by Ted Tayler
“Something tells me you didn’t find me here in this café by chance,” said Phoenix, “have you been following me?”
“You would have spotted me,” grinned Mick, “no, it was just my good luck. I was leaving the station when I saw you pause on the pavement. I wondered why anyone would turn around and head in the opposite direction unless they had an aversion to police stations. Then the face and the way you walked brought it back.”
“I’ll wear a wig and a false moustache next time,” said Phoenix.
“There may not be a next time,” said Mick. “Look, the people you work for helped put away those criminals on Tyneside last year. My bosses were very grateful, but it didn’t stop the top-brass starting a covert operation trying to track you.”
“One more worry,” said Phoenix.
“You’re getting flak from organised crime, aren’t you?” asked Mick. “No big surprise. Police around the country continued to receive unexpected help in cases where they’ve struggled to find sufficient evidence to break these gangs and put people away.”
“We do our bit,” said Phoenix, “without attracting too much attention.”
“Several big names disappeared too, with no clues who was responsible,” Mick continued. “The team investigating your outfit put these disappearances at their door. My input early on convinced them you were good people using methods outside the law to get results. The trouble is there’s another bunch of people to concern us both.”
“Are you implying there are police areas giving us unofficial permission to continue with our work because of its positive effects?”
“You didn’t hear that from me,” said Mick. “In London, top-brass, intent on pursuing the PC culture that has neutered the police force, want you hunted like dogs.”
“So, these are the people you meant?” asked Phoenix.
Mick leaned closer and dropped his voice to a whisper.
“It goes far deeper than that,” he said, “you know the establishment in this country. A collection of powerful groups with a permanent need to protect their position. They will do whatever it takes to influence the democratic process, so it doesn’t threaten their interests. I’m aware in my job the law is rigged in favour of the powerful. Look who controls the media. The unemployed, those on benefits, immigrants, they are forever under the microscope. It’s designed to switch focus from those who wield the real power.”
“Hang on,” said Phoenix, “are you referring to this concerted effort to embroil us in an unwinnable war in the Middle East?”
“Why am I not surprised you worked that one out,” said Mick. “The public doesn’t have a clue.”
“What is their ultimate aim?” asked Phoenix. “We can’t believe they think an all-out war against ISIS is the way forward.”
“To understand that, you need to identify which power group is behind this campaign,” whispered Mick. “Are they on the extreme right or extreme left?”
“I’ve no idea,” answered Phoenix truthfully. “I don’t profess to understand the difference anymore,”
“This crowd are as far-right as you can get. You might describe them as an elitist faction with racist tendencies. In the past five years, they’ve grown in numbers but have never shown their hand in any local or bye-elections. They may have councillors and even MP’s in high positions, but they never adopted a party name to identify them to the electorate. That will happen at the June General Election. They plan for us to be at war with ISIS by that time. Can you imagine what this country would be like if they ever got into power?”
“Are there any connections with the Grid? That’s what we call the network of organised crime.”
“No confirmed links, but it’s entirely possible,” said Mick. “The Grid? That’s good. We had our eye on an Irish banker called Hugo Hanigan last year, but he’s disappeared. My superiors gave you the credit for that.”
“Cheeky beggars,” said Phoenix. “No, we had nothing to do with that. It must have been an inside job.”
“The O’Riordans’ had to be responsible then. Mother and son live in penthouse apartments in the City. Tyrone has a place from which he could throw a coin into his private bank in Gresham Street. Mother lives closer to St Paul’s Cathedral.”
“Write those addresses for me,” said Phoenix, “we’ve been after them for a while.”
“I couldn’t possibly sanction any action you might take,” said Mick, with a wink.
“I’m guessing you don’t know where we’re based?”
Mick shook his head.
“Not exactly. Our guess is you have teams across the UK.”
“We’re expecting visitors from the Grid soon. The outcome of that will determine whether we’ll be able to help in the fight against these conspirators. Just be aware, we don’t have the resources to fight on both fronts.”
“If we can work with you, allowing you to continue with your vigilante activities, then resources won’t be such an issue.”
“There are no guarantees we’ll get over this first hurdle.”
“Good luck,” said Mick, handing Phoenix a note of the two addresses, “and be careful. If you think this Grid lot are an evil bunch, they’re pussycats compared to the men behind this conspiracy. They will do anything to stay in power.”
Mick left the café. Phoenix glanced at the note. Two addresses and Mick had added his mobile number, with ‘keep in touch’ scribbled beneath.
Phoenix returned to his car. He could be back to Larcombe by six.
As he pulled out of the car park, he saw a man on the opposite side of the road snap a photograph on his phone. Someone was watching him. Had they followed Mick to the café? Were they checking on who he had met?
Phoenix changed his route home and drove straight to the M5. He raced back to Bath using the motorway system all the way. He parked in the transport section garage and left instructions to change the number plates on this car.
It was still only five-thirty.
