At that point airfield security arrived with klaxons blaring and guns at the ready. The VP moved to a window to find out what was happening and couldn't believe it………
The guards tried to explain but it sounded ridiculous. The caterers were, possibly were, but perhaps were not, insurgents.
‘Eh?’ queried one of the airport staff who had misheard. ‘What's detergents got to do with this?’
What was ‘an insurgent’ wondered airfield security who were actually more used to shooing pigeons off the runway than apprehending……..insurgents?
The entire contingent were taken to a room in the small main building where they were questioned. The VP tried to explain about their precious cargo but no one was taking any notice of him. Cargo was not their business if it had not been unloaded. Americans letting off guns and almost killing British caterers on British soil was their business. Someone pointed out that Americans letting off guns on any soil was usually a fucking disaster but the VP, in the interest of Anglo US relations and trying to salvage something from this fucking God awful situation, let it go.
Three hours later after much apologising, series of mistakes, wrong assumptions etc etc it was turning dark and they were allowed to return to the plane. From the building to the plane the VP had screamed at the guards at their imbecility and incompetence. There was no food on the plane as it was still sitting on the runway and they had to buy sandwiches and bottled water from a machine to take on the flight. Even that had gone wrong as they had no English currency and so the VP had stuffed a wad of dollars in the hands of a cleaner who had given him some pound coins. The non too bright but trusting cleaner had actually received a hundred and fifty dollars for about fifteen pounds worth of currency.
Back on the plane the VP went straight to the container with the gold and money, punched in the combination, to find………… everything in order. He let out a deep breath.
He was safe.
Not even he could have escaped the blame had that gone. He looked round at the guards and growled but said nothing. After fifteen minutes everyone had settled down and a degree of organisation had resumed. The VP had relaxed somewhat and the guards had somehow managed to make themselves invisible which wasn't easy when you are only a few feet away from someone who hates you and is more than likely going to get you fired. The flight crew were going through their pre flight check and getting air clearance.
Out of the gloom a large black BMW 4 x 4 with tinted windows headed for the plane. It stopped just short and a smartly dressed man jumped out and ran to the window where the VP was sitting. He stood on tip toe and waved a CIA card at the VP. In a moment the door opened and the man and a colleague went quickly up the steps. The FBI man looked quickly around and then moved to the VP.
‘I am sorry for this sir’ he said in a mid western accent ‘but I am from the CIA and this gentleman is from the British Security Services. Are you Byron Oberholser the Third?’
‘What the …….?
The CIA man cut him off. ‘Sir I am sorry but time is of the essence. You have a daughter Sarah Jane Tucket Oberholser?’ The VP nodded ‘And she is currently in Europe with a friend?’
The VP nodded but wasn't entirely sure. He was a very busy man and what with one thing and another……and she spent a lot of time with her mother…….or somewhere….?
‘I am sorry sir but she has been kidnapped by Islamic Extremists who are threatening her life unless you pay them money’
The VP was about to say something but the CIA man carried on.
‘We are taking you and your secretary and one of your guards to the US Embassy immediately. He has been assigned to stay with you until you are back in the USA’ He turned ‘Which one of you is the marine?’
‘Sir!’ snapped the marine.
‘You will guard this man with your life’ said the Agent and the Marine's chest swelled with pride at his mission.
‘You will leave one guard with your cargo and the British are going to help by providing two agents on the plane in case someone has found out your flight plans’
‘Right sir, please follow me’ and they clambered out of the plane to the waiting car whilst the two British MI5 agents replaced them in the Lear.
The BMW left and the Lear taxied down the runway to the Middle East and safety. As they crossed the southern English coast the cockpit door opened and a man put a gun into the side of the pilots face.
‘Listen to me’ said the man ‘and don't be a hero, either of you. We are not interested in you and in a few hours you will be back with your families. That is a promise. Put this immediately on auto pilot and get out of your seats and go back there. If you make any move to press any alert button or do anything stupid you have my word you will both die.’
The pilot and co-pilot did as they were told and moved aft where they found the guard tied up and sleeping soundly.
‘This is what we are going to do’ said the man ‘My partner here is going to tie you up. Again, please do not try anything or we will kill you. We will give you a tablet and you will sleep like your friend here. It's that simple. In due course we will land and you will be left on board still asleep but we will untie you. You can then leave when you wake. Is that understood?’
The man's voice had not been menacing and so the crew gave no resistance. Minutes later they were asleep and Biggles was banking the Lear through ninety degrees. He took the Lear low over the channel and headed west. In due course, still keeping very low, he headed south along the French coast and landed at a small strip in Portugal where they were met by a large van that would take the ingots to a small foundry to have its appearance changed ready for its next destination. By coincidence the Lear was then taken to the Middle East where it landed at an airfield owned by a young Royal. He had bought the Lear at a knockdown price, would have it repainted and serviced in the Gulf so no one would be any the wiser, and use it to impress his mates.
