Break-In

by M G Leslie

  From now on, you will be giving us information and helping us provide misinformation – and if you do a good job, maybe you can see your family and go home. But if, on the other hand, you step out of line – well… you’ll wish you had never been born. I don’t yet know why you did you what you did, but I will find out in the next few days, believe you me.”

  The Chief paused again and the room fell silent before he said, “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” replied Mendax, in a quiet and frightened voice.

  “YES WHAT!!” said the Chief, suddenly with an extremely loud and aggressive tone.

  “Yes Sir,” said Mendax, even more shaken by the aggression.

  “Good,” said the Chief, in a calm tone once again. “Price, arrange for this man to be tagged, then see to it the Police collect his passport and brief his family. Mr Mendax – welcome to a new life – I suggest you make the most of it.”

  “Yes Sir,” said Price.

  “Thank you Sir,” said Mendax, as Price led him out of the room.

  The Chief smiled to himself as he returned to his office.

  It had been a successful day – one criminal was now an agent for the Firm, a relationship that could potentially last for years provided Mendax did as he was told – and another was in custody and going to prison.

  As he sat down at his desk, he wrote a note to remember to brief MI5 and get their contacts ‘inside’ to question the girl her during her prison term – that would be key in validating information Mendax would be supplying them over the coming days or weeks.

  Then the Chief looked at a picture on his wall – his was a modern, plain office that was clearly there for it’s function and not comfort. The only comfort item he allowed was the picture of London – taken in the centre and facing east, it showed The Tower of London on the left, with the River Thames in the foreground and Tower Bridge in the distance.

  Every time he looked at it, he thought, “This is what I’m protecting – this is why we do what we do – to stop people taking this away.”

  After a further pause for thought he added, ‘Who is Mary?’ to his earlier note and picked up the phone. “Get me Price please.”

  By this time, Price was back in his office, having handed Mendax over to another team for what was described as ‘Processing’. So he answered his phone almost immediately and said, “Price here Sir.”

  The Chief spoke, “I’d like you to spend a week de-briefing Mendax down at Fort Monckton. Speak to Richardson – I believe you know him – he’s done this kind of thing before and he’s the best. Put the fear of God in the man and then get back here. You’ll need to give a formal account of what took place in the Philippines and Hong Kong, under the strictest security conditions obviously, but once that’s all done in the next few weeks, I have another assignment for you.”

  “Understood Sir – I do know Richardson – we’re old ex-Para mates. I’ll get it done and get back here Sir,” then the Chief dropped the call. Price was extremely relieved. A week baby-sitting Mendax would be fine – he’d feared it would be a lot longer. In fact it might be quite enjoyable as he hadn’t been down to Fort Monckton, the SIS training centre in Portsmouth, for a long time, so it would be nice to catch up with a few old friends. With that in mind, he picked up the phone and called is ex-Para friend and told him to expect them.

  CHAPTER 13 – Break-In

  In the days and weeks that followed, Price gave an official account of the case before Joint Intelligence Committee, although he was obviously allowed to keep the likes of Lee and Pete anonymous, as details of their names added no value other than to compromise their positions abroad.

  Then, just as he informed the Chief he was ready for his next assignment, Lucy’s trial finally came before the Old Bailey, or Central Criminal Court, to use its formal title.

  The Old Bailey is one of London’s oldest and most prestigious courts where many of the most serious criminal cases in the country have been debated over the years. The present building, a grand stone building with a tall dome, reminiscent of St. Paul’s Cathedral, dates from 1902 when it replaced London’s infamous Newgate prison – the site of many public executions back in the 19th century.

  The Old Bailey has been updated a number of times – most recently with an entirely new wing being constructed next to the older building. One of the changes as the building was modernised, is the ability to transfer criminals from a vehicle to a holding cell and then to a courtroom via underground tunnels – thereby avoiding the need to move a potentially dangerous criminal through a public space.

  On the day of Lucy’s trial she was transferred from prison by a prison van with armed Police car escorts. This pulled in to a driveway at the side of the Old Bailey, where she was moved to a holding cell in the basement of the building. From there, the plan was to utilize the underground tunnels to take her directly to the defendants box in the designated courtroom.

  However, Lucy had other plans. Whilst in prison she had managed to arrange for a power cut in the basement of the Old Bailey at just the right moment. So when she was removed from her holding cell, still surrounded by armed Police officers, the lights suddenly went out and they were left underground in complete darkness.

  Lucy quickly removed her dark glasses, which she had been allowed to retain on medical grounds – even in prison. Her bright blue eyes enabled her to see clearly in the darkness and before anybody else could react, she smashed her hands in to one of the Police officer’s stomach, knocking his gun to the floor and winding him. Another officer, hearing what had happened, reached for a torch on his belt – but it was too late – Lucy already had a gun in her hand, which she wielded with brutal efficiency – in only a few seconds, all the Police officers were lying on the ground dead.

  Lucy’s legs were still shackled, but she had been careful to count her shots and had one bullet left, which she used to break the chain before running back down the tunnel to where the Police cars and prison van had been parked earlier.