Wednesday, 21st January 2015
Hugh Fraser’s funeral took place in Bishopbriggs, a town four miles from Glasgow. Hugh’s ex-wife didn’t attend. Zeus, Hera and Ambrosia represented Olympus. Several of Hugh’s colleagues from the Scot’s Guards were there, resplendent in their uniforms. It was as Erebus wished. A low-key affair. Zeus and Hera did their best, but Ambrosia remained inconsolable.
At Larcombe Manor, Athena and the others continued with the business for the day. The news from the policeman Phoenix knew as Mick, interested Minos and Alastor. They would use every method they could to identify the hidden power behind the men who had spoken out and written to date. Somewhere, lay a link connecting them together.
The addresses Mick had provided intrigued Athena. She asked Giles to access CCTV in the area to keep watch on the O’Riordans’ comings and goings.
“Any news from the ice-house, Giles?” Athena asked.
“Nothing new,” Giles replied, “by the way, Maria Elena is returning to Estepona on Friday. I think she needs to be with her family.”
“Understood,” said Athena. “I may visit my father this weekend. Hope will be with me, so Maria Elena would be at a loose end with you on duty.”
Giles looked at Henry Case. Henry raised an eyebrow. He was never demonstrative. While the Grid’s threat was so real, neither of them would get much rest.
Friday, 23rd January 2015
The agent killed at Orion’s house in Bath was buried at Haycombe cemetery. Henry attended the ceremony in the little chapel. Eight family members sat beside him. Outside on the hillside, the wind cut them in half when they watched the coffin lowered into the ground. The temperature never rose above zero throughout the day.
Maria Elena flew to Malaga from Bristol airport. Giles waved her off and hoped he saw her again soon.
Athena called her father after lunch. Geoffrey was over the moon to have his daughter and granddaughter join him to stay this weekend. He was even more excited to learn that Athena had something to tell him. Geo
ffrey hoped he could persuade her to stay in Burnham until Monday. He wanted to attend a Burn’s Night supper on Sunday evening.
Phoenix helped his daughter get ready for her trip to the coast. Hope was wrapped in warm clothes. Athena piled spare items into a bag.
“It will be too cold to go to the beach tomorrow, Hope,” said Phoenix. “You’ll have to play indoor games with Grandad by the fire.”
Hope gave her father a sympathetic look.
Silly Daddy, Granddad has central heating in his new house. It’s not an old building like our home, she thought.
Hope watched as her mother and father kissed and cuddled.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” asked Athena.
“I’m happier knowing you’re both safe,” said Phoenix.
“Take care,” she said.
He carried Hope to the car and gave her another kiss.
We’re only going for a while, Daddy, thought Hope. It’s no big deal.
Phoenix watched as Athena drove out through the gates and into the lane. When the car disappeared, he walked back indoors with a heavy heart.
Later that evening he called Mick. Not because there were matters to discuss, but he was on edge. His gut told him this weekend would be important. How important, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to check Mick was okay, in case his gut feeling concerned him, instead of those here at Larcombe.
He let it ring. There was no reply. It went to voicemail.
Phoenix had no message to leave, so he ended the call.
He called Athena as he got ready for bed. The trip to the coast had been fine. Hope was fast asleep and she and Geoffrey had enjoyed a late-night drink.
As he lay his head on the pillow Phoenix wondered if he should try Mick once more. He decided it would wait until morning.
Saturday, 24th January 2015
Phoenix was alone in the apartment. It felt strange. He made his breakfast and took it through to the lounge. Time to kick back, have a lazy breakfast and watch TV.
Nothing is ever forever.
The headline story on the nine o’clock news was of the death of an undercover policeman. Detective Sergeant Mitchell Ferguson had been involved in various operations across the North and the Midlands in the past three years. The Police were not prepared to divulge the substance of his current assignment. His body was found on Cannock Chase yesterday afternoon by a group of walkers. He had been shot in the head. DS Mitch Ferguson was thirty-eight-year-old and single.
Breakfast was forgotten, He called Rusty,
“Are you free?” he asked.
“I can be,” said Rusty. “Artemis isn’t needed in the ice-house until two this afternoon.”
Phoenix heard Artemis in the background.
“He wouldn’t call you unless it was important. Get going.”
“On my way,” said Rusty.
A minute later he tapped on the door and entered.
“Coffee?” asked Phoenix, finishing the last of his breakfast, “I’m running late.”
“Sure, what’s up?” asked Rusty.
“Mick, or rather Mitch Ferguson I mentioned the other day, has been murdered. The people who were watching me when I left West Bromwich must have been responsible. The police haven’t said what he was working on, or who they suspect. This far-right group were who he was investigating. Mitch told me they hadn’t found a connection with the Grid and these elitist maniacs, but O’Riordan has access to dozens of killers in the Midlands. If we could learn more on the hit, Giles and Artemis might find a name.”
“What do you propose we do?” asked Rusty.
“Giles is working throughout the weekend, isn’t he? I’ve got a mobile number I need him to trace. It’s still switched on. If he can get a location, it could help.”
“Leave that with me,” said Rusty. “You finish that food and get in the shower. I’ll catch up with you in an hour in the orangery.”
