by Ted Tayler
Phil pitied the shambles of a man in front of him. How had he risen so far up the ranks? He thought about letting him squirm a little longer but decided to help him out instead.
“You’re suggesting that I take early retirement, on a full pension, I imagine?”
The man opposite him sat back in his chair. Clearly, the full pension option hadn’t been on the cards when he had walked in, but Phil Hounsell didn’t plan to go without a fight. He continued to sum up his interpretation of the Commander’s garbled offer.
“As I see it, the ACC will be rid of the man who told him where the Eton Wick gang were likely to be situated. He can save his skin if he tells the press a ‘root and branch’ inquest has been carried out. Tell them several unnamed officers have left the service after being found to have fallen short of the standards that the force expects. I imagine that if an agreement could be reached on my first comment, then the likelihood of anyone ever hearing the ACC knew the possible whereabouts of the gang earlier than last Friday would be extremely remote.”
The two men sat staring at one another for a while. Phil didn’t blink. The DC caved in first. He stood up and leant across the desk to shake Phil’s hand.
“It wasn’t my idea to come and deliver this news, Phil, he’s got us jumping through hoops trying to save his backside. This place won’t be the same without you. I’ll sort out the necessary and you can be off earlier than planned and good luck to you. There won’t be anything showing on your record about this matter either, you can rely on me to see to that. He wants you away; I’ll tell him you’re going. How he explains it to the media is up to him.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Phil, “that sounds fine. If you can confirm things will go ahead as we agreed tomorrow, I’ll tell the family at the weekend. If it’s okay with you I’ll go on gardening leave from next week and the ACC needn’t set eyes on me again. You can inform me when I need to return to sort out my financial details and return my things.”
“No problem, Phil,” said the DC. “I envy you mate, getting out while you’re still sane. I can’t wait for the chance to retire.”
As the door closed behind the DC, Phil Hounsell got up and walked around his office. So this was how his career would end. He could forget about the sign on the wall with that favourite French saying of his. He would keep the news of his retirement under his hat tonight. If the Divisional Commander got a green light for retirement on full pension and no stains on his record; he could tell Erica at the weekend. He wondered how she felt about being married to a pensioner.
Thirty miles away at Larcombe Manor, the morning meeting had been brief but interesting. Athena wanted to get the items on the agenda cleared as soon as possible. She needed to meet individually with her three confidantes; events in Ibiza had brought the timetable forward. Olympus had to uncover the identity of their enemies without delay.
As always Olympus affairs came before everything else. Once she was satisfied every one of the bases had been covered, then and only then would she take that pregnancy test.
At nine o’clock Athena, Phoenix and the others gathered in the drawing-room. Giles Burke was first in the firing line for her questions.
“What news Giles from Eton Wick? Have the police made the link between the film crew and the opposition that this gang faced? Are the police any further forward in identifying these men?”
“I’ll take those one at a time, Athena, if I may. As you can imagine, the world’s media has found its way to Eton Wick since yesterday. The police still maintain a large presence, guarding the perimeter of the farm, the garage, and the farmhouse. The police seem satisfied that Christopher Mellish took his own life. He had been drinking. They found an empty bottle of scotch on the table by the body. Fingerprints on the fleet of vehicles in the garage have been taken. There is no indication that any of the gang entered the farmhouse. Indeed, they discovered little to suggest that anyone except Mellish had been inside the house for a considerable time. Formal identification will take a while. These men had no arrest records on UK soil. Artemis has continued to trawl through police radio traffic, local radio stations, and the local press. So far nobody has provided the police with a statement. Today, most of the media have moved on from Eton Wick to cover the naming of the Queen’s great-grandson and doctors wanting double-time for weekends. Nothing stays on the front page for long in this fast-moving world. We are on top of things for now. We are poised to spread misinformation the second the situation changes. I’ve almost completed the back-history for DAF and covered my tracks sufficiently to outwit the vast majority of people who might carry out searches.”
“Excellent, as always, Giles,” said Athena, “let’s hope things stay unchanged.”
Athena then went through the funeral arrangements for Erebus. It would be a small family affair; where ‘family’ meant close Olympus colleagues who could be seen in public. There was to be no announcement in the press, nor had his former naval colleagues been contacted.
“He deserves far better,” said Phoenix. “A state funeral would be more like it considering what he has done for the nation over the years. Unfortunately, nobody knows about it.”
“We know, Phoenix,” said Rusty, “and we’ll remember him whether we go to the funeral or not. He knows we’ll be there in spirit.”
“What progress have you made on the direct action we sanctioned against the slum landlords Rusty?” asked Athena.
“It’s still in the early planning stages,” replied Rusty. “I need a contribution from Phoenix when he can be spared. A meeting in the orangery perhaps tomorrow morning? As soon as that’s completed we can go ahead.”
Phoenix was only too keen to agree to the get-together. He hoped Athena wouldn’t deny him this early opportunity to get back into the action. Eton Wick had been tough but missions such as that were what got his heart thumping.
