he looked like a tailor’s dummy in this smart casual stuff Erebus supplied. He longed to get into the nondescript gear that served him so well in the old days; clothes that didn’t make him stand out in a crowd. Clothes that helped him stay invisible.
“What of operatives in the field?” he asked. “You can’t merely have been waiting for an opportunity to pick me up to get your direct actions underway.”
Erebus nodded.
“Naturally dear boy, you are far from being our first operative. As you can imagine, the men we have selected so far were ex-forces personnel; we found a whole raft of potential killers and intelligence experts disillusioned with life after leaving their particular branch of the services. Many of us find it difficult to adjust to the humdrum nature of civilian life, particularly when those careers get curtailed by injudicious cuts. Those men arrived here in secret too, the majority of them at night. Their training was reviewed and their skills upgraded where required. They have since moved out into their specified theatre, ready to go into action at a moment’s notice. Akin to the sleeper prevalent during the Cold War. You may be familiar with the idea from watching films or TV programmes.
Colin nodded. Erebus continued: -
“The agents in the field have jobs and identities, they have blended into everyday life as normal citizens. Most have been able to evade the counter-espionage agencies in their target country. Sadly, we have lost a few people over the last couple of years when their cover was blown, or during direct action itself. As they are in gainful employment, we do not pay them directly. This avoids any possibility of payments transferred to them from here at Larcombe Manor being traced. In the same way, as you are now Phoenix, these agents have code names and infrequently they return here for debriefing or extra training. We can pay them more funds in their local currency if they are poised to ramp up the scale of their activities too.”
“How do they arrange those visits?” asked Colin, “they can’t just phone.”
“There is a sophisticated system on level one in the old stable block Phoenix. They can intercept coded messages from our guys in the field who need to fly back to the UK. As for home-based people, they send a postcard. On the appointed day, they travel by train to Bath Spa station. Transport people will be there to collect them in a minicab. They can’t miss it. It carries a logo of Mount Olympus on the doors which means it doesn’t attract undue attention as it trundles back to the Manor. Conceivably, they could have come here for treatment for combat stress. A natural occurrence considering our charity status. While they stay at Larcombe, they too are referred to by their code name alone. As I explained to you, we five are known to them only by our mythical persona. We take every care to protect the integrity of the group and the Olympus Project.”
“How come I haven’t heard a news report on people they’ve eliminated?” asked Colin.
“Well, if we’ve prepared the ground properly on level one and identified the target and why he merits direct action, then in most cases nobody cares that much. A plethora of evil exists outside these walls Phoenix as you well know. The media have concentrated on the superficial celebrity section of society for the past decade. Imagine if a thug or rotten government official gets killed somewhere in Africa or the Far East. That doesn’t get a full-page spread in the daily newspaper here in the UK. That is more likely to be occupied by a popular singer having a baby or being involved in a racy video shoot. It sells more papers, dear boy. A couple of incidents were spotted by the more vigilant news editors last year. You may recall a North African army chief being shot dead in February by one of his security guards. His death was claimed to have been ordered by an extreme faction in that country. That was a logical assumption based on the recent turmoil in those parts, but one of our guys executed him. In one of the insignificant countries in Central Africa, an Army chief of staff was killed by a bomb delivered to his office in June. Details had emerged of vast sums of aid money being transferred to his private account. So we took steps to see he never bought any more gold taps for his bathrooms. The money remaining in his account is now being used by his fellow countrymen to help the people it was intended for when the Department for International Development sent it.”
“I lived in Africa until the spring of this year. I can’t say I remember seeing or hearing any reports on either of those.” Colin remarked. “Of course, I was preoccupied with my late wife and planning every step of my journey this summer.”
“That’s understandable Phoenix, your priorities lay elsewhere. Part of the training regime you will undertake here will need to focus on broadening your horizons. To encourage you to see the bigger picture and enable you to absorb everything that could help us achieve our goals at Olympus. I expect you’ve been wondering what’s happened to your money?”
Colin couldn’t prevent an audible gasp escaping his lips. How the heck did this Erebus bloke keep doing that. He knows what I’m thinking.
