by Ted Tayler
It appeared from the confirmed date of the meeting, that quest had been successful.
Giles and Henry waited for Artemis to join them, then they headed off towards the ice-house. They would soon disappear below ground to carry on the highly sophisticated surveillance and intelligence gathering in which the Olympus operations room excelled.
Minos and Alastor hovered. Athena could tell they needed a quiet word with her. She knew it was unlikely to be important; they needed to be reassured their perceived status in the organisation was still intact. Athena saw these few minutes massaging their frail egos as a small price to pay. After all, they were more than happy to graft away on the analysis and interpretation of the data generated by Giles and his staff.
Rusty saw his opportunity. As Artemis scuttled over to join Giles and Henry, he collared Phoenix.
“So, when do we start on this drugs problem?” he asked.
“Meet me in the orangery in fifteen minutes,” replied Phoenix.
With that, Phoenix left the meeting room and headed for the stairs.
Rusty glanced over to Athena. She had just finished chatting with the Two Stooges.
“What did he say?” she asked Rusty.
“We’re meeting in fifteen minutes, in the orangery,” he said.
“That’s good,” sighed Athena. “A few hours spent in his old surroundings might snap him out of this melancholy.”
“Don’t worry,” said Rusty. “I’ll keep him there until he breaks.”
Athena smiled. She knew Rusty had the Project’s best interests at heart. It was good to learn that at least one other person in the organisation had noticed her partner’s darker mood since the New Year.
“Handle him with care, Rusty,” she said, as she swept through the doorway and practically ran up the stairs to find Phoenix. With luck, they could spend a few minutes together with Hope before Phoenix left for the orangery.
“I don’t think kid gloves are what he responds to,” whispered Rusty. “I reckon a sharp dig in the ribs is what he needs right now. Then we can both get back doing what we do best.”
Rusty closed the door behind him and headed out of the house. The late morning sun was bright but still weak, as he walked at a brisk pace towards the building Erebus had held so dear.
Everything at Larcombe Manor was coming alive after the winter. Despite the chill in the air, he could sense the changes occurring. Spring was just around the corner. It was time for the estate’s grounds to come alive again. The time for Phoenix to rise again was long overdue.
CHAPTER 2
Little had altered in the magnificent orangery since Erebus had left Larcombe for his brief retirement on Ibiza. Although the sparse furniture was twentieth century ‘functional’, rather than its original luxurious fittings, Phoenix imagined little had changed in general since the early nineteenth century.
Orangeries had been used by wealthy landowners to house orange and other citrus trees to protect them from Britain’s harsh winters. By the time the Hunt family had this edifice built, glazed roofs were the order of the day. To allow as much sunlight into the building as possible. The ability to afford such a roof, made their wealthy family appear even more noble and aristocratic.
The impressive structure featured external stone and brickwork, while the interior was decorative and plastered. South-facing windows encouraged the maximum light to flood through and the walls facing north were thick, to protect against the cold. Phoenix had counted the fifteen tall windows as he strolled past on his first day at Larcombe; when the old gentleman had taken him on the ‘grand tour’ of the Olympus Project. As the months and years had passed, the one hundred and eighty feet long orangery had found its way into his heart, just as it had his mentor’s.
Phoenix understood how protective Sir William Hunt felt towards this place of sanctuary. It hadn’t been somewhere just to use for their meetings; a convenient spot perhaps half-way between the main house and the stable block where Phoenix had had his quarters. It offered so much more.
As he sat waiting for Rusty to arrive, he sipped from a cup of coffee. The sun was streaming through the plate glass warming him. It felt good to be alive.
Phoenix recalled a conversation when the old man had described the fine dining that had gone on here back in his ancestor’s time. The ‘great and the good’ were invited to the manor house, from the city of Bath, for the Hunt family to flaunt their wealth.
Times change; and his father had used the orangery for afternoon tea, in particular, in the height of summer; although these occasions were exclusive to his family, not for visitors. Erebus had continued this tradition with Elizabeth and Helen.
