by Bill Ward
Powell hadn’t realized there was more than one checkpoint. Eventually, it was their turn at the window and Ben handed across some documents. They sat in silence until after a minute, the documents were handed back and Ben was able to continue.
Powell breathed his first sigh of relief and smiled at Jenkins.
Ben pulled into the side of the road behind the BMW. He got out of the driver’s seat and joined them in the back. Powell and Jenkins shuffled across to give him room. The contact walked form his car and took Ben’s place in the driver’s seat. Powell assumed events were about to get serious.
After a short distance, the contact took a left between a set of buildings in the center of the causeway all the way through to the opposite side of the bridge and began to drive against the flow of traffic coming from Bahrain, using a lane probably reserved for emergency traffic.
He stopped alongside another set of buildings about fifty meters from the last checkpoint coming from Bahrain. A security guard from the checkpoint walked towards the car and Powell held his breath. The driver wound down his window and spoke with the guard for a minute.
A box was handed over by the guard and passed to the back seat. Ben instructed Powell and Jenkins to put their passports inside the box. It was then returned to the guard, who walked slowly back to the checkpoint.
The time ticked by and Powell had never felt more nervous in his life. He had checked his watch for the hundredth time when the guard finally reappeared. He had only been gone ten minutes but it had felt three times as long. The guard walked back towards the car by himself. Surely, if there was a problem he would be accompanied by others wielding guns. The guard said something brief to the driver and handed back the passports.
The driver pulled away and took another small alleyway between the buildings to return to the other side of the bridge and back into the normal flow of traffic towards Bahrain.
Powell could see the final Saudi checkpoint up ahead and knew this was the one that mattered. The butterflies returned as their turn at the checkpoint arrived. They handed over the passports, which were only briefly inspected and then returned without problem.
As they left the checkpoint behind them and headed into Bahrain without problem, Powell had never felt so in need of a long, cold beer.
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Ben, David and their contact had deposited them at the first pub on the way into the city centre. There had been no conversation during the remainder of the journey across the causeway, except for the contact to ask if Ben could drop him in the centre of town. Powell had sent a brief message to Lara saying they were in Bahrain.
Powell gave Ben his phone number and told them to call if they fancied meeting up later for a drink and made it very clear he would be paying for all the drinks. They watched Ben reclaim the driver’s seat and head into the centre of town and then they hurried inside the bar.
The sense of relief Powell felt was huge. He stood at the bar with the biggest grin imaginable on his face as the barman handed them two pints of lager. They both downed about half without saying anything and then took the remainder of their beers and sat at a table in the corner.
“The others shouldn’t be long now,” Powell said.
“They’ll be okay,” Jenkins said reassuringly. “Their papers are in order and they will breeze through. It’s tomorrow when Lara returns with Mister Fixit that they are doing the dodgy bit. And by then we will be on our way back to England.”
Although he was feeling a huge surge of excitement, Powell knew he must reign in his exuberant mood until he received confirmation the children were safe. Angela Bennett would already have arrived at the Hilton but he didn’t want to call her until the children had safely arrived.
After half an hour, Powell decided he couldn’t wait any longer and called Lara. The call went straight to voicemail and he left a short message asking her to call back.
He was slightly worried but reasoned Lara had probably turned the phone off while they went through the Saudi checkpoints. He went to the bar and ordered two more beers. After a further thirty minutes of silence he called again with the same result.
“Shit,” he swore. His good mood had rapidly evaporated. “They must have been held.”
“Call Ben and see if he’s heard anything,” Jenkins suggested.
“I don’t have his number. He said he’d call us later.”
They both shared a concerned look.
“Who else can we call?” Jenkins asked.
“I’ll try Martin Thwaite.” Powell was relieved when Thwaite answered the phone.
“Have you heard from Lara by any chance?” Powell asked.
“Not today. Is everything all right?”
“Jenkins and I are in Bahrain but there’s no sign of Lara or the children.”
“Sorry, I can’t help. I’ll get her to call you if I hear from her.”
“Thanks.”
Powell tried Lara’s number again and left a further message when it went to voicemail. He was now convinced there was a problem.
Powell’s phone signalled an incoming message. He was relieved when he saw it was from Lara.
“What is it?” Jenkins queried, seeing the look on Powell’s face.
Powell had read the message twice in disbelief. He passed his phone to Jenkins and took a large drink of his beer.
“Fuck,” Jenkins swore after reading the message. “I don’t believe it.”
Neither did Powell. He took back his phone and reread the message:
Powell, sorry to do this to you but I’ve returned the children to their father. I really had no choice. You can work out the reason if you remember our previous conversations. I argued with my boss but he insisted. I felt I owed it to you to get you to safety. Return to Brighton and get on with your life. Lara.
“What does she mean about the previous conversations?” Jenkins inquired.