“That was one of my questions,” said Colin, “but money isn’t a motivator for me. No doubt you know where my money is held?”
“We will take steps to protect that money,” Erebus replied. “The banks in question will receive authentic papers carrying your signature indicating your wishes if you died. There will be a delay as your body has yet to be discovered.”
“What do you mean… ‘as yet’?” Colin asked.
“Fear not, old chap, you are worth far more to Olympus alive. We need to get you legally declared dead, but there’s no tremendous rush to do this. If we hold off until any remains discovered are so decomposed, then the authorities will find it tricky to attribute them to a particular person. We may use the clothes you wore at the time and the odd personal items to clinch matters. Last night’s scenario gave enough circumstantial evidence to lead a reasonable person to believe Colin Bailey died in Pulteney Weir on the balance of probabilities. This might get us a court order directing the registrar to issue a death certificate. Then the foreign banks could be persuaded to action your last requests as outlined in our cobbled-together documentation. Leave it to us, dear boy, it will be authentic enough to serve its purpose, we have the best people at our disp
osal here. If the worst comes to the worst then we’ll just have to sit and wait for the prescribed time the current law uses.”
“How long is that?” asked Colin.
“Seven years,” replied Erebus.
“Terrific,” muttered Colin.
“I thought money wasn’t a motivator, Phoenix? Don’t worry. When you go into the field in the UK, you will be well paid for a good result. Let’s call it a performance bonus. Different from a banker’s bonus, as you will have worked for it.”
“Of course,” said Colin with a smile.
“Goodness, just look at the time,” said Erebus, “we had better scoot along to our quarters to freshen up and change; the others will soon be in the dining room for pre-dinner drinks. No doubt you’re hungry Phoenix?”
“Hungry for food and information,” answered Colin.
“Let them enjoy their meal first old chap. I’m sure they’ll be more sociable this evening. You caught them unawares when you arrived last night. You have been on our radar for a while. They voted in favour of your selection when it was mooted, but we couldn’t have foreseen the fortuitous nature by which you landed on our doorstep.”
The two men exited the drawing-room and walked along the corridor towards the staircase. As they reached the foot of the stairs the formidable-looking female suddenly appeared on a direct course to collide with Colin. He executed a neat sidestep to avoid disaster. Even so, the contact between them was enough for him to raise his hands to cushion the impact. One hand found a naked shoulder. She looked stunning in an olive dress which fitted where it touched, her high heels bringing her face to face with Colin.
He stared into her grey eyes, her intoxicating perfume reminded him how long it had been since his brief time with Therese Slater. Thoughts of that affair were swiftly erased as he sensed the look she was giving him was more fiery than friendly. Colin knew he should move his other hand soon. It had successfully prevented her from crashing into him and them both ending in a heap on the floor. In doing so, it was now resting on her left breast.
“Good to see you two are getting on,” quipped Erebus as he ascended the stairs. “Come on Phoenix, first you’d better have a cold shower, and then you can choose one of the suits we’ve got for you. Athena, Phoenix, I’ll see you two in ten minutes.”
Athena moved away from Colin. With one of her trademark glares he knew so well, she swept across the corridor and into the dining room. Colin could hear voices. The Three Amigos were in attendance. He had no mythical tags for the three men but he felt they belonged together so, the Amigos or the Stooges sufficed for now.
Athena, on the other hand, Colin smiled at his unintentional joke; Athena was another matter altogether. Despite her iron-clad exterior and those piercing grey eyes, when they had been so close, Colin couldn’t help but be struck by her incredible beauty.
Upstairs in his room, Colin showered, turning the temperature lower as he soaked away the stresses and strains of the past twenty-four hours. Being aroused was not an unpleasant reaction to the firmness and proportion of the female form he had just handled by accident, but it needed to stop. The lines of his suit could be spoilt.
Colin checked his wardrobe. Several new items had been added to his collection since he left his room after the grand tour this afternoon. He resolved to ask Erebus whether they had a tailor on-site. To have provided three suits in varying colours, as ‘made to measure’ as made no difference, was a miracle. Colin looked at his reflection in the cheval mirror. The smart, rugged-looking guy of forty-three summers impressed him.