After the tragic death of his only child, and Elizabeth’s gradual mental decline, he returned here alone, to reflect on carefree, summer afternoons with loved ones. Those solitary periods of grieving had been the breeding ground for Olympus. A thirst for revenge; a desire to seek a reversal in the decline of justice. Above all, to ensure the punishment fitted the crime.
Four years on, the legacy of the old man remained. Phoenix understood his place now in the grand scheme of things. His life with Athena and Hope was precious. He would protect them to the death, but it was he who must take up the fight against the evils Erebus had created Olympus to defeat.
Zeus, Athena and the other Olympians managed the finance, the ethos and identifying the most appropriate targets for the organisation. He was the bringer of fire to cleanse the world of those who committed the most despicable crimes.
The door opened and in walked Rusty Scott. A steward followed him carrying a tray.
“Sorry I was so long getting here,” said Rusty. “I thought we might be here for a while Phoenix. I got us this grub. Is that coffee in the jug hot?”
“It is,” replied Phoenix, lifting the domed lid from the silver tray. His friend had clearly had to wait for the food to be cooked. The stack of food looked extremely appetising. He licked his lips. Erebus was right, times change; fine dining and afternoon tea had been supplemented by the humble bacon roll.
The steward left them alone and made his way back to the main building. Rusty fetched himself a cup of coffee, then sat opposite his pal.
“Right,” he began, “what’s going on, Phoenix? You’ve been out of sorts for ages. You’ll both be dog-tired with the new baby, that’s only understandable, but I’m concerned it might go deeper than that. Are you thinking of withdrawing from active service?”
“It’s been at the back of my mind, that’s for sure,” admitted Phoenix. “I keep asking myself whether I should place myself in danger with Athena and Hope to look after. I was just sitting here, waiting for you to turn up, thinking what the old man would want me to do. It didn’t take long to conclude I’m like the actor who lands a role and realises it was the one he was born to play. All his other performances are worthless, compared to that role. Erebus identified me as the person he was looking for to wield his sword of vengeance. Who am I to go against his wishes, whether he’s no longer with us or not?
“Hallelujah,” cried Rusty. “Artemis and I were worried you might be ready for your pipe and slippers. Carrying out direct action missions is what we’re best at mate. Horses for courses, as they say. I don’t want to take it easy yet either. We make a good team; I’d be hopeless on my own.”
“When we were in the meeting this morning, I was thinking of those early days when you were getting me fit, and training me,” said Phoenix. He’d finished his coffee and got up and walked across to get a fresh brew.
“You’re almost the last of the handful of SAS trainers still stationed at Larcombe since the Project began, Rusty. It’s a while too since we’ve recruited new agents. When Athena was informing us of fresh blood at the top, I thought we needed fresh blood here too. We’ve got agents who served in Kuwait, Kosovo and Iraq, but in the past two years, we’ve held our agent numbers steady around the world. I don’t want you tied up with training any new intake; you’re too valuable out in the field
.”
“Well, I haven’t missed training the newbies, I’ll admit,” said Rusty, taken aback with the direction the meeting was taking. He’d assumed they would discuss possible changes for Phoenix, not for him. “But I’d like to keep a handle on it,” he added.
“Naturally,” said Phoenix, “my vote is for you to update the training manual and then oversee your new master trainers. They do the work, and your role would be advisory.”
“Where do we source these ‘master’ trainers?” asked Rusty.
“Athena heard a whisper a month ago, that someone wanted to reconsider their role within Olympus. Kelly Dexter wants to start a family, and Hayden Vincent still has nightmares over Eton Wick. His leg wound wasn’t that serious, but as we both know, it was a hairy mission, and we lost good men that day. I think he wants to take a step away from the front line.”
“They could prove to be a good fit here,” said Rusty, “we know them well already, and they’re excellent agents. OK, they’ve got my vote. So, Kelly wants to start a family then? It will be good for Athena and Artemis to have another female around the place.”
