Terror Illusion

by James R Conway

  *****

  Jonathan got off his train from Leeds when it arrived at its terminus, London Kings Cross. He walked out of the station and found the taxi rank with a dozen or more identical black London cabs waiting in line, one behind the other. The driver of the first cab on the rank pulled forward a few feet to draw alongside Jonathan.

  “Where to?” the driver called but Jonathan told the driver he was waiting to be picked up.

  “Up there, guvnor,” said the driver, pointing forward to a separate pick-up area a few yards to Jonathan’s left.

  Jonathan thanked the driver and walked over to the pick-up area. Within a couple of minutes, another black London cab pulled up beside where Jonathan was standing. The driver wound down his window and in a broad Cockney accent called out “Jonathan Long?”

  Jonathan nodded and the driver said, “Jump in, guv!”

  He opened the rear passenger door. The passenger doors of London cabs are very heavily tinted, making it almost impossible to see any passengers inside, so Jonathan was very surprised to see Mac sitting on the far side of the long bench seat in the back of the cab and grinning broadly.

  “Welcome to London, soldier!” said Mac as Jonathan lifted his case into the cab and climbed in.

  “Mac! I didn’t expect to see you!”

  Jonathan closed the door and sat down.

  “Well,” said Mac, “I didn’t have much going on this afternoon so I thought I would meet you and show you to the quarters that I’ve arranged for you.”

  The cab pulled away from the kerb and headed out into the London traffic. The afternoon London rush-hour was just getting underway and the traffic was very heavy but London taxi drivers have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the back streets of London and usually managed to bypass the busy main routes, which were choked with traffic.

  Jonathan decided to let Mac drive the conversation. The cab was heading eastwards from Kings Cross Station, towards London’s financial district with its array of impressive buildings both old and new. The old institutions of the City, such as the Stock Exchange and the Bank of England mingled with buildings that looked impossibly modern such as “The Gherkin Building”, home to an insurance company.

  “I suppose you’d like to know where we are going,” said Mac, and Jonathan was suddenly snatched out of his study of the passing buildings. It was very different from the natural beauties that he was used to around his home in the Pennines.

  “Yes, in fact I’d like to know what our plans are now that I’m here.”

  “Of course,” said Mac. “We’ll talk about that when we get settled into the flat.”

  “The flat?”

  “Yes, you’ve never been there have you? It’s down on the river near St. Katharine Dock.”

  “Is it your flat?”

  “Oh no! I could never afford a place like that. I borrow it when I’m in town. It actually belongs to Sir William Harvey. He’s currently the British Ambassador in Washington so he’s abroad most of the time and the flat just stands here empty.”

  “That’s very generous of him.”

  “I got to know him when I was Military Attaché at the Washington Embassy and he was First Secretary. He probably only uses the flat for a couple of weeks each year.”

  The cab pulled off a main road and passed through a security gate to reveal a marina full of pleasure boats. After driving over a bridge at one side of the marina, which allowed access from the marina to the river, the cab stopped next to a block of very exclusive apartments.

  “Here we are,” said Mac as he stepped out of the cab. Jonathan followed him out, carrying the suitcase. After paying the driver, Mac got a key out of his pocket and walked along a short path to the front door of the apartment block. Once inside the pair walked over to a lift and Mac put his door key into a key slot in the lift, which caused the lift to ascend to the fifth floor of the building. The lift doors opened to reveal Sir William Harvey’s apartment.

  What Jonathan saw when he walked out of the lift was impressive. In front of him was a large living room with varnished wood-panelled flooring and containing two sofas and four armchairs. There was a stone fireplace on one wall and there was a large screen television and audio equipment on another wall. An archway led to a well appointed kitchen. A couple of steps led up from the living room to what appeared to be a dining area with a large glass topped table and four dining chairs around it. There was a large floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall window beyond the dining area. Jonathan walked up the steps into the dining area and was greeted with a spectacular view.

