by Ted Tayler
“I couldn’t carry on in my job; I was given time off to recover physically and to grieve for my late fiancée; but in the end going back to Thames House wasn’t an option. I was suffering from PTSD; the nightmares I still suffer six years on are horrible, truly ghastly. During my waking hours the sound of a siren sends shivers down my spine.
Once I was on the outside, looking in I could see that the public had been fed an awful lot of misinformation about the attacks. For ages after, until I saw the advert in The Times that gave me a purpose in life, a cause that I felt was worth fighting for, I was drifting alone, reading reports on inquests, inquiries, conspiracy theories and the like. Nothing made sense; the numbers never seemed to add up, the time-lines became jumbled and I couldn’t untangle them.
In the end, the only conclusion I could draw was that there was at least some degree of cover-up. It appeared that HMG needed an atrocity to sell the anti terrorist legislation it was formulating and it got it, one way or another.”
Athena returned to her chair and sat down unsteadily. Colin wanted to go to her, to reassure her, but he knew that she would resent that. She was vulnerable, as Erebus had suggested, but she wouldn’t want his pity. After hearing Erebus and Athena tell their stories he recognised what a formidable number of grievances these two alone had brought to the Olympus group. No wonder the scope of the project was so wide ranging.
Colin looked to see which man would be the next to tell of his background.
CHAPTER 8
Christopher John Rathbone MM, former SAS Sergeant (code name Thanatos)
Thanatos - the demon personification of death; often referred to, rarely seen in person.
Thanatos remained seated and with a fresh glass of brandy, began his story. I was born in 1958 and joined the regular army at sixteen. Ten years later as an SAS sergeant I worked with FRU (Force Research Unit), an undercover security operation. Alongside other soldiers and double agents I carried out covert intelligence and military operations.
My superiors encouraged me to infiltrate the UDA and in ’87 after three years of taking part in various armed robberies and other criminal activities to gain their trust, I was finally accepted as one of them.
Over the next five years I provided details of suspected IRA members to the UDA; details that were supplied to me by my army paymasters. On occasions, I carried out assassinations myself when directed to by the British Army. Every day was a nightmare. I risked being killed by the IRA in one of several reprisal attacks, or uncovered as a British agent by the UDA.
Throughout the Troubles the British government colluded with paramilitary organisations. People like me were on the inside of those organisations. We had very little security during that period. In spring ’92 I was pulled out; my handlers were concerned about my mental state. Eventually I was posted to Bosnia for Operation Joint Endeavour. It was a pig of a job yet oddly I didn’t feel as threatened as I had in Ireland.
It was Christmas ’04; I had served my country for thirty years. They decided to dispense with my services. Pulling me out from my undercover role in the UDA had exposed me as a mole. I started to receive death threats in the post.
I demanded the MoD provide me with a new identity, relocate me if necessary. I had been promised protection and support when I agreed to act as an agent. Without that support I was likely to be assassinated. I discovered that I wasn’t alone; the vast majority of us were discarded without protection. In fact, the authorities have never officially acknowledged the existence of FRU and have take steps to prevent sensitive and classified information about the network ever being revealed.”
Thanatos looked at his glass and knocked the contents back in full, and then he leaned back in his chair, indicating that his tale was told.
Colin couldn’t imagine what living a double life like that for so long must have done to him; he wondered how many demons were still lurking in the poor devil’s mind.
CHAPTER 9
Michael James Purvis, Major, Blues and Royals Retired (code name Alastor)
Alastor – was the avenger of evil deeds, specifically, familial bloodshed. The Greek tragic writers use his name to designate any deity or demon who avenges wrongs committed by men.
“I was born in 1954 in Aldershot. My father was in the British Army and I joined as an officer after University in 1975. I was stationed in Detmold at the Lothian Barracks with the 4th Armoured Division. I did two tours of Northern Ireland; Londonderry in ’77 and Belfast in ’79 both of which were well before Thanatos came over for his stint.
The MoD had at last woken up to the fact that this was a guerrilla war and had put into place special counter terrorist training and a covert role for us soldiers. We were starting to get a handle on things; but oh so slowly. We had already lost the best part of fifty soldiers since the Troubles had begun and the Provisionals still had a couple of hundred gunmen and several dozen ‘godfathers’.
One thing was evident however; the pictures on the wanted posters in the operations rooms were of younger and younger kids. They looked as hard as nails! A look of hatred and ill-will emanated from those faces.
Inside the barracks we scarcely saw the light of day during our four month tour; we may as well have been on a submarine. There was always the threat of mortar bombs raining down and flattening our quarters. We were in bandit country but we maintained a level of professionalism, discipline and excellent morale throughout. It was inspiring to a young officer like me.
I got married in ’82 and moved into married quarters with Jennifer at Detmold. The Eighties and Nineties were happy times for us there; I soldiered on, literally and we started looking forward to me getting out of the Army and moving back to England. I had an idea that I’d like to teach and Jenny came over to stay with her parents for a while and started looking at houses near their place in Yorkshire.