“Maria Elena will be busy too; she’ll be running a crèche before she knows it. You’d better get ready for big changes in your own life, Rusty. Artemis will become broody.”
“Heck,” said Rusty. “I’m older than you don’t forget. I’m not sure I’m cut out for fatherhood. Let’s not think about that for now. Why don’t we concentrate on the job that Athena sent us here for first? Shouldn’t we be getting on with planning our response to this drugs problem?”
Phoenix moved the files he had on the table to one side. He took the lid off the silver tray and picked up a bacon roll.
“Let’s have lunch,” he said, “there will be plenty of time for planning that later.”
“This reminds me of the odd lunch we had together with the old man,” said Rusty, chomping on a roll. “God, that’s good. Artemis is trying to wean me off fast food and fried stuff, but it’s what I’ve always known.”
“Me too,” said Phoenix, “my first wife wasn’t much of a cook. Her mother, Kath was brilliant. Especially at Christmas, but although there were only seven or eight for dinner, she cooked enough for twenty, and hated to see it go to waste.”
When the rolls had been demolished and the jug of coffee exhausted, the two friends sat quietly for a few minutes, wondering what they were doing to their waistlines. Phoenix stood up, stretched, and Rusty realised it was time to get back to work.
“Athena wanted to add another item to the agenda this morning,” said Phoenix. “But we agreed to leave it until after the next Olympus meeting. There’s a new threat emerging in the Middle East. An area that will continue to be ravaged by war, no doubt, just as it has been for twenty years. I believe this latest outfit, ISIS, pose a bigger threat to our shores than Al Qaeda ever did. This terrorist organisation emerged ten years ago from the remnants of Al Qaeda in Iraq. It laid low after U.S. troops went into Iraq in 2007. But began to re-emerge in 2011, taking advantage of the growing instability in Iraq and Syria to carry out attacks and bolster their ranks. Fallujah and Raqqa fell to them in January. They are poised to launch an offensive on Mosul this summer.”
“What’s their main objective?” asked Rusty. “Why do you believe they pose a credible threat to the UK?”
“Their aim is to form a caliphate stretching from Aleppo in Syria to Diyala in Iraq, to create a so-called Islamic State. There is evidence to suggest young Muslims in mainland Europe and in the UK, are being radicalised and persuaded to join the fight. The freedom of movement the pro-Europeans are so keen on means ISIS members may already be in every major Western city, recruiting both men and women. The incidence of terror attacks as a part of their overall campaign is guaranteed; those attacks will target civilians and look to weaken the resolve of European governments to get involved on Middle Eastern soil. The Americans withdrew from Iraq, as did the UK and public opinion in the States are against going back in large numbers. My guess is US special forces may be there in the low hundreds, but significant numbers of ‘boots on the ground’ are something else.”
“If they come here causing trouble, we’ll help the authorities take them out; as we always do, Phoenix,” said Rusty.
“That’s why we need to recruit more agents,” said Phoenix. “We have adequate numbers to tackle the threats that face us at present, but not an all-out terror campaign. When I say ‘we’, I mean both ourselves and the UK authorities. Since 2010 this government has imposed year on year budget cuts on the armed services. There have been reductions in manpower across the board. Police and border control numbers have been slashed. We are less able to defend ourselves than at any time since the darkest days of the early 1940s. It will take a massacre of unbelievable proportions to get the government to abandon this mania for austerity and wake up to a few harsh facts.”
“There may not be so many of us these days, but quality counts,” said Rusty.