“The children’s father is suspected of working with ISIS. I would hazard a guess she must have done a deal to give back the children in return for information.”
“We’re lucky she let us get out of the country alive,” Jenkins said. “We know stuff that makes us a risk. Spooks don’t normally let people walk around with what we know in our heads.”
“I’m not sure she was being entirely altruistic. She wouldn’t have wanted us to be taken by the Saudis. We could have done a deal with them based on what we know. She had to either kill us or get us out of the country.”
I prefer to believe she just really liked us.” Jenkins grinned then added, “Well she must have liked at least one of us.”
Powell realised there was some truth in that statement. She would have been better served by tidying up all the loose ends but instead had helped them get to safety.
“It’s my fault,” Powell stated. “I fell for her pretty face and trusted her too easily. I shouldn’t have let the kids out of my sight.” He remembered how she made love the last time. It was as if it would be their last time ever, which of course she had known it would be.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I would have fallen the same way given half a chance,” Jenkins conceded.
“How the fuck am I going to tell Angela Bennett,” Powell thought out loud.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
Powell was deeply troubled he’d let down Angela Bennett but even worse was the feeling of having been played for an idiot by Lara. She’d waved her body at him and like a teenage virgin, he’d allowed her to take over his operation for her own ends.
Powell was sat in the bar of the Hilton with Angela Bennett. Jenkins was in his room as Powell felt it befell him to update his employer. He recounted everything that had happened from the time they arrived in Saudi and she had been very understanding. Inside, she was heartbroken but she knew they had done everything possible to rescue the children and said so more than once.
She was particularly shocked to hear about Baz’s links to ISIS and his role in helping fund terrorism. Powell also explained
that Baz wasn’t just a clerk handling visa applications but someone quite senior in the Saudi intelligence service.
“Are you saying he is a spy?” Angela asked disbelievingly.
“Yes,” Powell confirmed.
“Even when he was in England, living with me?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve all had too much sun.”
“I promise you it’s true. Baz was and is what we call a spook. While he was in England he was no doubt an important member of the Saudi intelligence community.”
“I bet he wasn’t playing golf half the time,” she said. “No one plays that much golf.”
“You may well be right. Golf makes a good excuse for meeting people.”
“And you are equally sure he is part of ISIS?”
“MI6 is convinced.”
“Well that explains a great deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I understand now why the government would find his information more important than the lives of two small children.
Powell was surprised at how she claimed to understand her government’s actions, even if she didn’t condone them. She was an astute woman and not naïve about the ways of the world.
Most mothers he knew would simply have broken down in the face of impossible odds but she was still determined to get her children back. She was going to return to England to continue campaigning. She had a meeting arranged with her local member of parliament and she now had more ammunition for pushing the government into helping her cause.
Powell was worried she might think she could use what he had told her about Baz and ISIS to blackmail the government into helping her recover her children. He warned her against ever saying anything in public or to a newspaper. She seemed to grasp the implications of what he was saying.
Baz was such a significant asset, Powell had no doubt MI6 would go to any odds to protect him and that might include silencing Angela Bennett. Hell, even he and Jenkins weren’t necessarily safe. He didn’t want to be suffering any unlucky accidents in the near future. The fact they had both worked for the Security Services, albeit Jenkins in an unofficial capacity, would hopefully convince the powers to be that they could be trusted to keep their mouths shut. Brian would be able to put in a good word for them, probably already had done.
Powell could recall from his time in the Security Services when decisions were made, which would inevitably lead to someone innocent being killed but they deemed it necessary for the greater good. He could imagine the spooks sitting around a table debating whether they should let them live or die. He wondered how he had ever been party to some of the things that took place in the old days.
If Angela’s meeting with her member of parliament was a dead end then she had decided her next step would be to look for a job in Saudi, maybe teaching English at a language school. She would never give up on getting back her children. Powell was sure that if Angela did end up in Saudi, she would be paying Lara a visit. He would like to be a fly on the wall at that meeting.
Before going to bed, Angela wished him well in the future and thanked him again for what he and Jenkins had done. At least her children now knew she wasn’t dead and was desperately trying to get them home. Baz would be dealing with some very difficult questions from Karim and Laila. Perhaps they would be able to shame him into doing the right thing and granting her some form of access.
“This stinks,” Jenkins said as he joined Powell in the bar.
They had decided to move on from beer to shorts so both of them were now drinking whisky. In Powell’s case with ice and ginger ale. Jenkins had it with just a little water added.
“I can’t just go home and pretend none of this ever happened,” Powell said, looking down at his drink and nodding his head from side to side.
“We have no choice.”
“You don’t understand. If I don’t bring those children home, Bella’s death was for nothing.”
“How’s that?”