We’d never managed to have children but just the two of us seemed enough, if you know what I mean. Anyway, things kicked off in the Middle East and everything went pear shaped. The Iraq business escalated to the extent that we were sent out there in May ’04 as part of the First Mechanised Brigade and Jenny flew back to Yorkshire from time to time to cope with me being away. There were plenty of wives in Germany to get together with, but she wasn’t keen on all the screaming kids around her ankles when she went to visit them.
On September the twenty third I got the call; Jenny was dead. Her parents had gone out for the evening and she herself was under the weather according to her mother, so had gone to bed with a book. The police told me she was stabbed several times in the chest; the intruder obviously thought the house was empty having seen the car pull off the driveway. Hearing someone moving around inside the house Jenny must have got up and confronted them. There were signs of a prolonged struggle inside the house.
Whoever it was that lashed out with a knife and took my wonderful wife from me was never caught. It was just a burglary gone wrong as far as the police were concerned. The intruder left empty handed; if he had stolen something, tried to sell it for quick cash to buy drugs, then the police said they might have tracked him down. As it was the investigation stalled within weeks.
I tried to throw myself into my work but it was difficult to find a reason to carry on; I kept asking the police what was happening with Jenny’s case and it got to the point where I think they were on the verge of charging me with wasting police time!
I left the Army at the end of ’06 and started to look into the possibility of teaching; although my heart was no longer in it. Six months later I saw the advert in The Times and knew, instinctively, that this was what I was looking for; a way to strike back at the criminals and get this country back on the right track!”
Erebus thanked Alastor for his contribution and invited the final member to take the floor. Colin watched as the only non-military man stood up alongside the old man by the fireplace.
CHAPTER 10
Sir Julian Langford QC, RGS Guildford, Churchill Cambridge (BA) and Wor
cester
(BCL), Lincoln’s Inn, High Court of Justice (code name Minos)
Minos – the judge of the dead of the Underworld
“I am fifty six years old and I retired four years ago having spent a lifetime in the legal profession. My wife Claudia and I had three children; twin girls and a boy. Our daughters are both married with children of their own. However, five years ago our son Harry committed suicide; he was nineteen. Harry was a first class student who excelled in physics, chemistry and mathematics; he was on a gap year before going to Cardiff University. He played a lot of sport and had a wide circle of friends. We were at a loss to understand why he would take his own life.
Claudia found him in bed at our home in Maidstone late one morning; he was usually up and about with places to go, people to see, you know what teenagers are like. She shouted for me to come upstairs and we tried to resuscitate him; we called for an ambulance immediately but Harry was pronounced dead at the hospital.
The post-mortem and toxicology tests indicated that he had high levels of a particular drug in his system. There were indications that he had been drinking alcohol too, plus they found traces of cocaine. It was too much to take in. We knew he enjoyed a drink when he socialised, but we had no inkling he was using cocaine; as for what killed him it was incomprehensible.
When the police examined his computer they found that Harry had been visiting online forums and researching how to end his life. He had trawled the internet to find a site where he could order supplies of the very same drug that is used for lethal injections in the States. They traced the invoice to a Chinese firm who sent the drug in liquid form to Harry with no checks on what on earth he was going to do with it!
The coroner had no option but to return a verdict of suicide. We assume that Harry had a sudden crisis of confidence, an inexplicable fear of the future, something he couldn’t share with us his parents, or with his many friends. It was a tragic waste.
Suffice to say that over the decades, either as a prosecutor or on the bench as a judge, I have seen a steady increase in the number of criminals and an equally steady decline in the degree of justice that the courts have been able to mete out. My life now is centred on dealing with those that seek to manufacture and peddle drugs of any kind and bringing them to face the appropriate level of justice.”
CHAPTER 11
The room fell silent as Minos finished the final story of the night. The time was late and Colin wasn’t the only one to be feeling the effects of a long day.
“Well Phoenix” said Erebus “there you have it. Those are our stories and our code names. As far as possible they were chosen to fit our circumstances. The Olympus Project was formed in order to give us closure, in modern parlance and to set about redressing the balance for the shortcomings of the justice system.”
“It offered a chance to take revenge too?” suggested Colin.
“Perhaps dear boy, but who could blame us?” said the old man, looking frailer than Colin had seen previously.
“You have been selected to join us to carry out those direct actions for which you are most suited; you’ve shown over the years that you are equally capable of planning and exacting revenge.” said Athena sharply.
“That’s true Athena” admitted Colin “I wasn’t being critical; you must realise I’m struggling to take in all that I’ve seen and heard today. For years while I was in The Gambia I convinced myself that I was the only person capable of doing what was crying out to be done to clean up the streets in this country. To be shown the scale of what Olympus can achieve and the tools you have available to back it up, well it’s mind blowing.”