  The window faced south and the River Thames flowed past. Jonathan opened the sliding doors and walked out onto the balcony beyond. On the right of the apartment about half a mile away was the iconic outline of Tower Bridge and just visible beyond, the ramparts of the Tower of London. To the left the river curved away out of sight downstream. Alongside both sides of the river were grand buildings and small piers and jetties. On the river itself were small pleasure craft and working boats, pulling barges and still others were ferrying passengers to and fro up and down the river.

  “Quite a view, eh?” said Mac and for the second time this afternoon Jonathan was tugged away from his reverie.

  “Yes, quite amazing”

  “Why don’t you put your case in the bedroom and I’ll get a couple of cold beers from the fridge. Then we can sit and enjoy the view. Come on! I’ll show you where you are sleeping.”

  There were four bedrooms in the apartment, each with an en-suite bathroom. Mac showed Jonathan into the one of the bedrooms where Jonathan left his case and followed Mac back out to the living room. Mac stepped into the kitchen and collected two cans of beer from the fridge and he and Jonathan sat down at the glass-topped table near the window. The late afternoon sun was silhouetting Tower Bridge and reflecting off the river making it look like a silver ribbon winding its way through the city. Jonathan took a sip of his beer and felt very relaxed.

  “Well, Jonathan, I think it is time to tell you a bit more about what we are up to.”

  Mac took another sip of his beer and stared out across the river. Jonathan just sat back, ready to absorb this latest batch of information. He seemed to have solved the problem of what to do in his “retirement”.

  “As I told you in Scotland,” said Mac, “I am in the business of standing up for the British way of life and correcting some of the wrongs I see around me. Fortune, or perhaps chance has left me in a position where I am able to have a small influence on the way our government acts. I suppose some people might see battling against the government as treason but I think I have a strong sense of what is right and wrong. If the general public knew what I was doing, I’m sure they would support me”.

  “I’m quite sure they would,” said Jonathan, “but I think the general public are at a serious disadvantage when it comes to dealing with the government.”

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Mac, slapping his hand on the table. “Exactly. There obviously has to be some secrecy in government but I think the government sometimes abuses that veil of secrecy. I think we are on the side of the people, trying to even things up a bit. Are we both agreed on that?”

  “We certainly are, Mac.”

  “Jonathan, I have something I have to tell you. Since I saw you in Scotland before the New Year. I have had you vetted for security. Do you understand?”

  “Of course! It’s the least I expected you to do.”

  “Good, I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way. It means I can discuss our work with you more freely and in more detail. I think your skills can be very valuable to our organization.”

  Mac shook his empty beer can.

  “Another beer, Jonathan?”

  “Sure!”

  Mac walked over to the kitchen and returned with two more cans of beer.

  “Thanks, Mac. You referred to an organization. Are other people involved?”

  “Well, I suppose I can tell you about one of them. He’s a chap called Roger Gregson
or rather Group Captain Sir Roger Gregson to give him his full title.”

  “Royal Air Force?”

  “Retired from the RAF a couple of years ago. He’s a very interesting chap. I’ve invited him to join us for dinner tomorrow night so you’ll get to meet him. I think you two will get on very well. He was a pilot on the Diplomatic Flight, hauling ambassadors, politicians and civil servants around the world in VC10 aircraft.”

  “I remember, the RAF bought a whole bunch of those VC10 aircraft from British Airways a few years ago. I thought the RAF converted most of them to flight refuelling tankers.”

  “Yes, they did, but they kept a few of them for passenger service. Anyway, I’m sure that Roger will be only too pleased to tell you all about his flying exploits during dinner tomorrow evening. But, as I say, Roger is retired from the Royal Air Force now. He runs an office in London, which helps businesses to gain access to politicians and government departments. I understand that is quite a lucrative business. I think you would see that someone who has contacts in government departments would be very useful to us.”