“Agreed,” said Athena, “but if you two are going to be involved in the mission, please take care. I need you here at Larcombe to help to deal with the problems which have surfaced after the death of Erebus.”
“You are still convinced that he was murdered then?” asked Alastor.
“We are,” replied Phoenix, “and that it may be the first step in an organised campaign.”
“We must be on our guard,” added Athena. “To that end, I should like to finish today. I wish to talk to Minos, Alastor and Thanatos for a few minutes about the funeral arrangements. So if you gentlemen have nothing urgent to raise, I’ll let you get on with your business.”
Phoenix and the others knew when they weren’t wanted and headed for the door. Athena gave Phoenix a reassuring smile as he left. He wasn’t yet aware of the research that the Three Amigos had been carrying out for her. There was very little to add to what they’d already discussed about the funeral, the information concerning the ten Olympians was paramount.
The team needed to increase the intensity of their checks to uncover the faction that was working to overthrow the current regime. The Titans seemed as good a name for them as any. Athena wanted to discover who murdered Erebus, or who ordered his death, just as much as Phoenix.
Her three colleagues who remained in the drawing-room were eager to share the knowledge they had gathered since their last individual meetings. Athena still wanted to maintain the secrecy of each man’s investigations for as long as possible. She assured them that in time everything would be made known to the whole team.
It was a delicate matter. She didn’t realise that Gavin had been totally loyal to his employer. In her mind and that of Phoenix, there was a suspicion he was somehow involved. Time would prove otherwise. That time was not today.
It was something she could not bear to consider. It was possible that one of the men she shared this table with every day could have been tempted by the opposition to change sides. The less that each of them knew about the bigger picture they were contributing towards the better.
Athena decided to work with the Three Amigos in alphabetical or
der. She asked the others to leave and she and Alastor trawled through the data he had amassed so far. Meetings with the other two followed, and it was late in the afternoon before Athena returned to her rooms. Phoenix was nowhere to be seen. She found a note that said he was spending his downtime in the swimming pool, and then the gym.
“Poor boy,” she thought, “he’s bored.”
Athena sat and picked up the folder that Minos had presented to her. This one had definitely spiked her interest. It was a story that only a handful of people were aware of, certainly not her adoring fans. It was the real-life story of the lady known to Olympus as Demeter.
Philomena Victoria Jacinta de Beauchamp Alexander, (code name Demeter)
Although she is often described simply as the goddess of the harvest, she also presided over the sacred law and the cycle of life and death.
Philomena was born in Surrey in 1950; her parents were from one of the oldest and richest families in the country. She was privately educated in Surrey and Geneva. Aged sixteen she ran away from her boarding school and returned to London. She wanted to be part of the Swinging Sixties and loved to sing. Within weeks, a record producer had taken her under his wing. Her first single ‘They Don’t Have To Know’ rocketed to the top of the charts and stayed at Number One for four weeks. The teenage phenomenon that was Honey B was born.
The record producer was to be her first husband. That relationship was doomed from the start. He was thirty years her senior. He taught her everything she needed to know about the record business and opened many doors for her. In reality, he was merely a stepping stone as far as Honey B was concerned. He was cast aside within eighteen months. Philomena was aiming higher.
As the decades had ticked by, her hits had not dried up like many other artists of her generation. Honey B was a chameleon; she changed her image, her style of music, nothing prevented her from staying in the spotlight. Other groups and solo singers came and went. Honey B had fought her way to the top and intended to stay there. Her reputation as being difficult to work with was legendary. She switched record labels and managers apparently on a whim; although without exception it was because she anticipated a new trend or a slight dip in popularity.
Expensive and drawn-out court cases kept her name firmly in the media. Those cases cost her millions on occasion. Her victories came with the huge record sales and sell-out concerts that followed the free publicity. The public continued to love her. As she morphed into a new persona with each decade her fans spread across all ages and all over the world.
Husbands two and three had been hand-picked. Honey B wanted someone younger, extremely good looking and always in the media. She married an actor and kept him on a short leash for ten years before cutting him loose. After a short career break when she disappeared from the public eye for several months, she dated, then married a sportsman. An international footballer fifteen years her junior. He was never off the back pages and he and Honey B never out of the headlines.
When he retired through injury; he was finished. Honey B divorced him and her present husband was a mere twenty-eight-year-old. He had been a TV presenter since the age of eighteen and was popular with children and those youngsters who grew up with him on their screens.
Honey B was sixty-three years young and could afford cosmetic surgery to look a few years younger. Her entertainment star still stayed in the ascendancy. Her personal fortune was around seven hundred and fifty million. The money and property that Philomena Victoria Jacinta de Beauchamp Alexander had inherited when her parents died made that pale into insignificance.