“We might not get the chance to test ourselves, Rusty. In the old days, wars were started by politicians, who argued until they were blue in the face. Then when they failed to get their own way, they declared war on one another. While they stood back and watched, the likes of you and I were sent to fight a few bloody battles to see who picked up the spoils. Today’s conflicts are fought out on Twitter and Facebook; if someone sailed their fleet up the Thames and landed troops in Central London, it would be all over social media in minutes. The public would be demanding to know what the government was going to do. The armed forces would fill out forms; check budgets to see whether they could afford to put bullets in the too few guns available. If I was them, I’d invest in a few thousand white flags, and hang the expense.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, mate?” asked Rusty. “Only you’re being even more negative than usual, and that’s saying something.”
“It’s the lack of sleep. If I could sleep for eight hours, that would be fantastic. To make things worse, Athena’s parents are coming to stay at Larcombe this weekend. They came to Bath to see their only grandchild early in the New Year. I was needed in the ice-house, and Athena took Hope to meet them at the Royal Crescent Hotel. Naturally, they wanted to know where I was. Athena had to cover for me.”
“I thought her father knew the basics of what you were up to here?” asked Rusty.
“Geoffrey’s no fool. Athena and I discussed the problem and, well you know how it goes mate, discretion is the better part of valour. Athena decided this time it will be possible to collect them from Bath Spa station and bring them to Larcombe. She plans to put them in rooms at the front of the house, overlooking the fields and the driveway. We’ll keep them away from the business end of the operation as far as possible. The thing that’s got me wound up is the ‘M’ word was mentioned on their last visit. So, the ‘B’ word could be tackled soon after.”
“Tricky,” said Rusty, with a smile. “Have you made any progress in deciding who you’ll be when this marriage takes place? If it’s such a hassle, why not just go ahead with the baptism, anyway? Nobody worries too much if couples marry these days, do they?”
“That’s another thing that’s contributing to my sleepless nights, Rusty. Athena’s parents are ‘old school’ and dead keen on seeing their daughter walk up the aisle, so Geoffrey can give her away. Grace Fox wants to invite loads of their friends to the wedding and reception. Athena and I would be happier, either staying as we are, or just having a simple ceremony in front of witnesses such as yourself and Artemis. If it was low key, I might get away with using my real name. Athena is against me hiding behind any assumed identity Henry Case might produce. Can you imagine trying to persuade Grace Fox not to splash news of their daughter’s wedding across the pages of The Tatler?”
“Hmm, I said it was tricky, mate,” said Rusty. “Glossy, half-page photographs of a man who died four years ago, with his beautiful wife might bring unwanted attention to Olympus.”
“Not to mention on me,”
said Phoenix. “This weekend could be a nightmare.”
“Let’s lighten the mood,” said Rusty. “Why not take me through the files you have and bring me up to speed. Then we can plan where to target our direct action. Even the murky world of drug dealing has to be better than what you’re facing.”
Phoenix gave a hollow laugh and turned over the cover of the file at the top of the pile on the table.
“These figures prepared for the Mayor of London’s office earlier this year showed over eighty London gangs operating outside of the capital. Gangs from more than half the thirty-two boroughs are involved, with those from Hackney, Brent, Greenwich and Newham knew to be the most prolific. Metropolitan Police data monitored the rise of fourteen ‘super gangs’ now active in more than one police area outside the capital.”
Phoenix turned over surveillance photos from the ice-house one by one. They showed transactions being carried out in dozens of locations across the east and south-eastern side of the country. Oxford and Cambridge; Guildford and Epsom in Surrey; Crawley and Harlow in Middlesex.
“Giles and his team found this evidence after only a few hours trawling through CCTV footage. This is blatant, Rusty. They don’t give a toss whether they’re seen or not. God knows how many deals are made inside pubs and clubs, in the local parks and open spaces. This is an epidemic. These dealers are now so prolific that they operate in every police area across Britain. They’re active in towns and cities within easy reach of London. Gangs have been seen dealing in many parts of Essex, and as far afield as Wiltshire and Hertfordshire. They’re everywhere. Three-quarters of drug-related arrests made by police in towns in Kent are for crimes perpetrated by London-based gangs.”
Rusty pored over the photographs, scanned the figures and blew out his cheeks.