*****
Meanwhile, in Burnham-on-Sea, Geoffrey Fox had a smile on his face. It was bitterly cold outside, but the news Athena brought him last night would keep him warm inside for weeks. She was fourteen weeks into her pregnancy. The doctor had said in four to six weeks a scan could confirm whether it’s a boy or a girl.
While he and his daughter had a late breakfast, Hope went from room to room in the bungalow.
“What is she doing?” asked Geoffrey.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s checking everything’s secure. She’s making sure you haven’t left a window open anywhere. Who knows what goes on in that head of hers?”
“Have there been problems at home to cause her to be anxious?” asked Geoffrey.
“More than usual,” said Athena, with a sigh. “To be honest, that was the reason behind our visit this weekend. Phoenix believes we may have unwelcome visitors.”
“You’ve got vermin? Well, Larcombe is an old building,” said Geoffrey.
Athena laughed.
“Vermin? I can’t think of a better description.”
*****
By half-past ten, Giles had tracked Mitch Ferguson’s mobile phone using its GPS. Rusty stood looking over his shoulder as the triangulation technique arrowed in on the location.
“It’s in West Bromwich,” said Giles.
“The building closest to that dot is what?” asked Rusty.
“The West Midlands police station in New Road,” replied Giles.
“Call Phoenix and tell him I’ll be with him in five minutes.”
Rusty headed for the lift to take him to the surface. He entered the orangery to find Phoenix deep in thought.
“This is where that phone is,” said Rusty, showing Phoenix the details Giles had printed.
“I’ll call straight away and ask to speak with the senior detective working on the case,” said Phoenix.
Rusty sat across the table from his friend. This was something neither of them had anticipated. He wondered what Erebus would have thought.
“Good morning,” said Phoenix. “I met with DS Mitch Ferguson on Tuesday last. He asked me to keep in touch. After watching this morning’s news report I will need another contact. Can you find someone there who wishes to speak with me?”
The officer on the other end of the line asked who was calling. Phoenix told him to tell his superiors he had met Mitch working as a barman in Newcastle. They knew who he represented.
There was a brief wait. Then Phoenix gave Rusty a thumbs-up.
Phoenix was waiting to be connected to the Assistant Chief Constable.
“Good morning,”
“Good morning,” said Phoenix. “Don’t waste time tracing this call. I was gutted to hear of Mitch’s death. Maybe we can help you find the man who carried out the hit?”
“What do you need?” asked the ACC.
Phoenix sensed he was talking with a man in his fifties, someone a few years older than himself, who had been born in the Black Country. It was a relief. This guy had come up through the ranks and knew every blade of his patch. Mitch had suggested the people he worked with were ‘old school’ coppers. He hadn’t realised there were many of them judging by the muppets he saw on TV.
“The MO of the hit, type of bullet used, a possible weapon. Was Cannock Chase the murder scene, or was the body moved?”
“The body was moved. DS Ferguson was shot at close range on the driveway of his house. He was leaving to start a surveillance shift. I can give you everything we have so far. How do I reach you?”
“You don’t,” said Phoenix. “A courier will collect the data from your front desk in an hour. There will be no point following them. They will fax the data to us on a secure line while they return to their base. We’ll be working on the case before you could get the car started.”
“What next?” asked the bewildered police chief.
“We need to handle a minor dispute in the next few days. Can our people meet with you and your colleagues in your office next Friday?”
“To be clear, what’s on the agenda?�
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“Mitch Ferguson suggested we might continue our covert work. The major beneficiaries would be the public. Both the police and ourselves also have opportunities to gain from the partnership.”
“It promises to be an interesting discussion,” said the ACC, “and you can come here in safety. This could create a new beginning for law enforcement. Secrecy is of the utmost importance.”
“I won’t say a thing if you don’t,” said Phoenix.
The two agents sat in silence after the call ended.
“Wow,” said Rusty, “did that just happen?”
“I’ve taken a leap into the unknown,” said Phoenix. “As each day passes the threat from the Grid has become greater. The police will never overcome them on their own. We have helped where we could for eight years. Olympus has been fortunate not to have had its true purpose uncovered by the authorities. Either by the police or the secret services. Even by a zealous reporter.”
“You have put your trust in this group of police personnel who are fed up with the way the service they joined has changed,” said Rusty. “Let’s hope that trust isn’t misplaced. What will Athena’s view be? How will Zeus and the others react to your proposition.?”
“The talks will be the key,” Phoenix replied. “Whoever attends from Larcombe Manor must gain agreement to our continued anonymity. If we don’t have that, we walk away. The financing and the top-level operation of the Project must not be altered. The police can realign their depleted resources to cover areas of major public concern. We will continue to eliminate the hardened criminals, the recidivists and the terrorists. The prisons will no longer be full of criminals who will never be persuaded to change.”
“Can you sell that to Athena and the others?” asked Rusty.
“Can I sell it to you?”
“I’d follow you to Hell and back. You know that.”
“That’s a trip I hope we can delay until after this weekend,” said Phoenix.
“You’re convinced they will attack soon, aren’t you?”
“My gut tells me it’s close,” said Phoenix.