  “Of course. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

  Jonathan looked at his watch. Almost six-thirty. The sun had now set and Tower Bridge and the buildings across the river were illuminated. The lights reflected off the river below.

  “Getting hungry yet?” said Mac. “I thought we could call out for delivery tonight. Will Indian food work for you?”

  “Sure, I love it. Thank you.”

  Jonathan told Mac what food he would like and Mac pulled out his mobile phone and placed the order.

  “It’ll be about three-quarters of an hour,” said Mac as he put away his mobile. “They’re pretty busy at the moment. We can always put it in the oven if you want to talk some more. It’s a bit chilly this evening. How about we light a fire?”

  Without waiting for Jonathan to answer Mac stepped down into the living room, turned on some soft lighting and clicked a switch next to the fireplace. A gas firelighter burst into flame beneath the logs that had already been placed in the grate.

  “There we go,” said Mac, rubbing his hands together. “That will be roaring away in no time.”

  Jonathan stepped down into the living room and sank comfortably into one of the armchairs. Mac flopped down into another armchair.”

  “Can you tell me some more about Roger Gregson, Mac?”

  “I don’t think it will do any harm to tell you a little more,” said Mac. “As I told you before, he was flying government VIP types around the world. In fact, that is how we got to use this flat. Roger knew Sir William because he used to fly him between London and Washington and of course, I knew Sir William because I was working in the Washington Embassy when he was there.

  “How did you get to know Roger Gregson?”

  “I first bumped into Roger when I was with MI5. Roger’s aircraft had been converted to fly suspected terrorists. The whole aircraft was bugged so that they could listen to what the suspects were saying to each other and collect valuable intelligence.”

  “Did you fly on the aircraft?”

  “Yes,” said Mac, “I flew several times with Roger. There was a radio cabin installed behind the cockpit. I used to spend most of the flight in there, listening in to the bugs and recording them. Occasionally Roger would step out of the cockpit for a break and I would brew up some coffee and chat with him.”

  “I thought you said he was on the Diplomatic Flight.”

  “Well, yes he was, but the intelligence services “borrowed” this aircraft and converted it. Roger and his crew came along with the aircraft. It was only for a couple of years and then the aircraft was converted back to diplomatic service. It was converted back to its former luxury but the work was put out to a private contractor. Since the bugging was never in the original plans the contractor didn’t know anything about it and so they never removed it.”

  “So, you’ve got a Diplomatic Flight aircraft flying around full of bugging equipment? I think I can see where this is going”

  “I think you can visualize the possibilities,” said Mac. “In the one place where these government people thought they could not be overheard we could listen to their every word. Roger would go back to the radio cabin and listen in.”

  “He could get hanged for doing that!”

  “Well, not quite! But he was taking a hell of a risk. Of course, he didn’t disclose what he heard, except to me. He told me what he was doing and asked my advice.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him not to get caught, of course! Anyway, this went on for two or three years. It was during that time that Roger and I found out about MI5 Black Ops. I took early retirement from MI5 and Roger took early retirement from the air force. We knew that we couldn’t do anything about it while we were working for the government so we would do it from the outside.”

  “So that is the origin of Operation Checkmate?”

  “Indeed it is,” said Mac.

  “And now Roger works in London?”

  “Yes. He made a great many contacts among senior civil servants and politicians during his time with the Diplomatic Flight and he started a business to take advantage of those contacts. He helps businessmen to get government contracts. He’s got an office in one of the old government buildings in Horseferry Road.”

  The intercom buzzer in the apartment sounded and Mac went over to the panel next to the lift. It was the food delivery and Mac pressed the button to open the front door and to allow the delivery person to come up to the fifth floor in the lift.

  A minute or two later the delivery man stepped out of the lift with tonight’s supper. Mac paid him and he stepped back into the lift. Mac carried the food over to the kitchen counter and Jonathan joined him.

  “Do you want to have supper on trays and watch the television news?

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  Chapter 19