The BMW 4x4 headed through the night and stopped at a large building where they parked in the middle of a large car park. There were no lights. The back door opened and the Agent said ‘You stay here sir. I am going to get clearance. Under no circumstances get out of the vehicle before I return no matter how long that takes. This vehicle has bullet proof glass so you are quite safe. Do you understand Sir?’ The VP nodded. ‘The Agency and Homeland Security have stressed how important you are Sir and so you will be quite safe’ he reiterated.
The VP preened. The Agency had said that. And Homeland Security. Wow.
‘What about my daughter?
‘I believe sir that she is now safe and resting….’
‘How……….?’
‘Not now sir; we have to get you safe as we have reason to believe you are the main target due to your importance in the US of A’ and he closed the door.
‘Me’ thought the VP filled with a mixture of fear and adulation for himself ‘a main target…..’ He would be on the news, the chat shows and invited all over the place as a ‘hero’.
Freakin magic………
‘American’ Johnny and ‘Posh’ George walked straight ahead of the stolen BWM so that they could not be seen, past the large Leisure Centre and to the waiting car round the other side. In an hour or so the VP would convince the guard to peek out and in another half hour after that they would venture out into dark, cold Northampton.
H Chapter 10
Freddie
Benshima decided that it was time to go home and see her parents which she did yearly. This year she was with H and told him he was expected to accompany her. H was not enthusiastic. He was not really a social person and a week or so on a ranch that reared cattle and also had acres and acres of God knows what growing would hardly be fun…… but at times you just have to do what you have to do.
It was decided to have a real break. They would have two weeks in Barbados then fly over to Colombia. H had stayed at the Sandy Lane Hotel before but wanted a more private and casual holiday so he rang Freddie.
&
nbsp; ‘Freddie, its H’
‘H dear boy how are you?
‘Good Freddie and you?’
‘Times are a touch hard’ said Freddie despondently ‘but what's new?’
Freddie, thought H, must be down to his last two hundred million or so. Freddie had been in the hotel industry, the caravan industry, the camping industry, the travel industry and the property industry. In all of them he had somehow managed to buy very cheap and sell very dear. Freddie's business tactics were a touch ‘unusual’ and his tax avoidance ‘creative’ but that was Freddie. Freddie was worth a lot of money.
‘Freddie, do you still own that estate in Barbados?’
‘Yes dear boy. Do you want to buy it? You know me H I'll sell anything for the right price……..’
H smiled. Freddie never changed. Trading was in his blood. Along with the odd needle…..
‘Nah, I want a holiday with Benny’
‘Ah…the adorable Benny. Is she well?
‘Yes Freddie thank you. Quite well’.
‘What are you looking for H? What sort of dwelling would suit your requirements?’
The estate that Freddie had acquired about eighteen months earlier was quite magnificent. It had villas scattered over it that ranged from about one million pounds up to twelve million. Some on the estate were privately owned and Freddie owned the rest which were rented out. Freddie was currently making life difficult for the private owners so that in due course they would sell up, to Freddie of course and for a good discount, and he would own them all. When that was done Freddie would move it on to a large multinational and pocket another few hundred million.
‘I want a large villa, good views over the ocean, maid, cook’.
‘How pretentious you are’ said a chiding Freddie ‘how far you've come’.
Freddie had known H a long time. H let Freddy do the spiel. Freddie could talk anybody into anything. Nearly everybody.
‘I've got a four bed sea view’
H said nothing.
‘Perhaps something a touch bigger?
H said nothing. Freddie sighed…. ‘You take our long and happy relationship far too far……..Ok I have an eight bed, eight bath, with magnificent views over the ocean and golf course. Is that better?
‘Thank you’ said H ‘that's much better. I want to live like you for a bit Freddie’.
‘Dear boy, poverty would not suit you…’ Freddie had purloined the largest villa on the estate for himself. ‘Now that would usually be twenty thousand a week but for you my boy I think a touch off don't you?’
H let Freddie carry on with the charade. Freddie did deals. Even when there was no deal to be done Freddie had to do a deal. H could already smell the sea and feel the hot sand under his feet. Come on Freddie stop fucking about…..
‘…..So I'm thinking about twenty for the two weeks? Is that alright with you?’
‘That's very kind of you Freddie but perhaps a touch less for an old friend? You will be driving me to poverty at those rates’.
‘Aaaahhh………’ said Freddie very slowly ‘isn't it time the past went away H? Isn't it time we moved towards today, at today's rates, with today's conditions, under current circumstances? I do have a business to run H’
‘Freddie you know I will fit in with anything that makes you feel comfortable’.
There was another long intake of breath. ‘You have been a good friend for many years H and I appreciate that but we all have to make a living. How about ten grand for the two weeks?’
‘If that is what you want Freddie, that's fine’
A long silence…….. ‘Five grand all in’
‘Thank you Freddie’ said H sincerely
‘Thank you H’ said Freddie with warmth ‘I appreciate that’
After a few more pleasantries they hung up but not before Freddie had reminded H he would like the cash please before he went. H liked Freddie. Freddie was what Freddie was and you liked him or you didn't.