  Unfortunately for the Police and prison authorities, other defendants were due to be delivered to the Old Bailey at around the same time. So the doors to Lucy’s freedom were unlocked and she was able to sprint out in to the road, replacing her sunglasses to protect her eyes from the bright daylight, and get in to a waiting car.

  As she did this, Price sat across the road and watched the scene unfold. He’d only gone there because he wanted to see her convicted after all the pain she had caused him. So, even though it was scheduled to be a closed court hearing, he’d made special arrangements to sit in the gallery, whilst a designated representative from the Firm, read out his own statement – although the court would not be aware of that of course.

  The last thing he had expected was to see her make a break for freedom – and worst still – apparently do so with some success.

  As the car, a blue Ford Focus Price noted, pulled away, he could hear lots of shouting coming from the building and Police sirens in the distance. So he shifted his car in to gear and followed at a safe distance – although not too far to see she was getting changed in to different clothes, which was not surprising really, as she had been wearing a prison outfit that would stand out in a public place.

  He briefly considered calling it in and letting the authorities know – but decided to see where she was going. A few miles later, they crossed the River Thames and the car turn right and right again in to a small side road and stopped.

  As Price drove past and pulled up at the side of the main road, he noticed that, aside from a blue Toyota Corolla parked on the left, the road she was in, was a dead-end overlooked by industrial buildings.

  This was always the difficult part of following someone on your own – do you get out, walk back and risk being seen, or wait and see what happens? But Price had a good instinct for these things – born out of years of experience working abroad, relying on nobody else except his own cunning and his own instincts. The Toyota had looked completely out of place –
so he waited. And sure enough, a few seconds later, Lucy got out of the Ford and got in to the drivers seat of the Toyota. Meanwhile, the driver of the Ford got out with a newspaper in his hand, set light to it using a cigarette lighter and threw it back in to the driver’s side of the Ford, before casually walking away as if nothing had happened.

  As Lucy’s Toyota pulled in to the main road and Price set off after her, he was surprised by the size of the fire in his rear view mirror – there was no way that could have been created by a simple newspaper – at least, not in just a few seconds, so they must have used chemicals in the car to ensure it burned and destroyed any evidence of their presence – “Very wise,” he thought to himself, “That’s exactly what I would have done.”

  A few miles on, they were heading out of London in a southwest direction down a main road called the A3. “At this rate, I’ll be home in a few minutes,” thought Price, almost as a joke to himself. But to his surprise, he was right, and a short while later they arrived in the London suburb of Kingston-Upon-Thames. From there, Lucy negotiated the one-way system, used the small bridge to cross back over the River Thames, which was much smaller this far upstream than it had been in central London, and turned right in to the Lower Teddington Road where she parked on the left-hand side.

  Price drove straight past her and hoped she hadn’t seen him as he turned in to the underground car park of his condominium – by this time, realising the obvious – she was after him!

  As he parked his car, he again considered calling his Chief of Staff – or maybe Special Branch – but decided against it. Instead, he took his Smith and Wesson out of his coat pocket and checked it was loaded and ready to go – he already knew it was, but it never hurts to check again when you’re almost certainly going to need to use it.

  Getting out of the passenger door, he was careful to look around – ducking down and cautiously making his way to the lift. Once at the lift, he’d be in full view of the entire car park as he entered. But he had no choice, so after scanning the car park for Lucy one more time, he stepped out in to the open and pushed the button to call the lift to the basement.

  As is typical of the brain in these situations, you hear things that you’d normally dismiss and ignore. Even a newspaper catching the wind from the car park entrance, caused Price to spin round with gun raised.

  “Get a grip!” he said to himself.

  When the lift arrived, he stepped to the side, then as the doors opened, he waited for a couple of seconds before taking a quick look and only moving forward when he was sure it was empty. As he pushed the button for the top floor and the doors closed, he wondered if she was already upstairs – or was she waiting for him to leave – or maybe waiting for night time – or maybe she had seen him and would shoot him as soon as the lift doors opened – should he have taken the stairs? Damn! Schoolboy error! Too late for that now he thought as the lift reach its destination with a traditional “Ding.” So he slammed his body against the side as the doors opened, with gun raised and aimed forward.

  It was OK though – she wasn’t there. So very cautiously he stepped out and walked down to his front door, only to find it ajar. So… she was inside and waiting for him.

  “You have to admire her,” he thought, “Only an hour ago, she was facing terrorism, murder and espionage charges that would have almost certainly caused her to be locked up for the rest of her life – but she makes a run for it – against all the odds, she succeeds, and immediately sets out on revenge.”

  So with that in mind, he put his left hand in his jacket pocket and gripped his gun before pushing his front door open.

  Price had a very nice apartment – not large, but it was on the top floor, with 3 nice sized bedrooms and, most significantly from his point of view, a large balcony that overlooked the River Thames. Indeed, when he was at home, which wasn’t that often due to his work, Price very much enjoyed sitting on his balcony and reading a book or quietly listening to some classical music. He liked the fact that he could watch the world go by and even look down on part of the river – although he frequently commented that it wasn’t particularly inviting, as it was full of sediment, so you couldn’t see the bottom.