“We have to be careful Phoenix.” cautioned Erebus “Our targets have to be selected carefully and dispatched without drawing attention to the true nature of what Olympus is about. Our direct actions have to be spread out, across the country, around the world, with different methodology. A cluster of bombings or shootings in one country would encourage some bright spark to connect the dots. We must avoid that at all costs.”
“That makes a lot of sense” said Colin “but it will take a helluva lot longer that way.”
“Some of us have more time than others old boy.” the old man said and with that he wished them all good night and went to his room.
“Erebus wishes to leave a legacy, both in the essence of what the Olympus Project stands for and in financial terms.” said Athena. “He’ll ensure his wife is well cared for if he goes before her, but this estate and the substantial fortune that his family left him will be passed on to those of us that remain here at Larcombe. The ‘charity’ cover will continue as a protective shield for our operations and Thanatos and Alastor will seek out new recruits from their old professions to add to our direct action agents, or replace our losses when they occur. Minos will flag up any issues that need to be redressed regarding cases that don’t result in the appropriate verdicts in the criminal courts.”
“I imagine that you will be taking over from Erebus when the time comes?” asked Colin.
“Erebus has spoken to me. Yes, that’s the plan.” replied Athena. “Why? Would that be a problem for you Phoenix, being controlled by a woman?”
Colin smiled. He thought back to happy times during his affair with Sue Owens in her old house a few miles from here in Larcombe; and also in Africa when they were husband and wife. He resisted the temptation for a risqué reply; sensing that Athena was watching him closely.
“Not in the slightest” he said “I’ve worked for a female boss before, as you will already know from your research into my background; I enjoyed it so much I married her.”
Colin stood up and made his way over to the door. He couldn’t resist one last quip however.
“Time for bed I think. Goodnight gentlemen. Sweet dreams Athena. I look forward to seeing you all in the morning.”
Colin left the four of them sat in their chairs and closed the door behind him. He made his way up to his bedroom, undressed and fell into bed; he was asleep in no time and slept the sleep of the just.
It was a cool summer’s day with light winds. The clouds drifted across the sun and provided a pleasant day for taking exercise. Colin was very pleased about that. At six o’clock one of the staff burst into his room and informed him it was time to ‘rise and shine’!
Colin was ordered to shower and don shorts and trainers. His training regime had begun. As the morning progressed he was relieved that whoever had put together his exercise routines had at least taken into account the fact that he was in his early forties! Most of the former SAS personnel at Larcombe would have endured far worse when they had applied to join the elite force. They would have been in their mid to late twenties and more able to carry out the rigours of the selection process.
He ran for as long as he was able; lifted weights until his arms were on fire and after a stern talking to from his instructor he had to ‘man up’ and get into the pool to swim as many lengths as he could physically manage. When he had to give up, he was exhausted; as soon as he pulled himself out of the pool, he threw up. After his near death experience in the river, less than forty eight hours before, it was the fear of the water not the physical exertions that caused his stomach to react so violently.
“Well done Phoenix” said his instructor “it’ll be a lot easier tomorrow,”
“Tomorrow?” asked Colin.
“Of course, it will be the same time, same place, and same routine until the boss says your fit enough for duty” was the reply.
“Of course!” thought Colin. He was glad to get that lot over with. He headed back inside the main house to get some breakfast. The others had obviously been in already.
One of the stewards began to rustle up a very light healthy plateful of something designed to be good for him and asked if he’d like to eat it on the patio. Colin sat outside in the fresh air, trying to bring all the muscles in his arms and legs back to life; he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to cut anything up this morning after his work-out, so
when the meal appeared on the table in front of him it was just as well he hadn’t been given sausage, bacon and the works. He had to make do with spooning something that tasted like cardboard soaked in milk into his mouth instead and a slice of toast. He would have complained if he had had the energy!
He rested there in the warm sunlight, mulling over what he had learned last night. It wasn’t difficult to understand the motivation behind Erebus and his creation of the Olympus Project. A life time’s service in the Royal Navy, cut short immediately following the horrors of the only real war that he’d been trained for. Years later his only child is mown down by a drunk driver who was then given a laughably short sentence.
Instead of looking forward to a happy retirement, taken on his terms with his family around him, with several grandchildren perhaps running across this lawn in years to come, he faced it alone with his wife in a nursing home; broken by the tragedy.
Thanatos had also served his country with distinction; doing a dirty job that many would have turned their backs on. He lived cheek and jowl alongside the people who were killing his fellow soldiers, blowing up innocent civilians both in their own country and in mainland Britain. What had been his reward? He had been abandoned to his fate; living in hiding with no protection from his masters; fearing a knock on the door and a visit from a gunman sent to execute him. His government didn’t even acknowledge the work his unit had carried out and the many lives it had undoubtedly saved. Was it any wonder he was bitter?
Alastor had been on the verge of leaving the Army after many years loyal service at home and abroad. His wife was killed by a young layabout stealing to feed his habit. A man the police never caught. The town in which his wife’s parents lived was so used to the incidence of a crime solely driven by the desperate need for a fix that the police had practically given up the fight.