“If I can achieve some positive outcomes, helping people in need, then Bella didn’t die for nothing. If she was still alive, I’d be back at my bar living life as I had for the last twenty years but because of her death, I’m in Bahrain trying to right a serious wrong. Some good can come out of her death and that makes it just a little bit more bearable.”
“There’ll be other opportunities, it’s not as if there is any shortage of things needing putting right in the world.”
Powell knew what he needed to do but this time he would work alone. “I’m going back,” he said with conviction.
“It’s madness. You’ll never get to the kids again.”
“Not necessarily true. They definitely won’t be expecting me to try again. Lara will have told Baz I am safely out of the country and on my way back to England.”
“What’s with this ‘me’?”
“You’re going home. It is madness and I don’t want you getting further involved.”
“Wait a minute,” Jenkins interrupted. “Even as a team it’s proved difficult. You need my help.”
“It’s too risky. I’m very grateful for what you’ve done so far but I’m ending your contract. If I need your help, I know how to get hold of you.”
“You’re serious aren’t you?”
“Very. In the morning I’m going back over the causeway alone. My passport is in order and I’m going to return from a weekend away like so many others.”
Powell would never be able to live with himself if he took Jenkins with him and they ended up getting caught. It was okay for him to act foolishly but Jenkins had more life left to live. He’d mentioned that one day he would like to have children like Karim and Laila. He couldn’t do that from inside a Saudi jail.
“Have you told Angela?” Jenkins asked.
“No, I don’t want her to know. I don’t want to raise her hopes anymore. She’s been through enough. If you see her in the morning tell her I already left for England.”
“How you going to get out next time? Of course, you could always ask Lara for help, I guess,” Jenkins said sarcastically. “Even if you can get the kids to go with you again, you now know how difficult it is to get out the damned country.”
“I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Tonight I just want a few drinks.”
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Powell slept in until late morning and was definitely nursing a bit of a hangover when he ordered brunch in the smaller of the hotel’s restaurants, which stayed open all day. Feeling better, he hired a car and paid the necessary insurance to be able to take it into Saudi. He chose a Toyota Land Cruiser, which was just about the biggest vehicle he’d ever driven but he quickly found it wasn’t short of acceleration or speed.
The reverse journey over the causeway went without incident. Powell felt quite relaxed because with the children returned to their father, he was fairly certain he was no longer being hunted. Certainly, no one could expect him to be re-entering the country. He was using the passport in the name of Smith, which was a risk but less of one than using his own name because it now had the correct stamps.
He knew most people enjoyed the weekend to the full in Bahrain and didn’t return until the evening so he intentionally set off at two o’clock to miss the worst of the traffic. He sailed through the checkpoints and was soon speeding towards Riyadh.
The journey gave him plenty of time to think and he decided he needed to strike quickly, while they expected him to be licking his wounds and on the way back to England. He hoped Baz hadn’t decided to take the children to live somewhere else but that seemed unlikely. His work probably required him to be in Riyadh and the kids were enrolled at school.
If Lara was pumping him for information then she wouldn’t agree to his rushing off anywhere but returning his kids didn’t seem enough reason to justify his turning on ISIS. Perhaps she had discovered evidence of his involvement with ISIS and was blackmailing him. That was more likely.
Then it hit him like a thunderbolt. Could she have snared Ba
z with her body like she had him? After all, he had easily fallen for her charms. He had foolishly thought he was attractive enough for her to be desperate to sleep with him the very first evening they had spent in her house. What was he thinking? She was a beautiful woman and there must have been better options available to her.
Where had she gone the second night they spent in the house? She had returned late, having lost her appetite for sex. He remembered it clearly now. She had said she had a meeting to discuss how to get them out of Saudi. He swore out loud at his stupidity and his gullibility.
The more he thought about it, the more he believed Lara had played both him and Baz like some sort of Mata Hari. As that thought developed so did the answer to how he would persuade Lara to help him get the children out of the country.
He drove straight to the centre of the city and spent a couple of hours searching the shops for what he wanted. Eventually a helpful assistant in one shop directed him to a large shop on the edge of town, which sold the one important thing outstanding and without which his plan could not succeed.
He drove to the compound and slowed at the entrance to speak with the guard.
“Hello,” he said, cheerfully. “Me again. I’m visiting Martin Thwaite.”
The guard checked the list on his clipboard. He wrote down the car’s registration and then waved him through.
Powell drove towards Thwaite’s house but once out of sight of the gate he changed direction and parked a few houses from where Lara lived.
As he approached the house he was pleased to see Lara’s lights were on, which suggested she was home. It was nine at night and he would have been surprised not to find her home.
He walked confidently to the front door and knocked. He turned his back on the spyhole, hoping Lara would open the door despite not being able to see who was outside.
She obviously felt secure in her home because she quickly opened the door. He turned to face her and enjoyed the look of shock on her face.