“Amazing what a good suit can do,” he thought. “I resemble a male model and worse still as if butter wouldn’t melt. I need to dirty up a tad, with a pair of jeans, a Judas Priest t-shirt, and a clapped-out leather jacket. I need to get back to the guy who has nineteen kills to his name. Nineteen and counting. This Larcombe Manor style of life will make me soft.”
As he descended the stairs towards the dining room, he found Erebus waiting for him in the hallway.
“Very presentable Phoenix, well done. A word to the wise. Athena experienced a torrid time of it before she came to us. She’ll tell you what she can tonight. But she’s buried much of her ordeal deeper inside, and she’s vulnerable, despite her outer shell. I’d hate to see her hurt, my dear boy, understood?”
“Perfectly, Erebus,” Colin replied.
Colin accompanied his host and leader into the dining room. The other four senior Olympus members fell silent. It was obvious Colin would not be privy to everything discussed when they spent time together. Either that or it has Erebus who expected a respectful silence when he entered or demanded it.
“Good evening,” Erebus began, “let us both get a drink and we’ll join you. I think we should make time for proper introductions then before we enjoy our dinner.”
The steward who brought the afternoon’s tea and cakes now became their barman. There was nothing as vulgar as a bar in the room. A silver tray on a side table held an array of light drinks and glasses. As soon as they returned to the others with their chosen drinks, Erebus began the introductions.
“May I introduce our newest operative to you? His code name is Phoenix.”
He moved to take a place next to Athena, between her and the three men.
“Phoenix, may I introduce Thanatos, Alastor, and Minos.”
Each man stepped forward and shook Colin by the hand; he was surprised by the obvious warmth of their welcome, expressed by Thanatos: -
“Welcome. We’re glad you could join us. People of your calibre are thin on the ground Phoenix. I’m sure the Olympus Project will profit from having you as a member.”
Erebus took Athena by the elbow and persuaded her to step forward. “You two have bumped into one another. For a more formal introduction; Phoenix, may I introduce Athena.”
Colin took the hand she grudgingly extended and lowered his head. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Athena glared at him, but with Erebus watching their every move, she looked away and headed off to take her place at the dining table. Before she took her seat she looked back and said:-
“I expect you are unaware of this, Phoenix,” she said, stressing his code name as if it tasted of something nasty or inferior. “A gentleman waits for a lady to offer her hand with the knuckles towards him. This will show her willingness to receive a kiss.”
“I’m no gentleman,” replied Colin, “I can only apologise. Your colleagues gave me such a warm welcome I assumed I was among friends. The training I am scheduled to receive while I’m staying at Larcombe Manor will include matters of etiquette I imagine? Will you be my teacher I wonder?”
Athena scowled at him and shook her linen napkin vigorously as if she wielded a bullfighter’s cape. Colin smiled to himself. He knew he was getting to her. It might be interesting to find out whether the ice-maiden melted. He spotted Erebus at the opposite end of the table. The old man was frowning as he switched his attention from Athena to him and back again.
“I think we should forget this nonsense and enjoy our dinner. We have lots of ground to cover later.”
A drinks steward had slipped out to summon the dining room staff, and they soon brought in the first course. The steward returned to the role of the sommelier and the meal progressed, akin to the luncheon earlier, with superb food accompanied by a sympathetically selected wine. The conversation was sparse on either side of the table and Colin just allowed the various courses to tickle his taste buds.
They had Var salmon from the Faroe Islands as a starter with Avocado and Grapefruit Sabayon. Colin wondered where the salmon paste in his sandwiches at Shaw Park Mines came from because they were never this good.
As they waited for the main course the Three Amigos chatted to Colin. He was asked how his grand tour had gone and what he thought of the clever conversion of the ice-house. The frosty sidelong glances still came from the lady on the opposite side of the table from his new friends. Those glances reminded C
olin of the ice-house in the days before its remodelling.
When the Bresse Duck with beetroot, cabbage and verjus arrived the six people around the table tucked in with relish. It was magical, and the Pinot Noir the steward poured proved a more than an acceptable companion. Colin sat back and rested for a while as he finished his third glass. He was mellow.