And H did.
A few years earlier Freddie had rung H about a little problem he had that was making him ‘very uncomfortable’. He was involved in a big negotiation involving millions and was looking at a huge profit if he could pull it off but it was all going wrong. He had borrowed to the hilt to do the deal which was essentially a domino deal. The end result needed everything to happen for it to be very profitable but if it failed it would all collapse and would financially cripple Freddie.
The deal was dependent on the sale, by three warring brothers, of one thousand acres of farm land that planning permission could be obtained for. It was about to be signed when one of the brothers decided to pull out and said he wanted to advertise it nationally for a better price. Freddie knew a big national would outbid him but even before then the banks would have pulled in their loans.
Freddie talked to H about his problem.
H thought about this and decided on a course of action to ameliorate the situation. Two days later there was an unfortunate burglary late one night at the brother's house that went wrong late. The burglars, obviously disturbed, had smacked him over the head and he had died later in hospital. The burglars were never apprehended (they had been whisked back to Dover where they caught a ferry home) and Freddie did the deal with the other brothers who wandered off to live in luxury in the Isle of Man.
For that help Freddie offered H a nice villa in Spain but H took cash instead. H liked cash.
So H could have ‘asked’ for the villa in Barbados for nothing.
But face dictated otherwise.
H Chapter 11
The Darkness
He was in a tiny, dark room…. waiting.
Cockroaches scuttled on the threadbare carpet beneath him but it was too dark to see them and they terrified him anyway so they became brave and went over his tiny feet. He kicked out…..
Dreadful fear made his tiny body shake.
It was the waiting….
More than anything it was the waiting…….
He used to hide under the chair but it made no difference…….
Waiting…….
He made himself into a little ball of humanity and squeezed himself as tight as he could into a corner of the room
Waiting………..
A sound!
He started to shake uncontrollably and quiet tears flooded down his face. Was it time? Would it soon be over? Please let it soon be over…..
The sound went away…..
But his fear didn't.
His nostrils filled with the overpowering smell of shit.
He couldn't stop shaking.
Another sound!
This was the sound he dreaded.
The footsteps got closer; the key turned in the door and then it opened. Fleetingly he saw the light of day, freedom, but then it was gone and he started to whimper like a wounded animal.
The huge beast came over and dragged him roughly from his hiding place. He squealed as strong fingers bit into his tiny arm and a hand went round his throat shutting off his air supply. He looked up into the smiling face only inches from his.
‘You know what to do’ it demanded.
He averted his head but felt the strong hands and his mouth opening …wider….wider….he couldn't breathe…….can't breathe…….choking…
He awoke, sobbing, taking in huge lungfuls of air. His face contorted like Munch's Scream and he shook as waves of terror hit him
‘No……..’ he pleaded to the vile being violating his mind and body ‘please….no’
The safe arms encircled him and Benshima stroked him gently, holding his face to her bosom
‘It's alright’ she gently soothed ‘It's alright. I'm here, you're safe now’
She slowly turned his tear sodden face to hers and smiled ‘It's me, you're safe now. You're safe now…..’
Her eyes; he looked at her eyes and it wasn't the beast……they were safe, kind eyes.
He sobbed and sobbed then curled up into a foetal ball and clung to her as tight as he co
uld. Benshima held him, stroked him, soothed him until the fear subsided and the tiny child went back to sleep……
H Chapter 12
Holiday
On the plane to Barbados H looked at Benny who had curled up like a child and sleeping softly. He felt a mixture of emotion but most of all he felt protective. He adored this woman and wanted to keep her ‘safe’. He wasn't quite sure what ‘safe’ actually meant but he was certain beyond any doubt that that was what he wanted to do.
H was an avid reader, given time, which was rare these days and he enjoyed what words conveyed and when he looked at Benny he felt a compulsion to write. About Benny.
About the sea and the beach and its effect on people; especially Benny. Benny was excited at going to the beach. Like a child.
Benshee goes down to the beach…Benshee goes down to the beach..
He gave it more thought and made himself a promise to try and articulate it on paper when he was there.
The plane did not have first class and H's six feet two was cramped into the chair. He made a mental note to write to the MD of the airline and explain that they were using planes made for midgets; or blow up his offices; or kill him…..For the next hour H amused himself by plotting ever more elaborate schemes of death and destruction for the unknown, unseen MD of the airline.
The palatial villa overlooked, as Freddie had promised, the vivid green of the golf course onwards to the shimmering blue ocean. It was breathtaking and Benny said ‘You must be well connected’
‘Is that code?’
They explored the villa, obviously furnished to the highest standards and custom-designed with a local coral-stone finish and decorated in soft Caribbean hues. The magnificent hall had expensive marble flooring and towering windows. Looking from hall the eye went straight out and beyond to the sea. Everything in it was vast with space and light creating an indoor outdoor feeling. It was set within extensive grounds and lush gardens for complete privacy and security.
H When hell is the favourable option Page 5