Minos had done well. He had uncovered a history that explained a lot more about the reasons for Demeter being at the top table of the Olympus Project. It also showed that Honey B as a potent force. Everyone in her entourage was expendable; nothing would stop her being successful. Athena knew that she would prove a formidable enemy.
Athena put the folder to one side. One more potential enemy that she now knew far better. She was satisfied with her progress. She had time now to think of herself for a while. Athena searched around in her handbag, found what she needed and headed for the bathroom.
At around half past five Phoenix wandered into the lounge. Athena sat on the sofa. She patted the seat, suggesting he sat beside her.
“We are going to be parents, Phoenix,” she said.
“Happy days,” he replied and kissed her.
Athena wondered why she ever worried; now all she needed to do was tell her parents. That should be fun.
EPILOGUE
Monday, July 29th, 2013
A quiet weekend gave everyone the chance for reflection. The month of July was almost at an end. It had been a period of intense action and constant change. Phil Hounsell had bumped into an old adversary while on duty at Glastonbury but couldn’t quite place who they were. His job satisfaction was at an all-time low. He counted down the days to his retirement.
Zara Wheeler had left the police service and committed herself to share her life with Rusty at Larcombe Manor for the Olympus Project. She had already begun establishing herself as a valuable asset in the intelligence section, working with Giles Burke.
A vicious gang of Bulgarians had eliminated the ram-raid gang that frustrated the West Country authorities for months. Over a few short weeks, the gang led by Dimitar Marinov launched a reign of terror that left dozens dead and injured. Before those attacks could be escalated their hide-out at Eton Wick was discovered by Olympus. Phoenix and Rusty led a successful attack to wipe them out; but not without losing one of their most valuable agents, Jack Mould.
Athena and Phoenix had attended their long-awaited first meeting with the upper echelons of the Olympus Project. It took place in London in the middle of the month. Clearly, since Erebus had retired, there were those sat around the table plotting to take control. Someone intended to take the organisation in a new, more sinister direction.
More evidence of the dangers posed by this splinter group within Olympus was demonstrated by the murder of Erebus on the island of Ibiza. Gavin his crewman was to be killed too, by a mystery assassin who was sailing Erebus’s yacht ‘Elizabeth’ home to the UK.
Despite advising his ACC he would be wasting his time searching for the foreign gang in his area and as good as pointing him to the place he should be investigating, Phil Hounsell had been ignored. Later, when the gang was disposed of by Phoenix and his team, the ACC was under severe pressure to explain his tactics. He wanted a scapegoat; Phil agreed to take the blame anonymously and took early retirement on a full pension.
Athena had started to research the other Olympians. Trying to discover who was for them and who might be an adversary. Minos had discovered that Demeter, the nation’s favourite pop singer was not the person the world imagined her to be.
As the month ended, Athena and Phoenix were celebrating the news she was expecting their first child. A quiet weekend was fully deserved after all that; don’t you think?
* * *
Book Five
The Price of Treachery
Table Of Contents
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
Good luck in your new venture, the card read.
It was one of a handful of cards from well-wishers that had arrived at the Hounsell house in the past few days. Phil Hounsell was making a fresh start.
The Divisional Commander had been a man of his word. Phil had walked out of his job with his h
ead held high and a full pension. He had cleared his desk on Friday afternoon, then spent the best part of August in the garden at home or on holiday with Erica and the children.
The ACC was able to save his career by the skin of his teeth. A gullible public swallowed his story that ‘heads had rolled’ at Portishead after the debacle of the hunt for the Bulgarian killers; in truth, the shrinking numbers were more to do with austerity cuts or fellow officers giving up the pointless struggle and quitting the service.
The identities of the murdered men had emerged as the new month had progressed. Dimitar Marinov and his cronies were exposed as a collection of career criminals and ruthless enforcers. The media questioned how these murderers just waltzed through immigration control without anyone wondering whether they were the calibre of person the UK really needed.
As for the gang’s killers, there had been little progress on that front. A few local residents had contacted the police to ask if they knew about the film crew in the area that weekend. Confusion reigned over the name of the company involved.
Memories were hazy; it seemed so innocent at the time. A trifle inconvenient to have gunfire in the background while serving breakfast or driving out to fetch the Sunday papers. Not important enough to remember every detail on an apparently official sign. The Met police were passed the information by the local police and when added to the sum of everything they gathered at Eton Wick, it amounted to very little.
The media’s attention switched to new matters; the killings had stopped and the Met were following up dozens of leads gained from the Bulgarian’s homes. Dimitar Marinov was proven to have been involved in the trafficking of drugs and young women. Dozens of properties were raided and the smiles on the Met senior officers were getting broader by the day.
For the time being, the possible existence of a second ruthless gang of killers was pushed to one side. There were five hundred gangs from which to choose. They could only tackle one thing at a time. As for the involvement of third parties, such as the one stationed at Larcombe Manor, for instance, it never crossed anyone’s mind. Giles, Artemis and the team could keep their misinformation tactics in reserve for another occasion.