  As he walked through the front door and closed it behind him, Price saw Lucy standing by the entrance to his balcony, facing the door with a gun in her hand. His gun was in his hand as well of course, but in order to try and avoid a gunfight in his living room, he kept his hands in his coat pockets – deciding that he’d try and speak to her first, “What are you doing Lucy? Why on earth did you come here? This is my home.”

  “You have to die,” she replied.

  “So this is about revenge then?” said Price.

  “No, it’s what I’ve been instructed to do – it’s just a job,” she corrected.

  “The person who instructed you now works for me. We know all about you and Mr Mendax, Lucy. We have photos of you together and, unfortunately, captured your private moments as well. It’s over – just give up and let me take you back to the Old Bailey.”

  “You’re lying – you don’t have him,” she said.

  “Your room was bugged in Paris, Lucy. We heard everything – we even heard him tell you to kill me. If you shoot me now, that’s just more time in jail. I followed you here from the Old Bailey. I even saw you change car.” Then he added, “I called it in – this place is surrounded by cops,” even though that part was a complete lie of course.

  “I don’t believe you,” said Lucy. “And anyway, even if you did follow me, you just got home and now I’m going to shoot you – so you won’t be able to testify against me. And if this place is surrounded, where are they? Why did you come in alone?”

  “This is my home,” said Price. “I came in here alone because I don’t really want it full of bullets. If you give up now we can do a deal – that will make a huge difference to your future. Maybe you could even work for us – what do you say? We could use talent like yours?”

  “Shut up – I don’t believe a word you’re saying – you’re just pleading for your life!” she said, almost spitting at him.

  Price had to admit she was partly right – whilst he most definitely was not pleading for his life, there was absolutely no way she could ever work for SIS. But he’d tried to talk to her because he hated what he was about to do – he was wearing his favourite winter coat from Tommy Hilfiger. It wasn’t particularly expensive and wasn’t even made from an exotic material – it was just, really comfortable and for some strange reason, he’d become emotionally attached to it. But he had no choice – this was a stalemate that he’d now resolve by creating a hole in her chest – and unfortunately, his coat – which he cared about a lot more.

  Then just as he was about to pull the trigger, and to his surprise, Lucy lowered her right arm and the pistol with it.

  Without moving or saying anything, Price just waited to see what she was doing – only to be even more surprised when she walked over to the dining table and put her gun down. Her attitude seemed to change completely – she smiled sweetly, reached behind her back, undid the zip on her dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing her completely naked body.

  “Mr Price, we got off to a bad start,” she said as she walked forward. “You’re right – I’m sorry. Please, let’s be friends – I want you to take care of me. I know you’ve seen how Willard took care of me and how I pleasured him – let’s make that you and me now. Please?” Then as she got closer to Price, she said, “You had a lot of girls during that week in Manila. I want you to add me to your conquests – take me – I want you so much.”

  For the smallest possible fraction of a section, Price was almost tempted. As he looked at her, he realised that she was extremely beautiful – he could see why Mike fell for her. That didn’t in any way excuse Mike for being a traitor to his friends and country – but he suspected that a night with Lucy would not be an unpleasant experience.

  However, he put that thought out of his mind, telling himself, “Don�
��t be stupid – it’s just an act.” Then he took the gun out of his pocket and pointed it a Lucy, “Put your clothes back on – the only ‘taking’ I’m doing with you, is back to the Old Bailey.”

  “You can’t shoot a naked girl – that’s murder. With me holding my gun, you could claim self-defence – but this would be murder for sure,” she replied, whilst staring intently at his eyes – her eyes not wavering for even a second. “Why don’t you take me now – see if you enjoy it. And if you don’t – well, I’ll get dressed afterwards and then you can shoot me. Fair enough?”

  “What am I missing here?” Price thought. “And why is she staring so intently at me – people naturally move their eyes when they have conversations – was this her seductive technique or is there more to it?” Then just as he was about to speak, he realised. As he went to open his mouth he heard the faintest in-take of breath. It hadn’t come from him, it most certainly had not been Lucy and it sounded like it was behind him – the kind of deep breath people take just before they strike something – or someone.

  In a desperate lunging movement, Price leapt to his right, but he was a fraction too late as the assailant who had crept up behind him, smashed the gun out of his left hand and grabbed him round the neck.

  Price struggled violently to break the grip as the arms, now wrapped around his neck, started to strangle him and make it difficult to breath. Lucy, meanwhile, moved towards her gun to pick it up. Despite his situation though, Price realised what Lucy was doing, and as she reached the dining table, he kicked out, hitting her hard in the abdomen. As she fell to the floor, he kicked again – this time catching her under the chin, knocking her backwards where she banged her head and fell to the floor unconscious.

  Then Price’s attacker adjusted his grip. “That was a mistake,” thought Price – the momentary lapse in pressure around his neck gave him room to move and thrust his right elbow violently backwards in several, almost stabbing motions. The assailant fell backwards as Price stepped away and threw himself forward on to the ground – almost like a rugby tackle – but on this occasion to grab his gun. Then, still on the floor, he spun his body around to see who his attacker was.